Heart to Harrowheart (with Jim - smartasscaptain)

[westfallcorndog]

((Co-written with Jim (smartasscaptain) in Discord, posted here for posterity. Thanks so much to Jim's player for cleaning up this log and making it post-worthy! Some of the markup may not come through properly, so imagine I italicized too much, as one does.

Summation: A YEAR after the conclusion of the Runeblades megaplot, Jim and Harrow finally sit down for a serious discussion.))

Harrowheart

Viatorus' wonderfully alcohol-filled wedding has passed, but Harrowheart's offer to Jim still stands: Come visit his new home. Turns out the location is somewhere in a forest in the Nexus, though fortunately this forest is less the 'haunted monsters' variety and more the average, temperate Earth-style woodland. The abrupt changing of the seasons turned the leaves already, and many have fallen to the ground, prime for the crunching. Without the shadow of the canopy the sun filters down to the ground, lighting the way to the small home well enough.

It sits in a clearing where Harrow has made no apparent attempt to control the leaves in any way. The house is a single story and, at a guess, probably three rooms wide. The wooden siding of the home is white, and still quite clean. Its grey-shingled roof extends into an overhang that sits above a front porch, rightly furnished with a single rocking chair... And in it, a corpse.

Right, Harrowheart. The dude who unlives here. Despite the chilling weather he's dressed, as always, in a tanktop and cargo shorts. His hands and knees are caked in dried mud that's also dusting his clothes. His eyes are closed and he appears to be sleeping. Behind him, leaning against the frame of the front door, the runeblade lies dormant.

Jim

Crunch, crunch, crackle, crunch.

It's impossible to stealth through this kind of dried Autumnal foliage but truthfully Jim isn't even bothering to try and be quiet. He hasn't had the simple joy of being able to drag his feet through fall leaves in years now. There's something so essentially satisfying to hear them crunch underfoot. Unlike the man of the house however Jim is very much dressed for the occasion--clad in an olive colored shirt tucked into fitted jeans with a leather jacket pulled on over his shirt though his work boots are still the only shoes he has to wear.

Harrow's house is much more well constructed than Jim would have figured. Building a house is serious work. Even with his interest in engineering Jim still wouldn't be comfortable making a whole house yet here it stands in the relative quiet corner of Nexus woodland. The lack of Jim-Eating-Monsters around the place honestly makes everything about this trek all the more enjoyable. The captain's carrying a shopping bag on one arm when he finally approaches the porch.

"Knock, knock!" Harrow doesn't have a mailbox or a sidewalk or any kind of patch leading up to his home but Jim still walks until he's in front of the structure before he approaches it out of habit.

Comments

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart
Harrowheart wheezes an exasperated laugh. "Why do you think I went to Felix in the first place? 'Cause he told me he could bind it. 'Cause he thought he knew enough to keep it quiet so I could pretend to have a normal life. Jim..."

He turns his hands up on the table to expose his empty palms. "I know you ain't a mage, but... This is what a curse is. It ain't somethin' that goes away easy. Ten years ago I made a bargain with the blades. I gave my soul up 'cause I thought it was the only real freedom I'd ever have. I chose to become a monster thinkin' it'd get me outta the hurt I felt. I traded my pain for others' pain, and I didn't care about the consequences. Just because I do now don't change the terms of that deal."

His hands slip to the edge of the table and off, out of sight on his lap. He shakes his head in small motions. "What happens if I get a mage to contain 'em... And then someday somethin' goes wrong and the spell breaks? What happens when all their bound up anger comes out all at once? Nothin' good. Ain't we learned anything at all from what happened to Felix? Askin' other folks to help me out is hurtin' them to save me from my own pain. It's the same bad choice I made ten years back."
He shrugs his shoulders and leans to catch a glimpse of the entryway where the blades are resting.

"I think I been lyin' to myself about the kinda life I can live since I found this place. I been takin' it for granted that it's peaceful here in the Nexus. Pretendin' I can have a life like a livin' man. But I think... Maybe..."

His eyes shift to Jim once more and in a hollow voice he says, "It's time I remembered to hold up my end of the bargain. It's time to give 'em what they want. What I promised I'd give 'em. Forever."

Jim
Cue one supremely unimpressed starship captain.

