Fic: Left Wanting Reality Pike/Number One
Number One sat in her dorm room, feeling more than a little sorry for herself. It wasn’t an emotion she usually allowed herself to feel, which could be why it seemed to be flowing out of her this evening in one fell swoop. Her roommate called it a ‘pity party for One.’ One couldn’t decide whether to nod in agreement with her, or roll her eyes at the awful play on her name. She settled for committing herself to both actions as she watched Leila leave for the library, pointing out to One that it was more cheerful there.
Leila leaving didn’t snap Number one out of her uncharacteristic bad mood. In fact, it made it worse, compounding what she had suspected all along. One was completely alone, had been for years, and would be for years to come.
This was why she was sat alone on a Friday night, box of sugar treats in one hand, a bottle of the finest earth vodka in the other as she sat and watched one of the cheesier film offerings of her home world.
She had sat crossed legged on her bed with her goodies in hand for over an hour, almost motionless except for the odd swig and swear word aimed towards the vid. There were no tears or even a flicker of emotion across her face, but for her even just the presence of the vodka was evidence of an outpouring of grief.
If you asked any normal cadet they would point out that she was only ever capable of logic and academic thought. Though if you asked One her predicament had come about due to the fact that she was incapable of forming emotional bonds with appropriate people.
Yes, even the ever cold and stone faced Cadet One was able to feel. Not only was she capable of feelings, Number One was in love.
The problem wasn’t the emotion in itself. She had been in love before, and had been able to persue the object of her affection, and either realise they weren’t for her, and ride out on the high of the experience until it faded away. The problem was the man she was in love with. He was unavailable. Not in a ‘has a girlfriend’ manner (One had come across this problem before and had been able to deal with it swiftly) but in a completely wrong illegal manner.
The man was a professor at the Academy. He was a Captain, and worst of all, he was her supervisor. In other words, she couldn’t have picked a worse person to fall for, as he decided whether she graduated or not, and had a large influence over the decision of where she was posted after she graduated. If by some miracle he did reciprocate her stupid, infantile feelings, and they were caught One could count 23 different regulations they could violate and be dismissed from service for, and that was at the best.
But of course, she thought as she took a swig from her bottle that made her splutter; he would never feel such emotion for a girl like her. For one, he was a mature, intelligent man who deserved a woman equal to him that he could debate with. Sometimes, just sometimes during their tutor sessions she felt like she could grow into that woman, and when she disagreed strongly with his theories and refused to back down, she swore that he thought that too.
Another longer swig drowned out that thought. That thought brought hope. Hope brought weakness as it distracted you from reality. She needed to be real, it avoided further hurt.
The chime at the door broke through the haze of self pity the vodka had created, bringing her back into the reality she hadn’t realised she’d been away from.
Placing the bottle onto the floor beside her bed, and the sugar treats onto the bed itself she stumbled to her feet with a curse, stamping the feeling back into her legs that had long since cramped in their crossed position.
As she crossed the small space to the door she began to wonder who it was. Perhaps Leila had forgotten her code; it wouldn’t be the first time. Or Leila’s boyfriend, unsure as to her location. Or maybe it was him. Number One bit her lip and allowed a smile to flicker over her face at the thought, allowing a fantasy to wash over her as the door in her mind slipped open and he stepped to her, his strong arms wrapping around her as she ran her fingers through his hair.
“Be real.”
She chastised herself with a mental slap before pressing the release pad on the door, watching as it slid open to reveal Captain Christopher Pike. If she was still holding her bottle, it would be shattered on the floor right now, because apparently the universe hated her, and wanted to flaunt her unfulfilled fantasies in her face.
“Sir.”
She spoke shortly, attempting to snap to attention, but somewhat failing due to the invisible vodka filled weights that seemed to be strapped to all of her limbs.
“At ease Cadet”
A chuckle accompanied his words, and her stomach did a twist that she was sure wasn’t healthy.
“To what do I owe the pleasure sir?”
She felt her face flush as the word pleasure caressed her lips and she felt her breath catch as she watched the corner of his eyes crinkle.
“Some of my lecture notes are missing and I think you may have picked them up with yours after our meeting earlier.”
One’s face drained of colour as she stepped back into the room with a horrified look on her face.
