[ After the incident with hacking into Starfleet's secure database, and the holo-recording that sent Jim into an allergic reaction that was only in his head--- It doesn't take long for the slight confusion to turn to full blown. The headache is worse than before, and it feels like he should pass out, but he doesn't.
Somewhere, after Julian has taken the tube out of his throat, and healed the wound, he's settled in behind him on the cot. He feels sweaty and sick, and the only solid thing are the arms wrapped around him, the heartbeat he can feel against his back, and the other man's chin hooked over his shoulder. He'd fought, hard as he could at first, to try and get away from that scant comfort.
He'd fought until he exhausted himself, and then slumped like a puppet with his strings cut. He repeated his name, his service number, his rank. He repeated the names of his best friend, Leonard McCoy. Another close friend, Spock. His command crew. Anything and everything.
But it was getting muddled, like clear water that is suddenly disturbed and sediment churned up underfoot. Chris. Christopher Travers. Why does that name sound familiar? Why does it sound like his own more than James Kirk? When he thinks about Julian, and the other two men, he doesn't wind up confused anymore---he remembers them too. He doesn't understand why.
It's a moment of clarity, in the midst of all this, that he isn't fighting anyone right then. It's likely only because he's exhausted, and he is. His head is still aching, but then there's anger too, and he's not sure where that's building from. It's easy to ignore for the moment. His voice is rough when he licks his lips and starts to speak. ]
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Somewhere, after Julian has taken the tube out of his throat, and healed the wound, he's settled in behind him on the cot. He feels sweaty and sick, and the only solid thing are the arms wrapped around him, the heartbeat he can feel against his back, and the other man's chin hooked over his shoulder. He'd fought, hard as he could at first, to try and get away from that scant comfort.
He'd fought until he exhausted himself, and then slumped like a puppet with his strings cut. He repeated his name, his service number, his rank. He repeated the names of his best friend, Leonard McCoy. Another close friend, Spock. His command crew. Anything and everything.
But it was getting muddled, like clear water that is suddenly disturbed and sediment churned up underfoot. Chris. Christopher Travers. Why does that name sound familiar? Why does it sound like his own more than James Kirk? When he thinks about Julian, and the other two men, he doesn't wind up confused anymore---he remembers them too. He doesn't understand why.
It's a moment of clarity, in the midst of all this, that he isn't fighting anyone right then. It's likely only because he's exhausted, and he is. His head is still aching, but then there's anger too, and he's not sure where that's building from. It's easy to ignore for the moment. His voice is rough when he licks his lips and starts to speak. ]
I--I remember a waterfall.