"So that's it? Your solution is to just give up? You're a soldier I get that in Azeroth, that means you have to take lives. Probably lots more than I want to hear about or can contemplate. But you don't have to just let them do whatever the fuck they want to the people around you and you shouldn't. I know what a curse is, and I know what you think that's made you."

Jim sets down his charmingly stupid mug so it's text faces Harrowheart. He gestures around them to the house he's built. Not just things, everything he's accomplished here.

"This is who you are. Everything you've chosen to be. Yeah, there might be a price to pay for that, and I know. Now. I know what that means you have to do outside of the Nexus. But they shouldn't get to run free around here like a spoiled kid just because they're bored."

Harrowheart
There are a number of times throughout Jim's words – most especially at mentions of curses – that Harrowheart opens his mouth to speak. But he hasn't got it in him to overtake his friend, and so he lets Jim say what he feels he needs to. Only when he's through does he huff a laugh. "Everyone always thinks they know better about me. At least your bullshit's positive."

His hands are back on the table now, spread far apart, while his forearms still rest in his lap.

"What I'm proposin' ain't givin' up. It's... Choosin' not to starve anymore. Choosin' to do what I was made to do to keep me – and them – goin'. And the problem ain't that I don't wanna do it – 'cause it makes me feel good, Jim. The problem is... Can't no one else handle the idea of me doin' it. Think about it."

He gestures to himself, then to Jim. "You ain't made to be friends with a killer." He vaguely rolls his hand in the air. "Isidor ain't made to love a killer, hardass as she thinks she is. Viatorus can't even think about killin'. But that's what I am! And that's what I'm supposed to do. And that's the root of this whole problem, ain't it? That I don't wanna do what I'm supposed to do, because it ain't convenient. Choosin' to go back to doin' it... Is that really the same as givin' up?"
"Or."

A little silence passes. His eyebrows tilt upwards as he searches Jim's face.

"Am I just sayin' that 'cause that's what they're makin' me say?..."

Jim
"I'm not trying to--" But he is though, at least a bit. Jim sighs in concession but does shrug his shoulders to show he doesn't fully agree with the sentiment. "I'm not going to give up on this. On you and everything you've tried to accomplish here. That's not me thinking I know better. That's my commitment to you and everything I've learned about you. Good and bad. You're my friend, I'd do the same for them too."

His other friends, Jim means. It shouldn't be a surprise Jim got up and stomped across Tamriel to go and track down the Runeblades. Even if Felix wasn't their target he'd have done it to help out Harrowheart. There's precious little Jim Kirk won't do to help a friend in need when things look bleak.

"So what are you going to do about her then?" It's easy to brush the rest of those examples aside (especially his own) when Harrowheart mentions Isidor. Because he's damn well sure she's the most important person to the knight out of everyone mentioned. "Because I know damn well she's not about to give up on you either." Jim shouldn't know that, though. He's quick to add--"That's not her style and we both know it."
The last bit though...what a kick in the teeth.
Jim shakes his head slowly.

"I don't know. I wish I did, it would make a lot of things easier. If you find yourself giving up what you really want for what you think you have to do, then maybe. I won't give up on the things you want though. I don't think your other friends will either."

Harrowheart
Changing tactics seems to have worked, if the way Harrowheart sincerely listens without the half-expressed urge to interrupt is any indication. Now and then he even nods -- especially at the end. Giving up what he wants... It makes sense. It makes a lot of sense. His brows furrow and he gives one final and determined nod to Jim.

But when it comes time to speak he's a little less confident. "I don't know what to do about Isidor," he says. "I know she ain't gonna give up on me. She's like a little crab, she gets her pinchers into somethin' and she don't know when to let go. But that means if I ain't careful, I'm gonna drag her into a world of hurt. I gotta start thinkin' a lot smarter than I'm used to." He laughs self-consciously and tries for a smile. "I gotta start thinkin' for two, but I ain't even used to thinkin' for one."
He's quickly serious again with a shake of the head. "Sometimes I think she don't know what she's got herself into, thinkin' she can lo-- be with-- a monster. And don't give me any shit about usin' that word, 'cause we both know what I mean." He waves the comment off with a flick of his hand. "She saw me back on Nirn, but that was different. There was an excuse for all the shit I did and what I looked like. But she ain't spent a week with me on Azeroth -- or on Earth, even. She ain't seen me get the Hunger when I'm whole. She sure as Hell ain't ever seen me kill someone. Not a person with thoughts, anyhow."

