( closed )

[imaginate]

Characters: Kyle & various.
Date: Catch-all log for July.
Location: All around.
Situation: Various.
Warnings/Rating: War horrors, child abuse, mention of torture, physical and psychological.
Notes: [Action] or prose are all good. Ping me if you'd like a specific setup/threadstarter.

Comments

[imaginate]

Puzzled, he accepts the gesture and lets Jim pull him to his feet. There's a lot here he's missing and Kyle had a nasty feeling he'd said or done something while drunk that was inspiring this kind of reaction.

'Anyway.' He brings up another screen, showing a generic scan of a human brain, with certain highlighted areas. 'This is how I can affect dreaming.' He means nightmares, that's really the only reason he'd even consider this solution, but it also helped when one needed rest.

[jirk]

Damnit, Kyle, he's a captain, not a neuroscientist! But he studies the scan, and then he nods. "Good enough for me. I only need about four hours." And there's a part of him that's still got its heels dug in because he doesn't want this, he doesn't want other people messing with his head, but he shuts that thought out and grins. "Now when you say dreamless... I don't suppose I could request, say, a beach volleyball match instead? Cute chicks, tiny bikinis...?"

[imaginate]

'No can do, Captain, it'll have to be supermodels playing ping-pong.'

He grins back, cheekily, choosing not to remark on what's under the surface. Neither of them want another fight, especially since he's quite sure they don't really hate each other at all.

[jirk]

"Have I told you lately I like the way you think?" Jim's grin goes cocky, and he drapes himself artfully across the bed once more. He can sense the tension, though, and he clears his throat.

"It's nothing you said or did. I'm just dealing with some stuff on my end. Okay?"

[imaginate]

His expression softens, to fondness and amusement. 'Okay.' He won't push, if it needs to be discussed, it'll be brought up. If not, he'll just have to live with it.

'Ready?'

[jirk]

"Beam me up, Angel." Jim pulls the blanket over his shoulders, more for the comfort and the weight than the laughable idea he could be cold, and waves a hand to indicate he's ready for lights out. His heart's beating way too fast, but he'll just have to deal.

[imaginate]

Kyle points his ring at Jim and a green glow surrounds him. It's not intentionally warm or comfortable, but it's an extension of Kyle and his emotions. Right now, compassion is ruling him.

He waits to see if it's worked properly. Jim said only a few hours and it's wise to respect that request. Kyle feels a little tired himself, but he wanders off to see if he can get anything done. He puts his ring down on the nightstand to function as an alarm clock. When it wakes Jim up he'll find breakfast is sitting on a large tray next to him. It's vegan; Kyle used to cook for Connor and it's not a stretch to whip up something quick.

[jirk]

The ring startles him awake, and he actually jerks, flails, and falls off the end of the bed when it beeps at him. He stays there, stunned for a moment, and then shakes himself and gets to his feet with all the energy of a great few hours of sleep. He feels awesome, refreshed, and it's not even noon yet.

Tribbles, here he comes.

He stops, though, when he sees the source of the alarm, and his mouth twists off to one side in some emotion he can't quite place. He does, however, grab the tray of food and start wolfing it down. He's starving, and the fact that it's vegan doesn't really register on his radar. When you spend as long as he has eating cafeteria food at the Academy, and then shipboard food on the Enterprise, your tastes end up a lot less discerning than most. And it is pretty tasty. He gulps down a mouthful of coffee and then picks the tray up, carries it downstairs to the kitchen. The tray gets set on the table, but he keeps the coffee mug as he wanders over to Kyle, who's going over the more... shall we say, technical details of the Vulcan sciences. Jim leans over his shoulder, cup in hand.

"Want some advice?"

[imaginate]

He's been hunched at the desk for several hours now, struggling with the problems. This isn't his strong point, he's never been that much of a physicist. Even defeating the Blind had taken help from friendly scientists and a not so friendly bounty hunter. He'd been confident of his own ability then.

And Parallax had happened, turning the world upside down. Kyle was back to square one and fighting hard to make progress.

He gives Jim a bright smile when he approaches and shows him the utter mess that's him trying to work out the equations. Kyle can tell he's slept and eaten well, and his heart is lighter for it.

'Yes, please.'

[jirk]

"Then we go and tackle tribbles. Deal?" Jim drags a chair up to the desk, turns it around and drapes his arms over the back of it, resting his chin on them. "Okay, so the first thing you have to remember is--" and he launches right into it. Excuse you, he didn't sleep through all his classes. Jim hides his genius behind a veneer of academic laziness. Oh, he got top grades in most of his classes, or close to them, but most people assumed it was because he cheated (never proved, until the KM exam) or pulled favours from his daddy's name.

But the truth is, Jim loves learning. He always has. And he has no problem sitting down and acquainting himself with new theories or ideas-- it's one of the best ways to make sure you don't get stagnant or complacent in your own ideas.

So he talks. Draws diagrams, explains ideas. Breaks everything down into simpler forms than what Spock would have used. Gesticulates (a lot) and his coffee goes cold beside him. Being a teacher is something he enjoys - he used to teach one of the martial arts classes for the freshmen, and he genuinely missed it. Being a captain is almost the same, but not quite. As a captain, you already expect that people know their job. As a teacher, it's your job to help them learn it.

