There seemed to be nothing I could do to get a grip on myself as I sat around the bright, artificial flame of the lantern that was providing both light and heat to the small cabin. Jim had excused himself from the group about fifteen minutes ago, saying he was just going to go sit by the small creek and waterfall that myself, the cadets, and Spock had come across earlier, just a couple dozen or so yards behind the cabin. Spock had insisted that someone go with him, but the captain vehemently refused, leaving the Vulcan to silently stare after him as he no doubt fumed behind his emotionless mask.

We had all eaten the bland rations provided for each of us in silence after we had returned from scouting around the building at dusk. They'd been included in one of the supply packs carried by one of the other cadets, and they did nothing but satiate the gnawing hunger I'd felt most of the day. The cold, colorless, and tasteless food was a means to an end, nothing more.

Jim had taken leave of the group as a cadet started to collect everyone's trash and stowed it away in a pack. That had been fifteen minutes ago, and I was desperately trying to find the perfect moment to excuse myself without seeming overly suspicious. As the cadets started to stand up and excuse themselves, making their way over to the collection of cots on the far side of the room, I knew I had to seize the opportunity or risk having to sneak out when everyone was asleep — that came with its own set of risks, and would take more time than I currently had patience for.

"I'm going to head to the creek and wash my feet to see if I can get some relief from these blisters." Spock's head snapped to me as I stood up and made my way to the door. It was Bones who replied as he sat untying his boots by the artificial flame at the center of the room. He didn't even bother looking up from his laces as he spoke, his signature scowl painting his features as he manhandled the laces.

"Check on Jim while you're out there, will you? The last thing we need is a missing captain on our hands. And go easy with the water — it looked clear enough, but the last thing you want is to be without two feet after they're taken by infection."

I offered a grim smile over my shoulder as I replied, "Will do — on both the captain and the feet." He offered a grunt in response, and before walking out through the door, I shot a glance over my shoulder to Spock, who still sat motionless by the fire. His shoulders and chest rose as if words were about to spill out from his painfully logical mouth, and I made quick work of stepping outside and getting the door shut behind me before he had a chance to say a damn thing.

Pausing momentarily, I blinked against the sudden darkness as my eyes adjusted from going to the bright glow of artificial light in the cabin to nighttime in the forest. I was shocked to find that as I looked around, I was not in complete darkness. Not at all. The particles I'd noticed when we'd first beamed down to the planet were still floating in the air — except now, with the absence of light from the day, they were glowing. Not with the same color or cadence as fireflies on earth, but with a cool, blue-green tone that slowly faded in and out without ever extinguishing fully.

It was exquisite to watch, and as my gaze roved over the forest before me, I found that it wasn't just the strange particles in the air that were glowing. The entire forest was — or at least most parts of it were. Lichen on tree trunks, some flowers and ferns, and some of the leaves in the trees were all aglow with the same blue-green color. It was incredible to stand and witness the silent chorus of light come and go at soothing intervals. I could've simply sat down on the wooden step before the door and watched for a long while, had there not been a captain by a creek that I desperately needed to talk with.

With the glow of the forest providing me just the right amount of light, I was able to pick my way through the dense forest by following the freshly trodden plants that had been made earlier in the day when we'd searched around the cabin. Soon the gentle flow of water met my ears, letting me know that I was in fact headed in the right direction. After a few minutes of walking with only the sounds of my boots stepping on matted leaves and insects gently chirping to one another meeting my ears, I broke through the thick underbrush and found myself at the edge of the creek.

To my right, water flowed down a sloping hill and out of sight as it disappeared into the forest. As I turned and looked up the hill to my left, I saw the waterfall, formed off a small rock face and cascading into a wide pool below before flowing into the narrow creek that wended its way down the hill and into the trees. There, perched at the pool's edge right by the falling water from the rocks above, sat Jim. His features and face were alight with the glow of lichens and plants that surrounded him both on the ground and on the rocks.

He looked sad, downtrodden even as he gazed at the water swirling gently in the small pool before him. Maybe the wonder of the glowing forest around him had worn off, or maybe it just wasn't enough to pull him from whatever thoughts were causing him to look so miserable. I stood in shock at the edge of the clearing, unable to move as I took in just how dejected he looked as he sat motionless next to the breathtaking scenery of the waterfall and pond.

What I would give to hear him laugh, to have his eyes light up with all the determination and excitement I'd seen so few times over the past months. Instead I'd had to bear witness as he was constantly whiplashed between briefly finding small moments of happiness and being tortured by the relentless, painfully vague orders from Starfleet command. It was torturing him, and he was tormenting himself over it.