He looks around the bare walls of the sitting room, considers the gaudy damask design, and keeps on shaking his head. "Part of me thinks that if I really loved her I'd let a breather man take my place so she could have a normal relationship. The kind where neither of us think about shit like this. Bein' honest -- not sad, not makin' excuses, but honest? I know that the responsible thing to do would really be to let her go."
He sits up a little straighter in his seat, only now aware of how he'd slid down with splayed legs. When he's upright again he continues confidently. "But I do know I love her. There's a lot to love about her if you get to know her, but there's a lot about her that she don't show other folks. Hell," he laughs, "There's a lot about her she don't show me. But that ain't the point. The point is that I want to do right by her and be a partner she can be proud of and happy with. I know she don't want a guy like Zandros. And I know I..."

Once more he's looking around the room, and now he smiles at what he sees. He nods at Jim. "I want this. What I made here. Not all by myself, but with my friends. I do wanna be happy, and I do wanna at least try for normal -- sometimes, when I can get it. But I know I can't ignore the Hunger forever. I can't hide in the Nexus forever. And I sure can't put my blade in a cage and figure that lock ain't gonna get picked sooner or later."

"We ain't gonna figure out what I oughta do right now. I'm gonna have to think on it a while. Bein' responsible means bein' slow, I guess. And enough about my bullshit anyhow. I'll get back to worryin' about whether or not I'm even real when you're gone. While you're here we oughta talk about your bullshit. I mean, you do got some, don't ya?"

Jim
It's good to know that 'love' is a four letter word for other people too. Makes Jim feel a little bit less like the odd man out being afraid of the idea for as long as he was, even as he was in the middle of it with Felix. Still feels a twinge of panic every time he remembers what he's trying to do, where he's headed. Isidor and Harrowheart are also of two different worlds but they've got other complications too. Ones Jim can't even imagine standing between him and Felix. It's no wonder his friend is nervous.

The stakes between he and Isidor are higher.

"Maybe not, but if you're not going to lock them up you're going to have to learn how to work with them Outside of when you're...using them." And then, because he knows Harrowheart will go there if he doesn't, JIm makes himself go on. "Killing with them." It's an uncomfortable truth but a truth nonetheless.
"You'll have people here supporting all those goals and ideals you have here, too."
People like Jim, like his friends. Like Isidor.
Harrowheart's putting in the time and the effort to think on this and to work out what's going to be best for not only himself but the people he cares about too. Jim can't ask for anything more than that. He nods, and hopes the death knight knows how big of a step that is. That he won't be alone in his efforts.

Even if he might be alone doing the killing.

"I really didn't mean to get all existential on you..." Though Jim squints and draws his head back ever so slightly. "My bullshit? Like what?" As if he doesn't have enough to fill a grand library. Which bullshit might be the better question. And Harrow doesn't even know about anything after Nirn. His neck prickles with discomfort and the captain shifts in his seat, suddenly fidgety.

Harrowheart
Harrowheart laughs, and when he smiles it's genuine and knowing. Jim's fidgeting, it seems, is lost on him. "Like what?" he asks slyly. Jim, you know like what! "You actin' like you don't have bullshit, or you darin' me to pick just one thing? You tryin' to tell me you left Tamriel with no bullshit? Nothin' changed, nothin' to talk about at all?"

It's not fair to smile now, so he runs his hand across his mouth to regain some seriousness in his expression. "You and I ain't talked about anything that happened since that trip, really. And I sure ain't talked to Felix. And Isidor... We talked... Once... But sometimes I get the feelin' she don't wanna share her problems with me."

Jim
It's like having the ice underfoot give way. Suddenly being plunged into frigid memories he's kept a slim grasp of for so many months. Jim sucks in a sharp breath. His blue eyes lose some of their fierce edge.

"No one talks about it. Felix doesn't...can't. Every time I've tried he pulls farther away into himself. Isidor won't. She's too proud. Stratos pretends it doesn't get to him and he's got more important things to do back home anyway. And I..."

Rotting hands and sloughing skin wrapped around his throat. Squeezing the life out of him when he tries to open his mouth. Being alone in the same bed with Felix again had taken months. The nightmares are still there, even if they're not as frequent.

"....I've put it behind me."
He doesn't sound sure of himself in the least.

Harrowheart
"No one talks about it," Harrowheart agrees.

And then there's silence.

