Carol was rudely awakened by an elbow in her ribs. Her sleep-muddled brain couldn't quite process where she was or who had just elbowed her, but she managed to groan, "Ow! What the hell was that for?" The only answer was more thrashing from next to her, and someone's foot kicking her legs. Still groggy, she turned over and said, "Computer, lights at 10%." As a soft glow filled the room, she saw Captain James T. Kirk, his eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted as if by pain, flailing around for no obvious reason. "Jim?" she said tentatively, "Are you awake?" By way of an answer, the captain whimpered.
Shit. "Jim, wake up," Carol said, tapping his shoulder. "Jim, honey, you're having a nightmare. Come on, wake up," she added, more urgently now. She took hold of his shoulder and physically shook him. To her relief, he opened his eyes.
"What is it? What happened?" he gasped.
"You started thrashing around and moaning," she said, struggling to make her tone soothing instead of annoyed. "My guess is you had a nightmare. So I figured you wouldn't mind if I woke you up to remind you that everything's all right." She laid a hand on his chest and realized with a start that she could feel his heart hammering in his chest. That must have been one hell of a dream.
Jim sat up and rubbed his eyes with a grunt. "Yeah, you guessed right. It was just a nightmare. Sorry if I smacked you, or anything," he said, sheepishly. He swung his legs off the bed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he put his head in his hands.
"You did, a little. But don't worry about it. A person can't help what they do while they're asleep," Carol said reassuringly. She sat up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest. "Are you all right now?"
"That's . . . open to interpretation," Jim said wryly. "If Bones were here, he'd probably start lecturing me about how 'dammit man, you can't ignore the psychological effects of all the trauma you've been through in the last year.'"
Carol laughed a bit at the spot-on impersonation, but the tension in his body was palpable. "Is that what you had a nightmare about?" she asked gently. "Death?"
Jim shook his head and said, "No. Being dead didn't hurt. I dreamed about dying."
"Oh," Carol said. A fleeting thought went through her mind, it is fucking weird that we can have this conversation. She laid a hand over his left pectoral, trying to see if his heartbeat was calming down at all. "Do you have nightmares about that often?"
Jim shrugged. "I guess. About dying, or about not being able to save my ship, or about a thousand other things that can scare me. I was hoping I wouldn't have one while you were here," he admitted.
"Oh, don't worry about my tender eyes seeing a man have a nightmare," Carol said. "I've had my share of awful, scream-yourself-awake nights in the past two years." With all the bullshit you and I have been through, it's a wonder we aren't both catatonic.
"You too, huh?" Jim said, without a trace of his usual humor.
Well that attempt at cheering him up won't win any awards, Carol. "So . . . what do you usually do to get back to sleep? Do you want some water or anything?" she asked.
"I usually read," Jim said. "But . . . since you're here, I bet I can think of a better idea."
Carol played dumb. "Oh? What's that?"
Jim leaned back on an angle and gave her a kiss on the lips. "I bet you can guess," he said. He scooted backwards until he was sitting against the wall, then pulled Carol onto his lap and stroked a hand up her thigh. "Computer, lights out," he ordered.