With a deep, shaking breath in and out of parted lips, I took a step forward and started making my way over to where he sat, alone and pondering. Neither his head nor his gaze shifted towards me as I approached him. It was almost as if he expected me to come out here and find him, or that he was so truly disconnected from everything right now that he simply couldn't be bothered by whoever was seeking him out.

In a matter of moments I had reached him, taking a seat in the soft, slightly spongy grass right beside where he sat, his face still contemplative as he looked out over the serene water. I matched his posture, bending my knees in front of me with my forearms resting on top of them, one of my hands clasping my other wrist. Following his gaze, I watched as fallen leaves from the canopy of trees far, far above us gently twirled in the eddying water. Glowing particles floated above the surface, creating a dazzling display with the water's reflection.

The beauty of the scene before us, paired with the soothing sound of falling water and refreshing coolness of the faint mist coming from the pool was heavenly. It provided a jarring contrast to the tension radiating from Jim. His body language was stiff, his face emotionless and unreadable. It unnerved me that he had done nothing to acknowledge my presence — not even a simple nod or sound. He merely kept staring at the water, remaining unmoved by both the natural phenomena occurring before him and by me.

It felt wrong to try and speak. To break the stillness he was so entirely absorbed in and transfixed by. But there were words I came here to tell him, and I would not be leaving before I had tried to at least get out the bare minimum of what had transpired in my brain today.

"I am so very, very sorry for how I spoke to you last night. That was not fair to you, and I truly did not mean it. I was using you as a verbal punching bag, and you did not deserve it. It was wrong of me to do, and I'm sorry." It came out in a slow, quiet whisper — it seemed wrong to speak too loudly next to such a peaceful, beautiful sight, and I didn't want to dispel Jim from his moment of glum solitude.

Silence hung in the air between us as I waited for his response. My heart was beating erratically against my chest, and I swallowed against the rising lump in my throat that was a culmination of anxiety and nervousness. Then, without so much as blinking, he replied in a soft, even tone.

"I know."

My heart sunk at his two-word response. I couldn't help but turn my head and look at him, needing to see with my own two eyes that he was as accepting of my words as he sounded. His gaze still remained locked onto the pond. It was as I took in his face more closely now, looking at him straight on, that I noticed the cool, glowing light from the particles floating above the pond were reflecting brightly in his watery eyes.

It was as I stared at him, lips parting slightly as I realized his eyes were full of tears that were threatening to spill at any moment, that he finally turned to look at me for the first time since I'd arrived. His tired, saddened gaze bore into me, and the full weight of it was enough to bring water into my own eyes. There was a shell of a man staring back at me, and it nearly broke my heart clean in two.

Instead of trying to speak, instead of trying to talk my way through to him and make an effort to pull him out of his sorrow with words and a conversation, I found myself moving. Placing my hand on his arm that was closest to me, I gently tugged him in my direction. I was met with no resistance at all as he moved his body towards me. His arms wrapped around my middle, his hands coming to rest on my back as his head rested against my chest.

A deep, shaking breath rushed out of my lips as I placed my own arms around his broad shoulders and began to softly stroke his hair with one of my hands. I could feel his body quiver in my arms as uneven breaths of his own left his lungs. The sound of sharp inhales met my ears as we sat in the soothing silence of the night. Here we were, wrapped in each other's arms on a foreign planet that we knew little to nothing about. The juxtaposition of the nature of this excursion and the tumultuous history of our brief relationship filled me with a deep sense of sadness and unending frustration.

We were constantly trying to just get enough footing to survive — to make it from one day to the next without the feeling of existential dread dragging us both down into what Jim was currently struggling through as he quietly cried in my arms. Unknowingly, we both played the villain and hero in each other's lives over and over again. It was a never ending game of trying to chase what made us both feel so good, so whole, so content, while having it simultaneously bring us nothing but heartache, complications and difficulty after difficulty.

I knew the irony wasn't lost on either of us. It had been swirling around us for as long as we'd been playing at having our relationship. I'd falter, he'd misstep, command would introduce a variety of impossible hurdles, we'd be reminded that he was the captain and I was just a cadet, here only because he'd given his word. The weight of it was heavy, and clearly it had finally taken its toll on Jim in a way I hadn't expected. To know that it had finally gotten the better of him, that it had overcome him and sucked every last ounce of joy, overconfidence, and spontaneous spark from his being was devastating.

