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[He assumed Miles was feeling that, his hands coming up in a placating gesture as Miles sat bolt upright, ready to reach out and stabilize, just in case.]

We carried it out and it was successful.

[He hesitates for a split second. No--I know I was right with this.]

I stunned you.

[ He's woozy yet, a bit prone to falling over. But otherwise completely unharmed. Joy at news of the mission's success brightens his features - and then evaporates instantly. ]

You did what?

[Well, at least Jim had confirmation that Miles was in the right state of mind at this point to understand what he was saying--that much was obvious from studying his features.

He pulled one hand back, one still hovering.]

I stunned you to keep you out of the fighting.

[ He stares at Jim for a moment, somewhere between angry and horrified. He manages to keep most of it from showing on his face, though, and gestures Jim closer. ]

Come here, then.

[He sighs and comes right next to the bed and sits on the edge of it, figuring the least he could do was get to Miles' level. Jim turns to face him.]

[ Oh good, that'll make this easier. Miles doesn't even have to lean up when smacks Jim hard across the face. ]

What the hell were you thinking?

[Jim knew it was coming but decided not to block it or phase through it. He doesn't flinch, merely opens his eyes when Miles doesn't go after him again.]

Completing the mission with as few casualties as possible.

[ No, that was quite enough. Shame trickles through him, regret for having resorted to a physical blow outside of a fight. He resolves not to do that again and clenches that hand hard by his side.

It doesn't do much to cool his anger. ]

You knocked me out. Without warning, without asking me, without me even being in danger! Why?

"Without you being in danger"? You were about to walk off in the direction of hostiles after I told you--multiple times--I could handle it. I figured that was warning enough.

[His eyes are laser-focused on him, completely unwavering in his handling of the situation.]

[ Miles' clear gray ones are just as focused, just as stubborn. Alight with anger to boot. ]

That wasn't your call to make. You can't just remove me from what I'm doing just because you don't think I'm capable!

I can and I did when I decided that dragging you back injured or dead would put the mission in more danger than just pre-empting you on that front.

[ Not even a hint at refuting the underlying issue here, huh. Miles' eyes narrow, his tone dropping to an angry hiss. In the next moment he's getting right up in Jim's face; his height disadvantage is mostly negated by the two of them both sitting on the bed. ]

Then you step in front, maybe, or we work together elsewhere. [ Nevermind he'd have objected to that too. ] Instead you made that decision for me.

[He doesn't move back an inch, merely lifts his chin a bit.]

"I don't lead from the back" is what I remember you saying, so that was off the table and I told you to help out the retrieval team. You rejected that too.

[Well, at the very least, Miles was okay enough to get this pissed off at him.]

[ Perfectly safe, and the wooziness is wearing off quickly. Physically he's perfectly fine when he might have come back from that misadventure missing or dead ... But there are softer gaps in his armor than his physical status. ]

You don't get to tell me to do anything, Jim Kirk.

[He narrows his eyes.]

Which is exactly why I stunned your ass into unconsciousness.

Oh yes, much better. Take the decision entirely out of my hands because you know better, and your bones don't break if someone looks at you funny.

[He holds his breath for a second. Oh.

He breaks eye contact as his eyes flick to the side of the room and he lets out the breath. What do you even say to that?]

Jesus, Miles. There were Soviets swarming the area. That wasn't the place where you were needed.

[ Sorry, Jim. You've fallen afoul of the trap that is saving Miles' physical wellbeing at the accidental cost of his mental wellbeing. He'd gotten so used to being taken seriously here, despite everything, and the Dendarii too ... However sensible Jim's objections are, it still wrenches him right in an old, old wound. ]

Needed for my mental capabilities? More valuable as a tactician?

I had it covered by myself.

[Jim didn't like the tone behind what Miles was saying. He rolls his eyes mostly at himself.]

Okay walk me through what would have happened if I hadn't done what I'd done.

[ A good dodge; Miles frowns, temporarily foiled. It doesn't stop him from reaching out to push Jim lightly. Trying to provoke him into a physical response without hitting him again. ]

I'd have been fine. You'd have covered me, and I'd have finished the extraction mission. Which I told you at the time.

[ Push, push. ]

[Jim grabs Miles' wrist on one of the pushes, connecting their mindscapes once more, Jim's own positively flaring across the link, not in anger but in frustration. Mixed in there was plain relief that all Miles had had was a broken arm from the encounter.

Kirk did his damnedest to try to convey that the decision he made was one in the moment, to minimize potential casualties, heck even showing him some of the quick calculations he had made back then, wanting to eliminate as many variables as he could while pulling off what he was sent off to do. He had had everything figured out to do what he needed by himself. The odds that Miles would be incapacitated in some way or other were too high to justify adjusting his own plan of execution.

And there was just a hint of confusion as to why Miles was so stuck on this, they achieved what they needed to and things were improving with the situation.]

[ Miles is stubborn in return, unbending. The underside of his usually bright mental landscape is now entirely exposed, all long falls and dizzying abysses. This particular cliff plummets straight down to the core of him, far beyond Jim's telepathic reach. Every small mental movement echoes, the area dizzyingly sensitive after having dealt with it in one way or another all his life.

People make that kind of calculation about him all the time. And they're right a good percentage of the time, and they may even be acting in Miles' best interest. But they're not his decisions. (His parents had understood the importance of this; others, less so.) Miles has clawed and fought so hard for the basic ability to function on his own. Having it torn from him, even in a combat situation, is no small thing.

It doesn't all come through as clearly as that, but it provides the background to everything else going on. Echoes of issues going deep down. Not your decision, he repeats. You don't get to decide for me. ]

[That was a lot more than he thought he would find there, recognizing that what all this was about was far beyond what he was capable of. Out of respect, he didn't even bother trying to feel at those mental wounds. He senses the old turmoil deep within, pulled out of the crevices by what he recognizes as his own actions. A little bit of chill settles on his end at this realization.

He reaches out and grabs Miles' other wrist, brows furrowing more.

We can't go back now and undo it.]

[ Another flare of anger, bright and hot. Nearly a dare.

You could fucking apologize. ]

[Good, something he can deal with. He takes the anger and returns with his own flare, less bright, to be replaced with a more consistent presence of determination, nearly a wall.

I'm not sorry that I did what I did when I did it because you're here right now in one piece and we did what we set out to do.]

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