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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years

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I’m Always Curious Part Six

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Notes: Not beta-read. Caladega Canyon and Sandblossom are made up places lol I hope everyone is well :) Summary: There were no mandates against using the lightspeed breakaway factor to go back and observe places in other times, but it was unlikely that we were asked to do as such.

There was an air of excitement around the ship. After dropping the Anil crew off at Starbase 389, a mission had come down from Starfleet high command that we were to head back to Earth. This was an order that sent shock waves through the bridge, right down to engineering. There were no mandates against using the lightspeed breakaway factor to go back and observe places in other times, but it was unlikely that we were asked to do as such. I hadn’t expected a call up to the Captain’s ready room for a briefing, but I was there, wedged between Thaleh and Nahn. “We’ve been ordered to go back to observe Earth in the year 1868,” The Captain informed us from where he was standing at the head of the table, “It was the last year in the 19th century that the Leonid meteors made an appearance. They want us to get a look at it, then slingshot to 1899 for comparison, confirm the conditions and why they didn’t make a reappearance.” “I assume this has to do with the increased Leonid activity around Earth recently?” Spock asked. “You assume correctly, Mr. Spock,” The Captain nodded to him, “We’ve been directed to observe this phenomenon from the ground and from the ship, so an away team and I will be beaming down to the surface to observe.” Why the hell was I there? “We need people that know the era, and can embed convincingly on the off-chance we encounter anyone.” Ah. In our many conversations, in one of the instances wherein the Captain had mentioned horses, I’d let it slip that as a child, I’d had a slight Wild West obsession. The Captain had caught my eye as he’d said it, as if he’d read my mind and heard my question. “We’ll be arriving at Earth in forty-eight minutes. Get prepared. Dismissed,” He added, nodding to us. --

Number One sent a note to me PADD to reconvene in the Captain’s ready room once I was ready to beam down. I’d arrived first and was looking out of the window as I fiddled with my clothing. I’d been provided with a few options and had chosen a pair of pants, a pale pink button-down, and a sturdy dark grey wool jacket; the boots I’d been chosen to use were my own - older and scuffed, the laces slightly frayed. I turned to see the Captain walk in as I straightened my jacket sleeve. “Is the wardrobe up to snuff?” He asked. “You’re going to have to define ‘up to snuff’,” I said critically, looking down at myself. It was clear that they’d opted for clothing we’d be able to move around in. “Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t entirely uncommon for women to wear pants on the frontier, but if we wind up in a town somehow, I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw some crinolines... Then again, maybe not, that was a more mainstream style, I don’t know how quickly it would’ve carried out West...” I had dipped into rambling, and I only noted in when I turned back to Pike and found him leaning against the wall with an amused smile. “... The wardrobe is fine,” I said after a moment, wishing I’d started and stopped with that, “Who else is beaming down?” “Number One and Connolly,” Pike said. I nodded, glancing over at the Captain. He looked like a clean-cut cowboy - a button down under a black waistcoat, dark pants not dissimilar to his uniform pants, but a looser cut. All he was missing was the hat. I let my eyes drift up to the Captain’s face to find him watching me, and I felt my face flush hot. I couldn’t bring myself to look away, though; he wasn’t looking away, either. And he wasn’t frowning, or staring me down because I’d just been watching him. He was just... Looking. My gaze was drawn away when the doors whooshed open and Number One and Connolly stepped inside. The plan was to beam down around dusk, set up our observation site, take our recordings and beam back up. “Let’s go,” the Captain spoke up, drawing our attention. -- We’d staked out on the edge of Caladega Canyon. Number One and I had set up the equipment while Pike and Connolly had started a fire for warmth. It was already cool, and the sun hadn’t even fully set yet. I knew from the maps that there was a town a few miles north of us, and I was itching to go, but I knew that that wasn’t a possibility. We had our orders, we would get the readings and beam back up to the ship. I lowered myself to sit beside the fire, folding my legs and gazing up at the sky. As much as I loved being in space, there was just something different about getting to look about it from a planet’s surface. “Are you cold?” Pike asked. I shook my head, despite the fact that I’d just tightened my collar around my neck. “I‘m fine,” I said, smiling. “Glad to hear it, because we heard from the Enterprise and we may be camping out overnight. The proximity of the Leonids is interfering with our transporters,“ Number One said, approaching us. “Looks like a picked a good coat,” I commented. “Good thing we didn’t have any crinoline,” Pike added. I snorted, unable to help it, and quickly averted my eyes as Number One gave me a look. -- Once our readings were complete, we chose to take watches in shifts. I went first, then Connolly, then Number One, and Pike would take it last. Every shift would check in with the Enterprise to monitor the transporter situation; as soon as we were clear, we’d alert the others. When I woke up, the sky was still dark. The fire was nearly burnt down to its embers; I was a bit chilly, but that was nothing a hot shower and a cup of coffee wouldn’t shake. I looked around, spotting Pike at the edge of our little clearing, sitting on the ground and facing the canyon. I propped myself up on my elbows, glancing between Number One and Connolly. They were sound asleep. I pushed myself off of the ground, walking over to where Pike was and sitting down beside him. “Sleep alright?” He asked, smiling at me. “About as well one can on a desert floor, yeah,” I nodded. Pike chuckled. “If we’d been a little more prepared we could’ve brought down a few blankets and made it much more comfortable,” He commented. I hummed, drawing my knees up to my chest. “Are you cold?” Pike asked, a little more knowing this time. I just shook my head. There was a pause before Pike muttered, “Liar.” I turned to look at him, face a mask of shock, and he laughed. I shushed him, glancing back at the other two to make sure they hadn’t woken up at his outburst. When I was satisfied that they’d remained asleep, I turned back around, shaking my head at Pike, who was still grinning. “We could go into town and grab something,” Pike offered. “We don’t have any money,” I pointed out. “Well, we could go into town and look,” He countered. I smiled at him, unable to help it. “As curious as I am, we have a job to do down here,” I pointed out. Pike nodded, conceding. “We do...But we did it. When are we ever going to be here again?” He asked. I lowered my eyes before I turned to look out over the canyon, considering. He had a point, but going into town felt like inviting trouble. “Let’s just...See what we hear about beaming back up,” I offered. Pike nodded beside me. “Diplomatic,” He commented. I shrugged. “There are too many unknowns. I wouldn’t feel comfortable going into town unless we knew we had a reasonable exit strategy.” “Tell me what you know about the town,” Pike requested. I frowned, turning to look at him. “What makes you think I know anything about it?” I asked. He fixed me with a knowing smile. “Call it a hunch.” I turned my eyes to the sky, recalling what I’d read about the town before I’d made my way to meet with the others in the ready room. “Sandblossom started as a silver mining camp. It went through a population boom about seven years ago, but it’s starting to dwindle now. It’ll be a veritable ghost town by 1872. Railroad doesn’t come out this way, and there’s a pretty bad mine collapse in the future,” I frowned, “It just can’t sustain.” Pike hummed thoughtfully beside me. We were quiet for a little while, watching the sky begin to lighten. I wrapped my arms around myself as a strong wind pushed over the mouth of the canyon. “Here,” Pike began to take his jacket off, but I shook my head, arguing, “Don’t. Honestly, I’m fine. It’s just a little chilly-- And if you catch a chill, Dr. Boyce’ll have all our heads when we beam back up.” Pike shrugged the jacket back on, his face thoughtful before he scooched a little closer. “Body heat works just as well,” he pointed out. I nodded a little bit as his thigh pressed against mine. “That’s true,” I muttered. Pike’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, tentative. “Is this alright?” He asked quietly. I nodded, and his hold grew more firm, pressing me into his side. I leaned into him almost unthinkingly; as soon as I’d realized what I’d done, the logical part of me told said to lean away, apologize. But I was already warmer, and Pike wasn’t pushing me away; instead his hand was rubbing over my shoulder to create a little additional warmth. I hesitated before I rested my head on his shoulder. “Is this alright?” I asked. “Of course,” He answered. Of course. As if this was totally normal, as if we did this all the time. “Tell you what,” Pike said quietly, “Once we get transporter capability, I’ll see if we’re able to go into town for a bit.” “What for?” I asked. “Just to have a look around.” I tipped my head up to look at Pike. “Curiosity killed the cat, Captain.” He smiled. “Satisfaction brought it back, Lieutenant.”

#I'm Always Curious #Christopher Pike #Chris Pike #christopher pike/reader #christopher pike x reader #christopher pike imagine #christopher pike x you #captain pike x reader #captain pike #Captain Pike Imagine #Captain Pike/Reader

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bittertarinetea · 4 years

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The Day General Hux Died

Rating: G

This is the story of how Hux, the esteemed General of the First Order, died—and how Armitage lived on.

Warning: Contains TROS spoilers!

Notes: If you’re still here, you’re probably just as unhappy about the way Hux was treated in TROS. Hopefully, this fic provides just a tiny bit of solace--lmk what you think!

-- --

Hux had picked up the habit of wearing a bulletproof vest under his First Order uniform from the minute he met Allegiant General Pryde.

Stiff and arrogant, the man reminded him every bit of Grand Moff Tarkin—based off what he’d heard about the late commander, at least. Except, Enric Pryde wasn’t Tarkin, and the two disliked each other from the moment Hux had been ordered to work alongside him in the ship Pryde commanded, the Steadfast.

It wasn’t just the fact that Pryde thought Hux below him in rank (which was true, but the two worked so often together that it hardly felt that way at all), or the snide remarks he often passed about him during meetings with the ever-insufferable Kylo Ren (which happened during each one without fail) or the petty shoulders he gave him in the middle of the practically mile-wide corridors of the ship (which was silly and childish, in his opinion, for a grown man of 62 years).

Call it a hunch—or rather, a feeling—but Hux only trusted Pryde about as far as he could shoot the man with a Death Star superlaser. Ever since the first wooden handshake, the first cold nod, Hux had had a Quantum-crystalline mesh-lined vest commissioned in secret and began to don it underneath his uniform each day.

The vest was cold and not made for long-term wear, but it was surely worlds warmer and more comfortable than a blast from a SE-44C. That was a trade-off that Hux was willing to make.

And that was the trade-off that saved his life.

“...We’ve found our spy.”

Hux heard the tail-end of Pryde’s clipped, chilly accent as he laid on the floor, too stunned to move an inch. He’d been standing behind the Allegiant General just moments ago, telling him the lie he’d practised on the way to the Steadfast’s command bridge—

—And the next thing he knew, the business end of Pryde’s blaster had been pointed right at his chest, followed by a flash of red; a short, echoing blast, then pain—lots of it.

It took every inch of nerve in his body to remain still on the cold floor of the bridge surrounded, humiliatingly, by the ship’s crew, but Hux managed to do it. He kept his eyes closed, trying to ignore the deep ache that spread through him from the force of the blow. His left leg hurt even more, thanks to FN-2187, but at least the bulletproof vest had done its job: no additional harm had been done, though it certainly felt that way.

Oh well. It was better than bleeding out on the floor. What a miserable way to go, Hux thought.

There was a moment of shocked silence that followed the Allegiant General’s command, then the bridge crew, efficient and well-disciplined as ever, fell right back into the rhythm that always moved the First Order forward.

“Yes, Allegiant General,” Hux heard his Lieutenant say. Moments later, the clicking sound of her boots against the floor passed his ear. He could’ve sworn to Snoke that she paused to look at him for just the slightest second. He wished he could open his eyes, see her expression—maybe it was one of triumph, maybe it was pity—but then her footsteps retreated past him, and unfamiliar hands wrapped themselves around his arms and started to bodily drag him across the floor.

Now, this was highly humiliating and disrespectful—but Hux reminded himself that he was, in the bridge crew’s eyes at least, dead. It no longer mattered what they thought of him. And he would now be forever free of the Allegiant General’s degrading words, snide remarks and jabs.

All he had to do now was to escape the First and Final Order. Escape, and he would be free: free to start his life over, free to do what he pleased.

The hands—two pairs, and, judging by the stomping strides their owners made, belonged to a pair of stormtroopers—continued to drag him across the ground, and Hux risked a glance through his eyelashes. They were in the corridor that led to the bridge now, heading in the opposite direction. Hux decided he would wait until the coast was fully clear—and besides, his leg still felt too weak to support him just yet. That damned FN-2187.

The troopers continued to drag his limp form across the spotless floors, presumably in the direction of one of the ship’s many, many trash compactors (who the hell designed star destroyers to have so many, anyway?). Hux waited until their pace slowed, and then he sprung to life.

His first instinct was to grab one of the blasters that hung loosely in their hands. Then the feeling returned, and Hux decided that maybe he didn’t have to go the killing route. He’d already killed three perfectly good troopers today and wasn’t keen on adding to that number. Hux wasn’t a man of religion, but he knew his hands were blood-stained enough that he’d be far from entitled to a good afterlife—but all the more reason to escape this life while breath still resided in his lungs.

He wrenched his arm from the left trooper’s grip. He made a sound of surprise and his huge helmeted head turned to look down at Hux.

“General Hux, sir!” The trooper’s voice sounded pitchy and breathless. “You’re—you’re alive!”

Hux sat up and dusted himself off. “Of course I’m alive, RD-6160,” He snapped, scowling in an attempt to look and sound dignified. “That incident back there was merely a distraction. I’m perfectly alright.”

Hux didn’t need to see the trooper’s expression to know that it was one of immense doubt.

“Let me help you up, sir,” The other trooper said quickly.

“That would be helpful,” He answered, his tone dry.

Despite the humiliation Hux had already suffered, he allowed RD-6160 and ST-3128 to help him back onto his feet (his leg still ached, after all). When they stepped back, Hux nodded to both of them and received respectful salutes in return.

A bubble of pride swelled in his chest to see that his title still inspired loyalty and a sense of duty; it was his title-given right, of course, but Pryde’s presence often overshadowed it when the two worked together. That, perhaps, was another reason why he disliked the man so much. Hux was no longer the General, the one who held all the command and respect, the moment Pryde entered the room. After that, it was just Allegiant General this and Allegiant General that, and Hux would dissolve into the shadows, forgotten.

The troopers seemed at a loss for what to do next. He straightened his uniform and looked at both of them. “You will not tell anyone, especially the Allegiant General, that this ever happened. As far as you are concerned,” Hux tried to meet ST-3128’s gaze through his helmet lens. “You carried out your orders to remove me from the ship. You won't be seeing me from this day henceforth. Dismissed.”

There was a pause. Then ST spoke up. “We carried out our orders to remove you from the ship,” He repeated in a monotone. “We won't be seeing you from this day henceforth.”

Hux frowned. A simple “Yes, sir” would have sufficed, but he supposed that was acceptable: if this was his last order as General of the First Order, it felt satisfying to have it followed to the tiniest detail. He nodded at both of them and turned in the opposite direction, beginning a brisk walk down the corridor. Yet another step closer to freedom.

Obtaining a TIE fighter was almost too simple: it’s no wonder that FN-2187 so easily stole one and escaped then, Hux realised as he took hold of the ship’s controls. Of course, he hadn’t exactly stolen it—news that the General was supposed to be deceased hadn’t yet spread beyond the bridge of the Steadfast, and so it was easy to convince a TIE pilot that Hux required the use of his starfighter.

Hux’s heart thrummed in his chest as the engine fired up. He was so close to freedom. Part of him regretted that he would not be returning to his quarters later that day, or that he would never get to walk down the bridge of a star destroyer ever again. But a larger (and smarter) part of him knew that these were merely feelings: feelings that would burn away under the sun of a much safer, much warmer planet.

No looking back, then. And no regrets, either.

The roar of the engine grew and filled the small space of the cockpit. Hux regretted not borrowing the pilot’s helmet too.

Well, maybe just one regret.

He gripped the control wheel tightly, trying to ignore the vibrating in his teeth as the fighter lifted off the ground. Hux then manoeuvred the TIE out of the hangar and into the dark expanse of space. No one stopped him; no one even spotted him.

Just like that, General Armitage Hux of the First Order was dead.

-- --

“Your iced tarine tea, sir.”

Armitage looked up from his book just as the SE8 droid placed a tall glass on his table.

“Thank you,” He said curtly.

The droid dipped its shiny black head and moved away to serve another patron.

Reaching for the glass, Armitage directed his gaze to the endless stretch of turquoise sea of which he currently had a front-row seat. Cantonica was particularly beautiful this time of year, and there was no better place to enjoy the views the planet had to offer than in Canto City. (Not Canto Bight, no: that place was too messy, and Armitage never enjoyed gambling.)

Armitage took a sip, then he leaned back in his deck chair and sighed, contentment settling in his belly, then stretched his legs out.

The leg on which he'd been shot turned out unscarred; the injury had been easily taken care of by medic droids when he landed in Cantonica a complete year ago. No questions had been asked except for a name by which he could be addressed.

“Armitage,” He’d said. “Just Armitage.”

Which was then followed by the embarrassing need to clarify to the immigration officer that no, his name was not Just Armitage, it was just Armitage. No last name. The officer had given him a strange look, but said nothing once he was passed a sack of credits under the counter.

From that day forth, he was Armitage, resident of Cantonica.

Working under the First Order meant he had a comfortable amount of money in his savings, and so he’d been able to live a life of comfort so far. He had a house down the beach from the bar. Armitage had relaxed his appearance as well: he’d let his facial hair grow out, even allowed his hair to creep just a little over his ears.

Here in Cantonica, days were slow. Easy. Peaceful. The only chaos that ever occurred was of the tides crashing against the rocks, or the occasional thunderstorms that would descend on the planet during the monsoon season. The rest of his days were filled with books, music, and bitter tarine tea—lots of it.

Today was one of those days. Armitage continued to stare at the waves and let himself be lulled into a daze. He never could do that during his days on the Finalizer: he was often too worried about waking to a blaster pressed to his head, or to news that the insufferable Kylo Ren had destroyed yet another invaluable piece of equipment.

Hmm. Kylo Ren. Ben Solo. Armitage wondered what the man was up to these days.

Being on Cantonica also meant that he was cut off from the HoloNet. Not that the planet didn’t have access to the galaxy’s biggest news resource—on the contrary, Canto City was privileged to have one of the Canto system’s fastest connections—but Armitage simply avoided listening to any of it. He was no longer part of that life: it no longer mattered.

The sun slowly set over the horizon, turning the sky a violent orange and electric purple, and the SE8 droid returned to inquire if he needed anything else.

“No, thank you,” He said, yawning. Then something seized him, and he held up a hand before the droid could leave.

“Yes, sir?”

“Tell me,” Armitage began. “What has the political state of the galaxy been like in the past year?”

If the droid thought his question peculiar, it wasn’t programmed to say so. “Well sir, the galaxy is currently under Republic rule, following the fall of the late Supreme Leader and Emperor of the First Order.”

Armitage sat up. “The late Supreme Leader, you say?"

The droid didn’t blink. (It couldn’t, anyway.) “Yes, sir. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren of the First Order, given name Ben Solo, son of Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan and Han Solo of Corellia. Born in 5 ABY on Chandrila, died 35 ABY following the final battle of the First Order-Resistance war on—”

“That’s all, thank you,” Armitage cut the droid off, his head suddenly spinning. It nodded and left, oblivious to the blow it had just dealt him.

So Ben was dead, then. Was the scavenger Rey dead too? What about Pryde? Quinn? Armitage leaned back in his chair, now unable to stop himself from pondering the state of the galaxy. A galaxy without Kylo Ren. A galaxy without the First Order.

Interesting. He supposed he could live with that. He’d won, didn’t he? Kylo Ren lost. The details didn’t matter.

Before he could ponder any further, there was a sudden shriek in Cantonican from another bar patron. Curious, he turned his gaze from the now-black sea and looked to the source of the commotion.

A female Caskadag was pointing towards something on her left. Armitage followed her finger to see a flash of ginger with four legs running across the sand—headed straight in his direction!

Whatever the creature was, it slowed to a trot once it neared him. Perhaps it’d been startled by the female Caskadag: after all, they were infamous for their piercing cries. Compared to her, Armitage was minding his own business and being quiet. It made sense for the creature to prefer his side.

The animal was nearer now, and it stopped by his deck chair. It reminded him of a loth-cat, only smaller and furrier. And more orange. The creature let out a meow typical of its species and began rubbing its head against his chair.

“Hello there,” He said, feeling a bit silly talking to an animal.

The cat meowed again, this time hopping daintily onto the chair and scattering sand across his legs. He extended a hand out. It let out a rumble, then leaned forward to sniff his hand. A moment later, it rubbed the side of its head against the back of his fingers.

He smiled down at it. “Would you like some food? Fish, perhaps?”

The cat seemed to understand what ‘food’ meant. It meowed louder, butting its head against the flat of his palm. Armitage stood up and stretched. “Well come on, then.”

He left a few credits on the table and left. The cat followed next to him, its tail bobbing in the air. Armitage considered his furry companion as the two strolled down the beach back to his house, and decided that he would give her a name: Millicent.

There was no particular reason why, but the name brought to mind the image of a smiley young woman with flour on her clothes and freckles on her cheeks. She, like Armitage, had ginger hair and blue eyes.

No particular reason why, really.

“Millicent,” He said aloud, and the cat looked up at him before letting out another demanding meow.

"Alright, alright."

Call it a hunch—or rather, a feeling, but Armitage sensed that this was the beginning of a great friendship, and the continuation of an even greater life.

-- --

Notes: My first completed star wars fic!! Leave a like and rb if you’re feeling kind <3

This fic accompanies this piece:

#tros spoilers #sw tros #star wars #general hux #millicent the cat #kylo ren #enric pryde #sw fanfic #my writing

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veorlian · 4 years

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Idolatry - Concealed Carry

Note: Part 1/3 of the chapters on the Citadel DLC. Technically part of a much longer fic, but I think they stand up okay on their own! An everybody lives/nobody dies au except that I didn’t realize I could do that until 2/3 of the way through. Sorry Kaidan :(((((((

Pairing: Garrus Vakarian/Female Shepard

Rating: T for swearing and stabbing.

ao3 link

Excerpt:

Bullets rained down from the front of the restaurant, and Brooks let out a blood-curdling shriek. Shepard swore softly and dragged Joker down, lifting up their table as a makeshift barricade. A group of heavily armed individuals marched in, their faces masked.

“Tonight’s performance was brought to you by random acts of violence!” one of them shouted.

“Where’s Commander Shepard?” another yelled. “Find her!” They spread out through the restaurant, sending the civilians running.

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. “Two hours. I’ve been on shore leave for two hours. They couldn’t let me have an appetizer first?”

One of the mercs hauled away Brooks, kicking and screaming. Shepard grabbed the knife she had tucked away in her coat.

“Why do you have that?? We were going for dinner!” Joker hissed.

“Would you rather I didn’t have it right now? I have a few others, do you want one?” she asked, taking stock of the room.

“No???”

Full text under the cut!

...

The apartment was huge. Shepard was sure there were other, fancier words to describe it, but she sure as hell didn’t know them. An entire wall was a window, looking out into the night lights of the Citadel. There were walls wholly covered in green, verdant plants that she couldn’t identify. There was a damn waterfall. Shepard let out a low whistle, looking around.

For the first time in weeks, she could breathe. These walls weren’t closing in on her, they were too far apart. The ceilings were vaulted like a church, reaching up into the sky.

She wandered down to what had to be the living room (two giant couches, a fireplace, a grand piano??), and the TV flickered on.

“Shepard, good to see you,” Anderson said. There were new wrinkles creasing his forehead. She could hear distant explosions in the background of the vid.

“And you. How are you holding up?” she asked.

“We’ve had better days,” he said wearily.

“I know what you mean.” Damn, did she ever. “But why am I in this apartment?”

“I want you to have it,” he said, and Shepard’s brows reached her hairline. “I bought the place for Kahlee and I to settle down. Thing is, the longer I stay on Earth, the more I don’t want to leave. Figure someone should get some use out of it.”

“That’s...very generous. Are you sure?”

“It’s practical. We need you at your best, and you need somewhere you can take a break.”

“I-- thank you,” she said. “I’m guessing I don’t have a choice anyways?”

“Not even a little bit. Make yourself at home,” he said, smiling. “You take care, Shepard.”

“You too, Anderson,” Shepard said. He nodded and stepped out of frame. Marie replaced him. Her hair was more grey than black now, but she was smiling nonetheless.

“Good to see you in one piece, Jeanne,” she said. “I hear you killed a Reaper single handedly. Have I mentioned that you should be more careful?” Shepard grinned crookedly.

“Once or twice, maybe.”

“Apparently it bears repeating.” The affectionate exasperation was palpable, even with the light years between them.

“How are things there?” Shepard asked. Marie’s face became carefully blank, but Shepard had known her since she was a child. She couldn’t disguise the look in her deep brown eyes, or the small frown on her lips. Easy to forget, impossible to forget, that she was only 24.

“We’ll make it,” Marie said firmly. And then, “You’ll make it too. That’s an order, Commander.”

Shepard’s grin widened, and she sketched a salute. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. Marie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. That was all that mattered.

“Go and get some rest, will you? The bags under your eyes are visible from Earth.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Shepard said easily. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jeanne.” The call disconnected, and Shepard glanced around her new place. Her new place. Even the church had never truly been hers. There weren’t many things she considered truly her own, she supposed.

There were recordings littered around the apartment. Apparently Anderson had taken down voice notes for his biography. She couldn’t help the small, fond smile that flitted across her face. Her hands paused above the one labelled Shepard on the kitchen counter (she’d never had her own kitchen before). She pressed the play button, and she listened.

“Sure, I can talk about Commander Shepard. Big topic. There’s been a lot written about the Commander, but most of it isn’t true. People are quick to judge. They don’t know the whole story, I don’t even know the whole story. But I know the woman. Worked with her, fought with her, trust her with my life. Shepard’s had some rough patches, who of us hasn’t? She’s been forced to fight a lot of battles alone. God only knows how she got out of some of that. Makes your head spin.”

Anderson’s warm voice filled the apartment, and his every word was laced with pride. Shepard realized belatedly that she was crying, hot tears painting her cheeks. Gently, she sunk to the floor and rested her head against the cupboard. She thought of Aratoht then, as she always seemed to. Makes my head spin too, she thought.

“Thing is, you never heard a complaint. Never once got ‘no sir, I can’t do that.’ She never hesitated. Few people know what Shepard’s been through. I like to think I come pretty close. And I worry sometimes she forgets: there’s a whole bunch of people who lose sleep about her getting back home. Maybe it doesn’t need to be said. Maybe we’re just to dumb to say it. Soldiers like the Commander are rare. Women like Shepard...even more rare.” Anderson’s voice drifted away.

I just...you don’t need to do everything alone anymore, you know? Garrus had said. Maybe they were right. Her heart was so full. She couldn’t quite pinpoint the warm feeling in her chest. Loved, maybe? Not a word she was used to choosing, but it fit the bill. She carefully picked herself up and dusted herself off, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Her private message terminal was blinking, and she went to check her unread messages. There was a note from Joker asking him to meet him at a sushi restaurant. Huh. She’d never had sushi before. No time like the present, she supposed.

Shepard glanced down at herself. Perhaps, she thought, her N7 hoodie and cargo pants wouldn’t be appropriate for an upscale sushi place. She wandered upstairs and peeked into her room (there was a hot tub. She’d...well, she’d never had a bath before. No bathtubs in the Alliance). She tugged open the closet and her eyes widened. There was that dress Kasumi had insisted she keep, but next to it was something else entirely. Reverently, she ran her hands over the fabric. It was soft to the touch, velvet maybe? She pulled it out.

It was a suit. It had to be a suit, although it was unlike any she’d ever seen before. The matching pants and jacket were there, but that’s where the similarities stopped. It was a deep blue, but as the fabric shifted in her hands it looked dark burgundy. There was a matching silk black camisole to wear underneath. It felt luxurious, soft as a cloud. She’d never owned anything this expensive that didn’t fire bullets. There was a small note tucked in the pocket.

Thanks for all your help. Consider this an early birthday gift. Who knows, by the time you take a break it may be your actual birthday. I think I’ve got the measurements right, but nobody’s perfect. - Miranda P.S., there’s a white shirt as well, but it’s much harder to get blood stains out of white silk.

Shepard smiled down at the note, and very carefully got dressed, anxious not to damage the clothes. She tugged on the heeled boots that seemed to go with it, and examined herself in the mirror. Miranda might insist that she wasn’t perfect, but she’d done a damn fine job with this. The cuffs fell to the exact right spot on her wrists, and for the first time in her life, the legs were long enough. The boots had a low heel, comfortable and well-balanced enough that she could run.

And Miranda, blessed Miranda, had included a concealed pocket for a switchblade. Shepard loosened her strict braid into something a little more casual, and she smiled at herself in the mirror one last time. Then she left for sushi.

The lineup outside the restaurant was around the block and then some. The people waiting were distinctly unhappy that Shepard had a reservation. If looks could kill, Shepard would have been pushing the daisies. She strode past the glares with practiced ease. Joker was seated at a table at the back, and he waved her over.

“Just gotta save the galaxy twice to get a place here, huh?” he said. “Hey, maybe when we do it again they’ll let us eat free!”

“That’s the spirit,” Shepard said. “How are you enjoying your vacation?”

“I feel like I should go check the Normandy for missing parts,” he griped. “I don’t trust those engineers.” Shepard chuckled and patted him on the arm.

“She’ll be fine, Joker. She’s been through the Omega 4, she can handle a few repairs. Relax, you’re on shore leave.”

“I’m gonna need a lot more drinks with umbrellas in them,” he said mournfully.

“I’m the first human Spectre. I’ll get you two umbrellas,” she said wryly.

“Awesome use of power, boss! So, what’d you ask me here to talk about? Your note said it was important.”

“Me? You invited me here,” Shepard said, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Commander Shepard, please I need to talk to you!” A young woman in an Alliance uniform pushed her way forward, with the maitre d’ shouting after her. The people in line looked positively murderous.

“Can I help you?” Shepard asked politely.

“I’m Staff Analyst Maya Brooks of Alliance Intelligence. Someone’s trying to kill you!” the woman cried. Shepard and Joker exchanged a look.

“Uh, yeah. I think she’s aware,” Joker said dryly.

“No! I don’t mean the Reapers and Cerberus. Other people,” Brooks said. “They’re hacking your accounts, your communications, and it looks like they’re targeting you personally!”

“What information do you have?” Shepard asked. She straightened up, suddenly all business.

“Well--” Brooks began.

Bullets rained down from the front of the restaurant. Brooks let out a blood-curdling shriek. Shepard swore softly and dragged Joker down, lifting up their table as a makeshift barricade. A group of heavily armed individuals marched in, their faces masked.

“Tonight’s performance was brought to you by random acts of violence!” one of them shouted.

“Where’s Commander Shepard?” another yelled. “Find her!” They spread out through the restaurant, sending the civilians running.

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. “Two hours. I’ve been on shore leave for two hours. They couldn’t let me have an appetizer first?”

One of the mercs hauled away Brooks, kicking and screaming. Shepard grabbed the knife she had tucked away in her coat.

“Why do you have that?? We were going for dinner!” Joker hissed.

“Would you rather I didn’t have it right now? I have a few others, do you want one?” she asked, taking stock of the room.

“No???”

“Joker, I need you to stay calm,” Shepard whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to take these guys out. When the coast is clear, go find the rest of the team. But I need you to stay here until it’s safe, understood?”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” he said fervently. One of the mercenaries approached to look behind the table. Shepard caught his arm and sent him sprawling to the ground, following it up with a devastating jab from her omni-tool directly to the face. She grabbed his gun and held it at the ready. She glanced around her cover and saw two more mercs coming at her. One went down with a shot to the face, the other with a thrown knife to the throat.

“Joker, now!” she hissed. Joker got up and stumbled away as best he could. Once he was out, Shepard activated her tactical cloak and booked it across the room. If there was one thing she’d learned these long years, it was that the best fight was the one you avoided. Once she’d made it to Brooks, she tried to help her to her feet. A sniper appeared from above and fired a shot, hitting Brooks. Shepard backed away and each shot landed by her, sinking into the ground.

If only the restaurant hadn’t decided to use fish tanks as their floor.

Shepard went down, glass shattering around her. She seemed to hit every bone on the way down the side of the building, banging into the wall over and over again. She slammed into the ground hard, all of her freshly-healed wounds screaming obscenities at her.

“Commander!” Brooks called over the comms. “Are you alright?”

“Peachy,” Shepard groaned. “Can you find me a way out of here?” Dr. Chakwas was going to have a fit. She’d been off the ship two hours and she was already broken again. Ugh. At least the clothes seemed to be in one piece. Small mercies, Shepard supposed, as she struggled to her feet.