All I could do was offer myself completely to him when he needed it most — and now, as I held his trembling body in my arms, I did just that. I pressed my cheek to the top of his head as I stroked the side of his hair, down to the back of his neck over and over again. My other hand slowly rubbed his back up and down in an even, rhythmical pattern. I could feel his hands clutch the back of my uniform at various times as we sat with the harmony of the flowing water and chorus of evening bugs. He would always clutch my uniform in time with one of his shivers, along with an audible intake of breath.

I simply sat and held him as he went through what he went through. There would be a time for more words, more discussion, more plans, more difficult conversations. But right now was not one of those times. How long we sat perched near the water's edge was lost on me. At some point his body had stilled, his breathing growing even once more. His hands had begun to move up and down my back, mirroring the soothing motions I made on his.

The relaxing trance I'd fallen into as I'd looked out at the blue-green glow of the water and mysterious floating particles was eventually broken as I felt Jim begin to shift in my embrace. He pulled back just enough to be able to look up at me with tired, puffy eyes. I brought my hands to his face and cupped his slightly stubbed cheeks between them. My thumbs traced over the swollen skin just under the two red-tinged, bright blue eyes that searched my face as I looked down at him — strikingly handsome and emotionally exhausted.

As I caressed his cheeks, his drained appearance taking a toll on my heart, his lips started to part as if he were getting ready to speak. Before he could even begin to utter a word, I found myself leaning forward and pressing my lips onto his. I wasn't ready to talk yet. I didn't want to dispel the little magical bubble of silent comfort we'd created since sitting together by the waterfall. Sure it was irresponsible, impulsive and selfish of me to kiss him while we were exposed, out in the open while on an excursion mission. But I couldn't fight the burning need inside of me that just wanted to take as much of the edge off of his sadness as I could.

I savored every second of the slow, gentle kiss. It sent shivers of pleasure across my skin as I took in the familiar scent of him that did stupid things to my heart rate. The warmth of need surged through me as I relished in the feeling of his soft, inviting lips pressed against mine. I could feel myself getting through to him as he lifted a hand and brought it to rest on my waist, just beneath my chest. He pulled me closer to him, deepening the kiss and proving to me that he was coming out of the fog of despair that I'd found him in just a short time ago.

Leaning into his touch and using my tongue to bring the kiss to a level that I was entirely aware of being too far and inappropriate given our current situation with a small crew not far off, I moved my one of my hands into his hair, running it to the back of his neck as I started to think about how —

"Captain?"

Spock's emotionless, flat voice crashed through the quiet of the night and shattered the sweet, silent bubble we'd been throughly lost to and immersed in. My loathing for that man was reaching new heights I could have never fathomed. I felt Jim's mouth form into a smile just before pulling his lips away from mine. As I slid my hands from Jim's face, he snagged one and held it in his own before pulling himself up to sit fully upright. He made to respond to the Vulcan by leaning forward, tucking his head just the the right of mine.

"What is it that I can do for you, commander Spock?"

"You have been absent from our secure location for quite some time, captain, and the cadet Aria left some time ago to seek respite for her ailing feet and as well as provide an update on your status."

Jim's eyebrows furrowed as he subtly turned his face back towards me and mouthed "Ailing feet?"

My only response was to give him a small shoulder shrug and make a nonchalant face. He squinted at me suspiciously before turning his attention back to the incredulous Vulcan who sounded like he was much closer than I would've liked him to be.

"I was simply reinforcing some of the cadets' learnings with firsthand experience, and must have gotten sidetracked," Jim responded, and the urge to shove him in the shoulder into the water of the pond rose sharply as he smirked, pleased with his own double entendre. I settled for giving his hand a fierce squeeze, to which he retaliated by just simply caressing the back of my hand with his thumb.

"Rest assured, Spock, that the cadet and I will return to the safety of lodgings shortly. I appreciate your concern, commander, but we are fine. Will that be all?"

There was a pause, and with my back turned to the direction where the Vulcan's voice came from, I wasn't sure if he'd simply turned and left or lingered. Jim's gaze was still fixed past my shoulder, his eyebrows raised as he no doubt looked upon the tall, impossible-to-read officer.

"Are either of you aware that the cadet is glowing, captain?"

My brain snagged as I tried to comprehend what Spock had just said — I should've known better to think that he would've left without having the last word. Jim and I both turned at the same time to look down at the exposed skin of my arms. While the glowing of the particles in the air cast a faint bluish-green hue over both of us, there was in fact something unusual about how my skin appeared. It was luminescent.

