(Untitled)

[youwereameteor]

There's something satisfying about it. It's not a big bonfire, not particularly big at all in its pit lined with stones, but it throws off enough heat to make him sweat, and it sends up smoke towards the sky. The sky is blue, a peculiar sort of aching blue. Looking up at it for too long sort of hurts so he looks down instead, takes a swig of the

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[fear_no_words]

There's something about the way he sits there - maybe the set of his shoulders, maybe the way his head falls - that puts a sick feeling in the pit of Uhura's stomach before she's even close enough to see his face. When she can see him, something like panic flares up in her breast, a frenzied concern for one of the few people she still has left in this world.

She tamps it down like her life depends on it - and maybe it does a little - as she approaches the cozy little bonfire, her sandals dangling loosely from her fingers. "Jim?" she asks, hesitating only a second before out and asking, "What's happened?"

[youwereameteor]

There's always been something very comforting about her; she's not their Uhura, but maybe thats what's comforting. She's warmer than their Uhura. It's easier to be around her.

He sniffs and wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Spencer's gone."

[fear_no_words]

"Fuck," she hissed, not bothering to lower her voice or even think about it. You couldn't cover up a bombshell like that with a placid expression and understanding smile.

It was bad enough when the island took Spock, Scotty, Chekov. People they all loved and cared about. But taking Reid felt like something more personal, an attack against her captain, and she hated it.

Tightening her mouth into a straight line against a surge of emotions, Uhura moved to sit beside him, taking his hand in hers without asking. "I'm sorry."

[youwereameteor]

It's surprising how easily his fingers thread with hers. She's a warm solid presence, a known strength beside him and he finds himself leaning into her. He swallows against the lump in his throat.

"I don't knwo what to do."

[fear_no_words]

"Just carry on for right now," she said, rubbing her hand along the length of his arm. She didn't even think then of how odd this would be in another dimension, of officer comforting captain and the comparisons wrapped up in that thought. It was just Jim needing Uhura. "It's all you can do."

[youwereameteor]

"All I can do."

He nods, leaning into her touch a little bit, trying to keep her close. "I don't...I never wanted to do this without him."

[fear_no_words]

"Of course not," she said. The words just came out, but she didn't know what Jim meant exactly. Mourn for Reid without Reid, live without Reid? It didn't matter too much at that moment, when the point was the man missed his husband. "But you can. And you will. And you've got me and McCoy and every other friend you've made here. You're not alone, Jim."

[youwereameteor]

"I feel alone." He knows that he's not; he knows that he's got people there, and he stays close to her even as he says it.

"I got used to doing everything with him. How am I supposed to sleep in an empty bed?"

[fear_no_words]

"You can stay with me," she offered without hesitating, without thinking. "You'll get through it. I know it seems like a lot now, but you just have to go day by day. You'll get through it." She squeezed his hand, showing him a brief, gentle smile. "You're too stubborn not to, aren't you?"

[youwereameteor]

"Thankyou," he says, and means it. He's got an offer of a room at Bones' too, but there's something so solid about Uhura and, right now, Jim just needs someone that he can lean his weight again. He manages a ghost of a smile in echo of hers.

"Damn straight."