“Uh, yes! Keep going forward, I think!” Brooks said. Shepard grit her teeth.

“Thanks,” she managed. She slid down the ladder up ahead of her and took a look around. Somewhere in the wards, she figured.

“There’s a sky-car lot up ahead of me, Brooks. Could you find me a path there?” Shepard asked.

“Ah, yes! Of course!” Brooks replied nervously. Shepard tried very hard not to roll her eyes as she wove her way through the wards. She came up on some kind of market, and she caught sight of another group of mercs barrelling towards her.

“There she is!” one of them called. Shit. This outfit really wasn’t built for stealth, huh? God, she’d kill for a rifle right about now. Instead, she slipped back into her tactical cloak and hid behind a fruit stand. What a weird fucking day.

“Shepard! Are you alright?” It was a relief to hear Garrus’ voice, even if it was only through her earpiece. Tension she didn’t realize she’d been carrying dissipated, ever so slightly.

“I’m fine, but I could use a hand,” she said ruefully, aiming an incendiary blast directly to the face of one of her attackers.

“Joker sent me your location, I’m on my way,” he said immediately.

“This is a secure channel!” Brooks cut in. “You’re putting Commander Shepard at risk!”

“I’m what? Who is this?” Garrus demanded.

“Brooks, Garrus. Garrus, this is Brooks,” Shepard said. “Now please hush, it's a little hard to kill mercenaries with people arguing in my ear.”

“Shepard, I am sending backup to your location,” EDI said.

“Sounds good, things are getting a little dicey here,” Shepard replied. She glanced over the fruit stall and had to duck quickly as a drone came barrelling towards her. It exploded directly next to her, sending pieces of watermelon and blueberries flying.

“I will attempt to register surprise,” EDI said dryly. Shepard grinned crookedly at that. She dashed forward as another round of mercs came at her. She spent the next several minutes fading in and out of invisibility, running hell for leather past the mercs. Her legs, miraculously, stayed upright. Small mercies. She pulled into the car lot and slammed the door shut behind her. A shot zipped past her, missing by inches. … “Having a bad day, Shepard?” Garrus called. He took out the merc that had shot at her, and scanned the area for any more threats. It looked like they were clear for the moment. Now to find a way out of the lot.

“You could say that,” she said, pushing flyaway hairs away from her face. “Let’s look for a control panel.” His eyes finally came to rest on her and his breath stuttered in his throat. She was wearing that thing humans called a ‘suit,’ but not like any he’d ever seen before. His mouth was suddenly too dry.

“Nice outfit,” he managed. The look she gave him was unimpressed, but he wasn’t thinking with his brain at the moment. “Ah, control panel. Right.”

Shepard strode through the lot and glanced into the darkened office. She gently tapped on the glass. Garrus hurried after her.

“Could you open the doors up?” she said politely. The doors opened a second later. “Much appreciated.”

“Please leave,” the volus inside pleaded.

Garrus motioned for Shepard to stay behind him. Only one of them was armoured, after all. She raised an eyebrow and took point.

“So...you fell through a fish tank?” he ventured.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she replied.

“Damn shame,” he said, and now he was just doing it for the reaction. Midnight blue fabric. Not thinking with his brain. “I hear it was the best on the Citadel.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said more firmly, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. He gave her arm a quick squeeze, and then they both stepped onto the landing zone. That Brooks person had apparently radioed to say that a C-Sec shuttle was on the way. When it appeared though, the door opened to reveal a group of the same mercs that had been attacking Shepard. Garrus ducked down and dragged her with him. Bullets skittered across the ground around them.

“Any chance I could borrow that Widow of yours?” she asked breathlessly. He looked at her incredulously.

“I must not have heard you right,” he said. “You definitely did not just ask to borrow my favourite gun.” She opened her mouth to reply, and then her eyes widened.

“Do you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?”

“Krogan coming through!” Wrex bellowed, soaring through the air. He slammed down onto the front of the shuttle, sending half of the mercenaries flying. He mowed his way through the other half, shooting, punching, and in one case, launching them off the shuttle. Shepard was grinning wildly.

“Wrex! What are you doing here?” she asked, running forward.

“Negotiating krogan expansion with the Council,” he explained. “But that AI of yours said there’d be a fight. So here I am.”

“Glad you could make it to the party," Garrus lied through his teeth.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Wrex said. He clapped Garrus on the shoulder harder than necessary. “Figured Shepard would need some help, if you’re the only backup she has.”

“Try to keep up, old man,” Garrus shot back.

“It may have escaped your notice, but we are being shot at right now, boys,” Shepard said dryly. Ah, right. Fair point. ... Once they were clear, they gathered in Shepard’s new apartment. Brooks was pacing back and forth, and Shepard put a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“Me? I got shot! Like, with an actual bullet. I took a desk job so I wouldn’t get shot! They said the medi-gel might make me jumpy, do I seem jumpy to you?” Brooks said.

“Hey, hey,” Shepard said soothingly, the voice she usually reserved for grieving families. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

“We need to stop those guys, they might hurt more innocent people! Like me! I got shot!”

“Yes. Do we have any leads?” Shepard asked. The door to the apartment opened gently and Liara stepped through.

“I may have some suggestions on that,” she said. “Are you alright, Shepard?”

“I think my ribs are bruised again, but what else is new?” Shepard said ruefully. “That C-Sec shuttle should have had officers in it. I’ll get in touch with Commander Bailey, see what happened,” Shepard said, punching in the number in her omni-tool.

“Wait!” Brooks said. Everyone turned to look at her. “Uh, wouldn’t anyone you contact also become a target?”

“She’s got a point,” Garrus said.

Shepard nodded brusquely. “You're right. We keep this between us for now.”

“Fortunately, I’ve brought a few people who can help,” Liara said cheerfully. The door was knocked on its hinges as every member of her crew -- and a few people who weren’t -- filed in. The apartment was large, but even so Shepard was going to need to figure out where to put all of these people. What, was there an event going on at the Citadel right now that had brought them all there? Well, besides her attempted assassination.

“The riff-raff have arrived. Garrus, hide the silverware.” Shepard’s voice was pitched to carry.

“Up yours, Shepard,” Jack shot back.

“What she said,” Zaeed added.

"I'll go see what I can find. Come find me when you have a moment," Liara said.

Shepard wandered around to speak with everyone, but it all just seemed to be variations on the theme of “haha Shepard ruined the sushi restaurant” or “Shepard, how could you destroy that sushi restaurant”? Evidently they’d collectively decided to forget that she hadn't exactly chosen to be shot at. What compassionate friends she had, she thought wryly. She gave up after a while and went to talk to Liara.

“What's the word?” she asked. The others slowly gathered around. There was barely enough room for them all to stand together.

“That pistol you found, it’s not available anywhere on the market. I’ve tracked it to a weapons dealer named Elijah Khan. He owns a casino nearby. They’re holding a charity event tonight,” Liara explained.

“So we sneak in and talk to this Khan guy?” Ash asked.

“My sources tell me he’s locked himself in his panic room. We would need someone to sneak inside this vent system.” Liara pulled up a map of the casino interior. “And deactivate the lock.”

“I say we blow the place to high heaven,” Zaeed suggested.

“I’m in,” Wrex said immediately.

“I’m open to other suggestions,” Shepard said. “Any other suggestions.” Zaeed politely flipped her off.

“Bringing a large group would arouse suspicion,” Thane said thoughtfully. “A covert infiltration would be best.” Shepard nodded.

“Alright, just a small crew then. I’ll need someone to take point with me, and then someone else will crawl through that vent,” Shepard said. “Any takers for the vent?” She looked around the room for volunteers. They were not forthcoming.

“Mechs are not allowed in case they are used for cheating. Legion and I will not be able to enter,” EDI explained. Shepard’s eyes swung to Tali and she raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me!” Tali protested. “They’d uh...pick up my suit!” Shepard shrugged.

“What you need is somebody trained in zero-emissions tech. No electronics, no metal. Just undetectable polymers. We had a course back at Op-Int, disabling a bomb with these little tweezers. See, the bomb was filled with shaving cream…” Brooks trailed off as she realized everyone was looking at her. Shepard smiled at her reassuringly.

“Alright Brooks, you’re our alternate,” she said.

“What? Me? I couldn’t...what do you mean alternate?” Brooks asked. Shepard smiled ruefully.

“I wouldn’t want to put you in more danger. You’ve already been shot once. And since I’ve had two gun mods go missing since I got back, I have a sneaking suspicion that there’s someone here who can lend a helping hand. Kasumi?”

The galaxy’s best thief materialized, sitting on the kitchen counter. She had a cheeky grin under her hood.

“You’re getting very good at that,” she said cheerfully.

“Sure would’ve been awkward if I’d been wrong,” Shepard replied wryly.

“Damn, I should’ve stayed hidden!”

“What do you say to a heist with me?” Shepard asked. Kasumi hopped down from the counter and sketched a bow.

“I’d be delighted,” she said.

“There’s just one problem,” Liara cut in.

“Current estimate: 57 problems and counting,” Mordin replied. “Additional 34 if you decide to take the krogan.” Shepard couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.

“Well, one of the problems is that it’s black-tie only,” Liara said. Shepard raised an eyebrow and glanced down at her outfit. It was still damp from crashing through a fish tank, but otherwise undamaged.

“Will this do?” she asked, motioning to the suit.

“It’ll more than do,” Garrus said huskily, and then coughed awkwardly when several sets of eyes turned to look at him. “What? I’m just answering the question.”

“Who’s going with us then?” Kasumi asked, and Shepard grinned.

Bright lights flashed in Shepard’s eyes as she and Garrus walked down the literal red carpet, arm-in-arm. Maybe one day they’d get to go somewhere nice without worrying about a nefarious plot. For now, she was on vacation and she was going to enjoy herself, attempts on her life be damned.

“You clean up well,” Shepard commented. He had on another of those intricate turian outfits, with more buckles than fabric, in a combination of black and white. He wore it well. They were, she imagined, quite a striking couple. For one, they were a good head taller than anyone else. For two, well...

“Yeah? Then it’s a damn shame that all eyes are on you,” Garrus replied.

“I did the best I could without a carapace or a crest,” she said wryly.

“Well your best has my mandible on the floor. Damn!” he said easily.

“You two are adorable,” Kasumi said from somewhere to Shepard’s left. Shepard flushed a brilliant red, and she heard Kasumi laugh brightly.

Shepard and Garrus mingled with the wealthy clientele, occasionally providing support for Kasumi as she travelled through the vents. Shepard realized, suddenly, that this was the bright and shining culture she’d seen from afar when she was younger. This was what she’d wanted to experience. As far as she was concerned, they could keep it.

Distracting the guards to disable the alarms wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, but they managed it. But when they arrived in the panic room, Khan was already dead. Shit.

“It’s never that easy, huh?” Garrus asked.

“He received a call a few minutes before he died. Give them a ring and I’ll see if I can trace it,” Kasumi said. The large screen behind the desk flickered to light and a figure appeared on the screen. Their face was concealed by static, and their voice was altered.

“Elijah? Come crawling back?” they asked.

“Guess again,” Shepard said. Kasumi's hands flashed across her omni-tool.

“You. I see you’ve recovered from flopping on the floor like a fish.”

“You’ll have to do better than that. The last guy that trash-talked me was a few kilometres taller than you.” Shepard leaned back, crossing her arms.

“Brave. I thought as much, but it won’t matter. You have nothing. All you can do is wait for the hammer to fall. I’m going to take everything you have, and everything you are.” The call ended.

“Gotcha,” Kasumi said brightly.

“Shepard, someone’s wiped the drive. Bit of a messy job though, there might be something left,” Garrus said.

“Between EDI, Legion, and Tali, I’m sure we’ll be able to find something. Let’s go.”

They were once more gathered around the pool table, now with even less room than before. They were discussing the information they’d been able to find on Khan’s drive, mostly information about the guns that Shepard’s attackers had bought. Glyph flew over and hovered above the table, flashing red.

“Commander, I have found your Spectre code being used at the Citadel Archives,” he said.

“What would they want there?” Shepard asked.

“Shall we go find out?” Liara said.

“But who? We can’t bring everyone,” Brooks piped up. Shepard grinned.

“Why not?” she asked. “All hands on deck for this one.”

“Very well, but who will take point with you?” Liara asked. Wrex coughed pointedly. And then Javik coughed even more pointedly. Tali coughed politely, but also pointedly.

“Garrus and Jack, you’re with me. Everyone else, divide up into three teams of whoever is least likely to want to kill each other.”

“What happens if I want to kill bird-brain?” Jack asked.

“Think happy thoughts,” Shepard suggested.

“Those are my happy thoughts,” Jack replied snarkily. Ah. Some things never changed.

They’d barely made it into the archives when they walked into a trap. The others were up on the catwalks above, and every door in the room slammed shut. A figure appeared behind Brooks and pressed a gun to her temple. They were shadowed, and even Shepard’s excellent vision couldn’t quite make them out.

“Don’t move, or she dies,” they said.

“Who are you?” Shepard demanded. The figure chuckled darkly.

Why do I know that voice? Shepard wondered. The figure tossed Brooks aside, and strode forward into the light. She wore the same uniform as the mercs, but her face…Shepard stared back at her own Roman nose and burning red hair. Only not quite. This nose had never been broken, and there wasn’t the familiar patchwork quilt of scar tissue across her face and neck.

“I’m you, but better,” the other Shepard said. “Without all the doubts and the wear and tear.”

“Huh. This officially takes the cake for the weirdest thing that’s happened to me,” Shepard said. “Let me rephrase: what the fuck is going on?”

“Cerberus spared no expense when it came to bringing you back. Me, they made for spare parts, in case you needed an arm, or a lung, or a kidney. When they had you, they discarded me,” her clone snapped. Shepard’s brows knit together.

“Well if you’re me, then we should be working together,” she said. The clone scoffed.

“Why would I bother helping you? Why should I care? You took everything from me, and now I’m going to take everything from you. But there was no way I’d fool your friends, so I needed to get rid of them as well. All the people that turned their backs of their responsibilities to join the cult of Shepard,” the clone spat. The cult of Shepard…?

“No one will ever believe you’re me,” Shepard said, trying a different tactic.

“Sure they will, when I’m flying your ship,” the clone replied. Shepard froze and then immediately started keying into her omni-tool.

“Traynor, I need you to lock down the ship, understood? Here are the command codes,” she said quickly. Her clone smirked and waved a hand in front of her.

“Good idea, if only that message had been sent,” she said. She keyed up her own omni-tool and raised her voice slightly. “Traynor, this is Shepard. Prepare for departure. Here are the command codes.”

Shepard’s hands balled up into fists. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before someone steals my ship.”

The clone shrugged nonchalantly. “We’ll see about that.” She turned to leave.

“Tell me,” Shepard called after her. “Do you know your own name?”

“It’s Joan,” the clone replied smugly. Shepard grinned, baring her teeth.

“Guess again,” she said, and she activated her tactical cloak.

They fought their way through the archives, the other teams racing on the catwalks above. Liara’s information drone, Glyph, scouted ahead. Occasionally he returned, saying that he mistook the clone for Shepard. Shepard tried very hard not to roll her eyes, and she mostly succeeded.

“The other Shepard’s still alive!” one of the mercs yelled.

“The next person who says that is a dead man!” the clone snapped over the comms.

“An accurate observation,” Legion said.

“What do I do??” Brooks cried. “They’re firing at me!”

“Just follow Shepard's lead and let us do all the heavy lifting!” Liara called.

“Touché, T'Soni!” Garrus shot back.

“Think you comedians could actually hit something?” Shepard shouted, ducking to avoid oncoming enemy fire.

They forged on through the archives, passing by clips of history. One by one, the teams stopped responding. Shepard pushed on faster, concern creeping up on her. And so she rushed headlong directly into a trap that she should’ve seen coming. Shepard set foot onto a platform and a forcefield appeared around her, Jack, and Garrus

The clone stepped forward, smiling smugly. Shepard tried to shoot her, but the force-field stopped the bullets dead. Shit. Shepard felt light-headed. She was locked in a small space. A very small space. Oh god, such a small space. Her heart hammered in her chest and she fought to control her breathing. She reached for her familiar, cold veneer. Like hell she was going to show weakness in front of the enemy.

“Well well, the great Commander Shepard. But not for very much longer.”

“Where are my friends?” Shepard spat.

“Locked up in iridium vaults forever. And it’s all your fault,” her clone taunted.

“The Alliance will stop you--” Shepard began.

“Will they?” Her clone cut her off. “What do you think, Staff Analyst Brooks?” Brooks sauntered forward from the shadows.

“I wouldn’t know.” Her voice had shifted, becoming deeper, more assured. “I don’t actually work for them.”

“You bitch,” Jack spat.

“I’m with Jack on this one,” Garrus said. Shepard arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t her own.

“This feels like the time when the villain explains their grand plan,” she said. “So what the hell?”

“Really we just wanted your Spectre codes,” Brooks explained. “But then you had to insist on surviving. So, I had to improvise.”

“Then I must say, I'm impressed,” Shepard said.

“Oh?”

“Your optimism is impressive,” Shepard clarified. “You threw, what, fifty mercs at me and you thought that would finish me off? For such a smart woman, that's remarkably short-sighted of you.”

“I think I've made up for it now. Let's see you get out of a locked box.”

“What, this? No, I've been in far worse situations than this. Last week I was trapped at the bottom of an ocean in a mech. This is nothing.”

“You seem remarkably calm for a dead woman,” Shepard’s clone said. Shepard’s eyes flicked to her and she sneered.

“I could say the same of you. You can change the records, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing. You know the name on my file, but you don’t know the first thing about me. How are you going to convince Anderson or Hackett or--”

“Or General Shepard?” Brooks cut her off. “We’ll deal with her.”

Shepard stilled. Her erratic heartbeat settled. Her words, when they came, were soft. “If you threaten her again, I will make you wish that I’d only killed you.”

“That's quite a threat. I might even be afraid, if Commander Shepard had said it. But you're nobody,” Brooks said.

“And you're on borrowed time,” Shepard replied. Brooks' expression faltered, just a tiny bit, at whatever she saw in Shepard’s eyes. Shepard’s clone scoffed loudly, breaking through the tense silence.

“You know the one thing about us that they can’t replace? Our handprint. It changes based on life experiences,” the clone said. Shepard thought of the scars that used to twist across her palms. “But now I’m going to replace yours.” The clone pulled up a terminal and pressed her hand down.

“Hello, Commander Shepard,” the computer said. The clone grinned smugly.

“Goodbye,” Brooks murmured. “I guess this is where legends go to die.” She and the clone waltzed away, seemingly without a care in the world. The platform jerked beneath Shepard and walls slowly closed around her.

“I’m going to strangle them,” Shepard vowed.

“I’m all for that, but we’re still trapped in this fucking box,” Jack pointed out.

“With limited air,” Garrus added. Shepard hummed noncommittally.

“Hey Glyph, you still out there?” she called.

“Yes Commander.”

“Get us out of this thing, and then go find the others. Nobody steals my ship, not even me.”

Joker pulled up in a sky car just as the last stragglers pulled themselves up onto the roof.

“I’ve got room for Shepard and two more, and you better decide fast because those assholes are stealing my baby,” he snapped.

“I could drive--” Shepard said.

“NO!” The sound of the entire crew shouting the word echoed across the rooftop.

“Fine,” Shepard muttered. “Garrus and EDI, with me.”

“I wanted to go,” Wrex grumbled.

“You should have thought of that before you insulted my driving,” Shepard said. “Joker will be back for you soon.”

Joker hit the pedal to the floor as soon as everyone was in the car. A moment later, there was a whirring sound from the back seat.

“They’re trying to take control of the ship--” EDI said. Her eyes spun around, and sparks flew off of her. She shut down.

“Crap,” Garrus said. EDI powered back up, her eyes still askew.

“Are you...okay?” Joker ventured.

“I am functional, but I have no control of the Normandy. I feel...lost,” EDI said brokenly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have you back in no time. You have my word,” Shepard said.

“Thank you.”

They arrived on the Normandy just as it was starting to pull away. Traynor was in the entryway, sputtering various unflattering things about Shepard. She caught sight of Shepard and she held her toothbrush threateningly in front of her.

“What’s going on?” she demanded. “You were...you were back there! I was minding my own business, and then you marched in and fired me! I barely had time to grab my toothbrush!”

Shepard held up her hands. “That’s a Cision Pro Mark IV. It uses tiny mass effect fields to break up plaque and massage the gums. I know that because you told me, because I’m the real Shepard. The one you saw earlier was a clone.”

“I--”

“I wish I had time to explain, but we need to get on the ship. No one knows it better than you do, Traynor,” Shepard said quickly. Traynor thought for a second. Apparently she decided to go along with it, because she leaned down to examine the ground.

“There should be a ventilation shaft around...here.” She pulled up a piece of the floor. EDI shook her head.

“You would need something that could precisely manipulate mass effect fields,” she explained. Shepard met Traynor’s eyes, and Traynor determinedly turned on her toothbrush.

Crawling through a shaft wasn’t exactly ideal for Shepard’s over six-foot frame, but she just about managed it.

“If you’d told me this morning that a toothbrush was going to save the Normandy, I’d have been very skeptical,” she whispered. “Remind me to reimburse Traynor, I think it broke.”

“Shepard, you--” EDI began.

“Later. Remind me later.”

They opened the grate into the CIC with guns blazing. The mercenaries were no match for them. EDI looked like she was running on sheer, unadulterated rage. She grabbed hold of a dying mercenary. Her voice was like ice. “Where are they?”

“Cargo bay,” the merc managed.

“Thank you for your assistance,” EDI said, and shot him in the face. Shepard met Garrus’ eyes and shrugged helplessly. They made their way to the elevator, and Shepard’s heart dropped to the floor. Mako’s cage, along with her carefully assembled collection of model ships, was resting in a garbage bin. There was a note on top with handwriting that was almost (but not quite) the same as Shepard’s.

“Please get rid of this, a ship is no place for…oh that is so not okay. They messed with my hamster guys. Now it’s personal,” Shepard hissed.

“Was it not personal before?” Garrus asked.

“I-- well, yeah. But Mako’s defenceless. What was a little hamster going to do to them--”

“I suggest we keep moving,” EDI cut in.

“Right, right. Of course.” Shepard hit the button on the elevator.

#shakarian #mass effect #me2 #me3 #commander shepard #garrus vakarian #oc: joan shepard #50/50 odds i delete this in an hour but who knows #did i write a 100k+ word story so that i could write the citadel dlc? mayhaps

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atamascolily · 4 years

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lily liveblogs “terminator: dark fate”, part 2

“It’s raining men (and women)”.... hallelujah? Or not, as the case may be.

(For those just joining us, part one is here)

I was kinda hoping they would run the credits after the title, but I guess filmmakers... don't do that anymore, because we all have short attention spans these days?? Some of that is George Lucas's fault, I know, but tbh I kinda enjoy the creative ways in which filmmakers USED that space occupied by the opening credits... like how The Karate Kid uses it for Daniel and Lucille's road trip between Jersey and California, how it establishes how many friends Daniel had, the importance of his bike, and the whole "putting the car in neutral" and rolling it to get the engine going AND the motif/promise of the pool... all in a minute or two. Magical. I kinda miss that compared to earlier films.

Anyway, highway at night in what the screen tells me is Mexico City 22 years later. Okay, then. There's ice... and then lightning crackling on the road edge, which can only mean one thing -- a visitor from the future!!

There's a woman making out with her boyfriend underneath the highway, and she says "Oh, my god," and the boyfriend thinks it's all his doing, LOL. Sorry, dude, not today.

THE SPHERE IS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HIGHWAY OVERPASS, HOLY FUCK, WHO SET THOSE COORDINATES?? It's a good thing the spheres destroy everything around them, or else this movie would be very, very short.

As it is, Grace falls naked from a great height, banging on supports as she goes down. Ow. Great way of showing she's not quite human.

Of course the watching girl goes over to help while her boyfriend sits there slack-jawed until she shames him into going along. They pick her up and carry her towards their car, only for the police to show up and demand to know what's going on. They think that they're drug dealers (?) and don't believe that she fell from a bridge.

"I love it when it rains naked ladies," says the cop, which is movie-speak for, "I'm an asshole about to get my ass kicked and the audience is going to cheer while it happens".

He grabs her, and Grace sees his gun, and goes for it. Yup, he's down. She's got some sort of augmented vision like the Terminator though anyone who's seen the trailer knows already she's on the side of good.

Grace takes out all the cops completely naked, and I love how this scene is filmed because it's so not focused on anything sexual and it's not sexualized at all, at least for the male gaze that I can tell. It's just... a naked woman kicking ass without obsessing over the fact that she's naked, and it's so goddamn refreshing.

The boyfriend thinks she's amazing. His girlfriend walks over and hugs him. Grace strides up to him and compares her bare foot to his boot. "Don't thank me yet," she says in a deadpan.

Cut to Grace wearing his clothes driving away in his car as the boyfriend stands around in his boxers and yells for her to go to hell. And I like this because it's so much more effective this way to leave the details in the reader's head and show us the results. The girlfriend steers him away, and he starts blaming her, for getting them involved in the first place. Fuck you, dude. I hope she dumps him that night, too.

Cut to Dani in the street somewhere, carrying flowers and chatting with a tamale vendor. We learn from this that she always has flowers -- an association with life and spirit, and not letting the grind get you down. I approve.

Dani has a brother, Diego, who wants to be a pop star, and a father whom she reminds to go to the doctor. Caretaker of the family! Of course they have a dog, named Taco. I'm sure this will be relevant later. I hope Taco survives. Diego tries to chat up a neighbor named Julia, and I'm sure this will all end tragically. I hope she survives.

Dani and Diego leave just in time... for another naked person to drop from the sky in a glowing electric sphere! What are the odd??!

Okay, I don't remember the spheres forming ice in previous films, but it's a cool detail that it makes all the laundry on the lines freeze and shatter... so it's gotta be SUPER COLD. Like, liquid-nitrogen levels of cold.

Like Grace's sphere, this one drops its inhabitant off in mid-air, but the Terminator is able to do a beautiful leap and land on his feet like a cat. He looks like a marble sculpture here - beautiful, smooth, polished, muscled grace. Hot damn. There is absolutely no emotion on his face as he stands up, and even without the music cues, you know right away something is wrong.

There's a woman staring at him when he turns around. And now he looks friendly... earnest, helpful. "Good morning," he says in Spanish as he reaches out to touch the jacket she has in her hand, and it spills up out of his skin HOLY FUCK THAT IS CREEPY AND AMAZING at the same time.

The woman FREAKS OUT and he SMILES at her ever so slightly, and--

Cut to a busy city street. Unlike the highway where Grace appeared, this in the middle of the city, with lots of apartment buildings and traffic. Dani and Diego are on a bus.

Cut to Dani's father answering a knock on the door while Taco the dog barks hysterically. I know, I know, I'm so sorry, Taco. There's the Terminator, and he's so charming and earnest in his plaid jacket, looking for Dani. He claims to be a friend. Her father is shocked. "That's strange. Her friends call her Dani..."

"Dani?" repeats the Terminator. "Yes, of course." AND HE SMILES... fuck. A TERMINATOR THAT CAN MIMIC HUMAN FACIAL EXPRESSIONS AND SHOW EMOTIONS I AM NOT PREPARED FOR THIS.

(but it actually makes PERFECT SENSE for reasons that will be explained later [kinda] in the film!!!!)

Cut to a factory. Arius Motors. Dani and Diego going in to work as cars swing by on the line. There are robot arms and it's all very timely and metaphorical. Somebody goes by on a bicycle INSIDE THE FACTORY and I have no idea how that works, but okay.

Diego's station has been replaced by "a new guy,"--an orange robot arm. Dani asks the supervisor what's going on and he says, "The future," and the manager wants to see Diego in his office. Dani goes in his place, the supervisor says no, Dani pulls out her hair tie, and goes anyway. THIS IS WHY SHE'S THE LEADER OF THE MOTHERFUCKING RESISTANCE, Y'ALL, she’s ALREADY taking no shit from robots.

Dani's father shows up at the factory claiming his kids forgot their lunch and can he come in? Poor dad is definitely dead. I hope Taco at least survived, but I doubt it. Meanwhile Grace is approaching and just leaps over the turnstile like it's no big deal and I LOVE IT. Then she follows a security guard into a corner and mugs him for his uniform and it's all so goddamn quick.

The security guard tells "Dad" that he can't come in without a helmet and vest, which is bullshit, because most of the employees don't wear them, but whatever. Grace keeps walking. How the fuck did she dress so fast, but she looks great. She's got a jacket awkwardly covering her gun, and it's not subtle, but no one seems to notice.

Dani is arguing with the boss, who is... American? At least he's speaking English. She's trying to keep her brother's job, but he's all "well, he's not as good as you are," and Dani is Not Having It. She threatens to tell them that machines are coming for ALL the jobs, and god, I love her so much because EVEN WITHOUT TERMINATORS MESSING UP HER LIFE, SHE WAS GONNA GO PLACES.

"Dad" goes to Dani's station and she isn't there, but he talks to Diego. (I don't know how he knows so much, but I'm sure it wasn't pretty.) The Terminator makes that lame excuse about bringing lunches, and Diego is confused, because Dani already took care of that--

Then Dani shows up and the lunch morphs into a gun, and I'm not sure how they did that, because wasn't the morphing stuff not supposed to MAKE GUNS--ok, maybe he took the security guard's gun and morphed the lunch OVER it as a cover with his polyalloy bits--but FUCK this dude is SCARY--and points the gun at Dani as she and Diego stare--only to have his head blown open as Grace fires.

Grace keeps shooting as Dani screams, and grabs Dani before she can get to "Dad". Grace is way better at explaining things than Kyle Reese: "That is NOT your father. That was a machine that sent here to kill you. " It helps that the Terminator has lots of metal bits exposed at this point, and rapidly shifting back to normal. Come with me or you're dead in the next thirty seconds!"

Dani doesn't buy this, but she runs as Grace shepherds both her and Diego away.

And that back arch as the Terminator sits up and regenerates back to his "original" persona--which, I'll note, he DIDN't steal from anyone in our present; it was the one he came with UNLIKE the T-1000 in T2--and it's scary as hell. And even watching him run, and leap--it's not human. It's a predator disguised in human form. Well done, filmmakers.

I like how they show Grace's augmented senses here, and how she has the extra warning to shove Dani and Diego out of the way when the Terminator goes flying for her. He slices her cap off with arms that are suddenly sword-knives, and she swings a mallet at him, knocking him flat--and flinging him into a wall when she hits him again. She is really fucking strong, and I've never seen a woman be this strong before and it's AMAZING.

She hits him on the head over and over again, and then he starts crawling up the mallet towards her and it's so creepy HOLY FUCK and then he sends her sprawling and pops the mallet back out of his head OH MY GOD.

Grace starts using a piece of car siding as shield because she lost her weapon, keeping herself between the Terminator and Dani at all times.

Diego crushes him with a machine--I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE, FILMMAKERS, NICE CALLBACK. Unfortunately, it doesn't take, but it does give them some breathing room. Meanwhile, Grace is tired and out of breath, and visibly overheating. The perfect time to introduce herself to Dani!

Grace explains the situation on the run, and throws Diego into the truck they steal outside when he hesitates. I gotta hand it to her, she's doing this whole thing pretty well.

Diego sees her arm. "Are you a machine too?" "No I'm human, like you!" They don't believe her. "No, I'm augmented." THIS IS GOING TO BE A THEME, OH MY GOD. More on this later. Grace can argue with them AND hotwire the truck at the same time. #goals.

They bust out of the factory. The police immediately go after them, not sure how that worked, and Grace says "Oh, shit," seconds before the Terminator (now revealed as the Rev-9) busts through the wall with a truck and a... snowplow? I guess it's for moving stone and metal bits around the factory? Whatever. It's a lot. The police cars go flying.

Somehow Grace manages to drive AND explain backstory at the same time, which I admire, because I can barely talk and drive at the same time.

There's a lot of civilian casualties, mostly due to the Rev-9 snowplowing everything. They end up going backwards up the highway off-ramp and onto the highway. The Rev-9 busts through more things and loses the snowplow. It's a bad day to be driving in Mexico City, let's just say that much.

