Hint: It's not what you think.

The Beginning

He had no reason to do it. None at all. After finishing a 72 hour horrific shift evolving a not-so-friendly bloodthirsty cult and so much breaching and twisting of Federation Law that even Spock was getting confused, Jim would have thought that by the time he had stumbled to his quarters, after all but being kicked from the bridge, he would have just fallen onto his bed and been completely out for the count- no questions asked.

Obviously Jim, being Jim of course, he did exactly the opposite than what would usually have been considered the norm.

After stripping off his uniform shirt and letting it fall to the floor, leaving the darker undershirt on, and not even bothering with his pants, he had fallen onto the narrow bed, grunting as his stomach landed slightly more heavily than intended onto the mattress. He had laid his head against the pillow; an arm slung above his head and one by his side as his eye lids fluttered sleepily, waiting for the state of unconsciousness he knew would follow soon. He had slowed his breathing and relaxed his worn out body and muscles, before finally closing his eyes with a sigh of contentment.

An hour later and he was staring very much annoyed at the ceiling, arms now behind his head as he lay on his back in a state of very obvious wakefulness.

Jim moved agitatedly, trying to become more comfortable though already knowing it was no use. He sighed. His body may be dead tired, but his head was still whirling with everything that had occurred just hours before. He wouldn't doubt if the landing party would need physcological counselling of some kind after seeing the horrors unfold upon a planet. He shifted again. Maybe he should suggest it to Bones he thought, though, knowing the doctor, he had already considered the idea. He rolled his eyes as he mentally saw his name at the top of a figurative list in his head, before turning onto his side to stare blankly at the room before him, lost in his thoughts.

He had never been religious. It wasn't that he was an atheist- just that going to church had never really been on the agenda when he had been younger. Between the illegal driving stunts and trying to get rid of whatever new boyfriend of mum's happened to be hanging around, he didn't really have much time. Mum, herself, had also never really instigated the idea of any higher power after what happened aboard the Kelvin. Jim would say that she was close to being agnostic- just not quite. For some people losing a very much loved person may have had them kneeling before a holy alter in seconds praying every psalm they knew.

Not for her it seemed.

Consequently, he had found himself- and just himself, during his childhood. No God. No Jehovah. Nothing except a scruffy blonde-haired kid who got a major adrenaline rush from doing simply idiotic things, he thought, recalling said past events.

And maybe met a few more police patrols than was good. Jim smiled grimly.

It was interesting then, with all things considered, that he seemed to more and more constantly find himself in need of some sort of reassurance that there was higher power, looking over the incredibly shitty maelstrom of crazy and insane that he somehow always got into while touring the universe. One to make sure he didn't, quite ironically, go to hell- despite whether or not it intervened, though sometimes wishing it would. He sighed.

Then again that was faith wasn't it? Having no real indication that something was real but still believing that it was. He closed his eyes, before opening them again. In such a mechanical world it was surprisingly hard to have such a belief however. It seemed that the universe had gradually become more and more 'evidence related' over the years as the scientific field took the world by storm. There were the churches, with their spiralling arches and wooden pews, and the surviving religions of course- they would never fully disappear. It was just that you found less people committing to them over time. Whether it was for reasons such as his own, or whether most people were just simply content with their highly developed and technologically centred lives and didn't think they needed anything else, Jim didn't know for certain. He kind of liked the idea of having something that was untouched by human and non-human civilisation alike. Something unknown, unequalled and undistinguishable. There was a lure there, somewhat like finding a completely uninhabited and undiscovered planet in some far reaching corner of the alpha quadrant that almost radiated a purity of life.

Consequently, when you did happen to come across a backwater society on some very distant and previously unknown and unexplored planet which to all eyes seemed to hold an apparent pure and genuine conviction that He truly was out there, Jim had felt a surge of hope go through him.

Jim laughed humourlessly remembering the immense crushing of that same hope. The leaders of the society living on the planet Archous were nothing more but complete and utter raving lunatics, perverting the words of God and using his name to kill and slaughter many innocent people. Jim clenched his eyes shut and fought furiously to stop the images of hacked bodies lying in what had seemed to be a room straight from a hellish nightmare. The Ritual Room they had called it. His hand griped harshly in the blanket as his whole body stiffened and he clenched his jaw tighter.

He had barely got out alive, after the prophet's decided that he would please 'the God's' immensely. He breathed deeply, willing it to relax and allowing the dark images to dissipate to the back corners of his conscious. He had survived and for that he was grateful. Jim opened his eyes, forcing his stream of thought returning to safer waters.

...He had never even thought that his first officer would be inclined toward the spiritual side of life either. With the entire teachings of Surak he was pretty much set up for life when it came to a way to live- suppression of emotions and all that. It had seemed to work for the entirety of the Vulcan race for hundreds of years, so why would he need anything more?

