The purpose is to experience fear. Fear in the face of certain death.

[hischair]

When: 17th onward!
Rating: Gross sickly stuff.
Characters: Jim & you!
Summary: Catch-all log for Jim's friends! After the 16th when he felt ill, Jim's Augmented blood has started to fight back like it did during the two weeks he was out cold after dying in a decontamination chamber. His organs will be starting to slowly fail, blood (both his own and Khan's) will be coming up, and he's generally confined to his bedroom in his and Bones' apartment. As time goes on, his condition will be deteriorating until his essence rite is performed. Please put the date of your visit in the subject header! Forward/Back-dating and Prose/Action are all fine, as are video/audio/text which can be directed here for all personal calls while Jim is sick.
Log: 

[ He finds himself thinking of Christopher, more than anything. Of the last time he saw him, specifically, in the Hall of the Missing. Of not being able to let go of him for so long and crying like a son lost in the thickest of woods, longing to find his way home only to briefly find it and have to turn back into the darkness once more. Chris had held him, kissed his hair like a father, soothed Jim in a way he had never had to before, but then again neither of them had died and been torn apart in such violent ways until the Augment came into their lives. Even in death, he's still been there when Jim needed him.

He stares out of the window in his room, propped up against pillows as coughs rumble in the pit of his chest, looking at the City below where the horizon meets a fake, beautiful sky. If he lets the migraines take over for long enough his senses go haywire and a drowsy kind of tactile memory swims under his fingers and into his nose, of an admiral's uniform scented with aftershave that soothes his anxieties almost as effectively as the real thing.

"It's going to be okay, son."

He wishes he could find a bar to drown his sorrows in. Chris always, always found him when he was at his lowest point in backwater dives.

And then on occasion, during his more painful moments where there's no one around to hear his muffled crying into a pillow or witness the sheets crumpling in his fists, his thoughts drift to the decontamination chamber. Jim wakes himself up several times after passing out with Spock's name on bloodied lips and hopes to God he hasn't started doing anything as embarrassing as crying out in his sleep to betray his fright; he has the use of his lungs still, unlike his final moments where he hadn't been able to tell his friend a wealth of things that suddenly seemed so important. Look after the crew, you're the captain now. I'll miss you. I don't want to go, stay with me. It's shameful, but a couple of times he calls for Bones just to have his company, terrified under a firmly schooled expression that he'll die in the here and now, well and truly alone.

If he had been given diagrammatics on his condition in the form of a vessel's specifics, he would have written it off by now. It's as if the effects of his descent into the warp core are being clawed out of his body in slow motion by the deepening fever-tide, leaving Jim to hate every minute of having survived. Which is counter-productive, he knows, because he very much wants to live. ]

Comments

[hischair]

[ It's getting to the point where he's certain Bones will bodily toss him into an ambulance if he insists on staying home much longer. The pain is interspersed through wakefulness and dreaming, but the recent batch of whatever-the-hell he's been pumped full of is managing to numb the pain to the point where it just feels weird where it should hurt, insides churning in a way that makes him sit up and sweat just from the effort of maintaining the position. He's had enough of trying to do that for one day, so when Pavel enters it's enough of a surprise to keep Jim laid out where he is, attention diverting from the open window (because he might be sick, but he certainly doesn't have to smell like it). ]

Chekov. [ A grin broadens across his lips, eyes crinkling. ] You're still up and running? That's good.

[candothat]

[Kirk is certainly cheerful for someone who, within the first few weeks of becoming trapped in a spacetime anomaly, has managed to contract a horrible magic plague. Pavel returns the smile uncertainly and stands at the captain's bedside. He doesn't fidget, but manages to project an air of fidgetiness while entirely stationary.]

Yes, but Nyota is ill. How are you feeling?

[hischair]

[ Frowning to hear about Uhura, he gives a shrug over his own well-being. ]

I feel useless, if you want an honest answer. Got a great view of the crack in the ceiling, though. Tell me what you've been getting up to.

[candothat]

Getting up to? Work, mostly. I'm learning how to swim.

[And, because it's totally relevant:] You need a more interesting ceiling.

[hischair]

Paint me something interesting, sometime. [ Smiling, Jim raises his brows. ] You never knew how to swim before? Who's teaching you?