Grace gets the first "FUCK!" of the movie, as the check engine light of the truck comes on, so Dani gets to drive while Grace makes improvised weapons out of rebar. Oh, wait, Dani can't drive, so Diego gets to do it. (Hahaha, I guess Dani's going to learn how to drive soon because METAPHOR)

Graces eases off her jacket so she can blow off steam and leaps into the back of the truck, yelling for Dani to put her seatbelt on OH MY GOD THIS MOVIE. I love it.

She targets the Rev-9 and throws. He doesn't even flinch at the first one and catches the second one. She stabs him several times through and then he grabs the rebar and moves the polymetallic alloy portion of himself onto the front of the truck while the metallic Terminator skeleton drives.

[COMBINING THOSE TWO PARTS IS REALLY CREEPY AND ALSO THE BEST DECISION THEY COULD HAVE MADE 10/10 APPROVED]

It looks like the skeleton is laughing at Grace, but I think that's just his resting bitch face, lol.

Grace changes tactics and shoots for the tires. The Rev-9 jumps and throws a rebar back at her and Grace deflects it so it misses Dani. Then the truck is dragging the Rev-9's protoplasm while the other half crashes and Grace has to fend him off. Rev-9 takes this opportunity and slashes at the tires with his sword-hands. Grace kicks him off and he gets run over, but it won't take. Diego crashes the truck as the tire blows and Grace rolls and takes a bad fall onto the pavement. The Rev-9's skeleton crawls out of the flames.

DANI WORE HER SEATBELT SO SHE'S FINE WHILE DIEGO DIDN'T AND IS INJURED OH MY GOD THIS MOVIE THE DETAILS FUUUUUUCCCKKKK. Like, Grace knew Dani had to wear her seatbelt BECAUSE SHE'S FROM THE FUTURE AND OLDER!DANI TOLD HER TO DO IT! And younger!Dani DID IT! OH my GOD! (either that or they really are just that drift compatible)

Oh, no, Diego has rebar through him, he's not going to survive AAAAAAAAH no whhhhhhyyyyy

Meanwhile, some poor motorist tries to help the Rev-9 and is murdered for his troubles. sigh.

Grace has to pull Dani over the body of her dying brother seconds before the Rev-9 smashes into the car and everything explodes in fire. Dani tries to run to Diego and Grace holds her back. Grace makes Dani run.

All of the Rev-9's protoplasm is oozing back towards the skeleton in liquid dark smears on the ground and it's so creepy FUUUUCCKKKK

Oh god HE WALKS THROUGH THE METAL HIGHWAY GUARD LIKE IT'S NO BIG DEAL HOW CREEPY CAN YOU GET FUUUUCCKKK

And then the skeleton starts throwing rebar at them from the other SIDE fuuuuckk. this movie so isn't subtle, because there's the machine part and the human-looking part, and they're both working together as one, and this is a METAPHOR, we're meant to see the Rev-9 and Grace as FOILS to each other AAHHHHHH and the Rev-9 is also a SYMBOL OF WHAT HUMANITY CAN BECOME IF IT MELDS WITH AI, AHHHHHHH

Can I just note here that the skeleton part DOES NOT HAVE A ROUND HEAD THERE IS IN FACT A GAP WHERE ITS BRAIN SHOULD BE AAAAAAA

"When they start to kill me, run," Grace says to Dani. But... AN SUV pulls up, knocks the skeleton flat on its ass as the human part of the REV-9 just stares in dull, placid confusion.

next up: my fave returns!

#terminator #terminator: dark fate

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brinshannara · 5 years

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Matters of the Heart (Sanvers Star Trek AU, PG)

Idea from this tweet from Becky and oh man it was not supposed to get this long but oops it did:

https://twitter.com/dayecarter/status/1176268713588342784

Commander Alex Danvers frowned as, for the third time, she caught someone staring at her in the mess hall. Something was up. She generally had a good relationship with the crew, but it was one rooted in respect and even a bit of fear, rather than camaraderie or friendship. As first officer, it was her job to liaise with the crew on behalf of the captain, but she always made sure she stayed on the appropriate side of the thin line between professional and personal.

So what was going on?

She narrowed her eyes at the lieutenant who was looking at her and made sure to keep her poker face when his eyes went wide, having realized he had her attention. He scurried away.

Alex finished her lunch, then brought her dishes to the replicator and let them be disintegrated by the machine. She nodded to a couple of young ensigns as she walked out and headed up to the bridge.

Lieutenant Commander Maggie Sawyer was sitting in the captain's chair when she arrived. It wasn't exactly a rare happening, but Alex was always a little surprised not to see Captain Picard in the chair.

"Commander," Sawyer said, standing.

"Thank you, Sawyer," she said, taking the seat from the woman who had quickly become her best friend. She was a little surprised when Sawyer sat down in the first officer's seat next to her.

"The captain's in her ready room," she said, quietly, so as not to attract the attention of the others on the bridge.

Alex raised an eyebrow before she realized why Sawyer was being discreet. "Situation with the admiral?" she asked, just as quietly.

Sawyer nodded rapidly.

"Ah," she said. "Thanks for letting me know." The captain and her husband, Admiral Picard, had been having some difficulties, as the captain had informed her.

Sawyer nodded. "Of course." She considered. "Holodeck tonight? Maybe we can pick up where we left off last night?"

"That'd be fun," she said, smiling.

"Captain Picard to Commander Danvers."

Alex tapped her commbadge. "Danvers here, captain."

"Would you please report to my ready room?"

"Of course, captain," Alex said, standing. "You have the bridge, Sawyer."

"Aye, sir," Sawyer said, sitting back down in the captain's chair.

Alex rang the chime and entered at the captain's command. The captain gestured to the sofa, not one of the seats by the desk.

"Tea, Earl Grey, hot," she said to the replicator. "Can I get you something, Alex?"

Alex was confused. She didn't know why she was in the captain's ready room. Was it official business? If so, why was she now sitting on the sofa? Why had the captain called her Alex instead of Danvers?

"I'm fine, captain, thank you," she said.

The captain nodded and took her tea with her to the couch and set it gently on the nearby coffee table. She sat down next to Alex.

"Alex, you know I think very highly of you, don't you?"

"Uh, yes, ma'am, I guess so?"

The older woman chuckled. "I wouldn't have requested you as my first officer on my first command if I didn't."

"Yes, ma'am."

Picard took a sip of her tea. "Alex, what you do on your own time is your own business."

She blinked. "Yes, ma'am."

"However," she continued, "would you not agree that, as first officer of the USS Pasteur, you must set the example for the rest of the crew?"

"Of course, captain," Alex said, still confused.

"I'm glad we're in agreement," the captain said, taking another sip of tea. "Now, then, what's this I hear about a turbolift incident?"

Alex frowned. "Captain?"

"Danvers, I'm getting reports from all over the ship about your recent behaviour."

"What behaviour, ma'am?" Alex was legitimately confused, having no idea whatsoever as to what her captain was talking about.

Picard picked up a PADD and tapped at it. "Stardate 59772, Ensign Taylor reported that you and Lieutenant Commander Sawyer were trapped in Turbolift 3 for over an hour and, when Engineering got you out, you were both in a state of, well, undress."

"Captain, the environmental controls had gone offline with the turbolift controls! It was over 32 degrees Celsius in there. Of course we removed our uniform jackets."

Unconvinced, she scrolled down her list.

"Stardate 59807, Lieutenant Black reported that you and Lieutenant Commander Sawyer were, once again, late exiting Holodeck 2."

Alex laughed. "We were literally two minutes late, captain, and that was because Chief Parker was running late with his time in the holodeck before us."

"Stardate 59823, just last night," Picard continued, "Engineering reports that the holodeck safety protocols were disabled while you and Lieutenant Commander Sawyer were running a program. Further, once you exited the holodeck, Crewman Cooper said you both appeared to be in a state of intoxication." She let the PADD drop and looked up at Alex. "Really, Alex? You overrode the safeties so you and Sawyer could get drunk?"

"In my defense, captain, it was Sawyer's idea, and it was just a couple of beers while we were playing pool. It wasn't like we were in any danger."

"So I should call in Sawyer and discipline her, is that it?"

"No, ma'am," Alex said, realizing her error. "I was the ranking officer, I'll take the blame."

Picard sipped at her tea. "Don't do it, Alex."

"Do what?"

"Don't fall in love with your best friend," she sighed, putting the tea down. "It doesn't work out."

"I'm sorry?"

The captain turned back to face her. "I think it's lovely that you and Maggie are so close," she said, "really, I do. But, speaking from experience, don't fall in love with her. Do you really want your friendship to turn into what the admiral and I have?"

Alex sputtered. "We're not in love with each other!"

The captain tsked. "Honestly, Alex, I would have thought you knew that you could confide in me." She took her tea and stood, heading back to her desk. "Shift change is about to happen. For my part, I'd recommend you tell Maggie that it's not a good idea." She sat down. "Whatever you do decide, Alex, please be more discreet. The crew is starting to notice."

Alex was still sitting on the sofa, completely and totally baffled.

"You're dismissed, Danvers."

She leapt up from her seat. "Yes, ma'am." She said. "Thank you, ma'am." And with that, she left the ready room, still dazed from the conversation. As she left the room, she saw Sawyer stand from the captain's chair, giving it up to the beta shift commander. Lieutenant Commander Trana Soren looked over at Alex enquiringly.

"You have the bridge, Commander Trana," she nodded to the Bajoran.

"Aye, sir," she said, taking her seat as the rest of beta shift took over from their alpha shift counterparts.

Alex walked up to the turbolift, followed by Maggie.

"Deck 12," Maggie said. It was the deck where both of their quarters were located. "So, pool and drinks tonight?"

Alex shook her head. "Uh, no, I, uh... I have stuff."

"Bad meeting with the captain?" Maggie asked, concerned.

"No, uh... just... no, it was fine." The captain's warning rang in her ears. "Maybe tomorrow."

The turbolift came to a halt and the two of them exited and turned left towards their respective quarters. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, her mind whirring.

"Okay. I'll be in my quarters or in Holodeck 1 after 1900 hours, if you want to talk," Maggie said.

Alex nodded. "Thanks." With that, she turned down the hallway to her quarters. She needed time to think.

***

Three days went by without hanging out with Maggie and Alex missed her friend. She wasn't entirely certain the captain was right, so Alex had decided some distance might help her figure out what was going on. Over the last couple of days, she'd come to the conclusion that she'd never felt this way about anyone before, not even her one serious boyfriend back at the Academy.

She was about to start another evening of deep introspection, seated on her sofa and staring out the windows into the deep vastness of space, when the door chimed.

"Come in," she said, knowing it could only be one person.

"Danvers, what gives?" Maggie asked, walking into her quarters, wearing a civilian outfit, consisting of a black button-up shirt with its sleeves rolled up, and some dark blue slacks that reminded Alex of the fashion from the 20th and 21st centuries.

"What?"

"I mean," she said, walking up to the sofa by the window, "you've been avoiding me." She folded her arms across her chest. "What's going on? You've been weird ever since the captain talked to you."

Alex opened her mouth to argue.

"And don't you even think about denying it!" she added.

She sighed and gestured for Maggie to sit down. "You're right," she said. "And I'm sorry."

Maggie blinked and sat down. "Are you okay?"

"I think so?" she laughed, weakly.

"What did the captain say?" she demanded.

Alex looked over at Maggie. They'd become fast friends. Maggie had transferred aboard just six months ago, but already, Alex knew that Maggie would be in her life forever. At least, she hoped she would be.

"What did she say, Alex?" Maggie asked. "Come on, do I need to go commit mutiny or something?"

She laughed. "No, no," she said. She composed herself and exhaled, slowly. "So you remember she and the admiral were having issues?"

Maggie nodded.

"Well, she called me in there to tell me not to follow in her footsteps, so to speak."

"What the hell does that even mean?" Maggie asked, furrowing her brow.

"It means that she wants me to tell you that..." She blew out a breath. "That this," she indicated the space between them, "that this isn't a good idea."

"That's bullshit, the captain can't tell you who you can be friends with when you're off-duty!"

"No, no, I mean... She meant... She was trying to give me advice not to... fall in love with my best friend." She looked at Maggie.

After a long silence, Maggie finally said two words: "Excuse me?"

"The captain told me not--"

"Yeah, no, I heard that." She looked back at Alex. "And are you?" she asked. "Falling in love with your best friend?"

Alex bit her lower lip as she gazed at Maggie. "I, uh..." She exhaled. "I think maybe I might be."

Maggie nodded. "So, what, you've been holed up in here... thinking...?"

She nodded.

"For three days?"

Another nod.

"And this is the conclusion you've drawn?"

Alex swallowed. "Yes."

Maggie smiled. "Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one. I came to that conclusion after the turbolift incident."

She blinked rapidly. Her brain wasn't functioning. "Wait, what?"

She was grinning widely now, her dimples on display. "Uh, no disrespect meant here, given you're my commanding officer and all, but you're gorgeous, Danvers. I swear, if they hadn't gotten us out of that turbolift, I was going to launch myself at you."

Her brain started moving again. "Wait. So if I... and you... wait, the captain was right?"

Maggie moved closer to her on the couch. "I think she was, yeah. Smart lady, that captain."

She was close enough that Alex could see her freckles, could smell her shampoo, could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. And she knew that Maggie was waiting for her, waiting for her to confirm things, for herself.

"Can I...?" Alex whispered.

"Please."

Gently, Alex reached out and cupped Maggie's face in her hands before leaning in and softly, so carefully, so deliberately, pressed her lips to Maggie's.

There was a pause and then Maggie started to kiss her back.

It was better than piloting a shuttlecraft through an asteroid belt.

The last coherent thought Alex had that evening was something along the lines of never listening to Captain Beverly Picard again, not when it came to matters of the heart.

#sanvers #star trek #captain beverly picard #admiral jean-luc picard #friends to lovers #st:tng #all good things...

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carrietrekkie · 5 years

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The perfect moment.

So, let´s see what happens in Cathrins first week aboard of the Enterprise. This one connected directly to The joy and burden of a Captain.

It started a few moments before Chris decided to make finally a step forward. I hope you like it. Finally they getting closer!

Leave me a little FB, if you don´t mind. ;)

@bold-brave-courageous @allthetrek @reeselivesforeverinmyheart

"Here for you." I had not really entered the turbolift yet, as Spock already held out to me a PADD. "Good Morning." "Yes, right." He nodded to me. "Good Morning." I smiled, then accepted the PADD. "What's this?" "The plan you wanted." He tapped the display. "This should help you to find your way around, until you know where you find something." "Thanks, that's really nice of you. Then I'll take a look around. "The lift stopped and I got out. "Um." "The pink dot indicates where you are right now." "You bugged me?" I just wanted to protest, but the door closed and left me perplexed. "And why did the dot have to be pink?" Here I was, somewhere between the engine room and the infirmary. My only problem was that there were at least three decks in between, according to plan. I sighed and put my head to the left, then to the right, and decided on the gear that started right in front of me. That cannot be that hard? I wandered off and let myself drift through the corridors of the ship.

I found various recreation rooms, holds, the botany and eventually even the recreational deck and that really knocked me over. There was a gym, with swimming pool, a large common room, various activity rooms and, that was the killer, a park. Complete with fountain, stream and bridge over it. "Insane." As I left the deck, I passed the access to the computer core and then passed the main deck access. There were the offices of senior officers, transporter rooms, and then I felt dizzy. This was a city, not a spaceship. I stepped to a window and looked out into space, rushing past at warp speed. Smiling, I put my hand on the window frame, now I had learned that this was not glass, but transparent aluminum.

"Lady, I didn´t think you would blow me away like that." "If you do that more often, don´t let Dr. Boyd catch you. " I startled and spun around. I was about to get angry, but then I saw who had addressed me. "Chris!" I beamed at him. "I almost forgot how you look like." "Ouch." He smiled as well. "I'm sorry, there's a lot to do and right now I'm enjoying my twenty minute break, before I have to devote myself to a long list of appointments that already suggests that going to bed early today will not come back. " "Twenty minutes?" I gave him a sympathetic look. "How many are left?" "I guess five, maybe seven." He looked at me. "I've spent a while watching you wander around here." "You followed me?" I raised my eyebrow. "If you say it so, it sounds a bit scary." "No, it's kind of cute." "Then I was lucky. Are you going to take a walk with me? "He pointed in the direction I had just come from. "Yes, sure."

He put a hand behind my back and we started walking. It was good to have him with me. Despite the excitement of the last few days, I had missed him terribly. "Are you getting along?" "I'm trying hard." I turned briefly around my own axis. "This ship is gigantic, there is a park here! Did you know that? "He laughed as he listened to me. "I saw people skating there and I was wondering where all the sprained ankles and lacerations came from." "Yeah, I heard about this wondrous place." He nudged me. "I even had the illusion for a while that I could sit there and read on a bench." "Why didn´t it work?" He paused as he stopped in front of a turbolift. "Have you been on the ship for almost five years? "That sounds like a lot of time, I know, but most of the time it was like I was drowsing in the gym and getting into bed after showering." "How mean." I crossed my arms behind my back.

"A suggestion." He came to me again. "We'll meet here tonight and try to eat together? Of course, only if you don´t mind eating around midnight. " "That sounds wonderful." I smiled at him. "If I find the way back again." I pointed briefly in the direction I suspected the deck, he laughed, then reached for my hand and twisted my outstretched index finger in the opposite direction. "Well, I was close." "I'll pick you up." "That sounds even better." I pinched my lips. "Are you asking me for a date?" "What if it were like that?" "Then I would wear something other than my uniform." I rolled my eyes a little. "Sounds good." He raised an eyebrow, then took a step toward me. "Then it's definitely a date. "A broad smile crossed his face. "I've needed long enough, right?" "No, it was just right." I replied. "But I think I need a little tutoring on dates" I put my hands on his chest. "My last date was good 230 years ago. Likely even longer. " "I don´t think so much has changed." He put his arms around me. "It will..." "Captain Pike please on the bridge." His answer was a slightly annoyed growl, then slowly released me. "I have to go." "Never mind." I winked at him. "We have our date. Maybe that will make your day a little easier. " He stepped into the elevator, which was just opening for him again. "What is with you?" "I'm sure Dr. Boyd has some nice little nasties in store for me. "

"I'm sure of that."

I saw him pinch his lips briefly, then he stepped out of the elevator, put his hands to my cheeks, and before I could say anything, he kissed me. I closed my eyes and hoped that moment would last forever, but I knew it wouldn´t. Before I even thought of returning the kiss, he released his lips from mine and smiled at me.

"See you later Cathrin." "See you later Chris." He stepped back and I watched with beating hearts as the doors closed and left me behind.

I didn´t know then that I wouldn´t see him for a few days. I was about to finish my shift in the infirmary when Captain Pike's Yeoman brought me a small card. I thanked him and opened it. Handwritten there was a message from him. "Cathrin, I'm terribly sorry, I will not make it. I'll make it up to you Chris. " Although he denied me, I could hardly be angry at the charming way he had done it. Sighing, I pocketed the card, took my "homework" and went to my quarters. I never threw this card away, for a while it was a mark in the book I read while falling asleep. I remember exactly that he was terribly upset when he found it, not because I still had it, but because he had been so stupid at the time to cancel that date.

++++++

These first days on board the Enterprise flew past me, otherwise I couldn´t say it. Dr. Boyd meant that with his crash curse really deadly. I fell asleep at the end of my shift on the infirmary, slept for a few hours, then ate something and study. Apart from the extremely sophisticated technology for me and the fact that there are not just human patients, not much had changed. The paperwork had actually gotten a little less because the computer was doing some work on its own, but I was overwhelmed with what I where allowed to do. In a few hours we would reach the earth and there would be a lot going on, I was told. There was an official reception for the crew, then everyone had a few days of shore leave and the night before the new mission start there was a ball. I found that the most confusing, maybe Spock later got something that I could pull out of his nose. What I would do with my land vacation, I didn´t know yet. I wanted to see the Starfleet headquarters, as far as I was, the rest… That just scared the hell out of me.

I shook off these thoughts and tried to focus on the lecture I was going through. Around me, there was a mood just like before Christmas. Which I could understand. After a long time they finally saw their families again, for some it would be the last flight with the Enterprise, which would mean that there were soon new people to meet. Someone laughed behind me and after trying once more to tell me that Andorians were born with two instead of one stomach, I gave up and leaned back. The team cafe was probably not the best choice, but I had been a little lonely in my quarters.

I hadn´t seen Chris really since our start almost a week ago. We had met a few times in the hallways and there was that lovely, to short kiss but time to talk was never much. I had to admit that I missed him and that wouldn´t be any better for the next time.

"At least try to look happy." I looked up and faced Number One. She held a tray in her hands and looked at the empty chair next to me. "Please." I made her seat on the table. "Are you alright?" She sat down. "Yes, I was just thinking." I tapped my records. "I wanted to read a bit more before going to my appointment with Dr. Boyd. " "As far as I know, you have no reason to be nervous." She pulled out her fork and began poking her fries. I straightened up. "Do you know something I don´t know?" "Maybe." She started to eat and I spread my arms as she let me hung in the air. "Commander!" "I shouldn´t do that." She sighed. "Dr. Boyd would be mad if I messed up his ride."

"Nonsense, the man is a drama queen. He finds a new reason to explode faster than I can drink my coffee." I leaned against her. "I really need something constructive." "Captain Pike will soon have more time again." She reached for the sauce. "He likes to handle all paperwork and requests before a mission starts. So that he can go on without burden in the new task." "Um, okay, that's good to know, but why are you telling me that?" I raised my eyebrows. "You wanted something constructive." "Yeah." But for once that had not been what I was after, at least for the moment. "But I actually meant in relation to Dr. Boyd and my place in the infirmary." She gave me one of her unfathomable smiles. "I wouldn´t worry about that. Dr. Boyd was at Pike earlier and the captain signed with joy. "I smiled at her. "You are now officially a member of Starfleet Medical Corps." She replied. "In education." "No joke?" "I would never dare." She continued eating. "I'm happy for you." "Thanks." I couldn´t help but grin, which was not the best response given the person who was just entering the room and headed straight for us.

"Ms. Zimmer!" Boyd dropped enthusiastically in the chair to my right. "Just the woman I was looking for." "I would be wary of that statement." I grinned at him and he back. "What gives us the honor?" "Number One, I have wonderful news." Now he smiled at the first officer, then at me again. "However, for my new paramedic in training." "No, honestly?" I did my best to be surprised, but I didn´t succeed, but I didn´t want to give it be beaten yet. "Are you serious?" Quietly, I heard the commander chuckle beside me, that put my already weak performance the killing blow. "Why did you betray it?" Boyd glared at the first officer. "I was so looking forward to do it." "That's my flaw." She shrugged, probably should be an apology. "I knew that." I pricked off a piece of my cake. "And I am honored that you will share your knowledge with me Dr. Boyd." That seemed to soothe him.

"And I'm looking forward to teaching you." He stood up, seemingly expecting me to do so, because he looked at me. "I would like to give you the appropriate documents." "Right now?" I reached for the brownie and bit again, then stood up. "Of course." He nodded. "The next few days are getting too chaotic and if you find time, you have something to read." "How farsighted of you." Number One was still clearly fun, Boyd tried to ignore her. "Okay." I reached for my cup, put the cake in my mouth, chewed hard and swallowed the much too big bite down. "Let's go." I felt the cake crack on in my stomach. "Very good, efficient. Medics eat when there is time. "He started and with a big grin, I threw in the direction of the first officer, I followed him to the infirmary.

"At the time, finishing your class, it raises you to the rank of an officer, which means you'll also have to complete some levels of command training and Starfleet regulations." Now I figured I'd been accompanying Tilly on the Discovery. "I am highly motivated and looking forward to the challenge." "I am glad to hear that." We reached the infirmaries and Boyd started providing me with educational materials, if that were books I needed a wagon to bring them to my quarters, so it was just a PADD and a small box of data carriers. "I will also call you when extraordinary situations arise." "All the time?" I looked at him. "If I am on duty or I think it makes sense, yes." I bit back a sigh. Apprenticeship years are not men's years, my father has always said that. "Okay doctor." I smiled instead. "Of course, you can also cancel and I understand everyone's private life, rest periods are important, but don´t let it become a habit."

"What private life?" I watched as he passed me. "You must not forget that we have time in spite of everything, you must remember that your life expectancy is now many times higher than in your time and eventually there will be more in your lives than running after me." "If you say that." I just realized how quiet it had become. "Not busy today?" "All preparations are already in progress for the arrival on earth. We get new staff and equipment and don´t forget the holiday. " I nodded, the thought of vacation still causing my stomach ache. Spock had sent me the transport coordinates for my home and confronted me with what I wanted to do. Stupid Vulcan, that's what I said to him. "Ms. Zimmer to the bridge, please. "I looked up involuntarily as Pike's voice rang out from the infirmary's Com, then I pressed the talk button. "Here, I'll be right there." Then I looked at Boyd. "Did I do something?" Boyd glanced at one of the screens, then smiled at me. "I think I know what's going on." "OK." "Let's go." He made a movement as if to scare me away. "We are done for today." "See you later." I waved to him, then hurried to follow the captain's orders. I still didn´t belong official to Starfleet, but it was better not to stand in the way of the chain of command.

I reached the turbolift to the bridge, gave my destination and took the few seconds it took to figure out why I should be there. The lift opened and I entered the bridge of the USS Enterprise. Again, the mood was solved and just when I wanted to be a little uncertain around the area, Pike turned to me. "That was fast." He smiled at me. "It sounded somehow urgent." I looked around. "Maybe." He pointed to the screen. "I thought you might want to see this." "Reaching the sol system." "Impulse engines." Pike turned back to the front. "Go under warp." The typical Warp lights in front of the window vanished and disappeared into the starry sky and after we passed a few planets very quickly, I finally saw something that I knew.

I stepped next to the command chair, I didn´t know where else to stand. In front of the Enterprise, Saturn with its rings pasted, then joined by Jupiter. Time and again, spaceships and stations crossed our path, and as we passed Mars, which looked completely different, I felt myself getting nervous. And then I saw it. I had seen pictures, but even the highest resolution photos couldn´t match what was just before my eyes. Blue and sparkling, it floated in space, the earth. I left my place next to Pike and walked a few steps to the screen. I couldn´t see that he was smiling slightly, I was too much attached to what was going on in front of my eyes.

Here, too, scurrying satellites and spaceships, if I hadn´t known that this was the headquarters and heart of the Federation, that sight would have left no doubt, and as if all that had not been overwhelming enough, the most incredible space station I've ever seen pushed itself from the side of the picture. More and more, the familiar blue filled in the window. The perfect moment, I was sure, the more frightened I was by the beeping of the Com, just sounding through the bridge. "We are hailed." "Open ship-wide channel." Pike got up from his chair. "Captain Pike, this is Admiral Johnson of the High Command." "We hear you admiral." "Welcome back, USS Enterprise." I could hear the clapping around me. "Space Dock 1, you're expected in San Francisco in an hour." "Understand High Command, Enterprise end." I still stood there watching now as we turned and headed for the Utopia Planetia, then I could hear footsteps behind me. "Welcome Home." His voice so close to my ear gave me goose bumps all over my body and I glanced back over my shoulder and looked straight into his blue eyes.

I was sure I was beaming from ear to ear, as he beamed at me, as would be the best at this moment that brought the whole crew to dance, that he could give me a pleasure. "Thank you." I just hoped that I didn´t blush. If I had been aware that the entire bridge crew was watching us, the red alarm would probably have faded with envy, but all I could feel was his hand brushing unobtrusively over my back before he turned around and went back to his chair. He took a seat and opened a channel. "This is Captain Pike." He let his gaze wander through the bridge. "We are home again. I wish you a few nice days with your families before we meet again. For those who leave us I have only the best wishes, I thank you for your services, your sacrifices and your dedication. "Then he got up. "I'd like to ask you to remember a minute of those who didn´t come back with us." A silence fell over the bridge, which seized the entire ship and stopped it until Pike spoke again. "May they find peace. Thank you. Pike end. "

Again they clapped and then the crew brought the docking maneuvers behind and then I could experience, how for the first time on this ship something like hectic broke out. The officers put their stations in a kind of stand-by mode, before saying goodbye to the captain and leaving the bridge. I, on the other hand, still couldn´t take my eyes off the earth. It seemed like years ago that I had seen it, but it was only a few months. "See you the evening after tomorrow?" I looked to the side and found myself facing number one. "What is there?" "The ball." She smiled at me. "I would like to introduce you to someone and you will certainly like it." "How should I imagine that?" "Lots of gorgeous, smartly dressed people eating, having fun and dancing." She sighed a little. "That sounds." I raised an eyebrow. "Cheesy." Number One did the same. "Sorry." "No, it's cheesy, but still pretty." She put a hand on my forearm. "I count on you. You need a dress. " "Where should I get a dress?" "Therefore, where you get all your things." She grinned. "There are endless patterns or you design something out for yourselves." "OK." "I'm looking forward to seeing you." Then she released me and waved to Pike.

Outside, a spaceship flew by and drew my attention back to space. I still couldn´t believe what I saw. It was all a crazy dream and at that moment I couldn´t wait for this ship to embark on its mission. "So how long do you want to stand there?" I couldn´t help but smile as Pike stood next to me. "I don´t know how much longer would it be appropriate?" My answer was a buzz and the lights went down.

"This was a hint that it was time to leave." He stepped around me into my field of vision. The sight was not bad either. "Anyway, from the bridge." "Okay." I sighed a little. “We're expected in San Francisco. "He put a hand behind my back and pushed me away from the screen toward the exit. "Do you already know what you do after the reception?" "I'll try not to get lost." I grinned at him. "I've never been to San Francisco before, I can find something." Couldn´t be that hard.

"I have a suggestion." He raised his eyebrows as we made our way to the transporter room. Not only we wanted to go there. The whole crew would beam down. "I'm all ears." I grinned at him. "Or may I guess?" "You'll never get it." Pike laughed a little. "You want to persuade me to go for a spin?" I would have bet a lot that I was right. "I wish it was so." A pitying look hit me. "I have the great pleasure of spending the next few hours in a meeting with other captains and admirals." "Uh, sounds exciting." I tried as encouraging as possible to look. "How long does it take? Because I would need someone to show me the city. "That helped, he giggled a little.

"You don´t believe how tempting that sounds." He sighed again and then looked at me with a look that made my heart beat faster. "And I couldn´t imagine anything better, but I'm afraid that will take forever, especially considering the recent events." "I assume my name will drop a few times as well?" I rolled my eyes. "Would be overdue again." We entered the transporter room and started. "But it's going to be related to being part of my crew now." Pike smiled at me. "Don´t worry, you will leave the planet again with me." "I'll let me ravish to believe you."

I looked forward and the transporter took the last group of people away before Pike and I were the only ones left. Spock and Number One just joined us. "Alright, I cannot get it." I raised my hands as I followed Spock onto the platform. Pike looked up at me from below, then followed me. "Are you telling me?" "I'd rather show it to you." He winked at me, then the transporter grabbed us and brought us to earth. After the transporter jet disappeared, I found myself in sunny San Francisco, a stunning building in the back, the Golden Gate Bridge right in front of me, and the smell of seawater in my nose. "Wow." I took a few steps towards the wall and felt Pike grab my hand and pull me back. I stumbled and he caught me, unnecessarily. "What is?"

"Wrong direction." He smiled happily at me, but didn´t let me go. He looked at me and I caught myself at the thought of kissing him. Here, in front of the entire crew and half the leadership of Starfleet certainly not the best idea, but still a damn enticing. "Turn around." "Okay." I turned and it took me a moment to pick out some familiar faces in the clutter of uniforms and civilians. There they stood change! Tilly, Burnham and other crew members of the Discovery. I turned back to Chris.

"That's not true!" I beamed at him, then hugged him briefly. "Now I'm even more sorry that you have to fumble in this stupid session." I released him, but he didn´t. "I'm allowed to play tomorrow." He laughed and I joined him. "Go and greet all from me." "Thanks, Chris." I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, so close to his lips, as I just considered it appropriate. "I would like to praise it, but that would be undeserved." He chuckled, but kept his thoughts to himself. I let him go, waved him goodbye and then walked over to my friends.

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per-ineptia-ad-astra · 5 years

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Star Trek Episode 1.16: The Galileo Seven

AKA Lord What Fools These Humans Be

Our episode begins with a captain’s log telling us that the Enterprise is traveling to a planet called Makus 3, or Mockus 3 according to the subtitles. Specifically they’re going there to deliver some medical supplies, but they happen to be passing by a phenomenon called Murasaki 312, which Kirk describes as being a quasar-like formation, and “a priceless opportunity for scientific study.” It’s pretty, I’ll give it that. Especially in the remastered version.

