There's a crucial and incredibly delicate diplomatic operation planned for the morning, so he really does need the sleep, and for once he actually listened to Spock's boring sensible advice and didn't have too much alcohol or coffee during the day, but the universe must have a personal vendetta against Jim Kirk because that's when the nightmares of Khan- and the memory of his own death- decide to return in full force.

His dreams spin from the usual entertaining nonsense into terror and explosions and the Enterprise crumbling around him, suffused with the sick certainty that either he's gonna die or they're all gonna die. The mad warlord's threats ring through his head, shaking the ship to pieces and somehow Pike is there too, calling him a failure and a rulebreaker and a disgrace, and then he's dying and everything hurts and he doesn't even know if the crew is safe yet but he's certainly not...

He wakes, and his ship is there and undamaged, she is solid and steadfast beneath him, but that does nothing to stop the shaking. He sits up and tries to think.

Fuck. I thought I was over this. Groaning, he runs a hand through his sweaty hair and curses Khan, the universe, and his own stupid head. Fucking nightmares. It's like he's a kid again, running from imaginary monsters (and sometimes real ones), and it's humiliating. He's the captain or at least he tries to be, and a starship captain shouldn't be waking shivering in the middle of the goddamn night because he died over a year ago. That's over. That's long gone, he's alive now and he should be getting on with his life; his ship and his crew need him. This is no time to be so fucking weak.

He's debating whether or not to try to go back to sleep, which will probably be nearly impossible at this point, or get up and try to do some paperwork or reading or something, but he's still fucking shaking, what the fuck is wrong with him…

He's jolted out of that unanswerable contemplation by his door buzzer, and it's Spock, of course it's Spock, and Jim doesn't know whether to curse him or love him because he always knows. Maybe it's some Vulcan thing or another; Jim should think it's disturbing that Spock can sense his mental state, but somehow it's not. For someone who claims to have no emotions of his own (although they both know that's not exactly true) Spock sure does show a lot of concern for Jim's. It hasn't been this bad in months, not since he was still in recovery and Bones had him doing physical therapy and stupid mental exercises every day and when he wasn't in pain he was bored and when he wasn't bored he was shivering in remembered fear or the thought of all the people he lost, held to reality and the present only by the touch of Spock's steady hand on his wrist.

He had counted himself lucky that his First was a skilled touch-telepath. Even without a proper meld, Spock could relieve some of the fear, instill calm in its place. But even he couldn't do anything about the lingering grief and guilt, and Jim had eschewed the comfort after several weeks, claiming that he didn't need the help. He might have been uncomfortable with the idea of relying so heavily on someone else, but he had also been grateful. He knew how important it was to work as a team, but he had vowed to fight the rest of his mental battles alone. And succeeded, mostly. The closeness between him and Spock faded slowly as they returned to their ship and their stations, leaving only memories strangely sweet and a level of understanding they hadn't shared before.

Spock steps into the room with a look that would seem neutral to anyone else, but Jim hasn't worked with the guy for this long without learning how to read him, and he knows that face means concern. Concern for him. He doesn't deserve it now, not when he should be beyond needing it.

"Captain. I would not interfere, only, you are demonstrating considerable distress."

Demonstrating considerable– yeah, that's a pretty accurate description actually. And now he's bothering Spock as well as himself. Fuck.

"It's nothing. Really. I'm sorry I woke you."

"Jim. You did not wake me. I was meditating, in preparation for the mission today. It is far more important that you are well." And somehow it hurts to see the concern now clear in his eyes.

"It's just-" and he's not going to say nightmares, because that makes him sound like a fucking five-year-old. He sighs, or tries to, because the noise comes out more choked than he intended, and Spock takes another step towards him. This is ridiculous, he doesn't need to be comforted in the middle of the goddamn night by his goddamn First Officer like some kind of helpless kid. Some of the fear and pain curls into anger, anger towards himself, and while that doesn't feel like much of an improvement it's at least better than the alternative. Jim sighs again and this time it sounds almost normal.

"I dreamed about him again," he admits, "Khan." He drops his head into his hands because even saying the name sends another shiver of fear through his body. And why is he fucking shivering he's safe on his– his– ship, how does this even make sense? He can snap awake in an emergency and be perfectly fine, but throw a few memories at him… He feels a gentle hand on his shoulder and looks up to find that Spock has pulled over a chair from their chess game the previous evening and is sitting beside the bed. Jim thinks that he shouldn't be allowing this sort of thing, but he doesn't have the heart to send Spock away and he has to admit– if only to himself– that it helps quell the lingering fear if not the shame at having reacted to it.

