losthunter | Thorn in the Garden of Life

"I don't know..." Jim takes a drink from his glass, still kind of freaked out and nervous. "I feel like I owe you an explanation."

Hunter moves a chair closer to the counter, where he can sit down. "You feel that you can get through an explanation, right now?"

"Maybe not. It's a long story." It's not even a story that Jim wants to tell, mostly because he doesn't want to think about it. But he doesn't have a choice about that, anymore, and he did try to kill Hunter.

But Hunter does have a point. With as often as he's already triggered flashbacks, it seems unlikely at best that he'll be able to get through it uninterrupted.

"I would be more than willing to listen to your story, when we don't have to worry about you spacing out on me again." Hunter can see that it weighs heavily on Jim's mind right now. And it is no wonder why.

"I don't know if your flashbacks are triggered by anything... but if we could avoid the triggers, then even better."

"I don't know if that's possible." Jim appreciates the thought, but he has to be honest. He's dangerous, right now. And he doesn't want Hunter to be unprepared. "We can try, but I don't know."

"I would do anything if it meant you didn't have to go through another flashback." Hunter rests his head in his hands for a moment.

"I know. Me too." Jim's body language is uncharacteristically uncertain. This is even touchier than the time he got LOLed. At least then, he was only talking about it.

"I don't think a movie is a good idea," he says, not quite sure.

"No. Definitely not a good idea."

Hunter doesn't have any suggestions for a distraction right now. He is a little afraid that Jim might go overboard, if he offers him lunch. And he is not sure that the hot tub would be relaxing.

"Maybe, try to focus on a good memory?"

Jim isn't sure if that'll work, and especially not if he has to keep it up for two days. But it's worth a shot.

And that means having to come up with a good memory to even focus on in the first place. "Our roadtrip was nice," he says, a little hesitant. It's been a while since their journey across Iowa, but it's still a treasured day in Jim's memories.

"It definitely was a great trip." Hunter smiles. "I really enjoyed getting my bike out on the road. Just listening to it roar. And seeing some of the people's attention on my bike was very flattering."

"We should plan another one." Maybe by focusing on future plans, they can avoid any more flashbacks. "I have always want to do a bike tour through the Rocky Mountains."

So far, so good... Jim can't quite relax though, not when he knows that the curse might trigger another flashback at any moment. He leans against the counter, forcing himself to act casual, sipping at his water. "Why the Rockies?"

"The scenery has a lot of appeal." Hunter grins. "And there are a lot of amazing sights in the mountains. And maybe we can go hiking. Or go camping."

"Plus, it would be cool to see the geysers or the hot springs."

"I haven't done any camping in the Rockies before," Jim says, and maybe that's what makes this topic safe, for now. "I've done Yosemite, but there aren't any geysers or anything."

[Does the curse give Jim memory flashes of good times too, or just the bad ones? Figure just the bad ones makes sense, but thought I should ask. :P]

"I sort of feel a little closer to the stars, when I am in the mountains." Hunter's world doesn't have space travel, like Jim's does. But Hunter is fascinated by the constellations. And would enjoy seeing the Northern Lights.

[I think there could be one or two good memories. It would be the charms in his jacket working against the dark magic. To give his mind a brief break]

He smiles slightly, glad that this subject hasn't dug up any darker memories as of yet. "I don't know if we'll have the chance to take any kind of long trip like that before we ship out, but maybe after the mission, I could take some time off."

Hunter smiles. He is glad to hear that Jim would like to make plans with him, that would not happen for five years.

"I might take a few camping trips out there while you are gone. Stare up at the stars, and wonder where you are exploring."

Romantic and sweet of him, like always. "That's the sort of thing that inspires poetry, isn't it?" Jim's never written any himself, but he's sure read his fair share.

"It is often the simple things in life, such as enjoying the great outdoors, that inspire me." Hunter grinned.