[ID: 1. A swirl of bright blue-green vapor glowing in the middle, in the midst of a starfield. 2. A large green cloud with a disc-like formation in the middle of it shot through with a beam of white light.]

Also, they have onboard one Galactic High Commissioner (now there’s a hell of a title) Ferris, who’s overseeing this whole medicine delivery business. Ferris has just now come up to the bridge, where Kirk is communicating with a shuttlecraft (you know, those shuttlecraft that they’ve definitely had all this time) about to launch, and boy, he looks like a fun guy.

[ID: Ferris, a white man with very short graying brown hair, wearing a blue uniform with an elbow-length cape on the back. He is standing just in front of the lift doors on the bridge, looking off to the side and somehow managing to look both grumpy and smug at the same time.]

Ferris is not happy about the Enterprise stopping to look at the glowy space cloud when they’ve got medicine to deliver, and on a tight schedule too. They’re supposed to be having a rendezvous with...somebody...to hand over the supplies so they can be transferred to the New Paris colony. Kirk says that that’s all very well, but he also, for some reason, has standing orders to investigate all quasars and quasar-like phenomena. Anyway, it’s a three day trip to Makus 3 and the rendezvous isn’t scheduled for another five, so they’ve got a two-day window, time enough for a roadside stopover.

This whole thing strikes me as odd. Not that such a formation would be scientifically interesting, I’m sure it would be. But the way Kirk talks about it, it’s as if this was some unexpected opportunity that they have to take advantage of because it won’t come again. But quasars (and, presumably, quasar-like phenomena) aren’t exactly the kind of thing that pop up one day and are gone the next. Also, they’re pretty hard to miss, and there’s no indication that they’re out in unexplored space or whatever. You could perhaps pass this off as the writers not knowing what a quasar is—likely--except that the thing has a name, which indicates that whatever it is, it’s been officially noticed and has stuck around long enough to be cataloged. So there’s no apparent reason why the Enterprise wouldn’t have been well aware, in advance, that this thing was going to be along their way, and no apparent reason why they have to study it right now. Are Kirk’s ‘standing orders’ so important that they supercede anything else the Enterprise happens to be doing at the moment? If the Federation cares about quasars (and quasar-like phenomena) so much, why not have dedicated science ships out there studying them instead of just making other ships stop and look at them whenever they get the chance?

To compound the problem, Ferris tells Kirk that he doesn’t want to take chances with this medicine delivery because “the plague” is out of control at New Paris and they really need these supplies. We’re obviously supposed to view Ferris as your standard unpleasant interfering bureaucrat, and he certainly doesn’t exactly have a charming personality, but to be honest, I think he kinda has a point on this one. It’d be one thing if the Enterprise was delivering some non-time-critical supplies and he was just being a grump about meeting a schedule, but, assuming The Plague lives up to that name, they’re delivering crucial life-saving medicine, and Kirk is being real dang cavalier about it. Yeah, they’ve got time until the meet-up—even though there’s no given explanation as to why the rendezvous has to be at that time and they couldn’t make it earlier, which would surely be preferable under the circumstances—but a lot of things can go wrong in space, which Kirk oughta be very well aware of by now. One would think they’d want to leave that window open in case they’re delayed by something unexpected, but no, let’s just go fly into a quasar, I guess, what could go wrong. This is like if they stopped in the middle of Balto to investigate an active volcano.

Kirk waves Ferris off and tells the shuttle, Galileo, that they’re cleared for takeoff, so off they take. Inside the shuttle is Spock, flying it; a male goldshirt; a female redshirt; Scotty; a male blueshirt; McCoy; and a male goldshirt. That’s seven alright. Seems like a bit of an odd selection. Given it’s a scientific expedition you’d expect a primarily science-focused crew, but here we’ve got Spock (makes sense), one blueshirt (cool), McCoy (for...whatever reason) two goldshirts (one is helping fly the shuttle, which makes sense, but the other one is just...there), a yeoman (who frankly has no business being there whatsoever) and Scotty. Scotty’s always good to have along, but what, specifically, they thought he would need to be doing on this trip, I don’t know.

As they fly towards the big green glowy thing, one of the goldshirts—Latimer—gives Spock a reading, then takes it back, saying the indicator’s gone crazy. The blueshirt, Boma, says that this is because quasars are really disruptive like that. The yeoman then reports that radiation is increasing.

With things already going wrong real bad, Spock tells Latimer to stop their forward momentum. Latimer gives it a shot, but nothing happens. Spock then tries to call the Enterprise, but gets only static. Man, it sure didn’t take long for this trip to go belly-up.

On the bridge, Uhura is likewise having radio trouble, unable to pick up anything from the Galileo except scattered fragments about them being pulled off-course. Kirk wants them to get a fix on the shuttle, but Sulu says the scanners are blank and that they’re getting “a mass of readings I’ve never seen before, nothing makes sense.” So...they’re blank or there’s a mass of readings? Which is it?

The ship computer chimes in with some technobabble that apparently means Murasaki 312 has ionized the entire sector. In a nutshell, their sensors are out, along with your choice of plot-relevant ship systems. Kirk looks mournfully out into the void and says, “At least four complete solar systems in the immediate vicinity, and out there, somewhere, a twenty-four foot shuttlecraft, off course, out of control. Finding a needle in a haystack would be child’s play.” What, you mean sending a lone shuttlecraft out to investigate a giant mysterious and dangerous space phenomena that said shuttlecraft was never equipped to handle, while on a time limit, didn’t turn out well? Who could have guessed!

After the titles, Kirk gives a log that just reiterates the situation: Murasaki 312 ate our shuttlecraft and now we can’t even look for it because our sensors are busted. Ferris is going on about how he told them so, which obviously is not endearing him to anyone. Kirk says they still have two days to find it, but as Ferris points out, you can’t search four solar systems in two days. At that point Uhura interrupts to say that there’s one inhabitable type-M planet in the solar system (she does not specify which solar system). It’s called Taurus 2, and it’s right in the middle of that big glowy mess out there. Oh, that’s convenient. Of course, they have no evidence that the Galileo landed on any planet, let alone that one—it could be anywhere in the vast amount of empty space in those solar systems, or it could have landed on one of the uninhabitable planets and they’re all going to die if they haven’t already. Lots of lovely possibilities! But they gotta start somewhere, so it’s off to Taurus 2.

By sheer coincidence, it turns out that in fact the Galileo has landed in the one place survivable enough to make an interesting episode out of. The outside of the shuttle looks okay, but from the inside it’s clear they had a rough landing. Everyone’s tossed all over the place clutching their heads and so forth, and a control panel is sparking pretty badly. McCoy goes into doctor mode and starts checking everyone out, but it looks like the only casualty was a bloody nose for Boma.

So what happened? Over a handkerchief, Boma says his best guess is that “the magnetic potential of the effect was such that as we gathered speed, it was multiplied geometrically,” causing them to be shot into Muraski 312 like a bullet. Scotty’s got a hell of a job ahead of him getting the shuttle back into shape. Man, it sure is lucky that they brought the chief engineer along on this trip. For whatever reason that they did.

McCoy does a scan of the atmosphere outside and says that it’s breathable—you wouldn’t want to run a marathon in it, but it’s breathable. Spock says they’d better clear out of there so Scotty has room to work and tells Latimer and the other goldshirt, Gaetano, to take some phasers and go scout around. They do, but no one else leaves. So much for giving Scotty room to work. Instead, McCoy sits in a chair the wrong way to talk to Spock.

[ID: McCoy and Spock sitting inside the Galileo. McCoy is sitting sideways with his back to the wall and one arm propped against the back of the chair, looking over at Spock, who is sitting forward and looking at his tricorder.]

McCoy, sitting sideways in chairs like a man after my own heart.

Spock and McCoy talk about their chances of being found. They don’t look good. Spock figures the ionization effect that hit them is going to be widespread enough to affect the Enterprise too, leaving them without instrumentation to search with, which is going to make it damn hard for them to find the Galileo.

Sure enough, back on the big ship they’re still having no luck with the sensors, even after Sulu tried hooking them up to auxiliary power. Kirk calls the transporter room to see if they’ve got the transporters back online but the operator says that they beamed down some test material and it came back “in a disassociated condition” so they don’t dare try sending any humans through it yet. Yeesh. Yeah, I quite prefer being in an associated condition myself. In the meantime, Kirk tells the flight deck to get the other shuttle, the Columbus, ready to fly out and do a search of the planet’s surface.

Having a shuttle named Columbus is a bit unfortunate, since the most prominent explorer-type person named Columbus that comes to mind was an enormously terrible guy and one would hope we would have stopped giving him any kind of honor this far into the future. But then, the show never specifies that the shuttle is named after Christopher Columbus. Three hundred years from now there could easily have been another person named Columbus that did something significant, like a really cool astronaut or scientist. That’s my theory and I’m sticking with it.

While the Columbus gets ready, Uhura regretfully tells Kirk that communication is still impossible as both their transmission and reception are out. Ferris is still hanging around making a nuisance of himself, asking whether Kirk really thinks they’re going to find anything out there. Kirk says that he’s going to keep looking until the last possible minute and damn the odds (never tell Kirk the odds!), and Ferris says alright—but only until the last possible minute and not one second after.

Columbus heads off on its search, while down on the planet Spock goes outside to do some readings or whatever. McCoy follows him and comments that for as lousy as this situation is, it’s Spock’s big chance to get his command on. Spock says that he isn’t particularly enthused by the idea of being in command, but he’s not afraid of it either; it’s just a thing, neither good nor bad. But since he is in command now, he’s going to do it logically.

Inside, Scotty is elbows-deep in the shuttle’s dashboard. Things aren’t looking good. It seems they’ve lost a lot of fuel, so much that they don’t have any chance of reaching escape velocity and making orbit unless they lighten the load by about five hundred pounds. That’s the weight of three grown men, Spock points out. McCoy is all “uhhh how about we drop some equipment instead of some people” but Spock says that there’s just not that much non-essential equipment on the Galileo to begin with. The passengers are pretty much the only excess weight they have to lose, so either some people get left behind or it’s time to go build a refinery.

Boma is not happy with the turn this discussion has taken and asks who’s going to decide who has to stay behind. Spock says that, well, he’s in command, so it’s up to him to make that call. And no, despite what Boma suggests, he’s not planning to draw lots; he’ll make a logical decision based on logical means, logic logic.

Leaving the conversation on that cheerful note, Spock says they better go outside and make sure they haven’t overlooked any minor damage. Boma watches him leave and says, “If any minor damage was overlooked it was when they put his head together.” “Not his head, Mr. Boma,” McCoy says in the most dramatic manner possible. “His heart.” Thanks Bones.

Meanwhile the goldshirts are off scouting around in a ravine while some scary growling noises echo all around them. They decide to climb up the rocks nearby, because you know what would be a great idea right now: to expose themselves as much as possible. Sure enough, as they get to the top, something big and furry throws a giant spear at Latimer, impaling him in the back and knocking him into the ravine.

The rest of the party over at the Galileo hear Latimer’s scream and Spock and Boma go running to investigate. Gaetano climbs down the rocks while shooting his phaser wildly in various directions, as poor Latimer lies dead in the ravine with the spear shaft sticking up like a tree.

[ID: Gaetano, a white man with short dark hair, sitting on an outcropping in the side of a ravine and staring at a spearhaft that extends out of frame in both directions, while Spock approaches from around the corner.]

After the break, Spock and Boma arrive on the scene to find Gaetano sitting mournfully on a rock and staring at Latimer. He says he didn’t see the attacker clearly; he only knows that it was “something huge and terrible.” But he thinks he got it with one of those phaser blasts so Spock goes off to investigate. Gaetano tells Boma that the thing was “like a giant ape” and then, when Boma says, “Poor Latimer,” Gaetano optimistically says that at least Latimer was fortunate enough to die quickly. Thanks man. Really keeping up the team spirit there. But hey, on the plus side, now we only have to pick two people to leave behind.

Spock comes back and says that he didn’t find anything. Gaetano insists that there was something there and he’s sure that he hit it, which is more certainty than he had about one minute or so ago; Spock says he’s not doubting Gaetano, but the fact is there’s nothing there now. Then he pulls the spear out of Latimer—honestly I have no idea how the thing was even staying up in the first place—and examines it, saying that it resembles a kind of ancient Earth spear, but cruder and not very efficient. Boma gets upset at this, irate that Spock can focus on things like the efficiency of the spear when there’s a man dead on the ground. The nerve of the man, gathering information about a dangerous and unknown situation. Spock points out that no amount of mourning is going to bring Latimer back to life. Gaetano, now also ticked off, says that they at least shouldn’t leave Latimer’s body there. Spock offers to help them carry the body back, but the two men coldly refuse and haul him off themselves.

[ID: Gaetano and Boma, a black man with short hair, carrying the body of Latimer between them through the ravine. Latimer’s shirt is pulled up exposing a black undershirt.]

Well, there’s at least one goldshirt who wears an undershirt.

On the Enterprise, Kirk notes in his log that their searching has turned up nothing, and he’s beginning to feel “a sense of utter futility, and great loss.” The transporters are still not safe to use, and Engineering is working on getting the sensors back online, but without Scotty around they’re real short on miracles, and not making much progress. But Kirk, of course, is not about to give up, and as soon as the Columbus comes back from searching a quadrant he orders them to start on the next one. Ferris is still hanging around pointedly reminding Kirk of how little time he has left, kind of like an annoying quest marker in a video game that pops up every five minutes to remind you to do the thing that you’re already doing.

Kirk orders the Columbus to expand its search radius by two degrees. Sulu points out that means they’ll be overlooking a dozen miles with each loop they make, but Kirk responds that it’s the only way they have a fighting chance of actually covering the whole planet in the time left to them. Ferris exits the bridge, but not before turning around in the lift and saying, “Twenty-four more hours, Captain,” as dramatically as he can.

Down below, Spock is offering some jury-rigging suggestions to Scotty, but of course Scotty’s already thought of all that and says it won’t work. Meanwhile, McCoy and the Yeoman are hauling some stuff out of the back of the shuttle, which should take off about fifty pounds of weight, and the yeoman thinks they can clear out another hundred pounds. A hundred and fifty pounds? What happened to there being nothing nonessential on this shuttle? Sure, that might not be much compared to the overall weight of the shuttle, but it’s a heck of a lot when you’re talking about having to leave people behind. Still, as Spock points out, even if they lose all that they’ll be another hundred and fifty pounds overweight. Hm, okay, if everyone loses twenty-five pounds we’ll be good.

McCoy can’t believe Spock is still planning to leave someone behind now that they know there are big dangerous furry guys out there with spears, but Spock points out that it’s a matter of saving one life, or six. In other words, the trolley problem. Or the shuttle problem, in this case.

Boma sticks his head in the door and says that they’re ready. Spock is confused about what, exactly, they’re ready for, and Boma says they’re doing a service for Latimer. Spock doesn’t want to lose any of their very limited time, but Boma insists that he should at least come and say a few words. In some desperation, Spock says that perhaps McCoy would be better for that, but McCoy insists it’s Spock’s place to do that, and Spock turning it down is met with hostility from everyone (except Scotty, who has bigger fish to fry, and the yeoman, who doesn’t seem to have any opinions on anything).

Call me a Vulcan, but I don’t entirely understand why this is a problem. McCoy would be the best person there to give any kind of funeral service. He’s a doctor, so he surely has more practice speaking about the recently deceased in a compassionate but formal way than anyone else there; he would be generally familiar with human funeral customs, unlike Spock, who would have an entirely different cultural background for such things; and he can more afford to spare the time because he’s really not urgently needed for anything at the moment. It might not be the most orthodox way of doing things, but under the circumstances I think we’re gonna have to skip the full formal ceremony with honors anyway.

But we don’t find out exactly how they resolved the funeral situation, instead skipping ahead to some time later. Spock and Scotty are still in the Galileo, Scotty digging through the innards of the shuttlecraft while Spock watches. Scotty grimly announces that a line has broken, meaning that they now have no fuel at all. So uh. Yeah, that’s bad. Spock tells him it’s time to start considering alternatives, to which an incredulous Scotty replies, “We have no fuel, what alternatives?” “Mr. Scott, there are always alternatives.” Like what? Black magic? “Alright, squad, I didn’t want to do this, but we’re gonna have to sacrifice Gaetano.”

At that moment, McCoy and the yeoman come running in, saying there’s something happening outside. Everyone runs outside, except Scotty, who can’t be bothered with any damn aliens or whatever when there’s an engine to be fixed. Gaetano and Boma are hiding behind a nearby rock while unsettling scraping kind of sounds echo all around them. Spock says it’s the sound of wood rubbing on leather, which Gaetano thinks means the aliens are about to attack. Boma points out that this could just be some kind of simple tribal rite, but Spock says that the artifacts prove these guys are too primitive for that. Um, artifacts? You have one. Or had one, more likely, that you looked at for like, fifteen seconds, before Boma started pitching a fit about it. There’s only so much anthropology you can do in that amount of time.

Boma thinks that if the aliens have any kind of tribal system, attacking one of them might drive the others off. Spock is like “oh, now we’re okay with having no sentimentality about life?” But Gaetano, raring to go phaser some cavemen, insists that “at least we’re practical about it.” Practical. Sure. You haven’t been practical about a damn thing since y’all landed on this rock, but now you want to start, huh?

When asked, McCoy says that Boma’s plan seems logical to him, which is a bit unusual—he’s usually the last one to be okay with any plan that involves killing, though at least he doesn’t exactly seem enthusiastic about this. Boma tries to invoke majority rules and Spock has to remind him that this isn’t a democracy. Man, Starfleet crewmembers seem to have to be reminded of that a lot. You’d think they’d go over this at the Academy.

Obviously they’ve gotta do something, but Spock is still uncomfortable with the idea of murdering the locals and decides to take a third option. McCoy and the yeoman (whose name, we finally learn, is Mears) are sent back to the shuttle to help Scotty, while Boma and Gaetano are to go with Spock. He tells them very sternly that they’re going to follow his orders to the letter and fire only at the targets he designates, which, again, doesn’t seem like a concept they should need a refresher on but here we are. Boma and Gaetano are all over this plan until Spock says that they’re only going to fire to frighten the aliens, not to kill them, at which point they go right back to sulking.

So the three of them head off into the Emyn Muil over there, skulking along through the ankle-high mist with phasers at the ready.

[ID: Spock, Boma and Gaetano approaching cautiously through the ravine, the floor of which is blanketed with white vapor.]

“Careful, boys, we’re in the land of dry ice machines now.”

Another giant spear comes flying at them, but luckily this one doesn’t hit anyone. They dodge behind some rocks and Spock fires his phaser, causing a nearby giant to drop a shield into the ravine. A shield that rather dramatically changes size between shots.

[ID: 1. Spock stands in the ravine with his phaser out, Gaetano and Boma crouched at his side. A large, crude leather shield has fallen to the ground in front of them. 2. The three men crouching in front of the shield, which is now so large all three of them can stand alongside it with room to spare.]

They get into position at Spock’s specifications, and he tells them to fire at designated angles on his command, but even now, Gaetano still wants to argue about it. His protests notwithstanding, Spock has them fire for a bit. Figuring the giants should be frightened off for now, he goes back to the Galileo with Boma, leaving Gaetano on sentry duty. He seems a bit too far from the shuttle to be serving as effective sentry duty, but maybe Spock just wanted to not have to deal with him for a while.

Back at the Galileo, Scotty has, what do you know, conjured up an alternative: he thinks he can adjust the shuttle’s main reactor to function with a substitute fuel supply. What substitute fuel supply do they have? The phasers! Of course, if they use all their phasers to fuel the shuttle, they won’t have any means of defense, but if they don’t, they’re all gonna die anyway, so there’s not much of a choice in the matter. Scotty says that if he uses up all the phasers he can achieve orbit with all remaining hands, although he won’t be able to maintain it very long.

As Spock points out, the Enterprise is going to have to leave in less than twenty-four hours now, so if they don’t achieve orbit in that time they’re screwed anyway. The general assumption seems to be that they have no chance of surviving on the planet long enough to be rescued, even if the Enterprise came right back. Which could well be true—I doubt they have much in the way of survival supplies on the shuttle, and there are hostile aliens all around. On the other hand, they haven’t yet tried actually defending themselves to their fullest capability, and the presence of those big guys would seem to indicate that there’s something to eat around here. I’m not saying they could definitely survive long enough for a later rescue, it just seems odd that everyone takes it for granted that staying on the planet will be a death sentence.

So Spock tells McCoy to hand over his phaser, which for some reason prompts a dramatic musical sting, even though they literally just went over their plans to do that, and anyway it’s not like McCoy gets a lot of use out of the thing. Scotty takes McCoy’s phaser along with Spock’s and sets about transferring their power to the shuttle reactor, which he seems to be doing by just sticking the phasers down in there and firing them at said reactor.

Up on the Enterprise, the transporter guys run a test on some objects that come back intact, and the operator tells Kirk that in his opinion, the transporter is now safe for humans. Which is not a statement that I think I would find terribly comforting if it was me going through that thing. Kirk seems alright with it, though, because he immediately orders landing parties to start going down. The transporter operator points out that he’s talking about searching a planet on foot in less than twenty-four hours, which, y’know, is really unlikely to work, but Kirk isn’t interested in hearing it.

In the ravines, Gaetano is stumbling around nervously amidst sounds of growling giants. A rock comes flying at him, hitting his hand and knocking away his phaser, followed by another spear. Rather than attempt to pick up the phaser, Gaetano tries to climb up the cliff wall, a course of action that very quickly peters out. He falls back down and cowers against the cliff while a giant slowly approaches from the end of the ravine.

I question the decision to actually show the giant onscreen because, frankly, he’s just not that impressive. Sure, he’s big, but he’s like, Andre the Giant big, not as big as you would be thinking from the size of the spear and shield. Seriously, that spear was like three times the size of Gaetano.

Also, for some reason he’s walking with his arms straight out like Frankenstein’s monster.

[ID: Gaetano backed up against a cliff wall in fear while a large furry man with arms extended walks towards him.]

Gaetano just kind of sits there whimpering while the giant slowly closes in on him and grabs him. He screams as the scene cuts to black, which is probably for the best because I don’t think there was ever a good way to resolve that particular bit of choreography.

After the break, Spock, McCoy and Boma are examining the ravine, where there is now no trace of Gaetano except his fallen phaser. Spock retrieves the phaser and gives it to McCoy to take back to Scotty. Boma is, shockingly, outraged by how Spock is “acting like nothing’s happened at all.” Yes, thank you, Boma. Spock then gives McCoy his own phaser as well to take back in case he doesn’t return—he’s going to go look for Gaetano, alone. The other two men watch him head off into the ravine. One might expect this to prompt some “oh I guess he really does care” response, but instead McCoy is just kind of like “yeah I don’t know he’s weird” and then they leave.

Spock heads through the land of fogginess and soon discovers poor ol Gaetano dead and laid out on a rock. The seriousness of this situation is somewhat undercut by Spock’s reaction, which is not so much that of a man discovering a dead comrade or even the stern stoicness of an inscrutable alien, but more a look that suggests that he just spilled a drink on the floor and is annoyed about having to clean it up.

[ID: Gaetano’s dead body slumped over a rock while Spock stands over him with his hands on his hips.]

Nimoy, my man, I love you, but why

Well, no man left behind and all that, so Spock hoists Gaetano into a fireman’s carry and takes him back to the Galileo. Along the way the giants return to throw more and more spears at him, but fortunately they are all terrible shots so none of them hit and despite having to go slow Spock makes it back just fine.

McCoy and Boma help him get Gaetano into the shuttle, and they’re not happy. McCoy points out that Spock’s super logical plan of frightening away the giants didn’t work out so well. Spock expresses open confusion about this because logically the giants should have retreated in the face of superior weaponry. McCoy snaps back that Spock’s downfall was only considering the possibility of a rational response and not an emotional one.

The whole conversation is, to be honest, kinda stupid. Spock’s handling of the situation is portrayed as a downfall of his prioritizing logic and not considering anything else (the writing of which doesn’t really fit Spock’s actual character, but we’ll get to that later). He expected the giants to react logically and the episode lets us know that that was the wrong option. The problem is, they’re dealing with a completely unknown, unstudied, alien race here. There’s no way, logically or emotionally, to know how they would react to anything. Sure, Spock assuming that they would retreat in fear rather than retaliate in anger turned out to be wrong, but they have absolutely no way of knowing whether following Boma’s plan would have worked any better. It’s entirely possible the giants would have been more angered by one of them being killed. Hell, it’s possible that none of this had anything to do with either fear or anger; it could have been motivated by something else entirely. For all they know the giants are just hungry. McCoy’s response isn’t necessarily surprising; McCoy’s always going to have a strong reaction to someone dying while he’s around, which he often expresses by lashing out, and Spock’s the closest possible target. But in the context of the arc of the episode we’re clearly supposed to take this to mean that Spock screwed up, when really, any choice in this situation was always going to be a gamble.

Anyway, things are quiet for the moment, and Yeoman Mears wonders why. Spock thinks the giants are probably studying the Galileo. Of course, as soon as he says that, the shuttle starts to shake. Aww, it’s like a mini Star Trek Shake. Adorable.

Turns out the shuttle is shaking all over the place because a giant is hitting it with a rock.

[ID: The shuttlecraft Galileo sitting among cliff walls while a giant stands over it with a large boulder poised to strike.]

Spock is just really surprised by all this, musing that he’s “made the correct and logical decisions all along...and yet two men have died!” And now the giants are attacking! And McCoy and Boma are mad at him! How strange! He seems to just be kind of mildly perplexed about all this, as if it’s a crossword puzzle he can’t quite figure out.

Up on the ship, there’s a brief interlude in which Kirk laments that the landing parties haven’t found anything, the instruments still aren’t working, there’s really nothing they can do, and then Ferris reminds him of how much time he has left. About the only purpose it serves is to tell us how much time has been passing, which I’ll admit is helpful because there’s absolutely no way to tell that from the rest of the episode. Apparently it’s been almost two days, but you’d never guess that if you just watched the sections taking place on the planet, which really give no indication at all that they’ve been down there that long.

Back in the still-shaking shuttle, Spock abruptly seems to get an idea and asks Scotty what shape the shuttle batteries are in. Scotty says they’re fine, but the batteries aren’t going to be making that shuttle take off in any circumstance. That’s not what Spock is up to, though. He wants to know if the shuttle batteries could electrify the exterior of the shuttle. Scotty immediately catches on and gleefully says that oh yes, they can. Really? Why can they do that? Who designed this?

So while everyone huddles on the floor carefully not touching anything metal (good thing this shuttle is carpeted), Scotty takes a panel off the wall and whacks the batteries with a wrench a few times. Sure enough, this causes quite a lot of electricity to go sparking across the outside of the shuttle. The giant is remarkably persistent even while being electrocuted, but eventually the shaking stops.

They’re clear for the moment, but there’s no telling how long the giants will stay away. In the meantime, Spock tells them to keep on clearing out the shuttle and lighten the load as much as absolutely possible. Of course, there’s one non-essential thing on board that comes immediately to mind: Gaetano’s body. It’s unfortunate but they’re going to have to leave him behind.

Boma insists on at least having a burial for him, but Spock points out that’s a big risk since the giants are not very far off. They’d be risking the safety of those who are still alive. But Boma starts getting really worked up about this, coldly telling Spock that, “I would insist upon a decent burial even if your body was back there.” McCoy and Scotty immediately reprimand him for going too far, but Boma doesn’t seem deterred.

Seriously, you gotta wonder what the deal is with Boma and Gaetano (or what was the deal with Gaetano, rather). Of course the situation is bad and they have every right to be uncomfortable or upset about it. But throughout the episode the two of them act like this is the first time they’ve ever had to even consider that they might have to make sacrifices or do hard things for the sake of getting as many people out alive as possible. If they were civilians thrust into this situation it’d be understandable. But we’re talking about trained military personnel. You’d kind of expect them to have at least some familiarity with ideas like “sometimes you may have to leave a dead man behind for the sake of those who are still alive.” Spock’s decisions throughout this episode are sometimes harsh but they are, well, logical for the situation they’re in. Sure, he could be more tactful about it. But tact is not a priority here! Boma and Gaetano seem to have just decided in advance to take issue with everything Spock does, and we’re supposed to see this as some conflict of emotion versus logic instead of them just being totally unwilling to deal with anything they don’t like.

On the Enterprise, one of the landing parties beams up with one dead crewmember and two injured ones. The leader of the party reports to the bridge over a viewscreen and tells Kirk they ran into some big furry cavemen; the dead crewmember got speared while another one somehow dislocated their shoulder. If the planet is populated by such aliens, the party leader points out, things don’t look real good for the Galileo crew.

Kirk is still loathe to give up hope, but at that point Ferris comes onto the bridge to tell him that the forty-eight hours are up and he’s assuming the authority granted to him by a special ordinance. In other words, they gotta go. Kirk doesn’t want to, but he has no choice but to call the search parties and the Columbus back and lay in a course for Makus 3.

After the break, Kirk gives a quick log to say that I don’t wanna leave but I guess we HAVE TO UUUUGHH. Uhura says that their sensor beams are now working, but everything else is still dead. Their course is set, and they have twenty-three minutes left before the Columbus gets back onboard.

On the Galileo, the yeoman is trying to contact the Enterprise, but predictably is not getting an answer. Scotty tells Spock that if they take absolutely everything they can out of the shuttle they can achieve orbit for a few hours, and if they’re real careful they might be able to manage a controlled re-entry—but, of course, the only place they would be re-entering is this dumb planet, so that’s not really an appealing backup plan. At any rate, Scotty figures they can take off in eight minutes—precise--so Spock gives the rest of the crew ten minutes to bury Gaetano. Not much time for a service, but it’s the best they’re gonna get. Meanwhile the Columbus has returned to the Enterprise and everyone’s ready to go, so it looks like Kirk can’t delay any longer. He tells Sulu to proceed to Makus 3...at space normal speed (whatever that is). Oh, and to direct the sensor beams behind them as they go. After all, he has to leave, but he doesn’t have to leave quickly. I mean, except for the plague victims and all that.

The Galileo crew gather in front of a couple of mounds, all set for their speedrun funeral service. (I have no idea what they dug the graves with.) Before anyone can even break out a eulogy, though, the proceedings are disrupted by the return of the giants. Oh, it’s almost like Spock was right about this being dangerous. Fancy that.

Spock yells at everyone else to get back inside the ship while he throws one of the spears back at the giants in an extremely last-ditch move that fails to accomplish anything. He promptly gets hit by a boulder that pins his leg, and tries to order the rest of the crew to leave him behind. They don’t, of course; McCoy and Boma run back to move that terribly heavy and definitely not polystyrene boulder off of Spock, and the three of them beat it back to the Galileo.

As soon as they’re inside, Spock immediately chastises them for not leaving him behind, as if McCoy would ever let anyone out-martyr him that easily. Unfortunately, the delay has given the giants time to surround the shuttle, and now they’re holding it down so it can’t take off. Spock has no choice but to activate the boosters, which gives them enough power to break free...but the spent fuel cuts down on the amount of time they’ll be able to maintain orbit. As he grimly tells McCoy and Boma, by saving him they may have destroyed their own last chance for survival. McCoy tells him to zip it.

Incidentally, I note that for all the talk of lightening the shuttle as much as possible, they didn’t remove the seats. I’d say that was for safety reasons, but since the things don’t have seatbelts I don’t really know how well they’re actually going to keep anyone from bouncing around the cabin.

According to Scotty they can make one orbit and then they’re going down, and since they used the boosters, they don’t even have enough fuel to make a controlled landing. That is one heck of a quickly decaying orbit. I’m no astrophysicist, but I think once you actually make it into orbit you’re usually good for a while.

Yeoman Mears protests that she doesn’t want to die up there. Well, no. I doubt anyone else does, either. Scotty reminds Spock of that thing he said about how there are always alternatives, and Spock admits that he may have been mistaken about that.

[ID: Spock sitting in the foreground while behind him McCoy, one hand on his chin, looks off to the side and says, “Well, at least I lived long enough to hear that.”]

For all that McCoy is usually the first one to protest at length about how space is gonna kill them all, when it looks like he actually is going to die in space, he’s remarkably calm about it.

They reach orbit, and Scotty says they have forty-five minutes, so you’ve about got time to write a will if you don’t own too much. Spock makes one last effort to contact the Enterprise, but nothing. Then he notices a switch. What’s this? ‘Fuel jettison’? I wonder what that does?