No one talks about it.

"But maybe we should?"

Harrow raises his eyebrows and watches Jim expectantly.

"You and I both know none of us put it behind us. Not you, not me, not the rest of 'em, and apparently not my runeblades. Maybe we should talk about it, Jim?"

Jim
There's an unwillingness that draws up Jim's shoulders, threatens to have an ugly, weak part of him lash out at Harrowheart that takes so much out of him to resist. It would be easy to snap, to jump to his feet, to snarl and posture and pretend to be bigger than he is because the things Harrowheart wants to discuss frighten Jim Kirk to his core.

Threaten to bring the broken man he tries so hard not to show to anyone to the surface.

But if he refuses, he's no better than Felix's cowering. Than Isidor's rage. Stratos' feigned indifference and Harrowheart's willful ignorance. It's no desire to be better that makes Jim speak up. It's a fear of being the worst among them. This was the man with no real reason to be in Nirn. No magic or special skills to add to the group's repertoire. He was the weakest back then when the danger was at its greatest. Will he be the weakest yet again?
The tips of Jim's fingers are bone white, so hard is his grip on the table between them.
"Okay. Let's talk." His voice is tight with all the emotions so barely held in check.
There's so much to say, so much he still knows nothing about. Why Felix chose to go down this path, to what end. At what point was he no longer himself. Jim doesn't know. There's so much he doesn't know. May never discover.

"Everything that happened before he took your...the blades. I don't know anything about it. I've put together bits and pieces listening to you. But that's it. I didn't know anything was wrong until he tried to kill me in my sleep and fled after."
"...Until I came to you for help."

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart
The tension radiates off Jim like a heat, and Harrowheart finds himself leaning away. Strong emotions like that have a way of catching, and he'd rather not feel any of that coursing through him.
"Before he took 'em," he repeats stiffly, buying himself time to conjure up the memories. "It started... I suppose it started when I first met him, didn't it? One of you told me he does bindin's and conjurations, and I asked him if he figured he could do somethin' for me. If he could bind my runeblades so I could get some distance. He said he could try. But a real long time passed between then and when he and I met again to give it a chance."
He sets to nodding as more of what transpired returns to his mind. "We met somewhere in the Nexus where he had the ritual all set up. He brought me -- them -- an orb with a vampire soul, because he said he was gonna bargain with 'em. Said that's how he does his magic. He makes deals. I figured that'd work. I didn't know no better, either way. He said..."
He narrows his eyes and looks away from Jim. It's been so long. Such an important moment, and yet the memory of it is so foggy, so shrouded by distance.

"No. I said... I said... No matter what happens, don't touch 'em." One serious nod and a nasal snort. "I said don't touch 'em. I'm sure I did, Jim. I'm sure I..."

His eyebrows tilt and he steals a fleeting glance.

He mutters, "I'm sure I said it..."

Jim
Jim's felt their will when he was inside of them. Seen how deeply they sink their hooks into a mind and try to bend it--break it if need be--under their pommel to do their bidding.

"But he did. They wanted him to and he did." Because Felix got too cocky? Thought he knew better? Or just wanted to try and appease them to prove he could make the ritual work? It doesn't matter why, really. Jim doesn't know enough about how Felix's magic works to really do more than guess anyway. The important thing is, he did.

"And that's all it takes?"

Harrowheart
"He did. That's what broke me outta the trance he put me in. I think he only meant to bind the runeblades, but I stepped into his runes and he started the spell, and it was like fallin' asleep. One minute I was steppin' into it, and the next it was all over. He put his hand on the runeblade and I woke up, just like that. I think..."

He inhales slowly and exhales just the same.

"I think he did a little necromancy without even knowin' he did? But even if he didn't, I... I know I was made to obey. To be under someone else's control. That kinda magic gets to me. It's like I can't do anything about it. Unless..."

He drags his hand across his brow and with a pinched expression slowly wonders, "Unless his magic didn't do it at all, and the runeblades put me to sleep so they could talk to him alone."

Hastily he continues, "That's all it takes, though. Touchin' 'em. You touch 'em and you got a connection with 'em. Maybe they'll use it, maybe they won't. But once you touch 'em, they know you. Sometimes I wonder if they knew me before they ever saw me, though."