"Well that's new," Jim marveled as he reached out with his other hand and gently ran his fingers along the length of my arm, causing a shiver to travel through my body. There was a subtle, yellowish-white glow appearing just beneath the surface of my skin. We'd been so engrossed in one another's presence that neither of us had noticed it until Spock had pointed it out — it must've been even more apparent from a distance, especially in the darkness of the night.

"That's a little upsetting," I said, my brows drawing together as I took in the odd sight of my illuminated skin. Jim gave my arm a light squeeze before turning his attention back to Spock, who stood eerily quiet as he awaited some sort of response from either of us.

"I believe we can chalk that up to tired eyes and perhaps something to do with the unique properties of this planet we're on, Spock. We will rejoin the rest of the crew shortly. That will be all, commander."

Silence followed for a handful of seconds before Jim let out a sigh and shook his head back and forth a few times. He turned his attention back to me and my newly discovered skin attribute, continuing to gently move his fingers up and down the length of my arm.

"This is the first time I've ever witnessed my handsomeness and charm make someone glow. I must have quite the effect on you, cadet."

Resisting the urge to remind him just how easily I could physically incapacitate him by hitting a very exposed region of his body the way he sat with his legs open, I settled for leaning in and placing another kiss on his tempting lips. Pulling back was difficult, but necessary knowing that Spock would be back in a matter of minutes if we didn't return promptly.

I settled for resting my forehead on his, and as I spoke, my breath grazed his still-parted lips. "You're lucky that between the ultimate buzzkill of Spock and your own astounding ability to be an arrogant, overconfident prick, I still want to kiss that damn mouth of yours."

He huffed a laugh, and the puff of air that hit my subtly smiling lips sent a tremor through me. The fact that he was some semblance of his usual self now brought me a great sense of relief. There was no doubt in my mind that there was an ungodly long list of things that needed to be addressed between us — including the whole glowing development — but for now, I wanted to revel in the lightness that came after offering him the simple comfort of an embrace and a few stolen kisses. I'd willfully play in ignorance for the remainder of our time on this planet, away from the dreadful pull of the Enterprise and the issues that constantly lurked in wait down every corridor.

"Go figure he'd be the one to come find us out here. I swear he has a sixth sense for encroaching at the worst possible times. And I will mercifully ignore the list of hurtful insults you just hurled at me, seeing as you just got back in my good graces after apologizing."

It was my turn to laugh onto his lips just before he pushed them into mine again. The kiss lingered longer than mine had, and by the time he pulled away, we were both breathless.

"We do need to head back, cadet. Spock will be back before we know it, and we've got another long day of walking ahead of us tomorrow."

A defeated sigh left my lips at his words. He stood up with a grunt, brushing off his pants before looking down and offering me his hand with that dashing little smirk of his. Damn him for knowing what a weapon that smirk was — it never failed to disarm me.

"I really should've brought better footwear for all of this damn walking," I replied with a groan as I reached up to place my hand in his. He pulled me up easily, and I staggered as my body protested with soreness at the sudden movement after having sat on the ground for so long.

"Shall I order someone to carry you around all day tomorrow?" I snorted out a laugh as I followed his lead, brushing off and smoothing over my uniform.

"I'm sure that would be well received by — "

Before I could finish my thought, I was being swept up into his arms. It took the breath from my lungs, and I couldn't stifle my gasp as he cradled me against his chest, his smirk much more prominent. He started off along the edge of the creek, heading towards the fresh trail both Spock, Jim and myself had used to get down to the beautifully peaceful spot.

"Don't think I just let 'ailing feet' go, cadet. I'll get you back to the cabin, and maybe we can properly torture Bones tomorrow by having him carry you around like a backpack."

I tipped my head back to let out a true laugh. My arms had wrapped around his neck naturally, and I couldn't help but feel at ease as Jim carried me through the undergrowth and back to the cabin. Sure the faint glow of my skin was still noticeable, and the Starfleet insignia on the cabin was still a conundrum, and we still had to face the board, and the mystery of my unknown heritage and command's suspicious interest in it still existed.

But we had tonight and tomorrow to exist separately from some of those quandaries. It was a temporary, perhaps tad bit irresponsible fix, but one I would thoroughly utilize if it meant I could see more of Jim's smiles, and hear more of his laughs and annoying quips for just a little while longer. So as the captain carried me in his arms, I let myself fall into forgetting, and reveled in the idea of playing pretend for one more day if it meant we could both be more of the people we wanted to be.