Spock flips the switch, jettisoning and igniting all their fuel. Naturally everyone is all wtf man. But on the Enterprise, Sulu looks up and sees a bright green line suddenly streaking across the planet behind them. Kirk immediately tells him to TURN THIS SHIP AROUND MISTER.

[ID: The viewscreen of the Enterprise, showing a rocky planet shrouded in green clouds, with a single bright green line trailing across it near the equator.]

All our sensors still no match for looking out the window.

As the crew of the Galileo waits for their doom, Scotty realizes what Spock’s idea was. It was well done, he says, but Spock doesn’t think there was anyone there to see. Their orbit begins to decay, and things start burning.“It’s getting hot,” Mears says. Thanks, Yeoman Obvious.

But then, amid the smoke filling the cabin, there is at the last moment a sparkle of gold. On the bridge of the Enterprise Kirk sits tensely in his chair, waiting, waiting—and then the transporter officer reports in. Moments before the Galileo disintegrated entirely, they beamed up five people.

Five people. It’s good news, of course, but seven people went out on the Galileo. I wonder what went through Kirk’s head in the time before he found out who didn’t make it back.

Well, we’re never gonna know about that. They head off to finally deliver that plague medicine, and sometime later McCoy’s up on the bridge chatting with Kirk, seemingly quite chill about that whole near-death experience they just had. As Spock walks by, Kirk flags him down to ask about that whole igniting the fuel business. After all, there was virtually no chance of them being seen. So it had to be an act of desperation, and desperation is an emotion, right? You did something emotional, right?

Spock says no, it was a logical act. And, well, it kinda was? Sure, it had barely any chance of working, but they had absolutely no other options, and it was the only thing that had any chance of working at all. It was either do that and risk dying soon, or not do it and definitely die in about forty minutes. But everyone is all ha ha, we got ya, you did something emotional! And the episode ends on a group laugh. Could be a stress laugh, I suppose, but it feels distinctly awkward considering we’ve still got two men dead, whose families will never get their bodies back.

No one really gets served well in this episode. The writing for Spock especially feels skewed distinctly out of character. Yes, he’s all about the logic, and sometimes he struggles to understand humans and their whole deal, but this episode takes it to an extreme. Spock’s far from completely ignorant of emotions—much as he might like to claim otherwise—and he’s certainly not stupid enough to think that doing things logically always guarantees success, not when you can’t control all the variables. His bewilderment that rational thinking didn’t automatically work just comes off as outright silly. The episode tries to set up this whole arc in which Spock tries to solve problems only with logic, fails, and then finally succeeds by committing an emotional act, but it fails for multiple reasons: first, because most of the emotion vs logic conflicts in the episode feel contrived and overwrought and make everyone else look way more unreasonable than Spock; secondly, because the final ‘emotional’ act is actually pretty logical; but mostly, because it feels far too simple a lesson for Spock to need to learn at this point. Yes, it’s his first command, but he’s an experienced Starfleet officer who’s been living and working with humans for over a decade. I could easily see him having some difficulty commanding humans for the first time, and that would have been a good episode if it was done more subtly, but as Spock Learns That Some Things Are Illogical For The First Time Ever, it just doesn’t work.

Meanwhile we’ve got Kirk, for whom arguing with bureaucrats and bending rules to save his crew is hardly out of character, but the urgency of their larger mission makes his flippancy about it seem uncharacteristically callous. McCoy complaining about things and arguing with Spock is perfectly on track, but some of his comments edge uncomfortably out of ‘vitriolic friends’ territory and into just plain vitriol, especially him being willing to go along with some of Boma’s nonsense. Maybe I’m biased about that, but this episode feels as if the writer was given descriptions of the characters but didn’t really understand what made them actually work in practice.

Well, except for Scotty. Scotty was alright.

TREK TROPE TALLY: We have two goldshirt deaths in this episode with Gaetano and Latimer. Next time we’re in for some serious fop with a side of dandy in The Squire of Gothos.

#Star Trek #Star Trek TOS #Star Trek TOS Season One #1.16 The Galileo Seven

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bourbonboredom · 5 years

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A Reason To Believe Chapter 2

Being an undercover officer is a dangerous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.

A Flip x OC Fic

Word Count: 3,941

Warnings: Violence, cursing

When I get restless, what can I do? When I need someone, I think about you I got to move on, not fade away I'm only just growin' a little each day

I got to quit this runnin' 'round Never gonna get rid of these blues I got to find somebody to love Slow me down, yeah Look out now

(x)

Flip was perpetually single by choice. The work he did as an undercover officer was dangerous and not always easy to explain. Dating anyone would just be too complicated. It was better to just have flings, no strings attached. Or at least that's what he told himself as he sat at the bar for the third time that week.

It's not like he was waiting for Eliana to walk in the door and pick up their conversation where they left off. He was just there to have a beer. He had one every night anyway to let some steam off from his job, granted it was usually at home. But why not get out a little bit? He could use the change of scenery. And if she happened to drop by, that was cool too.

The front door would open and his eyes would dart to the entrance, watching to see who was walking in. A man would come in, stumbling off his shift to find solace between work and home. A few women had walked in that night, laughing as they sat at a table near the front. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a head of brown hair. He is excitement was quickly settled when the woman turned her head and Elle's face wasn't there.

He would catch himself thinking about her from time to time at work. He'd remember her soft brown curls falling in her face. How her big brown eyes seemed to light up when she laughed. How talking to her was like talking to an old friend. But he could stop himself from thinking about her anytime he wanted, he was just indulging himself. He wasn't going to get caught up on a girl he didn’t even get into bed with.

But by the end of the night, he felt properly defeated. She wasn't gonna come back, it had just been wishful thinking. He finished his beer and flagged down the bartender to pay his tab.

"I was in here with a girl a couple days ago. She had brown hair and was wearing a white turtleneck?" He figured it wouldn't hurt to try to ask the bartender, a last ditch effort.

"Yeah I remember," the bartender said, taking Flip's money.

"Have you seen her around since?" He tried to play it cool. Not make it obvious that she's the reason he wasn't in his apartment drinking Coors and watching tv right now like any other self-respecting man on a Sunday night.

"Can't say I have, sorry bud,"

Flip nodded his thanks and put a good tip on the bar counter before heading out. It was a warm night outside, the street had a few people still wandering about. He walked to his car, a beat up Chevy pick up truck, and slid in the drivers seat. The engine rumbled to life and he began his slow drive home.

He tried not to think of her as he weaved through the streets of Colorado Springs. It had just been one night. One girl on one night, nothing special. There would be other girls, he told himself. He never had any trouble with that. He parked his car in the lot for his apartment and made his way upstairs.

His place was pretty small, and decidedly bachelor's pad. It was sparsely decorated, with just some mementos from his time in the military and a few family photos. It was a little messy, with casework papers strewn across his couch and coffee mugs lining his kitchen counter. He never had women over, so there wasn't much of a need to keep it tidy.

He'd always go to his hookup's place, it was easier that way. The next morning he could wake up and say he was late to work and rush out before any other plans could be made. Flip hadn't made it to a third date in the last year or so, ditching it before it could get too serious.

He stripped off his button down and slacks before collapsing into bed. He lay under the covers, listening to the city outside his window. It was dark aside from a few streetlights below illuminating the pavement. It felt lonely sometimes, coming home to nothing in particular. He'd catch himself thinking about coming home to a girl cooking dinner for the two of them, smiling as he came through the door. He never really had a particular girl in mind, it was more of a dream than anything.

But this night, that girl had brown hair and big brown eyes.

He shoved the thought from his head and went to sleep.

------------

The next morning him and his partner had to drive out to the hospital. He met up with Jimmy at the station before the two of them took his Chevy to the coffee shop. After they had their paper cups of coffee fisted in their freezing hands, they made their way to their objective: St. Francis Medical Center.

Flip's last undercover case had gone smoothly enough. Everyone was arrested and were heading to court for drug charges. There was just one exception. One of the dealers he'd been with had tried to grab a gun off an officer and run for it. In the process, he shot at a cop, missed, and jumped off a fire escape, seriously injuring himself. He was currently sitting in a private room at St. Francis, recovering before he could be taken to jail.

Miraculously, Flip's cover hadn't been blown in all the commotion. As far as the suspects knew, he'd escaped the cops and was laying low until it blew over. Chief Bridges wanted to take advantage of this, using his intact undercover status to possibly get more information out of the injured suspect while he was healing and get his medical records so they could show it was an accident.

The hospital was quiet that morning, his footsteps echoing against the floor as we walked to the nurse's desk. A young woman sat filing paperwork, she looked up as he approached.

"I'm looking for Jacob Kukowski," he said, flashing his badge before stuffing back in his front pocket.

He almost never dressed in uniform for his job, something he was thankful for. The detective branch had a casual dress code, with most of the guys opting for jeans over slacks. He was grateful he could wear a flannel and a pair of jeans instead of the scratchy polyester of the officers uniform. A wire was taped to his undershirt under the flannel, something his partner helped him with in the parking lot. The receiver sat in his pocket, with Jimmy holding the recorder under his arm.

"Room 311. Try not to rile him up too much officer, his blood pressure hasn't been great," the woman warned him, a well-manicured finger pointing his way.

He said his thanks and walked toward the room. Jimmy stayed at the desk to gather Kukowski's file from the nurse and to pick up anything he could on the wire Flip was currently wearing. Flip wasn’t allowed to lead him toward any sort of declaration, that could invalidate anything said to him. So he’d have to shoot the shit with this guy and he’d hopefully talk himself into a proper prison sentence.

He found the room at the end of the hall, no officer stationed outside. The injuries must have been intense enough that they didn’t think he was a flight risk. He peeked in to see only one bed filled, the other stripped clean and vacant. His perp was in bed, propped up with pillows and covered in plaster casts. His naked arm was handcuffed to the railing of the bed, not that he could really get anywhere.

"Kukowski," he said simply as he entered the room. The weary man looked at him, expression becoming more animated.

“Well look at you, you sonofabitch. How the fuck you’d get in here without a nurse stoppin’ you?" Jacob asked, straightening himself up to get a better look at Flip.

"Nice to see you too. And there’s no one out there. How the hell did you get caught?"

"Some fuckin’ snitch ratted me out,” he groaned

“Fuck man, I’m sorry, that blows,” Flip tried to sound as sympathetic as possible.

“Listen Matt, I want you to get rid of the rest of my stuff. I got a special batch hidden away, it was meant to go to a new client. None of these small-time junkies,” Kukowski said in a hushed tone, calling Flip by the alias he’d been using. He clearly didn’t want to waste any time, he got right down to business.

“What makes it special? Who am I getting it to?” Flip asked. He figured Kukowski was planning on partnering with him at some point, but after he was already arrested? This guy was dumber than he originally thought.

Kukowski beckoned him closer with his cuffed hand.

“Now, I don’t know if I should say who the buyer is. But the horse? It’s beautiful,” Kukowski’s eyes were bloodshot, but shining with excitement.

“This buyer wanted me to come up with something new. The stuff I usually deal is cut with Asprin, which doesn’t do much to a person. If anything, I’m keepin’ my customers healthy,” He continued.

“Yeah, sure,” Flip was pretty sure that heroin had the opposite effect, despite what else you put in it, but he wasn’t about to argue.

“This new stuff, is the exact opposite. It’s meant to look harmless, it tastes just like the real shit. Basically undetectable unless you’re gonna test it in a lab. But it could kill a man in minutes,” Kukowski was smiling way too enthusiastically while talking, Flip’s skin crawled under his collar, but he let him continue to incriminate himself.

“The secret? it’s cut with a fuckload of caffeine powder. Makes it look like the poor guy died of a heart attack instead of an overdose,”

“But why do that? Seems bad for business to me,” Flip said, motioning to his pack of cigarettes to ask if his target wanted one. He shook his head and Flip tapped the pack to knock a cig into his hand.

“Let’s just say this buyer’s business is a little...different from ours. They don’t like repeat clients,”

“That’s fuckin’ strange, what kinds operation are they runnin’?” He lit his cigarette, taking a long draw of smoke into his lungs and holding it there for a moment.

“A Wise One, if you catch my drift,” Kukowski winked at his supposed friend.

Oh. Oh, this was too good.

Flip let the smoke out of his lungs, choosing his words carefully as he spoke again.

“Are you tellin’ me you’re sellin’ to the mob, Kukowski?” He said quietly, just loud enough for Jimmy to pick up through the wire.

“A small-time contact. But if this works out we could be very rich men very soon,”

“Well, whats this contact’s name? Where’s the stuff? We gotta set this up and get you some bail money,” Flip said, taking another drag.

“Johnny Bianchi, he’s up in Denver. My supplies is in that storage unit I was tellin’ you about, along with some cash I’ve already got tucked away. That’s the bail money, the rest is for us my friend!”

Flip could barely believe it. This guy had not only solidified he was a dealer, but that he was producing and selling a deadlier version of his drugs to the Mafia with the intent to kill. He wondered if the office was going to make him buy another round that night. Does it count when its still technically the same case?

“Well that’s a swell plan Kukowski, I gotta tell ya,” Flip said, getting off the hospital bed. The smoke from his cigarette trailed behind him as he moved to the windows at the far end of the room. “What do you think Jimmy? Will it work out for him?”

Kukowski’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. His body tensed up as much as it could being covered in plaster.

“I think it’s got some holes to it, but we can always take another listen later in court,” Jimmy’s voice came from the hallway followed by a loud shush from the nurse behind the desk.

Kukowski’s face went from confusion to realization to rage in just a few moments. Flip almost wished he could’ve taken a picture.

"You set me up!" He struggled against his restraints, his casts making it difficult for him to make much progress.

"Hey, you should give yourself more credit, you did most of the heavy lifting in that conversation. I think our friends up at the Denver PD will be thankful for the tip off,”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you!” He was practically frothing at the mouth.

“You were already read your rights once, but I’ll say them again seeing as you clearly weren’t listening the first time. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney, one can be appointed to you to represent- " was as far as Flip made it before he was cut off by a deafening scream.

Kukowski thrashed wildly in his bed, incomprehensible threats sputtering from his mouth. Flip watched as the IV glass began to sway from the force, threatening to tip over and break.

"Nurse!" He called over the screaming of his suspect. He knew he couldn't get close enough to subdue him without getting injured himself.

Two nurses ran into the room at top speed, rushing to steady the equipment and the man. He continued to thrash despite the hold the women had on him. Flip stood out of the way, backed up against the far wall. Maybe this wasn’t the best way for him to drop his cover.

"We need a sedative!" One of the women called out into the hallway.

A few moments later, another nurse rushed to the room holding a small jar and a needle.

"How much?" She asked hurriedly, looking from the distressed patient to the distressed nurse.

“1 milligram!" The other nurse shouted back, trying to hold his cast down to prevent any further injury. “There’s no time to inject into the fluid, we need it intravenous!”

“Well shit, Carol! He’s covered in plaster that’s gonna take a second!”

“Don’t curse! Just find an area, quick!”

"I'll fucking kill you!" Kukowski continued to shout, choking on his own spit, voice becoming more garbled. "I'll fucking kill you you god damn pig! You fuckin’-"

His voice died out and his eye rolled back into his head. Slowly he slumped back into the mattress. The woman had stuck him with the syringe, pulling it gently out of his neck once empty. The women sighed a breath of relief, backing away from the patient to get a better idea of what just happened.

"What the fuck?" The nurse holding the syringe looked to her coworkers, pushing a lock of hair back into her cap. "Why the fuck was he screaming about pigs?"

"This man over here, who needs to vacate the room immediately, by the way. I believe I specifically asked him not to raise the patient's blood pressure," the nurse who had been at the desk said in a clipped tone, staring down Flip.

The other two nurses turned to look at the source of their strife, noticing the man who’d been standing against the wall with a lit cigarette and a shocked expression. He made his way over to Kukowski’s bed once more, stubbing out his cig on an ashtray. The nurse who was holding the syringe made direct eye contact with him, her big brown eyes widening upon seeing him.

“You’re the pig?” She blurted out.

Realization clicked in his brain as he focused on her. This couldn't be happening right now.

"Eliana?"

He hadn’t recognized her. Her long curly hair was held back in a tight roll and covered by a nurse’s cap. Her uniform matched with the others in the room, a stark white dress that stepped above the knee with a matching apron.

"You know this guy?" The other nurse asked.

"Barely. You guys make sure the patient is okay, I’ll take care of him,” she said, grabbing him by the arm and shepherding him out of the room.

He was too shocked to stop her as they went down the corridor, passing his partner on the way.

"What the fuck just happened in there? It sounded like a fuckin’ murder spree,” He hissed.

"I'll explain later," he ripped his wire off himself and threw it toward his partner.

"Where are you going?" He asked as Elle dragged Flip further down the hall.

“I said later!" He yelled back as she pushed him into a spare room.

She was surprisingly strong, her shove causing him to stumble a little as he entered the vacant room. Beds were set up to house two patients but both remained empty. She closed the door behind them and turned to look at him. Even though he was half a foot taller than her, she straightened her spine and rested her hands on her hips as she spoke.

"Are you stalking me?" She questioned him.

"What?" He spat out.

"You're at my job. I didn't tell you where I work but here you are, were you stalking me?"

"No! Of course not! I'm a cop, hence the yelling about pigs. I’m here with my partner for work, that guy I was talking to was a suspect in a drug ring. And as of five minutes ago, wanted for working with the mob,"

"Do you usually rile up mobsters like that? That seemed pretty fucking stupid,"

"Christ, you've got a mouth on you,"

"And after you work him into a frenzy, why not send in the nurses? Have you ever tried to sedate a man actively trying to kill someone? Do you know how hard it is to jab someone with a needle full of a very specific amount of sedative into a very specific area?" She continued her interrogation, choosing to ignore his comment. The hand holding the syringe pointed toward him accusingly.

"Can you please put the needle down when you're talking?"

She slammed it down on a bedside table.

"Can you please not fuck with my patients?"

"Well sorry, it wasn't intentional. I was just trying to do my job,"

"Yeah? Well try harder next time," she spat out, looking annoyed.

He was quiet for a moment, taking in her new appearance. She looked much different than she had at the bar. Her turtleneck and pants had been replaced with a tidy nurse uniform. Her heels were replaced with sensible loafers, shaving a few inches off her height. Even standing straight, she only came to his collarbone. Her fiery spirit remained the same though, if not a little more intimidating as she stood by the needle.

"I didn't know you were a nurse," he said quietly.

"Didn't know you were a cop," she responded, her expression softening just a fraction.

"Is that a problem?" He asked, half-expecting her to be angry with him.

"Only if you keep getting in the way of my job," she responded. "He might be a criminal but he can't go to jail if you give him a heart attack and he dies,"

"Noted," he gave a small smile.

She returned it.

"Haven't seen you around the bar," he said.

"So you were looking? You sure you aren't stalking me?" She raised an eyebrow.

"No, I just-" he didn't want to look like he'd spent the last couple of nights intentionally looking out for her.

"It's okay, I'm just messing with you. I've had double shifts the last couple of days so I've been too tired to do anything when I get off work,"

"That's understandable," he knew what those nights were like, he's had quite a few of them himself.

He felt a little better about not seeing her around knowing it had been because of work and not him. He wanted to ensure this wouldn't happen again, he wanted to get to know her better. He was going to ask for her number, maybe take her out on a date. It had been a while since he went on a real date, the idea made him a little nervous.

Suddenly, she stepped closer to him, hand traveling up to his neck. He was startled by the sudden contact, but let her continue. His top buttons came loose as he ripped off his wire, revealing his necklace.

"ir've eydish?" she asked, holding the Star of David between her delicate fingers.

"What?" He didn't catch what she had said.

"You're Jewish?" she seemed to already know the answer judging by her smile.

She removed her hands from his neck to go to her own. She pointed to the delicate chain peeking out of the collar of her uniform, holding a small Star of David pendant.

"There don't seem to be too many of us around here,"

"Yeah, it's a pretty small number," he mused, fixing his shirt and tucking his necklace away.

"Do you have family in town?"

"No, I grew up in Nebraska, but my family moved further south a few years ago,” he wasn't sure where she was going with that question.

"The next day I have off is for Rosh Hashanah. I'm having one of my coworkers over and her boyfriend, it's nothing big. But it's nice to have people around for the holidays, you should come by,"

"I'm uh...my parents, we never really celebrated anything so I’m not really sure how that would go. I wouldn't want to impose," he stuttered out. He grew up in a secular family, the only time they celebrated was if they went to visit family elsewhere.

"That's okay, there's a first for everything," she said. She reached for a pen and paper from the clipboard by the bed. "I'm writing down my address and my number, swing by before sundown on Friday, maybe seven-ish?“

"Should I bring anything?" He asked, taking the paper and shoving it in his wallet for safekeeping.

"You could buy me that drink maybe?" She winked at him, opening the door and starting to walk out. "I'm partial to red wine,"

She put the clipboard back and picked up the syringe.

"I have to get back to work, gotta make sure you didn't mess up my patient's recovery," she explained, heading for the door. "I'll see you Friday?"

She stopped in the door frame, looking back at him, waiting for his answer.

"Friday, before sundown, red wine," he recited back to her. She smiled and disappeared from view, the sound of her footsteps echoing down the hall.

He left a moment later, as she was turning into Kukowski's room at the other end of the hall. She looked so composed, her uniform pressed and her hair rolled into submission. She was still smiling as she disappeared into the room.

"Earth to Zimmerman," A finger snapped in his face, waking him from a trance he didn't know he was in.

Jimmy was standing in front of him, looking annoyed. The recorder was under his arm and the wires were sticking out of his front pocket.

"What the fuck just happened in there? The nurse marched you into the room looking like she was ready for murder and came out smiling,"

"I think I just got a date," he responded, feeling awestruck.

---------------------

Did you know Emergency Medicine is a pretty recent creation? I was originally going to make Eliana an ER nurse but turns out that wasn't really a thing in the 70′s! It was just starting to become a specialization at the time but most hospitals only had a room or two set aside for emergency cases. Want to learn more? Here’s a cool article!

“ir’ve eydish?” is my best attempt at Yiddish in English letters. Eliana is asking Flip if he’s Jewish.

People do actually cut heroin with caffeine, be careful with your drugs people!

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x oc #flip x reader #flip x oc #masterlist #ARTBmasterlist

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rainforestgeek · 6 years

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If you lose your strength to stand (I’m gonna reach for your hand)

I got chapter 5 written! Ao3 link here

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4.1, 4.2, 4.3, Part 6

Sneaking onto the ship was the easy part. Pidge landed her undetectable lion on the hull close to the wide-open bay doors of one of the many hangars. The cavernous room was bustling with drones, low-level galra soldiers, and damaged space fighters being repaired, so with all the activity Pidge had little trouble getting past them.

Actually finding the engine room was the hard part. With little knowledge of this particular class of battleship and no way to scan it without the Blue Lion, she was left to take an educated guess of its location. But after half a varga of running around the empty corridors with no results and a handful of close calls almost being discovered, Pidge was about ready to scream in frustration. She hadn’t found any primary access panels, either. The locked doors she hacked easily enough but gave her no access to the central computer. She kicked the wall and was considering risking having her comms intercepted by calling Hunk for help when she heard the steady clanking of a sentry’s footsteps coming toward her from around the corner. She dove for cover in an alcove in the wall and waited, crouching at the ready.

Thankfully, the big metal biped clanked right by without noticing her. Seizing the opportunity, Pidge leapt onto its back and deactivated it with a few swift keystrokes on the control panel below its neck. It slumped to the floor, taking her with it, and she landed painfully on her hip. She bit back a curse then quickly synced her gauntlet to the sentry’s control panel. She uploaded a virus that she’d written based on the data she got from that first sentry she hacked at the Galactic Hub.

If it worked, the virus would hijack the robot’s artificial brain, rerouting the stored and incoming data and the command controls, to her armor. It took several doboshes to complete and Pidge kept a wary eye out for any more patrols coming her way. The robot the way too heavy for her to try and drag it into the alcove she’d hidden herself in before.

The holographic screen from the gauntlet flashed and the sentry’s head-lights glowed red. Yes! I have a minion. It stood up. She pulled up a map of the frigate from her sentry’s data core.

Fucking hell. The engine room was on the other side of the ship.

Pidge followed her robotic minion as it led her to the engine room. She walked backwards at the ready with her bayard out, keeping an eye out on their six while Minion would alert her of anything ahead. It took her in a circuitous route, avoiding the more bustling sectors of the ship. It was a smart precaution but with every tick that passed Pidge cursed her slow progress. She hoped Lance and Hunk had a handle on the situation outside.

Finally, finally Minion stopped at a set of important-looking doors and pressed its palm against the entrance pad to open them. They went inside – and Pidge immediately ducked behind a huge support beam because the engine room was teeming with galra. Sentries, floating drones, soldiers, and even an officer or two milled about the cavernous and noisy chamber. At its center was a glowing engine straight out of a cyberpunk novel that would make Hunk shit his pants.

Quiznaking fucksticks. Okay, Minion. Let’s see how much we can get away with.

Pidge crawled toward a vent at the bottom of the nearest wall, carefully opened it, and slid inside feet first. Her visibility wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing and it would at least help her guide Minion where she needed it. She pulled up a holographic screen that streamed what the robot was “seeing.”

Let’s see if you know the engine schematics. Turns out Minion did. She supposed that made sense – the droids were probably programed to be all-purpose. Pidge studied the mechanisms of the ships energy source.

Oh, holy hell. It uses xanthorium crystals to enhance the power of the weapons and the hyperdrive. Like most of these huge ships, it used a balmeran crystal as it’s primary power source. She was no engineer, but Pidge was sure she found bastardized elements of Altean technology that must have been integrated into Galran designs in the empire’s early decaphoebes.

Minion approached a station (quietly deactivating the sentry manning it) that appeared to direct the current of quintessence-enriched electricity to various parts of the ship. Much of the xanthorium was used in the engine room, but there were also strategically placed chambers of the crystals close to each weapons station. Pidge smirked as she realized she could use this. This whole place was littered with weapons stations. Keeping the explosions at the exact right magnitude required meticulous control over the energy flow throughout the ship’s guts. She had Minion get to work.

The principle behind her plan was simple: blow the ship up using its own power boosters. It was easy to think of each weapon station as a primitive firearm, with the current acting as the spark and the xanthorium as gunpowder. The xanthorium had been cut into uniform sizes that would explode at the brief contact of a tightly-controlled current and direct the resulting energy into the weapons’ mechanisms, giving the galra a nice boost of power behind their attacks. Once a piece had been used and disintegrated, the next one slotted into place to be exploded next. But if the chambers overloaded, all the crystals in the chambers would explode uncontrollable at once. It would completely cripple their weapons and breach the hull in a dozen critical places.

Minion reprogrammed the algorithm that controlled the paths of primary power into secondary channels. She needed at least seventy-five percent of the xanthorium chambers to overload at exactly the same time. It was tedious work, but I thankfully took less time than Pidge had anticipated.

Pidge breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She had fifteen doboshes to get back to Green before her DIY bombs went off. She slowly crawled out of the vent to sneak to the door and make a swift, painless escape.

If only.

She wasn’t as annoyed at getting caught so much as that it was a stupid way to get caught. She didn’t epically fuck up, didn’t trip a hidden alarm, didn’t run headfirst into an enemy that popped up out of nowhere. Nope. All those missions when she had perfect timing, only to now just get spotted for being a split second too slow.

Pidge charged at the nearest sentry – which was not-so-coincidentally her own minion. It blocked her attack easily and bent her arms behind her back, metal hands clamping her wrists together. Discreetly, she whispered instructions to her robot through her helmet comms. Her escape wasn’t totally busted yet.

What appeared to be the ranking officer approached her. He was average-sized for a galra, just under seven feet, and the fuzz covering him erred on the blue side of purple. “What is this? Wearing the armor of the Green Paladin?” He gave her a critical once-over. “This tiny thing?”

Pidge growled at him and struggled against the robot holding her. “Tiny, huh? You wanna fucking go, assface?”

She couldn’t tell if the officer rolled his eyes – given the lack of pupils – but his expression grew irritated and just over it. But she swore his tone was smug, though, when he said, “Escort the whelp to General Sendak. From what I’ve heard, he’ll want to deal with this one himself.” He then turned around like he had better things to do than worry about Pidge – good. Meant he wasn’t suspicious of any meddling. The sentry marched her out the door and through the cold corridor. A squad of other sentries followed, much to her chagrin.

They passed right by the hangar outside of which she’d left Green, but the sentries surrounding her meant she couldn’t make a break for it. Pidge suppressed a frustrated growl. Guess we’re going to see Overlord Fur Face after all, she thought. She’d anticipated that; but why couldn’t things go the easy way for her just once?

Pidge and her entourage of robots walked through corridor after corridor, took multiple elevator-lift-things, and she was getting nervous. She counted the ticks in her head: time was running out before everything blew up, and this escort was taking forever.

Finally a set of double doors swooshed open to reveal they’d reached the bridge. It was a spacious room with a raised command podium in the center and floor-to-ceiling windows (no doubt made from space-grade reinforced glass). Apparently the galra were less fond of view screens than humans. Standing on the island, Sendak turned toward Pidge with a sneer.

“How did you get uglier?” Pidge blurted out.

“Petulant child for a Paladin of Voltron.” Ugh, that voice was terrible on her senses. Somehow like oily gravel and sunburn. Sendak walked closer to her. “You’ve been a nuisance, whelp. I will take great pleasure in killing you.”

“I kicked your ass once. I’ll just do it again.” Pidge’s internal clock told her she only had two doboshes left.

Sendak leaned down, his meaty breath stinking too close to her face. Was it possible for something to smell like flies? “As I recall, it took all of the paladins to even trap me. This time, you’re the one on my ship. You’re the one all alone.

Fifty ticks left. Pidge’s heart pounded with anxiety and excitement. She’d have to be quick for any hope of escape. And the dumbass didn’t have his helmet on.

Sendak straightened. “Initiate a full sweep,” he barked. The attention of everyone on the deck snapped onto his orders. “The girl probably brought aboard accomplices; only two lions –”

Twenty ticks. Minion released her hands. Quick as lightning, Pidge summoned her bayard and shot its electrified blade into the exposed spot between his neck and jaw. The shocks arcing through the warlord jerked about his massive body. He hit the floor with all the grace of a boulder falling off a cliff.

Ten ticks. Pidge wrenched her weapon out of the furry carcass. Behind her, loyal Minion started beating up as many enemies as it could. She took advantage of the crew’s moment of paralyzed shock to sprint for the nearest window, activating her energy shield. She heard blows land, metal creak violently, felt shots collide with her shield.

She raised her bayard. Three ticks. Shot straight ahead. Two. Leapt through the nebula of glittering, shattering glass and into empty space. One.

Obviously, she didn’t hear an explosion. Sound can’t travel in a vacuum. But Pidge sure as hell felt a storm of heat and shrapnel shoot her even deeper into space.

She called for Green desperately in her mind. Everything hurt, and made it hard to think. She was quickly recompensed by the sight of her beautiful glowing lion rapidly approaching. She scooped Pidge up in her mouth, and Pidge landed hard on the cockpit’s floor with a sideways roll. Groaning, she hauled herself into the pilot’s chair.

“Mission accomplished, guys.”

Loud whoops and cheers blasted through her helmet’s speakers. She flinched.

“Pidge, you beautiful, miracle Wonder Woman! That was amazing!”

Adrenaline aready had her heartbeat drumming up a storm. But hearing Lance say that made her cheeks feel even hotter and her very blood vessels jitter.

“Captain Olia? Sergeant Bark? How we lookin’?” Lance called out.

“The remainder of the fleet on this side is retreating,” the seargeant reported.

“We’ve picked off a few dozen squads over here,” Matt chimed in. Pidge felt relieved to hear his voice. “Anyone else are also turning tail.��

“We won? We won!” Hunk celebrated. “Great job, Pidge! You really hit them where it hurts!”

“And you thought it was too dangerous. Hey Pidge, high five!”

“We’re in our lions, Lance.”

“Oh, right. High giant mechanical paw!”

Pidge was so high on adrenaline adrenaline that she enthusiastically acquiesced. Red and Green flew at each other and crashed their right paws with an enormous clang. The impact reverberated violently through the cockpit and gave Pidge a throbbing headache.

“My skull is vibrating,” Lance said. “So worth it.”

The chatter radio chatter in Pidge’s ears began to fade to the background, as she slowly exited fight/flight/freeze mode and weariness set into her bones. “Guys, I’m completely beat. I’ve gotta go back to the Castle.”