“I am so sorry sir, let me just check through my notes.”
Literally tripping over her own feet she stumbled towards her neatly stacked desk, and started to leaf through the notes.
“Fuck.” She muttered, as her fingers failed to find purchase on the thin PADDS.
“You know, it’s probably not good policy to swear in front of your senior officer.”
His voice felt dangerously close to her ear and as she stood up ramrod straight in shock she realised just how near his body was to hers. He was stood directly behind her, peering over her shoulder, looking down onto the once neat pile she had decimated in her haste. Gulping she turned around with a shaky breath, but wished she hadn’t his eyes were staring directly into hers, and she could feel his breath play against the skin of her cheeks. Her fantasies were never this real, they were never filled with this much detail.
“Sorry sir...,” she murmured, trying to figure an escape route, but she had found to her surprise that he had her pinned in against her desk.
He leaned towards her and her eyes widened with alarm. Squeaking and clutching the desk so tightly that her knuckles became white. There was that spark in his eyes again. The one she’d convinced herself was a part of her fantasies, but there in his eyes right then, it was real. Her reached past her and picked a PADD up with a smile, his eyes flicking to fix on hers.
“Found it.”
The ball was in his court; he had her trapped, and he was clearly in control of the situation, in control of her, and for someone who was so used to being in control of herself, the sensation of his restriction of her was exhilarating. She waited for what seemed like an eternity for his next action, and was sure that time itself was slowing to a halt.
“Sir, are you going to leave?”
He shook his head and made to brush her hair out from her face, but hesitated half way and stilled his hand midair.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, staring at his hand her teeth tugging at her lower lip, unbelieving that she was so near yet so far.
“I’m fighting the urge to break twenty four regulations” he whispered in a husky voice her hand dipping towards her hair once more.
“Twenty three,” she automatically corrected, leaning her head towards his hand so that they touched.
His breath shuddered and she felt a rush at the fact that she could affect him like that.
“Twenty four.”
He stuck to his guns, grinning at the fact that she had obviously thought about this too and elaborated.
“It’s twenty four because of that half drunk bottle of vodka by your bed. And I make it a point never to take advantage of a woman.”
Her heart flew as he called her a woman and the heady feeling those words brought temporarily covered his true meaning.
“Wait. No!” She protested as he moved slowly away. “I’m not drunk, you wouldn’t be taking advantage.”
Her argument was weak at best, at worst an outright lie, and they both knew it.
“Sorry, One.” He sighed, brushing his fingers through a section of her hair, and to prove his point he walked her to a point in the room where there were no pieces of furniture to steady against. He stepped back and folded his arms, his gaze daring her.
“Walk to me. Without tripping.”
She almost whimpered, and stared at her feet, ordering one in front of the other. To her astonishment it worked and she looked up, grinning triumphantly at him, mere steps away from his embrace.
That break in concentration was quite literally her downfall and she lurched towards him as one foot slammed into the other.
She closed her eyes and braced herself for the inevitable impact with the hard floor, but instead found the strong arms of her fantasies catch and hold her, picking her up and holding her body to his.
“See?”
He asked softly, looking down at her as she opened her eyes.
“Fuck.”
She repeated her earlier swearword, this time it was tinged with disappointment and anger at herself and the missed opportunity.
He chuckled again and led her to her bed settling her down on it before picking up her half used bottle of vodka and whistling.
“When you do things, you really do things properly don’t you?”
She smiled cheekily up at him and swiped at his hand, attempting to grip it, but he purposefully kept it out of reach.
“Why don’t you stay and find out?”
“Feisty too.”
He shook his head and stepped away, taking the bottle with him.
“Hey that’s mine!” she protested, sitting up quickly in protest.
“Not anymore it’s not. I want you sober tomorrow. “
“We don’t have a supervisor meeting tomorrow,” she commented, clutching her head both to stop the confusion and spinning.
“Oh I’m sure there’ll be a reason somewhere, somehow.”
He paused by the door and she glared at him as he smiled mischievously.
“Goodnight Cadet, sweet dreams.”
“I don’t want to dream, I want reality.”
She grumbled the sulky response as she flopped onto the bed and turned her back to him as the door slid shut behind him and unknown to her, two of her PADDs.