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Feet stumbling, body heavy, mind weary, Jim plodded to his dorm. Mist swirled around him, but the San Francisco fog was a welcome sign of home. Coated quite literally from head to toe in the mud of another world, Jim hadn’t had a chance to shower before shipping back to the Academy after survival training. He’d been outside in the rain for three days, slogging through muddy woodlands to avoid ‘capture’ by ‘enemy forces’, played this week by Starfleet security officers. Jim was one of only five cadets who had evaded capture and reached the base. The other thirty-five hadn’t been so lucky and would have to retake the course if they wanted the extra credits it offered.
Even Pike had called to congratulate him, but if Jim was honest, he barely remembered a word his advisor had said to him. Jim’s own pride was severely muted by exhaustion and hunger… He just wanted to get to his bed and sleep. Forget the mud clumped in his hair, stuck on his face and covering every inch of him, forget the stink, forget about the hunger… He hadn’t slept properly the whole time he’d been away, and it had finally caught up with him. Adrenaline spent, Jim had reached his limits. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he couldn’t hide it either.
He just wanted to be back in his dorm. In bed. Under blankets. Warm. Asleep.
The brooding sky chose that moment to unleash a heavy rain shower. Jim looked up. Was this a joke? He didn’t have the energy to run and his mud-caked jumpsuit didn’t have a hood. He walked as fast as he could, stiff limbs moving as best they could. A few other cadets stared at him as he waddled by. What a sight he must be – a mudman walking with all the grace of an animated scarecrow. By the time he reached his dorm building, he was soaked through yet again and trailing mud with every step. Thankfully, the building’s staff didn’t pass comment. Some even offered sympathetic smiles. They were, after all, used to the sight of exhausted cadets dragging themselves around.
Hobbling up the stairs nearly finished him off, but he made it. Shivering, rain water dripping from his nose, Jim sighed with relief at the sight of his familiar door. He wondered if Bones would be in. He hadn’t had the time to miss his friend, all non-survival thoughts driven out of Jim’s mind by the freakishly realistic training scenario, but it’d be good to see him.
Keying in the code, Jim plodded into the room. It was empty. A flicker of disappointment briefly surmounted his exhaustion, but it couldn’t hold out for long. Struggling out of his boots, Jim dropped his kitbag at the foot of his bed and stopped, weaving slightly as he stared at his neatly (and freshly) made bed…
…He needed to take a shower.
“Dammit,” he muttered.
Jim went into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stepped in. The water ran brown as he slowly worked his way out of his clothing and dropped it in a soggy, mucky pile. He got as far as his underwear before dizziness made him stumble and bump against the glass.
Then he made his first mistake. He sat down.
His second mistake swiftly followed. He closed his eyes.
***
Leonard, umbrella held over his head and jacket firmly zipped up, strolled home through the evening rain. It was chilly but refreshing after spending hours cooped up in lecture halls with the heating set too high. How the hell could it be 2255 and they still hadn’t figured out how to set the damn heating to the right setting? Ships flew out into the vast reaches of space, but could they heat a room properly? No! It was the bitter beginnings of winter and he’d spent the better part of his day sweating like it was the height of summer. He’d even checked himself for fever just to be sure.
Technology, Leonard decided, would never live up to its miraculous reputation.
Reaching the dorm building, he entered and just about avoided skidding over the muddy, rain-slicked floor. A bright yellow sign informed him that CAUTION: CLEANING IN PROGRESS. Muttering under his breath about practically prehistoric health and safety laws, Leonard headed for the stairs. He noted the muddy footprints as he went and wondered who had enough mud on their shoes to leave so many perfect prints?
Seriously. Three floors up and there were still footprints. Leonard belatedly realised he was following them…
…to his dorm room.
He shook his head. So, looked like Jim was back. Leonard noted the mud on the keypad. How much had the kid brought home with him?
Leonard entered their room. He registered several things simultaneously, including the muddy pile of stuff he nearly tripped over because Jim had dumped it in front of the goddamn door, the stinking odour of boggy mud and stagnant water, the snaking trail of footprints that wandered over to Jim’s bed then away to the bathroom and the sound of the shower running…
…If Jim was here, why was the room was dark? Leonard couldn’t see light peeking around the bathroom door either.
“Jim?”
He opened the bathroom door. Steam engulfed him. Leonard reached for the switch and activated the ventilator. He turned the lights on at the same time. The air cleared in seconds, and he found Jim slumped under the shower.
“Shit!”
Throwing the door open, Leonard twisted the handle and shut it off. Jim, semi-clean and clad only in his boxers and socks, didn’t react to the loss of water. Deftly removing the ragged and sodden items of clothing, Leonard grabbed a towel and threw it over the kid. Jim slept on. Leonard’s rough drying technique certainly got Jim’s attention, albeit sleepy and uncoordinated.
“That’s it, wake up for a minute so you can get to bed.” Leonard couldn’t keep the relief out of his voice. For a minute, he thought Jim had hurt himself.
“Shh, no, get off…”
“Bed, Jim.”
Bleary blue eyes cracked open. “Bones?” Half-asleep and confused, Jim frowned at him. “How’d you get here?”
“Do you have any idea where this is?”
“Uhhh…” Jim gave up and dozed off again. He slumped against Leonard, his breathing steady and deep.
Leonard arranged the towel around Jim, supporting him against his chest as he rubbed away the water and mud. And if he gave the kid a hug, no one had to know. He’d missed his lively friend. To see him so weary filled Leonard with so many feelings he had to hug it out. Besides, Jim probably wouldn’t remember relaxing into his friend’s arms anyway.
“It’s good to have you home.”
Jim might have muttered something or it might’ve been a snore. It was impossible to be certain.
Leonard finished drying Jim off. The towel would never be the same again. Jim occasionally stirred and muttered nonsensically, but he didn’t offer much in the way of help. Leonard didn’t blame him though. He knew what survival training entailed; he’d seen the aftermath frequently enough at Starfleet Medical. He knew he’d have to check Jim out once he got the kid into bed, just to be sure this wasn’t anything more serious than total physical exhaustion. Falling into such a deep sleep was so unusual for Jim, Leonard couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done to drain himself of all his reserves.
“Never mind. Up. Come on.” He manhandled Jim to his feet, keeping the towel wrapped around him for extra warmth. It stuck to the mud the shower hadn’t washed away. “Did you swim in a swamp, kid?”
Jim’s head bobbed as his eyes just about cracked open. “Swamp? What?”
Leonard sighed. “You have no idea what’s going on right now, do you?”
Jim didn’t even reply. His head thudded heavily against Leonard’s collarbone. They just about reached the bed before Jim’s deadweight overwhelmed Leonard’s medical training and he slipped. The bed caught him. The jerk startled him out of sleep, but it wasn’t enough to bring Jim to anything approaching his usual alertness. “Bones?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“M’okay,” Jim said, eyes still closed. “Promise.”
Leonard patted him on the back. “I know you are. Get under the covers and go back to sleep.”
Jim just about managed to do as ordered before passing out cold again with a very happy sigh. Leonard checked for signs of fever with the back of his hand (none, thankfully) and ruffled Jim’s short blond, brown and muddy hair. Leonard’s hand came back smudged with dirt. Already the pillow had an imprint of Jim’s head on it. Forget the towel; Jim’s bedsheets would need replacing too.
Heading over to his side of the room, Leonard fetched his tricorder. A quick scan confirmed Jim had nothing more serious than a case of exhaustion, something sleep would cure. His body temp was perhaps a shade too low, but another blanket fixed that.
“Sleep well, Jim.”
And if Leonard spent most of the night checking his friend’s condition, well, no one needed to know that either.