“See you down there, Pidge. Go take care of yourself,” Hunk replied.

“Yeah, sure.” Pidge deactivated her microphone and shot towards Olkarion’s surface. With every kilometer she grew more and more tired. The adrenaline drained from her body, leaving behind the deep soreness of whatever injuries undoubtedly littered her body. She broke the atmosphere and her hands started shaking. The Castle came into view and a wave of exhaustion crashed over her. She landed the Green Lion in her hangar and tried to get up; but her body felt made of molten lead. Pidge gave up struggling against the darkness tugging at her consciousness. She submitted to the respite pulling at her brain and her vision went black.

#plance #pidgance #pidge #sendak #voltron fic #vld fic #part 5 #chapter 5 #flirtyrobot #matt holt #lance mcclain #hunk garrett #galra #voltron #voltron fanfic #voltron legendary defender

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theladyfangs · 6 years

Text

Reflections/The Other Part 12

(Dear God...this is the last time I upload a story of this length to tumblr. This is starting to feel like the fic that never ends...but I swear it’s starting to wrap here in a bit).

I’d Rather Go Blind

“Admiral,” Lorca greets her as he comes on the bridge. “This is…unexpected.”

Katrina eyes him up and down, critically. Uniform immaculate as always. His hair slightly mussed, as if he were sleeping, but when he gets close, she catches a whiff and frowns, knowing that smell. She’s known Gabriel too long to be fooled. His default when shit goes awry, when he’s stressed to the point where he can’t deal. And she senses something else too—the way he’s standing, slightly back from her, guarded, and…she gets to his face, noting the blue in his eyes, the slightly withdrawn look: he’s hiding something.

“Conference room, Captain.”

Tell. Don’t ask.

They go, leaving Tyler with Saru.

Once the doors shut, she turns on him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Katrina snaps. “Attacking in Klingon space. Are you crazy? We could have lost this ship and her tech!”

“But we didn’t lose the ship or the tech,” Lorca says measuredly, not wanting to antagonize her further. “We came back. Got the job done.”

“And WHAT, exactly, was the job? The impetus? We were moving the needle.”

“It wasn’t moving fast enough,” he defends.

“Shut up right there.”

Lorca massages his temple, feeling his patience beginning to wear thin—he’s annoyed that she’s talking to him like this, but he’s letting her—knowing her anger is probably due to a hell of a lot more than just a mission she disagreed with. Katrina charges on.

“YOU jeopardized this ship. This crew. All for what? Your ego? Your glory?”

“It’s NOT my ego!” He finally snaps, venting the extent of pent-up frustration. “Your people screwed up. Had Terral listened to Michael we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. YOU, Admiral, punish her for violating ‘Starfleet directives’, THEN you’re fucking surprised we’re getting our asses kicked halfway to Sunday!

“Who decided to only defend the colonies and leave the arrays undefended? Who decided to de-militarize the Federation? Hell, I get it. Peace in the fucking galaxy, but WHEN will you guys wake up and accept SOME responsibility for this? YOU and your ilk, Katrina—the old guard is gone. This is YOUR fault. Accept it. I jumped into Klingon space to send a message—that the Federation ISN’T passive. That it WILL do more than just defend itself. That it’s just as willing as they are to fight—and from what I’m seeing—it’s working. Hell, you won’t even tell the others what we’re doing—so which one of us is being the coward-- me, or you?”

Only after Lorca’s done does the rest slowly sink in.

“You’re accusing me,” she starts slowly, “of allowing the invasion? Do you KNOW how you sound right now? We’ve lost tens of thousands of people, Gabriel. And you’re saying it’s wrong to want for peace—what do you propose? Constant war? Humanity tried that for centuries, and I know you know history.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Katrina.”

Lorca sits back down, realizing he’s been standing the past few minutes ranting.

“It doesn’t matter, now. What matters is getting you to see why we did what we did. Why Michael and I made the decision to go on offence. Can you at least admit it’s got them nervous? I know you get the transmission logs.”

She does. And she has seen, through Tyler, the amount of confusion the strike has caused among Klingon forces. But still…

“There are rules, Gabriel.”

“Rules are for admirals in back offices,” he retorts.

“Pick that up from over there?” She snaps back, eyes narrow, standing now and circling him. “You haven’t been the same since you came back. You sound like him.”

Like him.

“Then maybe he was right about a few things,” Lorca tells her, to Kat’s surprise. A shudder runs through her.

“What did you lose over there, Gabriel? What happened to your humanity?”

But he won’t answer. Instead, “Are we done, Admiral?”

“No, we’re not. How many crew did you lose?”

Thanks to Saru, she’s seen the reports about the boarding.

“Five.”

“Were their lives worth it?”

“To end a war? You said yourself, tens of thousands have died already. My people died with dignity. Honour. Trying to save the Federation. That’s all I’m doing. Trying to save us. Because we’re fighting an enemy that doesn’t play by the rules, Katrina. And I think you know that. And I also think you know,” he leans closer now, “that we will lose our way of life if we don’t come up with a better way.”

“Tell me why I shouldn’t bust you down and send Burnham to the nearest prison colony?” She refuses the bait.

But at the word ‘Burnham’, there’s something different in Gabriel’s face. It disappears just as quickly—but it sure as hell looked like…panic?

“You wouldn’t.” He tells her. “We’re your best for bringing this thing to an end. You hate what we’re doing, but condoning it. And you left Michael here for a reason.”

Katrina catches it once more. Not Specialist. Not Burnham. Michael. The collective, “we”.

Another glance at Gabriel. He’s giving her the blank stare of indifference, but his shoulders are tense. Still as a statue. She knows his bluffs. His hedges. His ticks and his quirks. Katrina eyes him critically, takes a longer look at the man she used to love…still loves…

It comes out of nowhere. Like a shock to her system. She doesn’t know what prompts it. What makes her say it. Maybe it’s stress. Maybe it’s worry. Some unresolved something from deep down that rears up in the moment. But the words that escape, she can’t take back, and the truth reveals itself in the look on his face when she asks, point-blank…

“Are you sleeping with her?”

Tyler II

It’s early, but he wants to see her. To show her that he’s…better now. That in these months apart, he’s found something to hold on too, that he’s not the person that attacked her and that he’s worked hard to be better. For her.

Tyler retraces the familiar path toward the quarters Michael shares with Tilly, feeling anxious, but wanting to resolve this. Resolve them, convince her he’s changed, learned. That he’s a better man, can be a better man. For her.

The chime of the call is faint, inside. He waits, hoping Michael will come to the door.

“Tilly?”

“Ash?”

She rubs her eyes sleepily and blinks a few times, puzzled at his appearance, a mess of red curls adorning her head. Tilly’s hair has always been impressive, wild, nearly un-tamable and she’s complained of it more than a few times—but the hair is part of her, its own character and personality separate and apart from its owner.

“What are you doing here? It’s…” she glances behind her and back at him.

“0527?”

“Yeah. I came in with Admiral Cornwell.”

Tilly nods, becoming more awake as they talk. She’s not moved from the doorway, and he casts a few looks over her head, trying to peek inside. Tilly catches it.

“So…what brings you…here?” She asks, knowing but trying to stall.

Michael rarely sleeps in their room anymore. And she hasn’t been here in…weeks really. But Ash doesn’t know that. And she doesn’t want to be the one to have to say it.

“Is Michael here?”

“Um…no, I think, she…uh…maybe left a little earlier?”

Sylvia isn’t a good liar. It’s in the way her eyes dart away nervously. The chewing of her lip. The shifting of the feet. It’s so…human, he thinks snidely, but stops, realizing those are Voq’s thoughts, not his.

“You’re lying,” Ash says drily. “Where is she, Tilly?”

“Um….engineering?”

“At 0530 in the morning?”

“You know she likes to get an early start, sometimes.”

Sylvia tries for a smile, but Ash doesn’t buy it.

“You don’t have to lie, Tilly. It’s okay. It’s what I get for stopping by, unannounced.” He leaves, and the door closes, but midway down the hall, there’s a computer, and he goes there—knowing the officer badges carry location data.

“Computer, location of Michael Burnham.”

“Michael Burnham is in room 2-1-1-2.”

The number sounds familiar, but he can’t quite place it, so he takes the lift up to the level and steps off. The corridor is empty. Just a few rooms, but as soon as he starts walking and comes to the door, he stops. Seeing the name inscribed on a panel. Lorca, G.

Captain Lorca’s quarters.

And Michael is here.

He’s mildly amused that he should be surprised at this discovery.

Still, Tyler is not a coward. He came for resolution, and resolution he is determined to get.

So he presses the chime.

The sound is soft, yet insistent, lulling her out of sleep and at first, it’s difficult to place, as she slowly wakes to find the space beside her empty.

It’s 0616.

The chime again—someone at the door and Michael is confused as to why it would be ringing.

She rises, still in uniform from the night before, and makes her way to the door.

It opens and she’s shocked. And shook, there’s no hiding it—all over her face as she freezes, seeing Ash standing there, looking at her with distrust, and hurt.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he says. “Let’s talk.”

Deer in headlights, he thinks, staring into Michael’s big brown eyes. Those were the first things he noticed about her—how wide they were, beautiful and almond shaped, with long lashes and an innocent, yet tired expression—somewhat sad, somewhat guarded. He was captivated in the moment, thought she was beautiful, even if she herself could have cared less about how she appeared to others.

It was the stiff formality that caught him and the sudden, revealing moment of weakness when she collapsed in pain on the mess hall floor, appearing injured. He thought of her as doe-like, elegant, slender limbs and something made him want to reach out and try to protect her in the moment, never thinking that in the end, she’d be the one to protect him. She’d reminded him of the animal, skittish around him at first, and he’d thought her somewhat naïve, but endearing, slightly socially awkward but attractive, admiring that she could go through so much and still maintain her decency. At least, he’d thought her decent. Thought her innocent, too.

Maybe she wasn’t always so innocent. Maybe she wasn’t so decent. Maybe it was all in his confused, trauma-induced mind. Maybe it was what he wanted to believe, needed to believe—that someone could love him when he was still struggling to reconcile images and memories he wasn’t sure were real or imagined; to find a way to love himself after losing himself to the darkness that was his former tormentor and jailor, his Klingon lover, L’Rell. If Michael became his light, L’Rell was his shadow.

Maybe this particular angel was always out of reach.

Maybe he would have done better to leave well enough alone.

Gabriel, the usurper, had warned him.

He’d ignored Gabriel.

Now, here he stands, looking at her, in the quarters of the man he’d tried to steal her from.

“So this is why you wanted me gone?” he asks. “This is why you let me go?”

“I let you go because you lied to me.” Michael’s voice is level. But her face is filled with concern.

“I don’t want your pity.”

“You don’t have it.”

“Why him?” It’s jealous.

Her steely gaze never leaves his, lips pursed into a tight line.

The non-answer is the reply, and Tyler remarks, “so you lied to me, too.”

“And to myself.”

It’s all he needs to walk away, knowing she was never his to begin with. The thought gives him pause. The sense of possession that comes with it. Again, not him. Voq. He knows well you can’t own or possess another person. But Voq feels an entirely different way. And Tyler knows then he will always be trapped in this particular form of hell. That he’s better, but not quite. That he will always struggle between two people forced into one body. And Michael is just the cusp of it.

Lorca II

“Are you sleeping with her?”

Of course, Katrina would know.

“And if I was?” he defends.

“You know better.”

It comes out before he can stop himself. “So did you, when you decided to sleep with him.”

Neither of them have ever fought fair. They know where to poke. Where to jab. How to hurt. And there’s been plenty of it to go around of late. They’ve never stood on even, solid ground. Part of their attraction. Part of their repulsion. Lorca takes the low road.

Katrina’s pupils expand and darken. She visibly draws back, and he’s immediately ashamed of himself. “Kat, I--” he reaches out, but she slaps him. Hard. So hard, it makes his head snap to the right, and he brings a hand up to the burning, stinging side of his face. That’s going to leave a mark. Not the hand itself, but the ring on the middle finger. It’s been there for more than two decades. Promises made. Promises broken.

A welt is quickly forming on the broken skin.

“You’re what? Sorry?” She scoffs. “I’ve heard that one before.”

Oh yes, she has. Many, many times. Lorca works his mouth but nothing comes out. The words don’t form. Because he’s not sorry for it. What he’s sorry for are all the other things. What he’s really sorry for is how he ruined them. And he’s sorry it took him more than two decades to realize that he was the poison in their relationship. But how to tell her this? How to explain it, without sounding like he’s making excuses?

“So this is what we are now,” he says, rubbing the side of his face warily, remembering that Katrina is heavy-handed. “You’re mad at me for something I didn’t do.”

It’s not about him sleeping with Michael. Lorca knows it. Katrina does too. What got him slapped is what he said. About her. About the other him.

“You hate me,” Lorca says slowly, “because I look like him.”

“And talk like him. And act like him.” Katrina finishes, slumping down into a chair, her fury beginning to wane, and tiredness starting to take over. It’s been a long war. It’s been a long two years. It’s been a long, six months. So much between them, stacked up like a monument to failure on both sides.

He takes a chair opposite, rubbing his temples.

“He tricked me,” she says so softly, he almost misses it.

Almost. But he knows to stay quiet. To listen, not talk.

“He tricked me, and I wanted so badly to believe it was you. I just couldn’t face it. So I let myself be tricked. Anything, to believe for a little longer that I hadn’t lost you when I did.”

“Eighteen months, Kat.”

They’re not looking at one another.

“Eighteen months I scraped and I fought and I killed, and I was tortured, and I tortured—anything I could do to survive—and the only thing that saved me, kept me even remotely sane,” he swallows, voice growing thicker, darker, “was making it back to you. I was trying my damnedest to get to Tahoe. And when I finally make it, you--”

Beat him. Yelled at him. Slapped him. Railed at him. Twenty-five years of fury unleashed when he least expected it, when his own body and soul were damaged nearly to the point of disrepair and he was still barely clinging to the fact that he wasn’t dreaming, that he was back, and to see her, standing there—gun drawn, ready to shoot him. And then later, when she did. Not with a phaser, but with her words. She’d killed what he thought was left of his humanity when she did that.

No tether.

No anchor.

“You left me to suffer,” he tells her. “I’ve suffered every single day for more than two years, and you act like I left on purpose. That I did this intentionally. That it’s my fault—what happened when I was gone. I never left you, Trina,” he says, using the nickname reserved between them, “but as soon as I stepped off that platform, you’d already made up your mind.”

She let him go. Let him drift.

It’s the first time they’re being completely honest with each other.

“Tahoe was a pipe dream for us,” she says quietly, remembering the night they fought over her promotion. How angry she was that he wasn’t more supportive. How angry he was that she could even consider it.

“You were never really there.”

She’s bringing back years. He can’t argue with her there. “I thought we promised to try again. We swore that to each other.”

“Maybe I never believed you could keep a promise,” she tells him. “So many of those you broke.”

Exactly what he told Michael, he did.

This was never one for him to win. He knows it. And he’ll let her have it.

“So what do you want to do with me, Katrina? Does it make you feel better to know what I’ve suffered too? Does it make you feel better to know karma actually works?” A harsh, dry laugh. “Are we finally, even now?”

He looks at her, those eyes ever sharper, the blue deeper, and in them, all she sees is grief and pain. And it cuts her.

A man too proud to beg. Too strong to be broken. Physical pain has never bothered Gabriel—she knows its emotional stuff he can’t handle. The reason why he ran. Ran until he couldn’t anymore. She knew what she had a long time ago—and if she’s real with herself, she also knows it’s not his fault. Not all his fault. It takes two. Two to fight, two to love. There’s blame on her too. Because she pressured him to stay when she knew he wanted to go. Tried to force him to settle down when she knew it wasn’t his nature. And the pregnancy—a last-ditch effort when she felt she was losing him. She used his love to her advantage—but caged birds always find a way out—and that’s what he did. Neither of them were perfect, but…

“I’m sorry, ‘Trina.”

“For what?” Her breath is hitched. Almost afraid to hear what he’s going to say next. He doesn’t. Just gets up and comes to her chair to stand before her.

“For Jeremy.”

One tear. A traitor to its master, slipping from its stony prison to make an escape down her cheek. Jeremy. The name they chose for a child they wouldn’t get to see.

“I’m sorry about Anthony.” The husband she lost because Anthony knew her heart wasn’t in it. A marriage built on splintered glass. Settling for something because nothing wasn’t an option.

“And I’m sorry for Tahoe.” Their house on the edge of the lake. The retirement plan. The one promise they swore to each other they’d keep. The one destroyed by war.

“I do love you, Katrina,” Lorca tells her. “And I am so, so sorry it was never enough.”

Not then. And after everything else, not now.

“I’m sorry too.”

The voice is far softer. More resigned. Accepting. No more struggle here. No more fighting—they both see the writing on the wall.

She tells him what she knows. That she’s always known the kind of man he is.

“But…I tried,” he says, weakly.

Katrina stands to touch to the side of his face. Her fingers slide down the welt. Red, angry, a thin crimson streak of red down the middle, but it doesn’t bleed.

“I know you did. I’m glad you did.”

Because they both know it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. No matter the bad…there was always so much more good there.

A soft smile graces her face.

“I love you, Gabriel.”

“Trina.” He comes to hug her, and this time, she doesn’t flinch from his touch, just wraps her arms around him, and rests her head against his chest, feeling his warmth, drawing strength from his surety of presence. It feels like going home. Like the friends they are, even now.

“I love you too.”

They do, and they always will. He’s in her bones, and she’s in his. Yet they’re old enough and wise enough to have finally learned the difference, between loving, and being in love.

Loving suits them just fine.

#star trek: discovery #fanfiction #ussarchangel #michael burnham x gabriel lorca #gabriel lorca x katrina cornwell #gabriel lorca #michael burnham #katrina cornwell

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esselley · 7 years

Photo

Kinktober #1: Aphrodisiacs | Sleepy Sex [NSFW below cut]

"Ship's log, stardate 2291. Second Officer Kageyama reporting from the planet Cary… Caryo-fill—filla—"

"Just call it the Pink Planet."

"Shut up, dumbass, I've got to use its name—"

"You can't even pronounce its name, give me that—"

"Hinata, STOP—"

The ship's log plays from Kageyama's personal recording device. The audio is tinny and underwhelming, but it seems almost too loud in the otherwise silent med bay. A scuffle seems to be occurring over the recording, before the talking resumes.

"Ship's log, stardate 2291. Second Second Officer, once removed, Hinata reporting—"

He seems to be running. Distantly heard: "You are not an officer!"

"Everything on this planet is pink, looks the same, and Kageyama got us lost because he—"

Hinata's voice cuts off into a wheeze, presumably due to being tackled by Kageyama. The sounds of Kageyama swearing loudly while Hinata screeches carry on for a few more seconds, before the whole thing cuts off entirely.

Captain Oikawa and First Officer Iwaizumi look, with a certain mix of exasperation and dull amusement, first down at the PDR, then at each other, and then, finally, at the other two occupants of the med bay.

Second Officer Kageyama and Second Second Officer (once removed) Hinata, do not meet their eyes. The two of them stand there, stark naked, hands clasped in front of their bodies to preserve whatever slight shred of modesty they may have remaining. Oikawa doesn't see the point.

"I knew sending them there was a mistake," Iwaizumi says. He seems mostly exasperated. “Can you... explain... what happened on the planet?”

"It would have been fine if they'd read the handbook," Oikawa says. He's definitely amused.

Hinata blinks at him. "What handbook?"

"This," Kageyama says, "this is why you aren't an officer."

Caryophyllaceae is a class L planet, which means the atmosphere supports human life and the air can be breathed outside of an extraterrestrial environment suit, but the planet still remains unsuitable for human population. Oftentimes, this is due to the flora and fauna inhabiting the planet. Though Kageyama has read the handbook (he still has trouble with the name), he knows that nearly every species of plant on the entire planet is poisonous.

Hinata, unsurprisingly, has not read the handbook. Hinata is an engineer, and strictly speaking should not be allowed to accompany Kageyama on a mission to scout a new planet as it is. But Oikawa has taken a liking to him, ever since Hinata managed to save the ship from almost certain destruction at the hands of some less than friendly intergalactic visitors while the rest of the crew was captured (Kageyama helped, but repairing damaged spacecraft is not his forte).

Oikawa calls Hinata "chibi-chan", and apparently thinks they make a good team. Kageyama disagrees, nevermind the fact that he and Hinata have been sleeping together for going on four months now (if fucking in the engine room can count as sleeping together). Oikawa is almost definitely aware of it. Kageyama is only becoming more sure letting Hinata tag along was a mistake, after two hours of exploratory overtures.

So far, Hinata has succeeded in nothing aside from being annoying, interrupting Kageyama's ship's logs, and blaming Kageyama for getting lost (not Kageyama's fault). He also will not shut up about how pink everything is, because he's never been planetside anywhere but Earth, so an alien landscape is blowing his already easily blown mind.

Caryophyllaceae is definitely pink. In the early days of the planet's rotation around the sun, before it was knocked into a different orbit, most likely by a small meteor, it had developed a very specific hue across the board for all living things upon its surface. All the plants, the trees, the spongy vegetation below their feet, the occasional insects and small reptilian species Kageyama has spotted—everything is colored in bright, candy-coated shades of pink. It's so lurid it all seems unnatural, but on this planet, the color is nature itself, like green and blue on Earth. Even the sky above has not entirely escaped, a pale, milky color reminiscent of strawberry milk. It makes Kageyama instinctively thirsty.

Hinata has been gawking openly, ooh-ing and aah-ing over every single weed as though each is a masterpiece previously undiscovered. This leaves Kageyama to do all the actual work, like collecting samples and documenting his findings, which is another reason he resents Hinata being given leave to come along. He's useless.

Possibly more than useless. Kageyama hears him utter another delighted squawk, turns, and shouts, "HINATA!"

Hinata has stuck his face deep within the blossoms of an enormous, Valentine's-day-pink hanging flower—the stalk is taller than he is, the bud is bigger than his whole head. He pulls back, and Kageyama sees his nose and mouth are covered in hot pink pollen.

"Kageyama!" he yelps, "It smells like—"

Kageyama doesn't get to find out what it smells like, because Hinata, without warning, pitches straight forward onto his face, like a freshly pollinated, and probably very poisoned, pancake.

Fuck. Kageyama lets out a yell of frustration. He rapidly transmits a distress signal to the bridge of the Apex, before rushing forward, crouching to roll Hinata over onto his back.

"Hinata? Hinata!"

Hinata is still awake, but barely. He is, however, smiling, and when he sees Kageyama hovering over him, the loopy grin he's wearing only widens.

"Ka-ge-ya-maaaa," he babbles, and then yanks Kageyama down by the front of his shirt and kisses him.

Kageyama is not prepared for it. He thinks, in the back of his mind, that he should be better at intercepting these surprise attacks—because even when not under the influence of whatever toxin is currently in his system, Hinata is prone to randomly sticking his tongue in Kageyama's mouth at every available opportunity. But Kageyama was not prepared, and now, they must pay the price.

It's like… the sensation of a large, overstressed bubble bursting in the back of Kageyama's mind—a sudden and rounded pop that unleashes a tidal wave of warmth across all his senses, like standing under a low power showerhead when its first turned on. He feels light and heavy at the same time, a little bit sweet—the flavor, not the disposition, if it is possible to feel like a flavor. He supposes Tsukishima is salty all the time, and Oikawa is pretty bitter, so maybe it is possible after all.

Following on the heels of the sweetness is a sudden ambush of lethargy—not exhaustion, but contentedness, the kind that makes it a happy occurrence to laze about with nothing to do and nowhere to be because life is good. Kageyama rarely, if ever, feels this way, and it is this second sensation that puts him back on his guard.

"H'nata," he mumbles, "Na… ta… we—we need—back to the Apex—"

"Nooo," Hinata moans, from somewhere underneath him. Dimly, Kageyama realizes that he has also fallen, right on top of the engineer.

"We're… poisoned…" Kageyama tells him. And then, to punctuate this urgent and shocking statement, he yawns.

"Whatever," Hinata responds, "we gotta have sex."

This at first makes no sense to Kageyama's sleep-addled mind, until very suddenly, it does. In multiple ways.

The first way is that, as soon as Hinata says this, Kageyama realizes that he does have a very urgent need to put his cock in, on, or around Hinata, at least once, but probably more like a lot. The second way is that he is now acutely aware of the fact that he is harder than a diamond, with Hinata's soft… softness squeezed up under him, and he groans because the thought makes him ache. This leads to the third way it makes sense—he feels like he's been blue-balled for hours, maybe days, with the level of agony he's in, just thinking about sinking his dick into all of Hinata's heat—Hinata always feels so good around him, so tight and hot, hole sucking him in so needily—

"The—poison—" Kageyama gasps, "it's making us—"

"IgottacomeorI'mgonnadie—" Hinata says all in one breath, and yes, that is probably a very realistic assessment of their current situation.

But Kageyama is so sleepy.

"H-help," he mumbles, trying to rub his face against Hinata's face, his chin, his neck. Everything feels so good but it's not enough. "Hinata… clothes…"

With their uniforms in the way, he can't feel Hinata properly, but it's all that he can do to weakly squirm around on top of him while fighting off falling into some kind of forced slumber. Hinata, who probably inhaled more of the pollen than he did, is even worse off. He just lies there looking absolutely silly, expression utterly blissed out, a tiny, rapturous smile on his face as Kageyama painstakingly peels them both out of their clothes. They're both sweating like they've got high fevers—actually, maybe they do, Kageyama realizes, when he splats his body on top of Hinata's and feels the way he's absolutely burning.

"Mmm," Hinata sighs, slowly starfishing his arms and legs out at his sides like he's trying to make a foliage angel in the soft pink moss beneath him. "Mmm, naked Kageyama… makes me so happy…" He keeps tossing his head lazily from side to side, laughing at random intervals, stretching his arms out above his head as he starts to roll his hips. His hair has fanned out under him against the moss, clashing terribly.

If the poison doesn't kill Kageyama, Hinata might.

"You are such—an idiot—" he says, "f-ffff-fuck—"

It feels like he is discovering heaven as he writhes, stupidly and slowly and sweatily all over Hinata's slick body underneath him. But maybe Hinata is the angel, sent to him amidst this obscenely rosy hell—his whole body matches at any rate, thighs flushing, nipples like rose petals, stomach and chest turning a darker shade of red.

"I really… want you inside me…" Hinata mumbles into the air, almost too soft for Kageyama to hear.

"No," Kageyama gasps, "no lube—"

"Then later," Hinata whines, "when we get back—"

This is an optimistic statement, considering Hinata has just poisoned them both, which renders both his bargaining leverage and possibly their chances of survival rather low. But Hinata is ever the optimist.

"I was really excited," he sighs, as Kageyama reaches down to palm his balls, before slipping a finger against his entrance, rubbing it lightly. Hinata keens and Kageyama can feel the way the ring of tight muscle quivers at his touch. "It's m-my—my first time on a mission. I w-wanted to… nnhh… wanted to celebrate with you… oh—I—was gonna ride you… so hard…"

Kageyama feels like he blasts his brains out through his cock when he comes, metaphorically suckerpunched by Hinata's revelation of his plans. It's like the unbearable heat is rushing out of him through his dick, taking some of the pink-hazed fog in his brain with it, and then he’s moaning, splattering Hinata’s stomach in a truly ridiculous amount of cum.

When he finally manages to blink his eyes open and look at Hinata again, it’s to see that Hinata has actually managed to fall asleep while Kageyama was busy orgasming.

“Hinata,” he says. Hinata doesn’t stir. Kageyama hopes he isn’t dead, and starts rapidly smacking him lightly, on his cheeks, then his stomach. Hinata jerks awake very suddenly, and keeps talking, like he’d never stopped in the first place.

"I wanna," he whispers, very slowly and painstakingly raising his hand so he can smear his sweaty fingers aimlessly all over Kageyama's face. Kageyama refuses to find this adorable. "Wanna ride you like a rocket…"

"You're the worst," Kageyama tells him, and Hinata's eyes roll back into his head.

Kageyama is momentarily terrified that he's actually finally succumbing to the poison, as his whole body heaves up and he arches his back like a cupid's bow—but then Hinata comes in a hot, sticky rush that seems to last forever, while he shakes like a leaf in a gale, pulling up whole handfuls of moss in his ecstasy. The whole time he cries out, wordless bliss, except for the few times Kageyama manages to make out his own name.

When he's done, he slumps back against the ground, breathing evening out, eyes shut. Kageyama leans in closer—he's starting to feel a little bit back to normal, but Hinata has again passed out cold. Unsurprisingly—the toxin was probably a shock to his system. Neither of them is dead, though.

As Kageyama thinks this, he notices something strange. The cum on their stomachs, instead of drying, or doing any other normal, cum-like things, seems to be—evaporating. It ghosts upwards into the air, turning cloudy and buoyant, before being whisked away on the breeze.

"What the fuck…" he mutters, right before swirling blue lights surround their two bodies, and he realizes, they're about to be teleported. Frantically, he starts grabbing for their clothes, his data findings, the PDR. "Shit, wait, wait—"

They disappear.

"Sex pollination," Oikawa informs them with an air of superiority, having now been told the story (sans most of the finer details). "The plant induces the urges, and once the act is completed, the resulting fluids act as both fertilizer and a way for it to spread its pollen to the surrounding area."

"Basically, you two are bees," Iwaizumi explains.

"Ohhh," Hinata says. "Cool!"

"It is not cool," Kageyama hisses. "What if we'd died from—from—our dicks exploding, or something?!"

"Crass," Oikawa sniffs. "And unlikely. The symptoms probably would have just faded after several hours. Poison doesn't always lead to death, Tobio; you should really do some further studying."

"Can we be dismissed?" Kageyama demands. He is entirely ready to end this debriefing, and put on some pants.

"I suppose so," Oikawa agrees, "if only because I don’t want to be present when the second wave hits."

Kageyama blinks. "Second wave?"

"You have to flush all the toxins from your body, obviously," Oikawa says, and then smirks. "I doubt you'll get much rest tonight, but make no mistake, you will still be expected for your morning shift on the bridge."

"I'll be there," Kageyama vows, then spins on his heel. "Come on, Hinata."

Hinata bounces along after him readily. Other parts of Hinata also bounce in turn, rather distractingly, and Kageyama wonders if the second wave Oikawa was talking about is hitting, or if this is just a normal reaction to Hinata in the nude. Either way, they need to grab their clothes and get out of there, fast.

"Where are we going?" Hinata asks.

"My… quarters," Kageyama grunts. "I need you to help me flush out the rest of this shit."

Hinata's face lights up. "Yes! I still get to celebrate!" he cheers, and Kageyama feels himself start to burn.

The captain and first officer watch them go.

"When do you think they'll figure out there's no second wave?" Iwaizumi wonders.

"Honestly," Oikawa says, "I'm not sure they will. But I am looking forward to seeing how grumpy Tobio will be tomorrow morning."

If you’re curious about all that engine room sex, I have another fic set in this verse here! Caution: contains hyperjump orgasms.

Apex verse felt like a nice beginning to Kinktober -- “boldly going”, and all that :D We’re kicking OFF!

#kagehina #hinata shouyou #kageyama tobio #haikyuuwriters #kinktober2017 #kinktober #kagehina fanfiction #haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu!!#esselle writes #tumblr fic #apex #aphrodisiacs #sex pollen #some people may say i am obsessed with making banners for my series now #and they would be correct #but it's kinktober!#i gotta do it #essie's hq fic

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trbl-will-find-me · 6 years

Text

Every Exit, An Entrance (22/?)

There are two (and only two) possibilities: either she led XCOM to victory and they are now engaged in a clean up operation of alien forces, or XCOM was overrun, clearing the way for an alien-controlled puppet government to seize control of the planet.

She’d really like to figure out which it is, but asking hardly seems the prudent option.

New Year’s is quiet. They watch old Twilight Zone episodes on her laptop and pop a bottle of sparkling cider when the clock reads 00:00:01 1 1 2016. It is not grand, and it is not fancy, but as her lips meet his, Elizabeth Regan is happy.

“Any resolutions?” He asks.

She tips her head against his shoulder. “Hmm, all the usual ones seem sort of blasé now. Who gives a shit if my paperwork’s late? Aliens invaded the Earth. We fought them off. We won. I’d like to say it’s to develop a more regular sleep schedule again, but somehow, that seems about as likely as learning to understand football. I know,” she says, after a moment. “How about finding bigger sleeping arrangements? That sounds good.