With such an assumption in place it had then come as a slight shock, when entering the Vulcan's quarters a few weeks ago to collect some PADDs that needed to be read and signed, that he had seen it lying on Spock's bed side cabinet; medium sized and just slightly on the dusty side.

A Bible.

He had never owned a Bible. To be honest he never thought he would need one. Then again, he thought, laughing mentally, he never thought he would need much of anything anyway. Just him, his charisma and some form fast moving transport. They were thoughts of the young, he knew, despite the fact he had been only 19 years old when he had thought that. He had grown quickly since gaining his captainship he realised, something you kind of had to do when a crew of about five hundred constantly looked to you for answers.

The book was worn and anyone could easily see that it had been read and the pages turned, over and over again, backwards and forwards. The cover was black and cracked at the edges, curling slightly at the corners. It sported what seemed to be a green ribbon stuck out from the bottom, somewhere halfway throughout the pages. It was old as well. Near relic status Jim surmised.

For his First Officer however, apparently that didn't seem to make much of a difference.

It was after all the words that were important, not the aesthetic appeal of the possession.

His shock was short lived and any more thought on the topic at the time had been instantaneously wiped when Spock had plonked at least a few dozen PADDs into his arms, sending him reeling, and prompting the presence of a migraine which seemed to form just above his eyes, as if in expectation of the work. Staring at a small screen for any length of time tended to do that to a person, as the words slowly blended into just a squiggly line of black and you're brain all but turned to mush.

Not cool.

Really.

So in all reality it wasn't until Jim was back in his room, sitting at his desk and staring depressively at the small mountain of effort and trying desperately to think up something else that would instead procrastinate time away, that he realised that Spock was probably in about as much need of assurance as himself.

And he hadn't lost a planet.

Or a parent...

...well, recently anyway, he mentally corrected.

Jeez, Jim thought, what bucket full of fun he was today.

He let his eyes move from the blank, plain wall that he had been staring at for the past ten or so minutes and glance instead at the door that connected his room to Spock's. He pushed away thoughts of his dad and the entirety of that incident in the process, which he really couldn't be bothered dwelling on at the moment, as harsh as that sounded. He stared at the dark blue metal door which stood there quiet and cold, mentally conspiring within his own mind.

He could be in and out within seconds he surmised. Spock would never know since he was currently holding the fort, or bridge, while Jim was 'sleeping'.

He rolled his eyes and snorted.

Actually, he probably would- somehow. Whether it is that just as Jim sneaked in he would also- just walking instead of sneaking- or the Vulcan's much stronger sense of smell just happened to pick up his scent later on.

Jim stopped at that thought.

Did he even have a scent?

He shook his head, throwing the errant thought away. It didn't matter. What did, was that Spock would know that he had been in the room, one way or another.

He also pushed that aside. It was irrelevant. He was the Captain, damnit, he would make something up to explain his presence. All but bullshitting his way through half the political meetings and conferences that he went to and coming out victorious would not be for nothing.

So he could...

Jim sat up, quickly- too quickly it seemed as a groan instantly made its way from him, his body protesting against the movement. He was more tired than he thought, Jim realised as a blanket of fatigue swept through him, and he had to force away the very enticing idea to lay right back down again. He swung his legs to the side and stood, swaying slightly as all the blood rushed from his head.

He noticed his uniform shirt and contemplated putting it back on but decided not to bother. It wasn't like he was going to be walking around the ship or anything, just popping into the room next door.

Yeah...popping.

He breathed in, preparing himself and then moved into action, almost sprinting, despite his fatigue, across his room in a matter of seconds before he could stop himself. He reached the door which lead to the bathroom, pressing the command button, and slipping through into the small, dark room before it had even fully opened. From there it only took a few steps to cross the small area which held a small shower, basin and toilet, all of which he somehow avoided falling over or running into during his brief and blind journey. He stretched his arms forward and felt the familiar metal of a ship door. He slid his hand to the right to find the button which would open it and allow him access to Spock's quarters. He paused.

If it was locked he would stop. He would stop, turn around, go back to his own room and force himself to go to sleep, he swore to himself. He pressed down.

The door slid open fluidly with a swoosh, disappearing into the concave in the wall. There was no difference in lighting and Jim hesitantly moved into a room just as pitch black as the one he was exiting. He felt tile change to soft carpet as he walked forward, requesting the overhead lights to a dim setting as he did so. He glanced around when the command cast the room into a low glow. Nothing much had changed since the last time he was here. Spock kept his quarters quite plain besides three shelves which held numerous books and other ornaments from, what Jim believed, were previous missions. He also kept it almost immaculately clean.

The complete opposite of his own- something which wasn't much of a surprise.