Jim doesn't know magic, and he certainly doesn't know Azerothian history, but it still feels so otherworldly to clear his throat and begin explaining one of his world's most famous modern stories to someone who truly doesn't know it: "That's what happened with Arthas, the Lich King. Frostmourne, his runeblade, spoke to him before it ever saw him. It sensed his soul from halfway across the world, and it called to him. Frostmourne's the most powerful runeblade on Azeroth, but... If Frostmourne could do it..."

He looks toward the door, then slowly drags the white lights of his eyes back to Jim. "You ain't ever touched my runeblades, right? But they spoke to you. 'Cause they know you. They probably know your spirit better than I know you."

Jim
"You don't even have to touch them..." How horrifying. Those blades know Jim Kirk. Know his very soul, the essence of his being. Have beheld it in their steely grip only to have it snatched away so rudely by daedric magic. How many souls did they lose because of James T. Kirk?

Not enough. Never enough, so far as Jim is concerned. But a wrinkle in this tale, a new thread to consider. If Jim sought out revenge on the blades, he'd be killing Harrowheart too. Too steep a price to pay, and too foolish a quest to take on. Jim's seen Harrowheart fight at his fullest during the invasion on the Nexus. Has seen the raw power and might of his worgen form inside the nightmare realm. What chance does JIm stand against such a man wielding such a power as the Runeblades?

Last time he had divine intervention. If he tried again, he'd be on his own. A no-win scenario. He can't stop gripping at the table. His hands would be shaking if he did.

"No, but I was inside them in the soul gem."

Harrowheart
"Inside..."

There isn't enough blinking to make that make sense. Harrowheart stares at Jim, then at the table... And then something draws his attention toward the entryway of his home. He stares into the darkness like an animal aware of something human senses can't perceive.

"You were," he whispers.

The glow of his eyes lights Jim's face once again, and for a while he's silent.

"That's how you stole all them souls away. That's how you saw my spirit. That's how they know you."

"But they don't want you." He says it without a shred of doubt. "You ain't the kind of person who'd give 'em what they need."

Jim
"Don't ask me how. The gem we got from..." And here Jim's memory is hazy. He really can't recall how many of his nightmares were memories and which were just dreams anymore. A man with his brother's smile and kind eyes. A red skinned demon with a criminal grin. Each seems equally implausible, and yet....

"One of Felix's patrons. I'm sure it was one of his daedra. A big one. But I can't remember the details. Stratos used a soul trap spell to get me to where Felix's soul was being held captive."
They don't want him.
How reassuring.
He wouldn't give them what they need. Wouldn't he? If he was corrupted like Felix was? Jim's no stranger to the desire for vengeance and revenge. It's how he died, after all.
It's best not to ask questions he doesn't want to know the answers to.
"I don't know how it worked. But that's how I met your spirit. How I got Felix back."

Harrowheart
Harrowheart nods, and once again his eyes are narrowing with his thoughts.

"I don't know nothin' about daedra, but somethin's got me thinkin'... Did you say... Did you say Felix tried to kill you? He tried... Why didn't he succeed?"

Jim
Not the subject Jim wants to be drug back to, not a memory he wants to linger on. Already uncomfortable because he was in a body that wasn't his own at the time. Already worrisome because Felix had been missing for weeks and lying to both Jim and Stratos about where, at the time.

Best not to pause on how rough their reunion had been. How eager Felix was to mark and bruise Jim. To see the proof for himself that the starfleet captain was his and his alone. How exhausted it left them both and how thoughtlessly Jim had been to curl up to sleep beside the would be lich. How sleep and the very idea of safety even in his own quarters had been shattered by the hands closing tight round his throat, pressing Felix's weight down onto his neck.

"...I kneed him in the dick and threw myself off the bed to get away. Snapped him out of whatever trance he was in."

Harrowheart
Not at all the response Harrowheart expected. He twitches and blinks and shakes his head as if he needs to hear it again to believe it, but he doesn't ask for that.

"He woulda kept goin' you think?"

He's quick to shake his head. Jim doesn't need to answer that.

He lowers his head and rests his chin on the stump of his wrist. Sighs.

"It was worse than I thought, I guess," he mumbles. He looks down at the table and breathes in expressly to sigh through his nostrils.

"Felix was gonna be a real different kinda death knight than me," he thinks aloud. "Better, for sure. He wanted different things than I want. Or... Maybe I... I just never had the right victims before I learned some self-restraint."