“You’re saying you don’t think two adults are mean to fit on the same twin XL mattress? I’m shocked.”

“Much as I loved undergrad, I could do without reliving that particular aspect.”

She feels his chuckle deep in his chest. “Don’t know why.”

She shrugs. “I’m just funny like that. Traveling spoiled me.”

“Lizzie, I hate to break it to you, but the bunk’s a lot bigger than an airplane seat.”

She laughs. “That’s not what I meant! We stayed in some fairly nice places. They had real beds. Beds big enough to share.”

“We only tested that, what? Two? Three times?”

“Three,” she says, wiggling closer. “The spiders. Zurich. Berlin.”

“Ahh, the spiders.” He kisses the top of her head. “How could I forget?”

“How could you forget? I woke you up at two in the morning.”

“You woke me up in your bathrobe.”

She laughs. “I thought it would be quick! I didn’t think you’d be offended. I still had underwear on!”

“I would go with distracted over offended.”

She presses a kiss to his jaw. “Sorry.”

“It was nothing compared to the villa. You know, the one with the pool?”

“I’m not sorry about that.”

“Tease.”

“I was hot! It wasn’t air conditioned!”

“You were in a bra and panties. They were floral.”

“You do remember!”

“I don’t think I could forget if I tried. Not that I’d want to,” he adds.

“Would it really have been better if I’d been in a bathing suit?”

“You were standing there in your underwear. It wasn’t a far jump to other places you could be standing in your underwear.“

“But is it really worse than a bikini?”

“You own a bikini?”

“God, no.”

“Exactly.”

“You were so surprised that they matched. I don’t know what you were expecting, but it apparently wasn’t that.”

“I was so surprised you were standing there in them.”

“I was wearing a silk blouse and a linen skirt. I couldn’t jump in a pool in those. The dry cleaning bill would have been even worse than it already was for that trip. Though,” she says, trailing off. “If you’re really so baffled by the sight of matching lingerie, maybe I should just keep the uniform on after all.”

He sets the laptop aside and catches her in a kiss, pinning her to the bed.

“I think I’ll adapt.”

–

She lingers the in the archway, watching Central help Sally fit her armor. He steps back to look at the girl, then brushes a stray bit of hair behind her ear. He reaches into a pocket and presses something into her hand, but whatever he says is too quiet to carry. She slips it around her neck and under her shirt, then throws her arms around Central’s neck. The gesture seems less foreign to him, and he pulls her in closer for a moment before releasing her.

Sometime later, the whole of Menace One Five stands assembled in the armory, split into fireteams: Sally and Kelly on one, with Zaytsev and Wallace on the other.

“For better or worse,” she begins. “This isn’t a standard op. You’ll be escorting two hostile parties to a rendezvous point that you’ll receive once you’re on the ground. Kelly, Royston: you’ll be with the Reaper. Wallace, Zaytsev: you’ll escort the Skirmisher.“

“We’re operating in the dark, people. We know little to nothing about conditions on the ground, or what you’ll be facing. Both the Skirmishers and the Reapers have agreed to a ceasefire for the duration, but I don’t know to what extent either side intends to honor those terms.”

She draws in a deep breath, and her demeanor softens. “My point is: be careful. We could be facing anything out there, and the nature of negotiations is volatile. Stay alert, watch each other’s backs, and don’t take any risks you don’t have to. If this goes well, we stand to gain two very powerful allies. Good luck, team. You’re on the clock.”

Menace salutes her and piles onto the Skyranger, stowing their gear for transport. She heads back towards the bridge as the craft rises towards the open air. Central gives them the go for takeoff, and they are on their way.

Forty five minutes til drop and she stands on the balcony overlooking the ship’s heart, a bottle of water in her hand. Central is next to her, hands braced on the railing.

“Sal looked like her mom, all kitted out like that,” she offers. “It’s gonna be like having a ghost on the field.”

He nods. “Steph would kill me if she knew.”

“Didn’t want Sally following her into the family business?”

“Think she knew that was inevitable. Just wanted to put it off for as long as she could. I promised her eighteen.”

“But?”

“But Volk must’ve had a reason for asking. If he really thinks a friendly face might help defuse some tension…” He shrugs. “She’s a good shot. She’s got good instincts on the field. She ever gets a better hold on that Gift, and she’s gonna be something else. Besides,” he shakes his head. “I know her. She would’ve found a way to go no matter what I said. Least this way, I get to feel like I gave her my blessing, instead of having her sneakin’ around behind my back.”

“You trying to convince me or yourself?” She asks, softly.

“Little bit of both.”

“It’s just one op.”

“And then another, and another. She’s an XCOM operative now. Not much I can do about it.”

“You said it yourself: was probably inevitable.”

His shoulders droop. “Regan, I never should have been a parent. Half the time, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, and the other half, I knew it was the wrong thing. But I tried to keep her safe. I didn’t always succeed, but I tried. Now, there’s not a hell of a lot I can do, but watch and hope. Just hits harder than I thought it would.“

–

What surprises her most is the normalcy. For all his concerns in the wake of Berlin, there is no discernible change in their professional relationship. Everything flows as it should. If the men suspect anything, they do not show it — a near guarantee that all appears as it was.

It occurs to her that it is because they have been together, in some way or another, for a long time already; always in one another’s orbit, always able to parse the other’s meaning with a minimum of explanation. It is what makes them such a good team, what has always made them such an effective team.

She could laugh.

Or kiss him, but she’ll have to wait til later for a shot at that.

“Commander,” her comm sounds. “When you have a moment, please stop by the labs.”

“Of course, Doctor. I’m on my way.” She catches Central’s eye across the room. “You’re in charge. I’ll be with Vahlen in the labs if anything comes up.”

“Understood.”

She breezes through the empty Common Room on her way and stops to pause a moment, trying to envision the space decorated for a wedding. She believes in Molchetti and Hershel, no doubt, but she still can’t wrap her head around it. Still, Steph had seemed grateful they’d taken such an interest in it; she and Edouard still seemed to have their hands full managing their families.

She realizes she will not have to wonder for much longer: the twentieth is rapidly approaching.

Vahlen pulls her into the labs’ small conference room almost immediately upon her arrival. Shen sits in the dim light, apparently waiting.

“Should I call Central?” She asks, suddenly wary.

“No. Someone needs to monitor the energy spikes,” the Chief Engineer says, shifting uncomfortably.

“What’s going on, you two?”

“In the wake of the energy spike in the base,” Vahlen begins. “We noticed a change in the blood samples we had previously tested. The nanomachines, which we had previously observed in a dormant state, activated.”

“And?”

Vahlen reaches into her coat pocket and hands her a vial of dark green liquid. “This was our sample with the highest concentration. While it still carries some DNA markers, it has been mutated beyond a state one could reasonably call human.”

“This was blood? Human blood?”

“Indeed.”

She passes the sample back to the scientist. “Goddamnit.”

“While correlation is by no means causation,” Shen offers. “I am reasonably confident that the Fog Pods serve as a kind of control mechanism for these nanomachines. The energy spikes we have previously observed must be instructions to remain dormant. The spike from within the base was likely an activation. If it was able to take out our monitoring tech, such a pulse would like be catastrophic to civilian communication devices.”

Her mouth runs dry. “So, it’s a time bomb. What do you suggest?”

Shen and Vahlen lock gazes for a moment. “A dual pronged approach,” Vahlen says. “My team will work to understand the machines’ effect on human physiology.”

“And mine will work to disable the Pods.”

The Commander nods. “Do what you can to start investigating countermeasures for those already … infected.” She rubs at her temples. “Brief Central, then get to work. Let’s not cause a panic, but we’re working against a clock we can’t track.”

She rises from the table. “Anything else?”

The question is met with shaking heads.

“Good. Dismissed.”

–

She does not think she is hallucinating, but she does not entirely believe what she sees is real, either.

Zombie movies were always something of a joke among her cohort. How could anyone be so bad at responding to a biothreat to let it escalate the way it always seemed to? What idiot allowed that to happen?

ADVENT, apparently.

The hoard, things that might have once been called human but might now only be called humanoid at her most charitable, advances down the alley, blocking Dragunova, Kelly, and Sally’s only exit path.

There is seemingly no end to their numbers, a whole city mutated beyond recognition. With each wave they shoot down, more appear. It feels like a video game with an unmerciful AI; she tries not to focus on the comparison. Her sense of reality is impaired as it is. There’s no reason to exacerbate the problem.

She tries to focus on the positives. Contact with the Reapers went well. Dragunova seems comfortable operating in the ruins. She’s a strong third member of the fireteam and already seems to have a decent rapport with Sally, who in turn, works in uncanny synchronicity with Kelly. For his part, Central has barely touched his flask, a fact she notes with no small amount of surprise.

The creatures continue their approach, unphased by the gunshots thinning their numbers.

“Out!” Kelly calls.

“I’m spent,” Dragunova echoes.

“I got this,” Sally chirps, scrambling on top of an automobile carcass, and onto a nearby fire escape.

“Sally, what are you —“

“Trust me, Commander.”

Gunshots ring out, and the Lost begin to fall in quick succession. Kelly and Dragunova reload and make quick work of the remainder.

She does not believe in ghosts — not really, at least. They are things of myth ad fairy tale, scary stories used to coerce little children in from the dark. The dead are the dead. Their memories roam the halls, yes, but the cause remains the grief of the living.

She believes in an afterlife, though. For her own sake, she has to. She has to believe that there is a chance, however small, that the lost are not gone forever, that reunions are not a pitiful dream.

She believes that, wherever Stephanie Royston is, she would be proud of her daughter.

Central’s grip on the railing is tight, but when she looks, there’s pride in his eyes. “That’s my girl.”

#xcom #fic #every exit an entrance #commander/central

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winterverses · 6 years

Text

Blindsided

I have to stress that this isn’t a part of the story for very specific reasons. It’s a little too emotional, a little too self aware-- but I wrote it because sometimes it’s fun to have that sort of thing explicitly described. So yes, the character feels these things, but wouldn’t necessarily articulate them to himself in this way or at all, so it couldn’t possibly be a part of the story. Too out of character. Also, it’s a first draft, there’s a lot I would change up and fine-tune if I really meant for it to fit in with the rest.

But it’s funny watching him get the rug yanked out from under his feet over and over when we know he looks like he’s got it so together on the outside...

Warning: non-explicit sexual activity, sugar overload.

Maybe fifteen minutes after his shift had been too much time. Kirk looked around the room, wondering if there was anything else he needed to do, or could do, or even just something to pass the time before Anne got there. Hopefully. He glanced at the padd over on the table, didn’t see it lit up with a message, and went over to check anyway. 2310. Five minutes. He hated how five minutes could feel so goddamn long when he wasn’t sure what was going to happen. At least he hadn’t found a message saying she couldn’t come.

Kirk sighed, set the padd down, and kicked off his boots, meaning to go turn his music on. At least that way he’d have something to listen to. Before he’d taken three steps, he immediately turned back around and picked up the boots. No reason to make the place messy. Walking over to the bedroom in his sock feet, he tossed the boots into the corner where he wouldn’t trip over them. There was a coffeecup on the little table in the bedroom. Maybe he should pick that up. Forget it, no point. Kirk sighed in dissatisfaction, then abruptly decided to change. Civilian clothes. Definitely that. Pulling off his uniform, he tossed it in the laundry in the closet so he wouldn’t forget later. He couldn’t let himself think about what he was actually going to wear. That would be ridiculous. He grabbed blindly, just a shirt and some pants, nothing special, and jerked them on. Surely it had been five minutes by now. He left the bedroom, looking over at the padd where he’d left it on the dining table. It was still blank, the screen dark.

He wasn’t going to look. That wouldn’t help anything. Instead, he walked over to the coffee table near the couches and began to flip through music. Nothing seemed right. Well, what the hell was he expecting anyway? It was just dinner. Nothing to make a big deal out of. Just because he’d woken up that morning with her all cuddled up to him, her lips brushing his skin and her breasts softly crushed up against him… dammit. It was just dinner. He wasn’t going to do anything. Anne wasn’t trying to play games with him. She was hurt, and it wouldn’t be right to push, and he didn’t want to push anyway because who wanted that? Who did that? That was dumb as hell.

Abruptly he realized that his hair was probably sticking up everywhere after pulling his shirt off. Fuck, what the hell was his problem tonight? He was acting like he was fifteen again, going out on a date with a girl he really liked for the first time. He thought he’d gotten over that bullshit a long time ago. Heading to the washroom off the living room, he looked himself over in the mirror and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to settle it. All right, so he was nervous. Well, didn’t he have a right to be nervous? This wasn’t… this wasn’t normal, in any sense of the word. He wasn’t sure what this was.

“Fuck off,” he abruptly said to his reflection, and walked from the washroom. He looked fine. Everything was fine. They were just having dinner. Go pick some damn music and shut up. He walked over to the coffee table and began to flip through his music again.

Just then, the door chime rang, startling him. Fuck. “C’mon in,” he said, and his heart was suddenly in his throat for no reason at all.

Of course it was her, looking as calm and composed as ever, still wearing that soft grey dress that clung to her every curve. Whatever it was made of, it looked thick and sort of fuzzy, like it would feel wispy and soft on his fingers. It was a good thing he hadn’t dressed up any-- that would have looked like he was trying too hard. She came just inside the door, her little shoes soundless and daintily placed, and then she paused, looking at him as the door slid shut behind her. There was a faint, unreadable smile on her lips, and her eyes seemed even bigger than ever, that grey making him want to shiver.

Say something. Say anything, dammit. “Hey. I didn’t get the chance to say it at lunch, but you look great,” he said after what seemed like an eternity. He couldn’t help another skim over those long legs and that soft dress over those dangerous curves. She’d done something different with her hair. It wasn’t down, but it wasn’t as tightly pulled back as usual. For some reason that settled him a bit, made him grin. “Really,” he added, his eyes lighting on hers again.

That made that faint little smile widen and she stepped up, giving him as thorough a look as he’d given her. “Same to you,” she said, and then began to walk forward, her limp ruining the perfect placement of her steps without ruining the delicacy of them. A wounded deer. Her hand on his arm chased the thought away. “We’re a gorgeous pair,” she said, and there was just a hint of self-mockery in it. As she placed a little more weight on his arm, he braced her, helping her lower herself down onto the couch. “I hope you don’t mind if I pick a spot and stay there. My leg is being a pain.”

He sat down beside her, a suspicion gnawing at the back of his mind. She seemed so calm and composed, but… “I thought you looked like you were limping more than at lunch. Weren’t you supposed to stay off it?” He just barely caught the flick of her eyes, as if she wanted to look away, and his suspicions deepened. “Anne. What have you been up to?”

She looked steadily at him, her eyes wide and a little surprised. “Nothing,” she said, and she almost had him right there, but her cheeks went just a little pink and he noticed, and she saw him notice, and she knew she’d been caught out. “Just walking,” she said innocently, and he could almost see her hoping he’d leave it alone.

No. There were too many things he didn’t feel he could push her on. This wasn’t one of those. “Oh really? Do you want to try that again?” he asked, trying to keep his amusement under wraps. Damn, she was good. He had a feeling the only reason she’d flubbed it was because it was him she was talking to-- and he wasn’t sure how good a liar he’d be to her either.

She looked away, her eyes frustrated, like she wasn’t used to being caught that way… and just a little vulnerable, not quite as calm as he’d first thought. “I pace when I’m jumpy, okay?”

God, she was nervous. He didn’t want that, didn’t want her feeling like-- like a hunted animal or something. It was just dinner. “If it makes you feel better, we’re still on that last day,” he offered, trying to put her more at ease.

He kicked himself internally when he saw her look guiltily at him and then away again, trying to explain herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think that this morning was a fluke or something, but…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he rushed to say. “I invited you here because you’re good company. I’m already getting what I want out of this.” Well, some of it. No, that wasn’t right-- he wanted whatever she was comfortable with, and if that was just dinner, then that was what he wanted.

That seemed to work better. She relaxed, kicking her shoes off and tucking her feet up under her, leaning against him just a little. “Thank you. You’re a really decent person, Jim,” she said softly, her big grey eyes looking up at him, her trust visible in them. She might as well have said it out loud.

Awkwardly, he grinned, that depth of trust making him nervous in a completely different way, and for reasons he couldn’t define. He wasn’t even really sure what kind of smartass comment he made, but it made him remember her reassignation to a bridge post during red alerts, and realized he should probably say something about that even if it was not at all the direction his mind wanted to head in and get it out of the way because hell, she might not even know she had to check that and he didn’t want her getting caught in a lockdown or something because she thought she was supposed to go to Engineering and just, just… work stuff.

He meant it as a joke when he said he’d yell at her for arming herself. Mostly. Okay, not really. Naturally, she caught that, and there was a quick flick of offense through her eyes, but this wasn’t something he could compromise on. “I’m responsible for you and any crew member you might hurt. Putting you in a firefight situation would be unacceptable on both our parts,” he said after taking a couple different Captain-like stabs at it, waited, saw her skeptical grey gaze stay exactly the same, and then gave up. A little. “And yes, you did help, and I really appreciate that, which is why I didn’t yell at you for it the first time around. But you shouldn’t have had to. The last thing I want, both as Captain and just as me, is for you to get an arm burned off or get vaporized or any number of other things I’ve seen happen.”

Goddamn, what a hardass she was sometimes. She narrowed her eyes at him and for a moment he was worried he’d been blindsided by something he hadn’t known about her, and then he heard her trying not to sound amused and realized she was fucking with him. “I liked you better when you didn’t think you were my boss.”

What a bullshitter. How perfect could you get? He gave her his biggest, most obnoxious grin. “Yeah, but being able to boss you around makes it an objective fact that I’m tougher than that Klingon you tied up.”

Now that time he’d caught her off guard. Her eyes widened and she laughed delightedly, and suddenly everything was easy again and it was just the two of them hanging out like normal. Although the smile she gave him when she rested her head against his arm reminded him of that powerful undertow between them, he couldn’t find it in himself to worry about it anymore.

He wasn’t going to let her get up and go to the table when he suggested dinner, though, that was silly. Usually he ate out in one of the lounges, although having a desk in his suite on this new ship meant he’d probably end up eating there sometimes, when he wanted privacy. He wasn’t even really sure he’d used the dining table at all yet, and what would the point be when she was already sitting down? “Relax,” he said, pushing her shoulder gently so that she wouldn’t try to stand up and follow him again. “I’ll get it.” Her dress was just as fuzzy and soft as it looked, one of those woven things that were made out of real animal fur or hair or wool or whatever, probably. If he asked her, she’d probably be able to tell him which animal and half the history of the fabric. Her mind was a trap for odd bits of knowledge that way.

He’d punched in the order for pho before he’d even thought about it-- as with other body parts, his stomach knew what it wanted. She’d mentioned Vietnam a couple of times, so he was pretty sure she wouldn’t object. But he wanted beer with it, and he wasn’t sure how well any of the stuff in the food synth would go when he remembered a few bottles of a sour beer he’d had brought back to the ship the last time around. He’d almost forgotten he’d had them in storage. Probably should have thought about what they were going to eat, but he already knew Anne wouldn’t be shy about saying so if she wanted something else. She grinned when she saw the chopsticks, and he went to grab the beer, trying not to grin himself.

While they ate, they made meandering conversation, just enjoying each others’ company. When Kirk found himself asking about old breakups, though, a part of him was standing back surprised. Exes weren’t usually a conversation topic for him. Not that it bothered him, exactly, but it just tended to make things really complicated… or was a sign that things were already complicated. This was different, though. It wasn’t so much about relationships, it was just… swapping war stories. And god, her first one was funny. Who even brought their mother in to try to stop a breakup? What kind of thinking led to that?

But then Anne told him her ‘scary’ breakup story and he felt himself get just a little angry. Threatening her enough that she hit the guy with a chair? Normally he wouldn’t have said it, but… he felt like he needed to let her know he was in her corner. “Well, if you ever see him, let me know and I’ll break all his fingers.” He pretended to think for a moment. He knew exactly which incident his ‘scary worst’ was. “Scary. Hmm. Probably the time she turned out to be trying to drug me into staying with her. It’s not like that was going to happen, of course, because I was about to ship out, but I thought for a while I was losing my mind. And the detox was terrible.”

That had been a little more terrible than he liked to let on. For a while he’d been wondering if he’d get out alive. Anne may not have known that, but he saw that she intuited it somehow, because for a moment he found himself wondering exactly what she was capable of. There was a flare of something… protective, yes, but dangerous too; a heat in her eyes and a hardening of her jaw, a fire that wouldn’t burn him but that he wouldn’t want to be careless with, if only for the sake of any bystanders. It was… odd, and a little endearing, to know that she would have tried to protect him. He wasn’t used to it, not from… whatever she was.

“So what you’re saying is that fighting ban is lifted if I see her,” she said, that heat lingering in her eyes, her voice hard and sharp.

He couldn’t help his grin. “Settle down there, tiger. She’s been through rehabilitation.”

The moment passed, and she was merely irritated by the thought of someone hurting him. It was so weird. She just kept surprising him over and over. Every time he thought he had her figured out, something new happened that made him wonder. She was far stronger than he’d thought when he’d first seen her, and in spite of her delicate frame and her limp he’d been noticing for a while that she carried herself like someone who knew exactly where her body was and what it was doing at all times. Her physicality was precise; she always seemed to do exactly what she meant to. That was the result of some sort of training. It had to be.

Still, they passed on to funnier stories in spite of his wondering, and eventually he found himself relating one that had happened while he was serving his term on the Farragut in the Academy. Man, what a mess that had been, at least until he’d gotten to know Commander-- now Captain-- Vergne on a personal level. Before that… “I dunno,” he laughed. “I really just… I mean, she was good looking and funny, so I decided to go home with her, and things were getting pretty heavy even before we got to her bedroom, but…” He had to stop a moment, trying not to laugh.

“What was it?” Anne asked. She’d cuddled up to his side, fitting perfectly there, his arm draped over her shoulders and those misty, deep-set eyes looking up at him.

“Dolls,” he said finally, and watched her dawning comprehension. “Dolls everywhere. And I mean everywhere, there was only a little path to the bed and the whole floor was covered in dolls, the shelves, the dressers, everything. There must have been hundreds of them.”

“Oh my god,” Anne said. “Oh my god, don’t tell me--”

“Yes,” he said, then passed his beer to his other hand so he could take a swig of it. “I mean, of course I did it. Of course. But they were all facing the bed, just staring--”

“Oh my god,” Anne said, horrified, and then burst out laughing. “That’s awful, how could you even go on with all of them staring at you?”

“I just--” he couldn’t help the snicker that burst through his words. “I just tried not to think about it, you know? I was twenty-three and we were already in the middle of things so I just tried to-- tried to--” Laughter overcame his words for a moment. “I just ignored it.”

Suspicion was growing in those grey eyes of hers, although her laughter never really stopped. Through her giggles, Anne said, “No. No, you need to tell me. Something else happened there, Jim. I know it.” Snagging his beer from him, she took a drink.

That was good. That was fine. He was too comfortable the way they were to get her the one on the table. He could share. “I didn’t do anything, I swear,” he said, then waited a beat. “Well, I don’t know if it was me.” Anne’s eyes widened, and she started to pester him, telling him she needed to know and he was heartless not telling her and things like that. He let it go on for a little while, then finally managed to get his laughter under control enough to give her the last bit. “I don’t know who it was, okay? We were in the middle of things, and her foot slipped or mine slipped and a whole bunch of those fucking dolls got knocked over and half of them were mechanical and so there I was, still trying to keep things going with all of them going ‘Mama, mama, I’m hungry, feed me--”

Anne shrieked and buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with her uncontrolled mirth, and Jim had to snag the tipping bottle from her hand so the beer wouldn’t spill. Once the beer was safe he gave himself over to it too, laughing until he could feel tears in his eyes. God that had been a terrible night. He was pretty sure he’d never told anyone about that night, it was too bizarre and ridiculous. God, the look on his face must have been priceless. He’d tried so hard not to let it affect him and just…

When she raised her head, Anne’s eyes were wet too, and he could feel where she’d cried into his shirt. Again. The thought that it was for much better reasons this time satisfied something deep in his center. He wanted to wipe her tears away, but before he could move to do it, she composed herself, made her face look very serious, and asked solemnly, “Did you finish?”

The question set him off again, and that set her off, and it took forever for him to splutter out, “I was twenty-three, what do you think? Of course I did.”

There was no chance of conversation after that. Anne was near-sobbing with laughter, and his face hurt and his stomach hurt and he kept on setting himself off again every time he thought of that chorus of mechanical voices. Eventually the laughter started to ebb away, both of them sending up little spurts of giggles like bubbles from the ocean floor. A very comfortable silence descended over them, and Anne sighed, taking the beer from his hand and lifting her head only to sip it, then resting against him again as she handed it back.

“I’ve got you beat,” he said, pretending smugness. “I don’t think you can top that.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, but there was a playful evasiveness to her tone that he knew promised something more.

”Come on. You can’t beat that,” he taunted.

“Maybe not,” Anne chuckled. He waited expectantly, and as he’d suspected, she eventually added, “Although there was this one guy…” As he listened, she began to fill in the details. She’d been young and not very good at telling people to leave her alone just yet. “He was harmless and I knew that, but he’d trail around after me always trying to get my attention. I was nice to him because… he wasn’t a bad person, he just had a thing for me, and because I was nice he didn’t take me seriously when I said it wasn’t going to happen.”

“That sounds… pretty normal so far.” Kirk didn’t like it, but he’d heard about that sort of thing from his female friends from time to time.

“Yes. It stops being normal right here,” Anne laughed. “So one day I realize that every time I’m saying something to him, he’s waiting for a moment before he answers me, and it’s all this… flowery, ridiculous stuff that I’ve never heard in my life before. ‘Do you want to go get something to eat?’ ‘I would be delighted to dine with you. Your presence is a light in my life that I never want to go out.’ And I’m so confused. I don’t know what could possibly cause this, and I’m getting worried that I have to take him into a clinic to get his head checked when I realize he’s been wearing an earbud all this time.”

“An earbud?” Kirk asked, confused and fascinated.

“Yeah. And as we’re eating, I get up to use the restroom and see one of his friends in the restaurant. He didn’t even come over to say hi. He’s alone. And he’s trying to hide something in his hand.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Kirk said, starting to put it together. “What… Why would… He was feeding him lines?”

“Yes,” Anne laughed. “When I came back from the restroom I went around behind him so that he wouldn’t see me, and I saw him muttering into whatever was in his hand.”

“What the hell, why didn’t you stop him?” Kirk asked. How could anyone do that? Why would-- what would cause that to seem rational?

“It was embarrassing,” Anne said, and shrugged. “I thought I’d just get my food packed up and leave. But when I got back to the table… god, it was awful.” She started to laugh again. “He said he had something really serious to tell me. God, I just wanted to leave so badly, but he was so earnest and I kept feeling like he would be really hurt, and I wanted to be nice because he wasn’t-- he wasn’t mean or anything, he wasn’t a bad guy--”

“I don’t know about that, if he kept after you that long,” Jim said, frowning, laughing. “I mean, this sounds like weeks, that’s crazy--”

“Oh, hush, I’m telling a story here,” Anne said, smacking his chest, and he hugged her a bit closer and shut up so she could talk. “So I sit down, and I’m looking around for the waiter and trying not to let him know it, and he just starts off in the middle of this crowded restaurant… ‘Your eyes sparkle like limpid pools, and love shines from them, wasted on fools--”

Hilarious. Completely hilarious. Jim couldn’t help his disbelieving, startled laughter. “Poetry? Fucking poetry?”

“Yes, it was awful, I was horrified,” Anne said, cracking up the entire time. “And it was so fucking long, he just kept going and going and I was sitting there with this totally stunned look on my face, I just know it, just staring at him while he keeps talking… ‘The breath of life comes from your matchless gaze, and I would love you in so many ways…’”

“What-- what does that mean?” Kirk sputtered through his hilarity.

Anne buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. “I don’t know, why are you asking me? ‘The light of heaven will light your path, and in my heart your love will bath--”

“Oh no, god, that’s terrible,” Kirk groaned. “How do you remember all this? Are you just making this up, are you trying to recreate this or do you really--”

“How could I possibly forget this? It’s seared into my memory, I will never be able to erase it!”

“Why didn’t you just leave?” Kirk asked, shaking his head.

“I did,” Anne giggled. “Eventually. There was one line so awful that I couldn’t stand it anymore.” Kirk waited patiently while she tried to stem her humor. “‘My pillow exists without a doubt for hair as brown as river trout--’ And I left. I just got up and left. I couldn’t take it.”

“He really said your hair was as brown as a river trout? What’s that even supposed to mean?” Kirk groaned, lifting his arm from around her shoulders to take another sip of beer. This was physically painful. He wasn’t even someone who knew about poetry and all that, but this was awful.

“Have you ever seen a river trout? They’re green,” Anne said, setting herself off into giggles again. “Green with spots.”

Trying to make this into rational sense, Kirk said, “Maybe they just had really terrible rivers where he came from. Maybe his trout all turned brown from pollution or something.”

“Oh, great. Thanks for that, now I’m thinking he had in mind fish with three eyes and vestigial wings or something, that’s just great. ‘Your hair is the brown of the terribly deformed fish I caught in the toxic waste pool outside my house, your eyes are the grey of the ashes that blow around when the pet crematorium is running, please fuck me or I’ll get my friend to think of nasty things for me to call you.’”

Her droll sarcasm set him off again, leaving them clinging together while the hilarity swept over them, and his face hurt from laughing and his eyes were wet, and it was all just so damn ridiculous that he could barely breathe. All these stupid, stupid stories were killing him. Again, it had to die down naturally, and it took forever. Once it had, he swapped his beer to the arm around her and wiped his eyes, still half-snickering. “Goddamn. That guy had some pretty severe issues with his approach.”

Anne pressed her cheek against his chest and sighed comfortably. “Maybe I should change my hair back.”

What? Why? No way. But, well, it was her choice, of course. “If you want. I think the silver looks good, but if you don’t, change it.”

That made her go still for some odd reason, just for a quick moment, and then she looked blandly up at him, curious. “You don’t think it makes me look like I’ve been sick?”

God no. No way. A tendril of hair had escaped the bun or whatever that she had it in, and Jim lifted his free hand to touch it. That morning she’d leaned over him, her hair dancing on his skin, and he’d wanted to kiss her so badly that he didn’t even care that Doctor Hayes was watching. The only thing that had stopped him was that he hadn’t known for sure if she’d be okay with it. “I like it. It looks… classy.”

Her eyebrows rose slightly, as if she hadn’t expected that, and she looked away, grabbing the beer from his hand to drink before she spoke. He recognized that. That was a stalling tactic, giving her time to think. “I guess it can stay this way for a while. It’s not like I have to look at it.” She held the beer up for him to take.

He did, but he didn’t care about the beer just then. It might as well have been on another planet. “Look up at me for a sec?” She hesitated, but she did it, her eyes wide and her expression carefully neutral. Still… “They match,” Jim said, looking from her eyes to her hair and back again. They did match, and they made her look like something not quite real, like a person who had stepped out of a dream, not quite tangible even though he was touching her. “You keep it pinned back all the time, though. Can I take it down?” He wanted to see it flowing over her shoulders again. It was longer than he’d thought it would be, and when it had been down it made her feel more reachable somehow.

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked her if he could do it. Maybe he should have asked if she would do it. But… it had felt right. And he wanted to feel that cool, silky, slippery heaviness in his hands.

She was still, so still that he started to worry that he’d fucked it up, but then her lips curved just a little, and she said, “If you want.”

God, he didn’t want to think about what he wanted right then. If he thought about everything he wanted, he’d just get mad at himself. Still… taking her hair down was more than he’d really expected anyway. Might as well take the shot. He didn’t even think of it, didn’t hesitate-- there was no way he was going to take his arm off her shoulders, so, left-handed, he reached up to that complicated bun and began to feel for the pins there. There weren’t as many as he’d thought there should be. His fingers skimmed through her hair, feeling for them, and he watched her face carefully as he pulled the pins out. Any flash of hesitance, any alarm, and he’d have stopped immediately-- but there was none. Her eyelids lowered slightly, her pupils dilating. He was gentle, and when the mass came tumbling down over his hand, he paused, letting it sink in that he’d done it. Heavy, feathery, silky.