"Dreams are a perfectly normal reaction to traumatic events," Spock tells him, softly, "In fact, they are to be expected. As I have told you before, you have nothing to be ashamed of. In no way does this diminish your character or your abilities."

He tries to believe it, knows Spock is telling the truth, but it does little to stop him feeling weak and pathetic and stupid. For a few minutes, anyway, before those thoughts are drowned out by an intense tiredness. He lies down to sleep again, hoping this time Khan will stay well away.

~o~

When he wakes up again it's actually a normal hour, which is good, and he's actually rested, which is even better. Spock left at some point; his chair is back at the table and there's no sign anyone else was even in the room. Which Jim is glad of, it would have just been awkward to wake up with Spock still there. Even if a small part of him seems to like that idea, he needs to get to work. Even if he can't fully shake the thought of Khan from his mind.

Pulling on a shirt, he checks his padd to find that Uhura has sent him several reminders about the major cultures of the Treyessa, as if she hadn't already briefed the entire diplomatic team on the native etiquette the day before, and the day before that. She's involved with a complicated law translation, so she's not coming on this mission, but she's still making sure it will go smoothly. Once, Jim would have considered this an insult, Nyota thinking he couldn't even be bothered to remember, but a few taps shows him that the messages have also been sent to everybody else planning to visit the planet and he considers that it's just her making certain her job is done right. His crew is amazing, even if some of them are a bit uptight and some of them are barely adults at all. It might be a bit hypocritical to think of Chekov as a kid when he's nearly twenty and already saved their ship several times, especially when Jim already leads one of the youngest crews in Starfleet history, but the guy is just so damn adorable, especially when he's curled up next to Sulu in one of the rec rooms playing those retro video games Sulu somehow got installed in the entertainment servers. Sulu's saved his ass a fair number of times himself. Carol too, her weapons knowledge had saved an entire starbase from radical anti-Federation terrorists shortly after they began their mission. He still loves telling that story over drinks, how she spotted the bombs among the various bits of newly-installed machinery and disarmed them before any damage was done. Then there was that time McCoy saved that governor's son when the kid had an allergic reaction to those giant wasps. And– actually, his whole damn crew is just amazing.

There aren't any other pressing messages in his inbox– just a few news items from Earth and the recent Federation conference, along with some requests from Engineering for experiments with low-energy shielding and regenerative materials. All of those can wait. He sends out an alert to his team and heads to a briefing room.

It turns out that the notice was unnecessary. When he arrives, his team is sitting around the table waiting for him. They're the best crew in the fleet, why should he expect anything less?

Spock offers a brief nod as he enters. Uhura's deputy Neyren looks up a bit nervously, their fins fanning out into a formal attentive position. It had taken a while to convince the sometimes overly-formal Seytha linguist that they didn't have to stand when he entered a meeting, and that Captain Kirk wasn't going to take insult from being treated as a friend as well as a leader. The fourth member of the main group, Lieutenant Bethari Sudarto, the Indonesian woman who recently took over as head of Security, gives him a sharp salute, and he returns it with a smile. She's muscled and intimidating and skilled in all sorts of martial arts, both Terran and alien, and she's training her team to respond to anything. Jim watched some of their drills and he almost hopes some dumbass will try to attack them, just so he could see the look on their face when Sudarto takes them down.

It's a small team, which both Sudarto and Spock have raised questions about. They'll have more people beam down after the initial negotiations, but both Uhura and Neyren have insisted on the number. The Treyessa in general, and especially the major ethnic groups represented in this meeting, would distrust a large group during the contracts and consider it a show of force. The dozen or so other people in the room will have to wait until the deal is sealed.

"All right then," Jim says, "I shouldn't have to go over what we're doing today because you all know already, but Starfleet regulations say I do, so I'll try to make this short. We want neodymium and platinum, they want high-efficiency engine components. Most of the deal has already been worked though, we're just here to seal it up and make a good impression. Once that's done, the rest of you will be free to beam down. On that note, I'll hand this over to Lt. Neyren for some last-minute reminders on how to behave on the planet." He nods at the Seytha, and they stand to talk.

"The Federation's Treyessan contacts are from the Southern Alliance government, which comprises twenty-three clan cities..." They go on to list behaviors to expect and taboos to avoid. Jim glances at the seated group to make sure they're listening. Just as Neyren is finishing up their speech, his padd chimes with a message: they're ready to beam down. He nods to his team, and they head to the transporter room.