Jim
"No. Not right then. When they got ahold of him again, probably. At the time he was..." Jim's shaking and doesn't quite realize it. His hands are steady where he's staring down at them--impossible for them to be anything but since he's gripping the table so tightly-- but the rest of him trembles with the memories.

"He was in disbelief. Apologizing." His voice is hoarse. Jim sucks in a breath. "Said he wanted to heal me from everything he'd done. But the spell wouldn't go right and that scared him more than what he'd done. He took his PINpoint and ran and left me there. Last I saw of him before we went to...." Oh, gods. This is harder than he thought.

Jim's stomach rolls unpleasantly.

"Before we faced him in the crypt."

Harrowheart
Harrowheart doesn't stop himself when his first instinct is to reach out again and put his hand over Jim's. Maybe a cold touch isn't what he needs at a time like this, but it's the only touch a dead man has to give.

This is so much worse than he'd allowed himself to consider. There's so much pain he's caused, and not even purposefully. Through selfishness and ignorance. Pointless torment. He opens his mouth, but what could he possibly say now that would matter or change things in any way?

"But he ain't like that now. Right? He don't hurt you anymore, or try to? He's himself again, and you're with him, and he remembers he loves you..."

Right?

Jim
For half a second it almost seems like Jim is going to flip the table over or lunge across the space between them and rip out Harrowheart's jugular, so strong is the total body tension and icy look that settles itself onto the captain's face the second Harrowheart touches him. No pity. He can't handle being pitied. Being felt bad for. Being coddled and treated like someone who needs that kind of protection.

But it only lasts for a split second before Jim forces himself to breathe and consider the facts leading up to this point rationally. Consider that he'd do the same thing probably if the situation was reversed. His glare evaporates into something heavier and tinged with guilt before he lowers his eyes completely out of shame for his reaction.

Jim doesn't pull his hand away.

"He's better now. We don't hurt each other and we're living together. We're still getting...I mean, going through with this. The whole...you know. Marriage thing."

Harrowheart
The absolute revulsion that seizes Jim the second they touch drives Harrowheart's hand away in an instant. He pulls it back and hides it beneath the table with the other one while he watches Jim, his pale face twisted up with dread. What did he say? What was so wrong?

Jim looks away, and eventually Harrowheart does too. Whatever mistake he made he'll try to push it behind them, since that seems to be what Jim wants now.

And still he can't help but ask something he shouldn't. "Why do you say it like that?"

Jim
"Sorry. I'm bad at...pity. Sympathy."

Jim knows it wasn't Harrowheart's intention but he doesn't look up from the table just yet. His shoulder stay sagged with the weight of his own feelings toward the reaction he'd given Harrow. So much of this he thought he was over by now. His ugly shadows still resurface though. They're not gone, even if they've stayed hidden for a long time now.

"Say what?" it's enough to make Jim look up.

[westfallcorndog]

Harrowheart
Say what? Harrow is taken aback by Jim's complete ignorance. He really doesn't know, does he?

"Say... Marriage. The way you say it. Like it's shameful, or dirty, or... Like you don't really wanna go through with it?"

Jim
There's a moment where understanding dawns on Jim. He does say it like that, doesn't he? Blue eyes track from one end of the table to the other before he meets Harrow's gaze. It takes a few seconds for his lips to quirk up in an uncertain smile.

"Because I grew up thinking that 'love' and 'family' were full of shit. That I wasn't worth basic human decency or more than a quick fuck from someone I'd never see again." Saying it used to hurt. He used to hide behind this. His weapon for never trying. "I still can't believe there's a person in the multiverse crazy enough to play with me for keeps, I guess. Come back to me after I've been married a decade and maybe I won't be surprised anymore."

When it comes to Felix Caelus, Jim has at least learned to be honest with himself. If he's willing to put his soul on the line and cavort with gods, demons, and the undead to save the man from his own twisted ambitions then 'do you love him' is such an absurd question to ask himself. It doesn't stop Jim from worrying about whether it will work out, whether he's the kind of guy who will make a good partner for life. If this whole living in another world thing is even possible for the long term.

"I'm still terrified thinking about it. Marriage, I mean. Worried I'll fuck this up somehow."

Harrowheart
Harrow leans back, brow twitching at Jim's first sentence. He thought that? Anyone thinks that? Immediately he's leaning in again, desperate to hear the rest... And quickly regretting it. Elune, this is tragic. No one should think like that. That thought almost pushes its way out of his mouth but Harrowheart catches himself just in time.

