He frowned. “Who are you?”

“Diana. Steve? Steve? Are you all right?”

He shot up in the air, breathing hard, darkness swathing the room in which he woke in. Lying in bed. He put his hand to his heart.

A hand came to rest on his keg, soothing.


Jim. Yes. Jim Kirk. Yes.

“Computer, lights,” he croaked.

The lights came on and he looked at the masculine hand on his leg.

Spock. Yes. Spock. Thank God.

Spock sat up then and gave him a quizzical look. “Nightmare?”

He nodded. “Yeah a doozy. I was some other guy altogether and I don’t know, like in World War One, I think. With a woman instead of you.” He laughed.

Spock arched a brow. “Unlikely.”

“Yeah. Anyway, glad it was a dream.” Jim glanced toward the dark window. “It’s still late. Should probably go back to sleep.”

“Can you?”

“Mm. Not sure.”

Spock takes Jim’s hand. “There are other things we can do in bed besides sleep.”

Jim grins as Spock pulls him back down to lie on the bed. “Oh yeah!”

Spock kisses him as his fingers find the psi points on Jim’s face, whispering, “Forget.”

And Jim does. The nightmare is gone and only the love of Spock is there to guide him.