Waking Up to Us
There was some reason he wasn't supposed to wake up. Some memory his conscious mind couldn't stand, and kept trying to avoid by pulling the blackness around it like a shield. He could stay here, not warm exactly but not anything else, either.
But that went against every other instinct he'd ever had--if he could protect himself, he would. Unconsciousness was a luxury and there was no room for luxury in his world. You got back up. Safety was an illusion. The blackness did not protect--it smothered and bound and left you vulnerable. Kirk could only pretend it was his friend for so long.
As he swam back up through it, ripping away the film that coated his brain in layers that returned instinct first, then sense, then meaning, he knew only that something was wrong. And he only fought harder, not knowing what revelation he was racing towards. It wouldn't have mattered--ignorance, too, was a death sentence no matter how often one had to feign it.
Sickbay.
He recognized the smell first, but that was only because the ceiling looked like every other on board and the sound of the biobed readings was drowned by his sudden panic as his body remembered the fight, though not yet the result, and thrashed weakly inside the cocoon of starvation, blood loss and fading anesthesia.
There was something he had to remember. He couldn't afford these seconds of disorientation. Pike. Pike had been here. He started up, making it to elbows he kept from trembling through sheer force of will, his gaze darting wildly about the room.
But that went against every other instinct he'd ever had--if he could protect himself, he would. Unconsciousness was a luxury and there was no room for luxury in his world. You got back up. Safety was an illusion. The blackness did not protect--it smothered and bound and left you vulnerable. Kirk could only pretend it was his friend for so long.
As he swam back up through it, ripping away the film that coated his brain in layers that returned instinct first, then sense, then meaning, he knew only that something was wrong. And he only fought harder, not knowing what revelation he was racing towards. It wouldn't have mattered--ignorance, too, was a death sentence no matter how often one had to feign it.
Sickbay.
He recognized the smell first, but that was only because the ceiling looked like every other on board and the sound of the biobed readings was drowned by his sudden panic as his body remembered the fight, though not yet the result, and thrashed weakly inside the cocoon of starvation, blood loss and fading anesthesia.
There was something he had to remember. He couldn't afford these seconds of disorientation. Pike. Pike had been here. He started up, making it to elbows he kept from trembling through sheer force of will, his gaze darting wildly about the room.