Jim's gaze moved, slowly passing over a desk, computer console, chairs, bed -all Starfleet issued- until it reached the just as mass produced bed side cabinet. He smiled.

The Bible.

The book lay in exactly the same position that had been before and looked no different. Jim moved, walking to stand in front of the piece of furniture it lay upon and gazed down at it. Closer he could now see that the cover had a rippled texture and was cracked slightly. He reached forward, his hand hovering close to the object as he hesitated. After a minute of absolute motionless h realsied that he was being stupid- fire wasn't about to start raining from the heavens- and let his hand fall to the rippled surface. He curled his fingers around the edges of the old bible and lifted it from the flat cabinet surface feeling the weight of the text within his hands before all but collapsing onto the bed to the side of him and tried to unsuccessfully stifle a yawn.

It was heavier than it looked, a fact which for some reason seemed to hold promise. He turned it on its side and flipped through the book randomly, letting the pages coming to rest somewhere near the middle and Jim glanced at the small lettering, his gaze then moving to the top right hand corner:

Ephesians 6:15

He shrugged. Whatever. He wouldn't know what was good or bad or what was relevant or irrelevant. It wasn't like he was an expert at this sort of stuff. He just wanted to read. He didn't care if the chapters had weird names. 'Cause like seriously, Ephesians?....yeah, you couldn't get much stranger than that.

Did the Bible even have chapters?

Probably not. It was more likely psalms or something.

Jim just wanted to see why so many people in the centuries before his had been so involved with the words within. If they really did help to some degree even if, like him, you didn't wholly believe. Unconsciously he settled down onto the bed sideways, head propped on his hand, legs stretched out, momentarily forgetting where he was and began to read.

The Armour of God...

Well, that sounded promising.

..Finally be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armour of God so that you can take your stand against the devils scheme. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood but against the powers of this dark world and the spiritual forces of evil.....

The words quickly swept him away, the strong and almost poetic charactered phrases, old and sacred within their meaning, sweeping from the page straight through into him. So surprisingly engrossed he became, skirting from verse to verse and back again, that he hardly even noticed when his eyes started to slowly close, heavy with sleep, and his head lowered, dropping forward as his arm became too tired to hold it. In the first fervours of sleep he desperately grabbed hold of the book before it could fall, hugging it to him, almost preciously. It was a possible link. A link to something greater. His fingers tightened around the worn cover and smiled.

...Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace...

Just before his eyes fully shut he mumbled a request for the time from the computer. He smiled lazily when he heard it, knowing that even if he didn't completely believe in God or was completely worshiping of him, reading the Bible for just over two hours must at least count for something.

....Therefore put on the full armour of God so that when the day of evil comes you may be able to stand your ground, stand against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms...

-----

Jim was brought into a state of semi consciousness when he felt the book that he still held grasped in his hand, move. With just a small part of his mind still holding onto a fuzzy strain of reality, the rest still being overridden by his subconscious, he didn't exactly know why such a thing was happening and was only certain he didn't want it to. He grasped onto the book tighter, pulling it towards him with a slight groan as his heavy laden limbs protested. His hand, he felt, was still caught within the pages, marking the spot he had been reading before he had all but unknowingly fallen asleep. The book stopped moving, and feeling it once more securely in his hold, he relaxed, breathing deeply, adjusting his body around the precious item.

It was then that he heard the voice come, clear and strong through his mid-unconscious state.

"Jim." it said from high above him, the voice low, warm and commanding. "Jim, you can let go."

Let go of what?

He didn't know, or his mind didn't want to....

....perhaps it was God speaking?

Jim smiled thinking of the holy lord sitting on some far away cloud with a megaphone. He tried to laugh but his mind couldn't process the action and instead settled on a contented sigh. He liked the idea as absurd as it felt. It was comforting to know that He may actually be out there. Jim moved his hand slightly, fingers brushing against the top of his current connection to an inexplicable but amazingly powerful force.

He knew Jim's name.

The thought made him happy.

A warm touch descended onto his temple, and he stirred against the unexpected sensation, despite the security which it seemed to hold. The touched expanded two the entire left side of face, skirting over his eyebrow and suddenly the presence, the voice was inside him, deep within his mind.

Was this Him?

"Sleep" the voice now resonated, dark and mysterious within his head. It was hard to resists the lure of such an idea, especially when the thought came again, even stronger. His fuzzy string of reality became weaker and more incomprehensible as the fabric of one world was slowly unravelled to be replaced with one of both sweet dreams and nightmares, lullaby's of eternity and songs of infinity.

He felt the book move again, but now he let it slip from his hands as the darkness swirled within him and he himself let go, following the voices' commands and plunging deep into the iridescent and tantalising whirlpool of the unknown once again...