Don't believe in no-win scenarios

((OOC Note: Part of the Shedding Light series, the preview of which can be read Here from one of the Wronged Party's Points of View. Set a few months back at this point.

Content Warning for this whole series for upsetting imagery, trauma, and body horror. This is gonna be about the consequences of necromancy so you have been warned.))



Sleep hasn't come easily for months.

Not when a cold so much more potent than the biting chill of the mountains poisons Jim Kirk's every subconscious thought. Sometimes it's Harrowheart bloating and rotting in his armor the weaker his enchantments became, plundering the life of the forest they traveled through for any precious minutes of sanity he could buy. Sometimes Isidor's hateful words and bitter tears knife at him while she brandishes magic powerful enough to move mountains, her hand on the Runeblade. He and Stratos crying together in their bedrolls. Sometimes Felix is strangling him, or standing above him with his familiar bristling while it all but foams at the muzzle. Smoke filling Jim's lungs while a demon wearing his brother's smile presses a hefty gem soaked in the blood of mortals just like him into his shaking hands while whispering about the one way to bring Felix back. Sometimes it's Rielle itself with its gaping maw of fetid dark energy that made the living tremble to stand amid its ruins, the letters addressed to Jim or Stratos in all their feverish disarray trying to explain the madness Felix succumbed to in these crumbling walls.

Jim's fought more undead in his dreams than could possibly exist. Has been pulled under into murky algae-thick waters by rotting hands with splintered mails as rasping noises filled his ears and teeth sunk into his flesh. He's been chased down by shambling horrors that should never have been made, but were. How could Felix have made these? How could all of this Wrongness been the brainchild of the man Jim loves so much? Felix must have personally mutilated those bodies before magic allowed him to rearrange the pieces into the monstrosities they faced down amid the sinkholes and collapsed stairs deep within the ruin. So far away from even a hint of daylight.

It comes back to them every time. The Runeblades are at fault for this. Harrowheart's cursed soul repository that sought for themselves a new wielder. They tried to take Felix, they infected him with their madness, THEY TRIED AND FAILED TO CLAIM HIM. The metallic hiss of his name echoes throughout the stoneworks of Rielle.

"James...."

He sometimes thinks he can see glowing eyes following his every move even after Jim wakes before the dream has bled away back into his subconscious completely once more.

If it were just for himself, Captain Kirk wouldn't say anything. He'd suffer through his panic attacks, his night terrors, his PTSD induced nausea and then get up from the floor come Alpha shift and pretend to be a whole man again. He talks to Leonard first. Gets himself something to help him sleep. Jim won't agree to therapy but he can't fall to pieces every night with Felix at his side. He's not the only one with nightmares, either. Even on nights Jim is otherwise fine he'll be woken to curl close and ease Felix through his own remembered terrors. Jim can't give his husband reason to try to leave him behind again once the mage is well. The captain won't let himself be driven away again no matter how much he sometimes wants to grab Felix and demand answers he knows the man cannot give.

So he does what he can.

He's at Felix's side when the man gets his bandages off for good. Comes along for the initial trip to Bruma to go reassure their Uncle and Brother that the treatment Dr. McCoy provided won't be lacking in any magical area. To be support when both men inevitably have their chance to speak to Felix's actions going back to Rielle. Jim does his best to be a good husband. Dutiful. He's there to quietly offer up that Felix chose this foolhardy path in order to spare Stratos or himself from having to face that place again....

Jim's there because he has to be. (Part 2 is here!)

Jim's in between meetings when he feels the tug on the edge of his senses letting him know that 'the lady' is in the apartment again. Felix has managed to give Tiber the slip today so the kneazle has been holed up all alone in Jim's apartment while the captain works. The last few times she's shown up haven't been ideal--rebuilding efforts on the station and staffing for Jim's new ship have eaten into most of his time of late.

Today though, all he has are easily put-offable bureaucratic meetings with his head of departments. Frankly, Scotty, Spock, and Bones can operate fine for an afternoon without him and Jim more than trusts them to do just that. It gets him a bit of an eyebrow from the other men when he begs off but they don't question him more than that for now.

The apartment sounds quiet when Jim lets himself in. The lights are off. Everything's as he's left it. Except he can see the light outside his study door marked orange telling him it's been locked from the inside. He'd shown Isidor how to do that the first day she'd come over after all. A layer of security for her already frayed paranoia about being seen at anything other than her best.

Jim knows the feeling all too well. He's done what he could to accommodate her.

His work desk has long since been pushed off into one of the corners to maximize the floor space in the room. The captain's done what he could to remove anything unnecessary--coffee tables or the like. That's left is a spartan office with a desk tucked into the corners and the only window set to opaque to give a bit of 'natural' light to this otherwise empty room. If it weren't for the terminal at the door it would look almost normal. It's the little things that feel off to any Earth-hailing person. The wood of the trim and desk don't feel quite right. The sense of balance and gravity is ever so slightly odd. Even the glass isn't the same as a normal frosted window. And then there's the smell. Or lack thereof of modern day air pollution that permeates modern living. The air scrubbers of the colony keep Yorktown sterile and clean smelling.

Jim knocks twice on the door to let Isidor know he's there before he punches in the door's override code and it hisses open with the quietest swissssh.

"I've got a pot of coffee going, wanted to see if you were interested in a cup of something a bit different from the blends you usually have access to."

Sharing the link to Harrowheart's journal as his mun has been kind enough to gather the logs from this momentous occasion.

The Doc will be updated periodically as we progress and anyone who wants to read is welcome to take a look :)

Edit: Document has been brought up to date! We're getting close to the end now, come check out what the gang's been up to!