"I expect I'm gonna see a whole bunch of new work from you by the time we get back, then." Jim's trying not to let his focus wander too much. It's hard, though. His thoughts usually link to something else that the conversation reminds him of, and while there's nothing dangerous here that he can see, there's no guarantee his train of thought won't lead him there anyway.

"What do you do to clear your mind?" he asks. "I've tried meditation before but I don't think it really does it for me."

"I paint..." Hunter chuckles lightly. "For me, it is just the sensation of being able to focus on putting different colors and shades together to make a photo. The sensation of the paint on my hands. I easily get lost in the canvas."

"There are still paint and paint brushes that were left out by Hermione. If you wanted to give it a try..."

Jim very carefully considers that. Paint, a brush, and a canvas. Maybe some water to rinse off the bristles between colors. While he can think of a couple of ways to improvise weapons from all sorts of household objects, he doesn't think there should be any dangerous memories linked to any of those materials. "We could give it a try."

Hunter stands up, and leads Jim into his art studio. He selects out a large canvas, placing it on the easel. Then rolls forward his acrylic paint supplies. He has opted over acrylic over other options, since it is easier to clean off and doesn't have much of an odor.

He lays out some brushes for Jim. And smiles at him.

"Don't worry about the subject, just start putting paint on the canvas. Let the colors guide you." He will still stay on guard, watchful to wait and see if any other memories have taken Jim.

"I've never done this before, so if I suck at it, I'm sorry," Jim says, half-joking.

He deliberately sets the red paint aside before he begins, though, and tries not to think about why. Instead he starts with black and purple, and begins transferring the deep tones onto the canvas.

Little by little, he begins to build up a night sky, looming large over a darkened landscape. Jim's hand is unpracticed at this, so it's not quite on par with Hunter's work, but it's decent enough for a first attempt. He's about halfway through adding the whitish arc of a comet when a memory takes him.

The Iowan night is quiet, with only the noise of nocturnal insects to break the silence. Eight-year-old Jimmy sits on the hood of the ancient car, looking up at the comet that is slowly, imperceptibly, making its way across the heavens.

Next to him, Sam has his eye pressed against the telescope's viewer, getting a close look at the surface of the comet. "Do you ever want to go up there?" his brother asks, lowering the telescope to look at the sky with the naked eye.

Jimmy shrugs. "I dunno. There's gotta be something interesting out there or Mom wouldn't be gone all the time." But it's also where Dad died, and that fact lies between them like a solid, living thing, unable to be ignored or overlooked.

Sam looks over at him. "It doesn't have to be Starfleet, you know. We could get out of here and join up with a cargo ship. Or go live on some other planet, away from here."

"I know." Jimmy's thought about leaving home a lot. Away from the endless boring fields of corn and wheat, away from the stepfather that doesn't give a shit about him or his dad's stuff, someplace where he doesn't have people constantly looking at him with pity. But he's also eight, and a little scared of heading out into the unknown alone. "You'd go with me, right? You and me against the galaxy."

Sam smiles and leans into him. "You bet, buddy."

For a first-timer, Jim is definitely doing a decent enough job. Hunter works on his own canvas, a small smile as he can start to see that Jim is creating a night sky. He can tell when a memory takes him, since Jim just lost focus and started to stare at the canvas.

Then he started to speak softly, only his side of the conversation is heard by Hunter. He has to wonder who Jim is talking to in that memory. It sounds like it might be one from his childhood, so that at least narrows down the options.

It doesn't sound like this is a bad memory, but Hunter is prepared to take action if Jim starts reacting violently.

The memory lasts a little longer, as the two boys watch the stars above. But then Jim blinks, and the sky is just paint on canvas in front of him, his paintbrush still held loosely in his fingers, almost ready to fall.

He closes his hand around it, rescuing it from dropping onto the floor, and looks around to remind himself where he is. Not Iowa. Not outside. Hunter's place. "That was... different."

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