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Story Notes:

Wow, my first ST fanfiction ever! (Well...the first to see the light of day, anyways.) Written while listening to "Imaginary" by Evanescence.

Vulcans do not require sleep as often as humans do. I have made use of this fact many times, often when Doctor McCoy complains that I am unrested. It is an excuse, however; there are other reasons for which I avoid sleep in favor of work or meditation.

I have worked harder than most Vulcans to suppress my emotions. And while there are those who have been impressed with my accomplishments, I have failed, due to my human heritage, to achieve the results that they have attained with half the effort. While other Vulcans may be able to eliminate their emotions, I can simply suppress mine, bury them under layers of control and claim that they do not exist, pretend that they are not simply lurking out of sight. Yet things which must remain hidden often find other ways of becoming known.

I dream. My suppressed emotions manifest themselves while I sleep, when my control is compromised. True Vulcans do not have this problem, but I am not a full-blooded Vulcan. Each night I experience that which I claim to have purged from my body. I often awake to find my lips curled in an unwelcome smile or the tracks of dried tears on my face. Sometimes I yell aloud upon waking from a nightmare, my body shaking uncontrollably. Intense meditation follows so that I may perform my daily functions as First Officer.

The dreams have plagued me throughout my entire life. My parents were aware of them when I was a child, though they were unable to help me. But these visions were not so vivid, so disabling, then. This changed once I entered Starfleet. The constant presence of humans, their invasive touch and unwelcome flashes of emotion have greatly intensified the experience. Places and civilizations I have encountered while serving aboard the Enterprise slip into my dreams as well, always distorted into something surreal, something terrifying. Since the destruction of Vulcan, I have often seen the planet crumble while I sleep, remembering the telepathic cries of millions of dying Vulcans resonating in my mind. Over and over, I watch my mother fall to her death.

 I have attempted many times to rid myself of these dreams, utilizing everything from sedatives to experimental forms of meditation. Thus far I have been unsuccessful.

It did not take long for the Captain to discover my problem. I believe he obtained the information from Doctor McCoy, who has had plenty of opportunities to observe my sleeping habits in sickbay. One day he comes to my quarters and offers his help. I have always felt calmer around Jim Kirk, more at peace with myself and with the world in his presence. I accept.

When the Captain finds the emotional strain of command to be overwhelming, I act as his anchor. My logic steadies him until he can regain his own form of control, which is quite remarkable for a human. I have long ago become accustomed to his touch, and found that it is not disagreeable compared to that of other humans. Falling asleep in his arms is a unique, though strangely satisfying experience. Jim is far more accustomed to the surreal, emotional landscape of dreams. And as I dream tonight, I am not alone. Tonight, I feel his calming presence in my mind to guide me. Tonight, Jim is my anchor. And when I wake, I do so amidst an unspoken promise that I need not dread sleep any longer, because he is there, and always will be.

Chapter End Notes:

So, first fic, how'd I do? Honesty is the best policy, I promise. ;)

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