When Jim has said his piece Harrowheart slowly gets to shaking his head. "How could you fuck it up? What could you do? Far as I've ever known you're an honorable guy. You try. You don't hurt folks -- Shit, you don't even like hearin' about folks gettin' hurt. And-- Jim! You risked your life to save Felix, and that was before y'all were engaged! How could you ever do worse knowin' your love's just gonna grow?"

Jim
The thing about abuse is that logic doesn't always apply. It doesn't have to be intentional or malicious, like his stepfather's was. His mother's inability to look at him without leaving or crying, especially around his birthday when he was little told Jim all he needed to know about himself. They said his mother loved him, but he never saw it. She left he and his brother with her husband while she drowned herself in work to deal with her grief over George's death. Jim's older brother said he loved him but left Jim behind the second he was old enough to get away.

Even if that was all there was, Jim would be twisted enough. But Tarsus made crystal clear the things Jim had already thought about himself. He wasn't worth being alive. He should die so that others, more worthy people, could survive. That he survived at all was as much to do with his rage over his aunt's death and stubborn refusal to do as he was told as it was luck. But Jim never believed those things said about him weren't true. He just survived anyway.

And a decade and a half after the fact now Jim knows it wasn't true. Logically he knows what his worth is, what he means to his crew. To Starfleet. To Felix and his brother. But all the logic in the known universe doesn't stop Jim's heart rate skyrocketing just imagining the ways he could ruin this. Because he always has. Logic doesn't override the wounds that linger unseen, even if they've finally started to heal properly after years of sitting and festering underneath his skin. Healing all of his real scars meant that no one could ever tell he was broken underneath.

"I don't know." It's the truth. An irrational fear Jim can't get over. "I'm not going to let it stop me from going through with it but...I can't stop being worried, either. My biggest worry these days is someone who shouldn't finds out Felix isn't from my world. Galaxy, even. If he ever got hurt because I was selfish enough to make him come live with me, I...I worry. A lot."

Harrowheart
Harrowheart exhales through his nose and raises his brows as he sits back, hands slowly folding before him. He sinks down in his seat and slowly sets to nodding.

"Fuck me, though. 'I don't know' is the scariest answer, ain't it? I'm scared of all sorts of shit I can't really explain, and it feels... It don't feel right when someone asks me why, and all I can say is 'I don't know.'"

He sits up a little straighter then as he remembers something. "Despoina asked me why I was afraid of fantasies and reality, and I felt... I felt real weird? Because I couldn't answer it. Fantasy and reality, that's sorta... Everything there is, ain't it? But I ain't scared of everything all the time? Only sometimes, only certain things that I don't..."

"Ah."

He bites his lip and starts to nod. "Things I don't understand. Kinda like... You... Don't really understand feelin' what you're feelin'. But once you understand it, it ain't gonna be scary anymore." He huffs a quiet laugh and lifts his chin at Jim. "Like you said. Ten years from now you'll get it, and then it ain't gonna be scary anymore."

Jim
Ten years from now it won't be scary anymore.

Maybe it's true, maybe not. But in ten years he's looking to have Felix Caelus still a part of his life. A thought he'd have never considered before Felix is now something he can't even fathom going without. All of this has left Jim emotionally drained. Interacting with the runeblades, talking about his death, casting the slimmest of lights over the darkest parts of his heart...he can't do anymore of that today.

"Come on, grab the whiskey. I've got our glasses. We're gonna head out to the porch and shoot the shit till this is gone. I'll bring you more next time I visit. S'a promise."

Because he will come back and there will be a next time. Harrowheart is Jim's friend. One of the oldest ones he's got in the Nexus. Out here Jim can tell himself he's away from the Blades' reach and relax, even if it's not true. Out here the leaves are falling and the breeze is blowing. Harrowheart still sits in his odd choice in fashion and Jim pulls his leather jacket tighter around him. Sits on the top of the stairs and takes his first drink of many. They've always done this together. Drinking and talking about random things.

"Jim, my buddy, my pal--you're not gonna believe what I saw the other day..."
"Have you ever seen a mage blink into something before and get stuck? Every time I think about magic it squicks me right out...."
"So this one time..."
"--finest ass I've ever seen..."

Things are going to be fine.