Spock finds Jim is sitting in front of the glass door, long legs stretched in front of him, blue eyes fixed on it so completely as if the huge sing saying DANGER hold the meaning of the universe.
Maybe in this case it really does.
There's no one near them; could be the late hour although day never really ends on a starship, especially in the engineering. Could be the fact that the crew adores his captain and would do anything for him. Giving him a little space in a far corner of the engineering in the middle of the night included.
"I could not find you.", Spock says.
He doesn't say: "It felt like one of my nightmares coming true when computer told me where to find you."
"Mhm.", Jim acknowledges and pats the floor beside him. "You did find me, though", he says when Spock gracefully folds himself close to Jim.
Not a long time ago he wouldn't do such a thing, choosing to stand over Jim instead, unable to understand how a commanding officer can be so desperate to lose his good name among the crew.
How foolish he was back then.
Jim shifts on his place and sighs softly, finally turning his eyes away from the door.
"I know this ship better than my apartment back on Earth. Every corridor, every corner, I know all the routes by heart, checked them all before we left Earth.", he closes eyes and leans his head on the wall beside him. "But I didn't come back here until now."
"Why did you come back?", Spock isn't sure if he asking for a general reason or why Jim choose the middle of a completely random night to do it. It doesn't matter, though. What matters is to keep Jim talking, instead of this sullen silence that accompanies him since the start of their mission.
"So I wouldn't dream about this door anymore.", Jim sighs again and looks at Spock. "I thought I'd feel something, some kind of catharsis, I don't know. Anything. But it's just a door, not the key to survival of our ship. And somehow the fact I died in here doesn't matter when I'm sitting here as much as when I'm sleeping."
Spock stays silent, knowing that one miscalculated word will end this sudden confession, as it happened many time before. He simply moves a little closer to Jim, knowing that his tactile personality will appreciate the warmness radiating from his half-Vulcan body.
"You know what dreams are the worst?", Jim, leaning slightly to Spock, a shade of smile for a second visible on his lips. "Those, in which I don't open this door. Sometimes I'm too late, sometimes I'm too scared. Anyway, in this dreams I stand here and our ship is falling."
He swallows, pausing for a moment to glance at the door.
"And then you all die but I survive."
The silence is almost deafening but Spock finds himself at loss of words. What can you say to someone whose worst nightmares are about dying, but about living?
"Does it mean anything to you?", Jim asks suddenly, interrupting the silence almost nervously. "This door, I mean."
His blue eyes are begging for something, maybe for an answer that will make everything more bearable, but Spock cannot settle for anything than truth.
He exhales heavily and desperately hopes he's not about to make a biggest mistake in his life. "They bear meanings I would rather not understand, Jim. I felt anger, regret, confusion, fear. Emotions I promised myself to never feel again, and yet I was failing."
"Ah.", Jim looks at him for a moment, his impossible blue eyes slightly right-rimmed and then shifts to sit in front of Spock rather than next to him.
When he reaches to Spock with his hand, palm flat, Spock's breath catches. He reaches hesitantly, illogically afraid that some kind of barrier will stop him.
But this time there's no glass between them and Jim's hand feels impossibly, miraculously alive.