[candothat]

You wouldn't want me to paint. I would ruin the ceiling.

There was never any need to swim. [Russia's cold, space is... space. It's kind of embarrassing to admit to not knowing how to swim, though.] My friend Korra is teaching me. She comes from a place that isn't unlike Russia.

[hischair]

I wouldn't mind.

[ It would shake up his day, that's for sure. ]

Haven't met Korra, she sounds nice. How's her home like Russia, just really cold?

[candothat]

You say that now.

[Jim might have regrets if he actually subjects himself to Chekov's complete lack of artistic ability. If he insists, though...]

Yes, because Russia's sole defining characteristic is the cold. [INSUBORDINATE EYEROLL. It's a lot easier to treat Kirk like another person instead of a captain when he's ill.] No--but yes, it is cold, and I think that the people have a culture similar to the one that existed in old Tsarist Russia.

[hischair]

[ Chuckling when sassed, his smile doesn't dim when he admits; ]

I've never been to Russia. You make me want to go there someday, not that I have the faintest idea what I'd do when I got there.

[candothat]

You need to go! I can show you what you need to see. [Said with all of the excitement of someone who is absolutely planning a field trip to the best place in the universe.] You would like Moscow, everyone likes Moscow. There's the Kremlin, Pokrovsky Cathedral, Krasnaya Ploshchad--Red Square, I mean--and the Academy of Sciences headquarters, but maybe that would be boring for you.

[hischair]

I know Admiral Pike once called you a whizkid, but I think I can keep up if you don't mind showing me the sights. I'd love to go there with you.

[ How can he say no? ]

[candothat]

[No one can say no to Russia. >(]

Mind? Why would I mind? [Having his favorite people in his third favorite place while he talks about one of his favorite topics? Not a hardship. Chekov perches on the edge of Kirk's bed.] I have always wanted to trap my friends in a situation where they have no choice but to listen to me talk.

[hischair]

I'm pretty sure Sulu experiences that every day at the helm. I got the impression you guys are in your own little world down there.

[ To be honest, it's adorable. He has the best helmsman and navigator there is and them being friends warms Jim inside. ]

[candothat]

We are nothing but professional on duty, mostly. [Mostly. When required. Space can be very boring when no one is trying to kill them.] It is fortunate that we get along so well.

[hischair]

I'm always telling Admirals and other Captains that I've got the best crew, and I always mean it too. If someone offered me the best navigator in the fleet, I'd laugh in their face and remind them I already snapped him up.

[ So there. ]

[candothat]

[Approval means a lot to Chekov, even more so when it comes from Kirk, who is respected (it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say adored) as both a professional and a person. He couldn't make him happier if he offered him a promotion.]

You mean that. [Chekov puts a hand on Kirk's.] Or at least you think that you mean that.

[hischair]

[ Turning his hand over to give Chekov's a squeeze, he arches his brows playfully. ]

I am pretty out of it on meds. Hmm ...

[candothat]

Not to worry. If you don't still think so when you are in your right mind, I will find a way to convince you.

[hischair]

Are you going to personally navigate me around the City? That's not a bad idea, the first time I took a look around I wound up in a strip joint. [ Pausing. ] Accidentally, of course.

[candothat]

[He doesn't know if this is one of those occasions where Kirk doesn't actually mean what he says or not.]

If you would like me to, I would, but only if you promise that I won't be in trouble with Dr. McCoy if something were to happen.

[hischair]

[ So much faith your captain, Pavel. ]

Why would you be in trouble with Bones? He's never really mad at anyone but me. [ Wait a minute. ] Does he still make you nervous?

[candothat]

[Hey, everyone on the ship knows how McCoy gets with those hypos (around the captain, anyway).]

Yes, he does! Even when he and I were the only ones from the Enterprise here, he was very... closed? [That's not quite the right word. Maybe if he waves his hand around a little, the meaning will be clear.] We never spoke much.

[hischair]

It's probably just the age difference. He's easy to get along with if you're generally a nice person, which you are. [ His hand twitches in Chekov's pointedly. ] Ask him what it was like studying at Ole Miss and get him talking about little things. Ask his opinion.

[candothat]

I will do that, but only after you and Nyota are well again.

[hischair]

Make sure she takes care of herself, I want her feeling better as soon as possible.