He’d had a friend that had usually kept her hair up, and when she’d taken it down she’d loved to have him massage her scalp. Something about the tension on the hair being different if it was up. He slowly trailed his fingers up the back of Anne’s neck, watching carefully for any sign that she was worried, and began to rub.

Maybe it was that he’d done it slowly. Maybe she just needed to acclimate. Her eyes slid closed, and she made this soft little noise that made Jim glad she wasn’t looking. He let the pressure increase until it seemed right, and watched her expression melt into something that was as close to unguarded as she probably ever got.

He kept the massage up until he couldn’t stand it anymore-- half of him, the half that always seemed to be pointing out ways to fuck up under pressure, was sounding the damn red alert. The other half... he wanted those pale pink lips against his and he didn’t dare think any further than that. When his hand stopped moving and slid out of her hair, she opened her eyes, her relaxation being replaced by… something else. He didn’t want to try to define it in case he was wrong. But… it wasn’t fear. Definitely not that.

Might as well make it clear. He wasn’t going to push anything, he’d just… leave it on offer. His fingers slipped to her jaw, coaxing her chin up a little higher, and he saw her lips part faintly. It wasn’t enough that he would have noticed if he wasn’t specifically looking for it, trying to gauge her reaction, ready to drop everything the moment he saw anything that made those alarms in his head get louder. He couldn’t even tell if this really was taking forever or if it was just that his mind was racing, trying to figure out exactly what was going on and what to do about it.

He’d been about to move away or speak or something when she just leaned in, letting her lips brush against his. And it wasn’t like it had been the first time, where it had been confused and desperate and needy on her part, and surprised and too demanding on his. It was something like all the mist and butterfly wings and feathers he kept thinking of when he tried to define to himself what she was, all those delicate things that hit like a goddamn sledgehammer in spite of their fragility. And finally, finally, as as their lips caught more firmly and the space between breaths grew longer and longer, she started to feel tangible and real.

Naturally, just as he was starting to relax into it and those alarms were starting to fade, she tensed. Immediately he backed off, wondering if it was in her head or if it was something he’d done and how to avoid it, and god she wasn’t even looking at him, and she said, “You remember I’m scarred, right? I just… I don’t want you to be surprised.”

...was that-- well, not all, but... he knew, of course he knew she’d been injured, who gave a shit about scars anyway? And then he realized why he’d been so thrown by it, and laughed quietly at the two of them. “Getting a bit ahead of things, aren’t you? Here I was worried I was moving too fast.”

One of these days he’d stop feeling like he was a step behind and trying to catch up. Not today. As he took the beer from his other hand and set it on the table, he felt her tension fleeing again and when he looked she caught him in a sweet, soft kiss. “No. Not at all.”

Jim couldn’t help laughing at himself over that one. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted anything as badly as he wanted her in his bed, unless it was the Enterprise. What a goddamn awful comparison. He felt like he should feel like a bad person for it or something, and couldn’t. “Good. Because if it was left up to me, we’d already be in the bedroom.”

And all over again he was suddenly caught on the back foot when her fingernails dug in and she said softly, “Why not?” Before he could even try to figure out how bad an idea that was, she was leaping ahead of him again, leaving him scrambling to catch up. “No promises. But we might as well relax while we enjoy ourselves.”

The immediate schism in his desires was something he clamped down on before even really feeling it. It wasn’t his choice. It was her choice. But what if her choice got her in trouble?

Who the hell was he to tell her what she should be choosing? Goddamn, she was a grown adult and if he said no because of what he thought was best for her he’d be ensuring a rebound of that offense he’d seen when he told her he didn’t want her playing with the phasers anymore. And when he wanted her so badly that he could feel his pulse hammering against his chest, he knew she’d know it wasn’t because of what he wanted. He’d have to be rock fucking stupid to try to sneak that past her.

But on the other hand, he didn’t want her to feel like she had to do anything just because she’d felt safe enough to risk a bit more with him. “As long as you promise me that you’ll let me know if you have even the slightest doubt about anything we do,” he said, watching her make that split-second calculation in her head as to whether that was acceptable and if she thought she could live up to it. She nodded… and he could see that she meant it, so he relaxed. “All right. It’s not like I haven’t been thinking about what I'd do if you were there with me.“ Naturally, his big fat mouth chose then to bolt away from him. “A lot.”

The sudden snap of her fist in his shirt and the way her mouth clashed with his made his skin prickle up hard enough that he had to remember not to just drag her into his lap and start pulling her dress off then and there. That purr in her voice that made him have to remind himself again immediately, the look she flashed him when she pulled away, the one that had him on his feet and following her before he’d even remembered that he should have been embarrassed or apologized or something because that was really rude if you weren’t already sleeping with someone, wasn’t it? Or at least talking about it was. Maybe he was just too used to shipboard life; the rules were a little different than they were for civilians.

Once he’d doused the lights a bit, he was just turning to her when he saw her falter; even as he instinctively reached out, pulling her against him so she wouldn’t fall, he could feel her reacting as smoothly as if she’d been trained, balancing easily on one foot as if she was used to accounting for sudden changes like that. The grin she gave him as she backed onto the bed was just wicked, and so was her voice when she said, “Come here,” rough and sounding like twisted sheets were only the beginning, even if he knew better. That soft grey thing she was wearing rucked up to the point where he probably only had to take a step to the side to see what was underneath it, her legs bare and elegantly sprawled beneath her and one of her hands reaching up, beckoning him down.

But there was no way. No way. If he let himself get carried away, he’d be kicking himself forever over it. Instead of chasing her the way he wanted to, he lay down on the bed beside her and grinned, raising his eyebrows. “Close enough?”

The look she gave him was half lust and half something shy that wouldn’t quite fit itself into anything he knew. He knew it wasn’t a bad thing. He knew that. In spite of that knowledge, he found himself holding his breath as she moved over him, that gorgeous silver hair of hers pooling near his cheek as she leaned down to say against his lips, “Not yet.”

It was only when he actually saw the scars that it hit home just how bad all that had been, and how much of herself she was risking here. On those anonymous medical holos in court, he’d seen the one that was basically just a mess of wounds, something his mind had refused to parse into an actual representation of a body, much less hers. In person… it hurt to see, to think of, and somehow it hurt even worse that they’d made sure it was decorative, as if she was a thing to be changed or used according to someone else’s whim. The crashing realization cooled his mind, bringing him back from the instinctual enjoyment he’d been subsumed in… and that was sort of good, really, because he couldn’t forget, couldn’t afford to let himself forget, that this wasn’t anything like normal.

For whatever reasons, she’d chosen to keep those scars. And, well, he had scars of his own, although not the same kind. He wasn’t about to disrespect that choice. If she was letting herself be that vulnerable, he would show her that she wasn’t wrong to want that and she hadn’t made a mistake. And he definitely wasn’t about to let her spare him having to see it, as if he would be hurt or put off by the evidence of something she’d lived through. This was… this was just her, now. And what he wanted was her. Now. Not someone else, not someone he’d mistaken for her. Just Anne.

As long as she was willing to try, he wasn’t about to call things off. And… it wasn’t like that fear he could feel tensing her body and making her heart race was directed at him. He’d laid her down on her back, carefully, making sure she knew she could get away any second, and run his lips along her skin, watching her, feeling for her reactions with every scrap of sensitivity he had. Some part of him was upset-- it was unfair, so unfair that she was still frightened even though whoever had done this would never touch her again-- but that was beside the point, really. The point was that if she thought she couldn’t do this, she would have said so. If she hadn’t wanted him, she wouldn’t have been there, her slim fingers tracing his cheekbones, his ears, restlessly moving through his hair while those grey eyes of hers slowly, slowly began to fog over with enjoyment.

On some level, teasing away her fear and watching her relearn that this was supposed to be fun was a more powerful experience than he thought it might be entirely safe to have.

The rest of him was quite convinced that the future could take care of itself-- she was here, now, and she was enjoying herself, and that was all that mattered.

And then...

Well. He didn’t get carried away, she didn’t get scared off, and at the earliest point he could think of that one of them might suggest splitting up for the night, he’d suggested a shower instead. Why fuck around? Metaphorically speaking, anyway. Pretending that they weren’t intimate enough to cross the boundary between sex and everyday stuff was stupid. They’d crossed that line long ago, when it had become habit to have dinner together. Privacy aboard ship was sort of a commodity, especially for someone who had as many demands on his time as he did, but he couldn’t think of anything that would cap that night off any better than falling asleep with her. It just felt so natural that it hardly even registered as something Jim wouldn’t have done, although he wouldn’t have. Not with one of his crew. Not with someone who had to trust him with their life later on… or trust that he’d spend their life well if he had to.

As the world began to grow increasingly fuzzy with sleep, her fine-boned body in his arms and her silver head nestled under his chin, he wondered if this was, one way or another, a product of his dangerous tastes, and then decided it didn’t matter. The future could take care of itself. For now, they were both where they wanted to be.

#James T. Kirk/OC #Jim Kirk/OC #Star Trek #Star Trek Fanfiction #fanfic #dark romance #ST:WW #Star Trek: Walking Wounded #hoep u like giftie

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trade-baby-blues · 7 years

Text

Soft

Pairing: Bones x Reader

Word Count: 2724

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST (self-image issues, insecurity, self-loathing), brief description of injury, swearing

A/N: I’ve been feeling not so hot for the past few days so I thought writing about it would help things out. This fic is intensely personal to me, so I hope you guys enjoy it.

More than anything you were glad your quarters didn't have a mirror outside the bathroom. You weren't sure you could handle looking at yourself right now, especially not in the skin-tight uniform top and the short skirt that came with it. You’d convinced Scotty a long time ago to let you wear coveralls instead, but the Captain had called you up to the bridge for briefing on an away mission, and you hadn't been able to convince him to let you keep the coveralls on. Normally, you’d just pop on a pair of tights underneath and call it a day, but your last pair had torn where your thighs rubbed together and you hadn't gotten around to fixing them yet.

That's how you ended up in the turbo lift smoothing out the front of your red uniform skirt, hoping the knee-length black cardigan would be enough to cover your rear where the skirt rode up when you bent over. You pushed the sleeves up to the elbows, as much of your arms as you were comfortable showing off, and tied your hair up behind your head, eyes trained straight on the floor so you wouldn't see yourself in the elevator doors.

“You can do this,” you muttered to yourself. “You can do this, because you're strong and you're good at your job and all that matters is fixing that shuttle.” You took a deep breath before the lift doors opened and you walked into the conference room.

You felt your ears burn as all eyes turned to you. A natural human reaction to noise, you reminded yourself, smiling weakly at the captain and a dark haired man beside him. He stared at you as you sat down, and you felt yourself flush more, quickly burying your face in the notes in front of you.

“Bones, this is Y/N,” Jim said with a smile, “best damn engineer on the ship. Don't tell Scotty I said that.” He directed the last part at you.

“Trust me, Captain, he already knows,” you said. Jim smiled at you and Bones chuckled.

“We get about three engineers a day but don't remember ever seeing you in Medbay,” he said.

You shrugged, trying not to stare too deeply at those beautiful eyes and messy hair. God, you wanted to run your fingers through it. “Guess I don't get hurt a lot,” you said, ignoring the panic you felt creeping up at the mention of medbay.

“My kinda gal,” Bones said with a smile. If only, you thought bitterly.

You didn't have long to wallow before Captain Kirk called the meeting to order. It was going to be a brief mission - fix the shuttle, fix the crew, and get the hell outta dodge. You would go in first to determine if the shuttle was stable and then patch up the crew. From there, Bones and his head nurse would work on patching things up while Jim talked to the conscious crew members to see what happened.

You tried not to get too excited about spending more time with Dr. McCoy, or Leonard, as he’d insisted you call him. It was easier to call him Doctor, though. Helped you forget about those soft brown eyes.

“You get your physical yet” Captain Kirk said, walking up beside you at the turbolift, making you jump.

You looked at him from the corner of your eye. “Did you?”

“No, but I’m the captain. Run by Bones before lift off. He’ll be happy to check you out,” Jim said with a wink.

Unlikely, you thought to yourself. You told Jim you would, knowing it was a lie. Instead, you ran back to engineering to prep your toolkit. You bolted back to the shuttle, slightly out of breath and very conscious of it. Your heart sank a little when you saw the only seat open was next to Bones, worried he’d wonder why you were so out of breath.

Still, you put on your best smile and set your kit away, squeezing into the seat next him. Your knees bumped and he pulled it back towards him as you mumbled an apology, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing yourself to breathe. To focus on anything other than the armrests digging into your hips.

When the shuttle took off, Leonard’s hand slapped down over your own, holding it in a vice grip. Your eyes shot open and you looked at him, immediately noting the panic on his face. He was staring dead ahead, not even blinking.

“Hey,” you whispered, slotting your fingers between his, “it's gonna be okay, Bones. There's not a thing that can go wrong on this ship that I can't fix. Promise.” You smiled gently at him, rubbing your thumb in circles over his hand. He looked at you desperately, but you thought you saw his shoulders loosen a little. He didn't respond, though, simply nodded and closed his eyes, leaning back into the seat. “Would it help if I walked you through how I’d fix it?”

Bones nodded again, and you squeezed his hand reassuringly before launching into a long-winded discussion of every problem that could crop up and exactly what tools and techniques you’d use to keep everyone in the air. By the time the shuttle landed, Bones was staring at you with rapt attention, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched your eyes light up. You'd forgotten all about the armrests.

It was quite a hike to the shuttle, and you were trying to keep your breathing under control, which inevitably just made it worse. It's just breathing, you said to yourself. You need to breathe to live, so get over it. Even Leonard’s huffing a little! You glanced sideways at him, and sure enough, he was looking winded. He wiped sweat from his forehead and you felt a little better.

“How much farther is this damn ship, Jim,” he called ahead. “And remind me why we couldn't just get transported straight to the crash site.”

“It's right over this hill,” Jim called back, all smiles and not a drop of sweat in sight. “We could've transported, but we don't know if there are hostiles. Safer to hike up. Besides, look at all the cool scenery.”

“Hostiles,” you said, not able to keep the worry out of your voice. You knew full well you wouldn't be able to run from them.

“Don't worry, Y/N,” Bones said, “Jim’ll keep us safe. If he ever gets his damn head out of those flowers.”

Fixing the patients was a breeze. Unfortunately, fixing the shuttle was a little harder. One of the engines was fried and had to be completely re-wired. You got a few nasty shocks in the process, but did your best to work through them.

“What the hell’s taking so long,” you heard one of the crew say from outside the ship.

You heard a snort, another man. “Have you seen her,” he said. “Probably had to take a couple snack breaks.”

It was like someone had replaced your blood with ice. You felt your throat close up and tears blurred your vision. You blinked them away quickly, putting your headphones in to block out the rest of what they were saying. If you’d waited another two minutes, you might've heard Leonard jump to your defense, but all you heard was the beautiful synthesized sounds of classical 1980s pop music.

When you were finished patching the ship, you threw your tools haphazardly back into the toolbox. You were careful to shove between the two men, standing up as proud as you could. “All done,” you scowled.

“About damn time,” one of the men muttered. You should've let it go. You know you should've, but that didn't stop you from whirling around on him.

“Well it wouldn't have taken so long if some dumbass hadn't crossed your engine lines with your oxygen lines. Clearly, your engineer isn't even capable of stripping a goddamn wire so you're lucky I’m good at my job or you entire ship would've blown up on takeoff and none of you would be alive to make smartass comments.”

You spun on your heel and stormed off towards the your own shuttle. You felt everyone’s eyes on you, and your ears burned as tears worked their way back to your eyes. You wiped them on your sleeve, cursing at yourself quietly. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You heard Leonard calling after you, but you kept walking until a branch snapped in front of you.

Your eyes shot up, catching sight of the phaser before the creature behind it. You dropped your toolkit, and raised your arms as Jim came running up behind you.

“Stay where you are, Bones,” he called back. “I got her.” He raised his hands too, taking a step toward the alien and moving his body to shield you. “Let's just talk about his,” he said softly. You saw the alien’s finger twitch before Jim and did the only thing you could think of: you threw yourself onto Jim.

The phaser blast stung your side before you came crashing down on the ground. Jim immediately rolled you onto your back before firing at the alien, sending them running. “Bones,” he screamed, pressing a hand against your side.

You felt a wave of nausea hit you. You tried to push his hand away. “Don't.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?!” You could hear the panic in Jim’s voice, so you knew the hit must've been bad. “Bones get your ass up here now!”

You heard Bones curse before he dropped to his knees beside you. He pushed two hands over Jim’s, pressing firmly against your stomach as Jim pulled his hands off. “Two to beam up straight to Medbay.”

Your heart rate picked up again. “No, please. I’m fine,” you said, trying to push yourself up. Pain flared in your side and you saw white.

“Try that again and I’m sedating you,” Leonard scolded.

Jim was kneeling beside you again, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “We’ve got you, Y/N. Don't worry, we’ve got you.” You felt the warmth of the transporter as gold light enveloped you, but you blacked out before you reached Medbay.

It was the snoring that woke you up, not the pain. You cracked your eyes open, only to find Leonard slouched over in a chair sound asleep. You felt a pang of guilt when you realized he’d probably been here all night watching over you.

You pushed yourself gently into your elbows, careful not to twist your sides too much. In a moment of horror, you realized you were wearing a hospital gown, which meant someone had undressed you.

Not someone. Leonard. Leonard has seen you naked. The bio bed began to beep furiously as your heart sped up. You tried to calm yourself down, but it only seemed to work you up more until the bed started screeching. Leonard jumped up from the chair, blinking bleary-eyed as he remembered where he was before jumping into action. You were too exhausted to bite back the tears any longer, so you flopped back onto the bed, covering your face in your hands.

Leonard’s gaze immediately softened. “Hey, hey, what is it, sweetheart,” he said as he came to stand beside your bed. “Is it the pain? I can give you something.” He carefully waved a tricorder over your wound.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. “How's Jim?”

The tricorder stopped abruptly, and you peeked through your fingers at Bones, who was staring at you looking absolutely pissed. “Are you kidding me?”

“I fell on him,” you mumbled.

“You got shot, Y/N.” His raised voice echoed in the room.

“Yeah, but I fell on him, and in case you haven't noticed I’m no underwear model” you said, waving an arm over your body. Your cheeks heated up again, and you avoided Leonard’s gaze.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place for Bones. He placed the tricorder gently on the nightstand as he pulled up a chair, resting his elbows on his legs. He ran a hand down his face, letting it fall between his knees. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding your physicals?” His voice was soft, not judging but still curious. You didn't answer. “Y/N. Look at me.” Your gaze remained fixed on your hands as you played with the bed sheet that covered you.

Leonard sighed again and stood, reaching up to cup your face. He forced your head up gently until you were looking him in the eyes. Your chest tightened again as he stared down at you. His thumb caressed your cheek.

“Jim’s fine, Y/N, other than being worried out of his mind about you. Now tell me, is this really why you won't come to your physicals? You're worried about your weight?”

You closed your eyes, not able to take Leonard’s stare anymore. He looked hurt, almost. Just your imagination, a voice said in the back of your mind. “Come on, Bones, you're a doctor. Can you honestly say this is healthy?”

“Does it affect you doing your job?” You shook your head slowly. “Then it's fine in my book. Hell, you've got a steadier heart rate that half this damn ship and your blood pressure is lower than mine. You're not unhealthy, Y/N.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. A tear slipped passed your eyelids and you swatted it away before Bones could. “You might be the only doc in the universe that thinks so.”

Leonard sighed again, dropping himself back into the chair. “I’m guessing that's why you're so hesitant to come to Medbay then. One too many bad experiences?” You nodded. “Look, sugar, any doctor worth their salt would be able to look past your weight at the real problems. Sounds to me like you just haven't been in the right hands. That being said, if your weight is something you're concerned about, we can work on it together.”

You laughed at that, remembering all the diet plans your old doctors suggested, the physical trainers you’d hired, all with the same disgust in their eyes, all ending in failure. Failure, failure. You wanted to trust Leonard, you did. “It’s not your problem, Bones,” you whispered back.

“I want it to be.” Leonard took your hand in his. “I want all your problems to be mine.”

You pulled your hand away. “No you don't. I’ve got too many to count. You deserve someone more put together, someone better.”

“Darlin’, my heart damn near stopped when you walked in that conference room. I swear you look like an angel. No one else could come close.”

Your eyes shot to Leonard, looking for some tell that he was lying. He had to be. It had to be some trick that Jim put him up to. Except you knew Jim, and you knew he was too kind-hearted for something like this. If there was anything you’d learned from all the times Jim rattled on about Bones, it was that he had a heart of gold under that blue shirt.

Leonard must’ve sensed your distress because he squeezed gently on your hand. “I promise it's the truth, Y/N. You're the most beautiful gal I’ve ever seen.”

“Can't be,” you croaked out, tears threatening to suffocate you.

“You are, and I’d be more than happy to remind you every day from now on.”

With that, he stood, leaning over to kiss your forehead. He leaned his head gently against yours. “So damn beautiful,” he whispered. You couldn't help the sob that escaped, but he grabbed your hand before you could hide your face again. Instead, he brushed the tears off your cheek with his thumb, kissing both of your closed eyes, then your cheeks. His hand ran from your cheek down your sides, resting on your hip. It felt like it would burn a hole through the sheets. “So soft,” he murmured before pressing his lips against yours.

From that moment on, you and Bones were inseparable. Maybe you’d never looked like a model, but Leonard sure as hell made you feel like one, taking every chance he could to remind you how much he liked each and every one of your soft curves.

Tags: @outside-the-government @martinawalker @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @yourtropegirl @trekken81 @feelmyroarrrr @yukki-art @daybreak96 @8bit-arc-reactor @jimtkirkisabitch

#the eyebrow thing!!!!#how does he do that!!!!#star trek imagine #bones x reader #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy imagine #bones imagine

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pendragonfics · 7 years

Text

The Grumpy Man in Blue

Paring: Leonard McCoy/Reader

Tags: female reader, reader is a doctor, psychologists, fluff and angst, medicine, outer space, divorce, tenderness.

Summary: Reader is aboard the USS Enterprise, and works with Dr. McCoy. Or, known to as his staff as the grumpy guy, which everyone tries to take advantage of, and try and make him not be his sarcastic self for a while. Or, at least until a special guy from HQ comes down to give Reader a heads up on her boss...

Notes: You have no idea how much I love Bones. He's my favourite in Star Trek for the simple reason that he's so sarcastic and I love metaphors. If I ever met Bones, he'd be first, much, much taller than me, and more importantly, much better than me because I would be nearly useless out in space on the Enterprise. Unless they want a creative writer?? Or even an assistant? That's basically my use in life.

I actually pre-wrote this when I was getting my wisdom teeth out (all four out in the dentist's chair).

Word Count: 2,040

Posting Date: 2016-09-18

Current Date: 2017-05-23

"Nurse ________ ... look me in the eye and tell me that you love your job."

You raise your head, and gaze into the brown eyes which stare you down. "Dr. McCoy, I love my job."

---

On the USS Enterprise, there was little to do but duties. It was five years; longer than you had studied your degree in psychology and in Starfleet. It would make anyone restless, homesick for a planet which had all of your family and friends aboard. Not that this spaceship was uncomfortable. No, no, it had some of the greatest people ever to graduate and be named heroes by Starfleet. Captain Kirk. Mr. Spock. Mr. Sulu, Mr. Scott...Dr. McCoy.

He was a grumpy, terribly stubborn man, whose grim frown could darken a doorway further than three feet away from where he stood. He had done many great things for the medical field, yes, but there was something that a trained psychologist-slash-nurse could pick up from him which he didn't want touched. It almost irritated you, but...you never let it get to you. You were a professional. And despite what people thought of medical staff, you got your job done.

At first, you noticed his grumpy nature firsthand. Your fellow nurses and doctors had been around him for only a mere four minutes when the first batch of sarcasm struck, and before you knew it, most of the people in your division made a pool to debate if there could be one person to remove his usual frown for the longest amount of time. There was no time limit, but it felt strange being around people who went out of their way to make the grumpy grump of a CMO scowling, and ultimately, making life hell for people in his warpath.

But no matter how many nurses trying to butter him up with dates and nights off spent with choice alcohol, you could read him like a book, and though it was written in another language, you could see something wrong.

On certain days, he would forget to shave. His uniform and hair would be unkempt, frown lines deeper. His voice harsher. Hands unsteady. But no matter what mood he would be in, his attention to practising medicine would not waver.

"It's useless," Simon, a technician, sighed, head held in his hands. "The longest he's gone without being a Grinch has been fifteen minutes."

Anders nodded, flicking potato across the tables to hit a red shirt. "Tell me. That was Martinez after he told a him a really boring story, at the end of the shift," the nurse rolled her eyes, pouting. "You put the damn man to sleep, not made him less grumpy."

Martinez shrugged, his shirt swimming more so than usual on his small frame, "It's not my fault he frowns in his sleep - but at least he didn't yell at anyone!"

A shadow darkens the table you are all seated at in the cafeteria, and accompanied by a throat clearing, you glance up to see firsthand, the face of the captain himself, Jim Kirk smirk, "You're not talking about who I think you're talking about, are you?" he grins.

Simon scrambles to his feet, smacking his knees as he rises to salute. "Captain! We - no! We weren't gossiping!"

Anders shakes her head, and scoots closer to you to make room for the captain. "We totally were talking about Dr. McCoy. It's lunch, man, and he's not here. Care to join the loser table?" she offers like she speaks to the man in charge like she often converses with people up on the main bridge of the ship on the regular.

"You know what? I'd love to." Jim grins, lowering himself into the bench. Opposite, Simon is beacon of red, a human embodiment of a blush, and Martinez is silent. "So, what's the hot talk down in the Medbay? You know, besides my good friend Bones."

"I've been working with engineering to create an early warning device to be set up at entrances and exits to warn of foreign bacteria contracted while on an unexplored planet," Martinez blurts out.

Kirk raises a brow. "That's so cool! Good job, man!"

You push your plate away from you. "What brought you here, Captain?" you ask, leaning forward to see through Anders' tall hair. "You're not one to traipse into the cafeteria often, and I sense an ulterior motive here."

Kirk raises his eyebrows.

"Don't mind her," Anders pushes you back, giving a big toothy smile, "She's the leading psychologist on board."

Captain Kirk grins. "You read me like a book, Miss..."

You hold your hand out across Anders' front for him to shake. "Nurse ________, pleasure to meet you Captain," you greet, and add, "Although I'm a doctorate in psychology, but nurse in medicine."

Martinez rolls his eyes. "Why don't you just call yourself Dr. ________?" he blurts.

The captain nods. "Why not?"

Anders slides down the bench as so to sit on the floor below the table, and ignoring her dramatics, you brush hair from your face. "If I was just a psychologist on Earth, sure, but here...I'm not here to analyse the mind primarily. I don't want to be confused as overqualified in an emergency, plus, it's embarrassing to have a PhD at twenty." you admit.

Simon nods. "Tell me about it..."

---

After lunch is over, you feel a hand on your elbow, and glance up to see the honey-mustard yellow shirt that stood out over the lunch table like a sore thumb. It's the captain, and in his eyes is a look you're used to hearing over and over again from your superior officer Dr. McCoy.

"I need to ask you a favour," his voice is low, eyes searching for eavesdroppers not inherently dropping eaves at that moment nearby, "I need you to keep an eye on Dr. McCoy this week. It's ... I know it's none of my business, or yours ... but he needs someone near him he can rely on, and it's -,"

Your face pales. "Are you asking me to interfere with his behaviour if my superior officer becomes grumpy?" The words sound as incredulous and silly as they did inside your head spoken aloud.

Captain Kirk shakes his head, and biting his lip, nods. "Just ... you're a psychologist. You've been around him for a year now ... please, you have to trust me on this." He pleads.

You close your eyes. "You have no idea what trouble I can get into for spying on my boss," you gush, but before the yellow-clad man before you can speak more words to convince you, you add, "But I'll do it. Because whatever he's going through, I can help more than anyone else aboard this ship."

Jim Kirk goes to interrupt, but a woman calls his name out. She's wearing red, and looks in a hurry. "Thank you so much, Nurse ______, you have no idea what good you're going to do."

At this, you notice the clock above the doorway, and rush back to where you're supposed to be on duty a minute and a half ago. But as you appear, the usual frowning face of Dr. McCoy doesn't scold you for your tardy timing. He just nods.

The same thing happens for the rest of the week - it's almost as if he's out of it. Yet, his attention to the patients, as always, doesn't waver.

Come Friday, you enter the Medbay bright and early for your ten hour shift. You expect to see the usual red shirt in for a splinter or missing limb, and not what meets your eyes.

He sits on the end of a sickbed, blue shirt stark in the brightly lit barren sickbay surrounding him. Hands clutching his head, lowered, you can't help but remember the promise you made the captain of the ship. From your training as a psychologist, and as a real, live human being, you feel your feet creep up to where he is bent like a man caught up in thoughts and age and circumstance, slowly and surely.

"Dr. McCoy? Are you alright?" you wonder.

He jolts, and in his action, something tumbles from his hand. It makes a small clatter upon the white floors, shining bright like a star caught in a spotlight not a step away from your feet. Slowly, you bend, and pick up what Dr. McCoy dropped.

He clears his throat, "I'm fine, Nurse _______." His eyes are rimmed with red, and stare at you. "May I -,"

You nod, and place the gold band back into the creased palm of the doctor. "Why haven't you said anything?" you whisper, eyes searching his light brown eyes for answers you weren't going to find there.

"Nurse ________ ... look me in the eye and tell me that you love your job."

You raise your head, and gaze into the brown eyes which stare you down. "Dr. McCoy, I love my job."

He nods, his fingers slowly hiding the wedding ring once more. "I love my job," he repeats, not meeting your eyes. "If I'm to remain the CMO of the USS Enterprise, I need to place my past and personal problems on the back burner, no matter the toll on my mental state or whatever," his voice is grating, and Dr. McCoy adds, "Besides, if I'm to be out, you're in."

Your eyes widen. "Dr., that's no way to speak..."

"I mean, if I'm out of order from personal neglect, you're promoted to CMO for the time I am away," he corrects himself. "I'm confident that you can step up to take charge of all the medical officers here to best standard. Better standard than me."

You take a breath, "Sir, please know I'm very grateful to hear that, but ... as a psychologist, and someone who is close to you often, this is no way to treat yourself. I've noticed all week that you've been not yourself. I can only assume this is an unresolved issue that's causing you grief." you place a hand on your superior officer's shoulder, and slowly lower yourself to sit beside Dr. McCoy.

"Why are you damn smarter than me?" he sniffs, head lowered.

You shrug, "I don't mean to be, but if it makes you stop this erratic behaviour, I'd be smarter than you for the rest of this five year mission." You promise, noticing a small smile taking over the face of Leonard McCoy.

"Erratic? Don't you mean grumpy?" he smirks, and glancing down to his hand, his fingers loosen around the small plain wedding band. "I've spent enough time crying over Pam. She isn't coming back, nor I ... I'm going to throw this thing away."

"Sir -,"

Leonard McCoy raises a brow. "I thought you psychologists recommended throwing away traumatic pieces of people's history and whatnot," he challenges, and crossing the room, makes it to the garbage chute where all the dirtied gauze and used casts are cast. “I won’t waste any more time on her.”

---

Simon isn’t his morose self when Tuesday comes around. At the lunch table, he’s quiet, and eyes wide and the notebook he carries to keep track of the bet on Dr. McCoy is wide open. “You guys won’t believe what I just saw,” he gushes, like a manic maniac hopped up on too much laughing gas. “I just saw the CMO laughing.”

Anders shakes her head. “Uh-uh. No way. McCoy doesn’t laugh, Simon.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah, he does! And he hasn’t been frowning since Friday, and that’s almost five days of him being completely out of his mind and probably on the verge of a breakdown -,”

Martinez places a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s probably temporary.”

You look down at your plate.

“Anders, ask ________ if she knows something,” Martinez raises a brow. “She’s looking really suspicious.”

“_________?” Anders’ practically sings.

“I may or may not have cured the chief medical officer from his blues,” you admit. “But he’s human, and prone to emotions and things, so I’m not completely to blame. It’s confidential, actually, so, I would prefer it if you all don’t pry.”

Anders beams. “Confidential is basically code for horizontal -,”

Simon shakes his head, “No, they wouldn’t have. She’s more of a -,”

#leonard mccoy #bones mccoy #bones #leonard mccoy x reader #bones x reader #bones mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy x oc #star trek alternate original series #star trek 2009 #star trek x reader #star wars fanfic #chaotic--lovely #pendragonfics #Female reader

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