He finally stops, draws a deep breath. Reaches for his coffee, makes a face at the temperature, but drinks it anyway. "Any questions?"

[imaginate]

He listens, nods, and tries to understand. A lot of it flies over his head: he's not used to this level of computation, or concepts, and without visual aids or hands-on learning, he has tremendous difficulty grasping it. As much as he'd hated being thrown into the middle of the ocean and told not to drown, it had worked. So well, in fact, that he couldn't adjust to a gentler method.

Still, he was trying. And it was good for Jim, anyway, he looked like he needed a student to help him along his own learning curve. He follows as best he can, but the frustration with his own inability to follow is frequent, but he keeps trying. Keeps fighting.

When Jim's done, Kyle nods, but his expression falls, and he looks at his own (failed) attempts.

'I'm sorry,' he says, voice sad, and hushed. 'I didn't really get it at all. Maybe I should take a break. I'll try harder next time.'

[jirk]

Jim is not even the slightest bit daunted. Instead, "Here. Give me your ring, I want to try something."

[imaginate]

Without hesitation, he calls it from the room. It floats down and hovers in front of Jim, waiting for him to put it on. Kyle just looks at him quizzically, wondering what he's planning.

[jirk]

Jim nabs it out of the air and this time when he gesticulates, it sparks into reality. He simply pulls the concepts out of his head and uses the ring to show them, one hundred percent. The constructs aren't meant to be solid, they're more like the images from an old projection, albeit more vivid. Then he starts over, slowly, pointing out the visualizations relative to each theory. Using the ring takes very little effort for him, although it's actually harder for him to maintain non-solid constructs than it would be for him to pull everything entirely into being.

This time when he's finished, he tilts his head. "Better?"

[imaginate]

'Better,' Kyle agrees, having watched in utter fascination. 'Still not there yet. Give it time.'

He exhales, letting go of a lot of his frustration. He wasn't used to a gentle guiding hand, he was used to violence and cruelty. This might have been easier if he was being forced against the clock, but Sep had said there are limits, and Kyle... had to agree, on some level, even if it wasn't the way he'd learnt.

[jirk]

"My ship wasn't built in a day, you know." Jim takes the ring off, holds it out on his palm. "I get patience. Honestly, this is-- not easy stuff. This is third or fourth year science officer stuff. Don't get frustrated, okay?"

He ducks a little so he's more properly in Kyle's line of vision, and smiles. "You'll do great."

[imaginate]

It was always easy to say that when not getting it meant that one couldn't do one's job fast enough. A misaligned moon, an asteroid that wasn't redirected properly, hell, even a planet shifting out of orbit due to an attack, that was all just.. too common. He accepted what he couldn't do, but the things he could manage, had to be done, and worked at until they were second nature.

This wasn't second nature. Not yet.

But Kyle just smiles, a little worn at the edges, taking what he can get. 'Thanks. For helping.'

He hadn't expected it. Kindness, or an emotional exchange. Nobody gave back.

[jirk]

Jim reaches out and nudges his shoulder playfully. "Thanks for the whole sleep aid thing. Man, you could bottle and sell that whole routine. I feel great."

[imaginate]

'It was the supermodels, wasn't it?'

He doesn't return the physical contact, but the cheerfulness is reciprocated in his tone.

[jirk]

"Definitely the supermodels." Jim sits back in his chair and laughs, hands braced on the shoulder rest of the chair. "Why's he got you learning all this stuff, anyway?"

[imaginate]

Because I asked, Kyle doesn't say. Because I wasn't taught this, when I'd needed it.

'I was reliably informed it impressed the ladies. So here I am.' He gestures outwards with both hands, in a sort of "ta-dah".

[jirk]

"Hey, leave some for the rest of us, thanks. At this rate I'm going to have to give you a handicap." Jim salutes with his coffee cup and swings his leg over the chair seat so he can get up and saunter towards the kitchen in search of a second helping.

[imaginate]

Kyle takes the time to pack up and put the books aside. He's had more than enough for one day. His messy notes, he stares at, debates torching them like he does with paintings he's not satisfied with. Eventually he decides that tearing them up works just as well.

Then he fetches a sketchbook and pen, opens it on a blank page, and ponders.

[jirk]

Jim, meanwhile, goes to do the morning's dishes. He's cheerful as he works, whistling off-key. He knows when Kyle needs his space, and doesn't have a problem letting him draw.

[imaginate]

He takes a long time to think of a subject. His mind is still full of planets and gravitational fields and-- he thinks of the white sky on Thanagar, when he'd been there with Kilowog, attempting to clean up a mess that wasn't even theirs. Disobeying orders. That'd cost him Jen.

He almost starts to draw her, then decides otherwise. It's better to choose a different subject, he was drunk last night already.

So he picks one of the frontier worlds. and begins to sketch a few of the strange plants he'd catalogued there. Fully absorbed in his work, he doesn't notice anyone come in or out of the room, he's simply living in his own world.