Sleepless
That night, when Jim Kirk went inside his sleeping quarters, he did not feel the usual relief that came with the comforting environment of the place. He was only tired, so exhausted that he just felt like he could let himself fall on the floor and sleep there for at least forever.
He wanted to collapse on his bed, yet, for a while, he stood perfectly still in the middle of the room, as if he were in an altered state of mind. An outsider observer might have imagined he had fallen asleep in this position if his blinking eyes had not suggested he was conscious indeed.
After this moment spent in deep thoughts, he slowly walked towards the bar and poured himself a glass of Scotch. He drank three of them one after the other -although this behaviour was not like him- before he finally decided to go to bed, without even removing his clothes.
Although he was physically as well as morally exhausted, sleep was relunctant to come. The last twenty hours had been long and trying and had ended with the deaths of eight men. Of course, it was not the first time that crew members had lost their lives while performing their duty (they were all well aware of the risks),and it would not be the last, but today was different. Jim was feeling that he had had enough of it all and each time he closed his eyes, he saw the agonised faces of these men and women and could not help but endlessy ask himself what more he could have possibly done to save them. Usually, he managed to push his guilt to the back of his mind – he could not allow himself to get haunted by these tragic events.
This time, on the other hand, he was unable to do so. Perhaps because he had not slept for 50 hours. Perhaps because he kept thinking that their deaths were meaningless. Perhaps … Perhaps he had no longer the strengh to bear it all – the strain laying on his shoulders, the lives depending on his choices, the daily dangers … Perhaps he should throw in the towel.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to sleep. But he could do neither and he strongly believed that he would never sleep again. When he felt he was tearing up, he buried his face in his pillow as if to prevent the tears from running down his cheeks.
He suffered no shame in weeping. He had always been raised with the belief that it was okay to bewail, even for men. At this moment though, he did not want to cry. He just wanted to sleep. He knew Bones could probably give him something to help. To be honest, he would have died for it. But he could not allow his crew to see him like this. His pride was not the only one to be blamed : it was his duty, as the captain of this ship, to make sure that the morale of his crew remained at its highest..Therefore, he, more than anyone else, could not give in.
But now, with little regards for his duty, tears were flooding his face, his body was furiously shaking and he just wanted to shout until his voice broke.
It was probably for this reason that he did not hear the door of his sleeping quarters open, no more than he heard footsteps approaching his bed. He almost jumped in surprise when he felt his mattress sink under him with the weight of another body. Panic overwhelmed him. No one should see him like this. No one. And finally, he knew who was there. He sensed it. His body relaxed and his last barriers fell. He brought his knees under his chin, in a fetal position while Spock, who was sitting behind him, gently stroked his hair. He never uttered a word, but the mere presence of the Vulcan soothed Jim. Soon, his sobs stopped. Then, Spock got up and slowly removed his bondmate's clothes before he laid down near him, taking care to embrace him in such a way that Jim was surrounded by his presence as if he were in a protective cocoon. Jim closed his eyes. It was still painful for he lived again and again the events of the last hours, but little by little he felt a wave of warmth invade his body. The warmth was agreeable and comforting and he soon became aware that Spock was using their bond to appease him. He realised almost immediatly that the Vulcan might have felt his distress and his pain and he could not help but feel guilty for having inflicted all those emotions to him.
As he felt himself decline into sleep (finally!), he caught Spock's blue-shirt as if attempting to prevent him from leaving.
« Spock … » his voice was low and sluggish. « I love you. »
« So do I, T'hy'la. »
With these words, Jim Kirk eventually fell asleep.