Reboot Fic: Shadowplay 7/9 (Draws XI) [Pike/Dael/Kirk/McCoy] NC-17
For warnings, see Part 1
"I thought about calling you but then found that I couldn't, with my communicator gone," Alain says as they sit opposite to each other in the kitchen. Pike looks at him over his cup of strong coffee that would hopefully support the pain pill he just took, which should tame the brutal headache in his forehead to manageable proportions.
"Sorry for that," Pike says. "Didn't even consider you wouldn't have one available."
Alain shrugs. "I've waited in worse places. Had some of your deluxe cereals for breakfast."
"Good." Pike sips from the coffee, enjoying the sharp tang of the strongest espresso setting his machine delivers. "I really need to sleep for a moment," he says. "Do you want to leave or -?"
"I'd rather stay here for now," Alain says.
"Good. Talk to you later." Pike slips off his chair and goes to his bedroom, quickly stripping out of uniform. His med app pulses in a subdued orange as he curls under the sheet, the discussion with Roxanne suddenly in his mind again.
"If you were a really decent man, you wouldn't have given in to Dael in the first place," the woman had said.
His answer had come without hesitation. "Guess I'm not decent enough to say no to someone who makes every day more bearable just by being with me… I'm not saint enough to make myself and her unhappy by stopping a development between two consenting adults because certain people do not approve."
Looking back, maybe he had done the wrong thing; maybe he should've been a truly decent man and let Dael live her own life, apart from him. She would have gotten over her crush on him, and he… if not for John's goddamn photograph, he might never have noticed how much he loved her… which might have been better for all parties involved…
When he wakes up again to his empty bed and the smell of food in the air, the headache is mostly gone.
*
"Thought I'd cook something," Alain says almost apologizing as he waves towards the prepared table.
"Glad you did," Pike says. He's not really hungry, but his med app is still complaining and only food would remedy that. Addressing the simple pasta with tomato sauce, they eat in silence.
"Come on, Alain, spill. What's your problem?" Pike asks when the table is cleared, only their two glasses of red wine remaining.
"Too many, I guess," Alain says with a sad smile. "Fucked up a lot of things over the last year. My family, my friends…"
"Still working in marketing?"
"No. Changed the company after our marriage because it didn't work with Carmen as a colleague, but I lost that job a while ago."
"That the time when you started with illegal trades?" Pike asks directly. When Alain looks at him in surprise, he adds, "As I said, I'm not stupid; this city is pretty damn safe for most people. What did you do?"
"I only helped a few friends of mine," Alain says defensively. "I didn't know they were stupid enough to deal with an Orion Syndicate - Oanai Sqail."
Pike straightens in alert as he hears the name. It's not a particularly large group but relatively active on Earth, much to the chagrin of the Federation. "If that's your problem, then you'll absolutely have to report to the authorities."
"If I do… I'll lose every right to see my kids." Alain stares down into his glass. "I wouldn't know how to survive that." He looks up. "No, I'll have to deal with that on my own for now. I'm sorry it became kind of your problem. They waited for me in front of your old apartment, so I can't go back - but I'll leave tonight, it's okay. I wouldn't want to endanger you, Chris. I'm glad you came to my rescue. Didn't give you any reason to be kind to me, considering how I treated you in the past."
Pike shakes his head. He might not be in favor of Alain's naïve take on the situation, but no way he'd let his ex walk out into obvious danger - he'd feel eternally responsible if two kids lost their father. "You can stay here for a few days. This place should be quite secure, as long as nobody knows where you are."
"I hope not," Alain says. "I made sure to change directions a lot."
"As for the syndicate, it's not something that will simply go away. You'll have to deal with that pro-actively. I'll talk to a few people, see what they recommend."
Alain draws a face, but Pike waves his hand. "You have to do something about it, or not seeing your sons will be the smallest problem in your life."
Alain drops his head, brushing his fingertips over his forehead. Pike watches him, feeling strangely sympathetic.
No, thanks, he forces himself to think. Been there, done that. This is simply his stupid tendency to be unable to resist helping complicated cases, which will probably be his downfall one day.
"I've got to work," Pike says.
Alain laughs quietly. "Still working night and day? I hope they know what they've got in you."
"You still dislike the 'fleet, don't you?" Pike retorts.
"It's never been about the 'fleet. I know it's necessary. I just didn't like the influence it had on you." Alain smiles a little. "Always wondered who the man in that uniform really was."
"Obviously nobody you got to meet," Pike replies somewhat sharply.
"No." Alain nods. "Those shots in the living room, the tattooed girl - that's the one you bought the rings with?"
"Yes. And I hope you also saw the group picture in my office on your tour of my apartment," Pike says. "The four of us." He's not sure why he never says their names; it's as if some part of his brain adheres to the irrational, archaic belief that there's power in knowing names, and Alain shouldn't get a hold on them.
"Yes, I did. Sorry, I had time to kill and I was curious. But I didn't touch anything, just walked around," Alain admits, apologizing. "She's a good painter. I was surprised to see that. Somehow, I tend to think that everyone within Starfleet is as single-minded as you are."
"I do have other hobbies," Pike says stiffly. "Did a lot of horse riding, just not lately."
"Too much work, I guess."
"Yes," Pike says, because his health troubles are nothing to Alain. "Which means I'll leave you alone for now. I'll give you a guest entry to the media systems."
Quarter of an hour later, Pike can hear subdued noises of a movie coming from the living room, an old western from the sound of it. He hadn't watched a movie in weeks, always too preoccupied with this and that, and as he stares at his screen now, he wonders if it's been worth it. He'd done so well at the beginning, the first weeks without Dael, but the longer she's away, the worse he gets. Especially with the Enterprise still under radio silence - but he tries not to think about that because it hurts a damn lot, and he can't do a thing about it.
Wishing there was someone else waiting for him on the couch, he focuses on a delayed report, numbing his sorrows with work.
*
Alain stays with him, and while Pike still isn't completely relaxed about having him in his apartment, coming home to the lights being on and the smell of food lingering in the air is an uplifting prospect. It makes his days in the office shorter, his inclination to withdraw from too many unpleasant meetings higher. He spends some time investigating the Orion Syndicate problem and connects Alain to two of the leading specialists in the field, hoping his ex would make good use of that.
Still unwilling to give his visitor any of the available beds, Alain sleeps on the large, comfortable couch in the living room and would probably have remained there if not for one of those nights in which Pike is plagued by another nightmare. Their contents have moved away from their vague Narada theme over the last weeks, now more often featuring him running away from a shadow. Sometimes he escapes; sometimes he's shot and goes down, unable to move when steps draw close.
It's a first though when that night, the shadowy figure reaches him and pitch-black boots stop in front of his eyes. There's a pregnant pause before one boot, like in slow-motion, kicks his face. He can feel his nose breaking, a dozen missions gone wrong having carved that particular agony into his mind, and he still can't do a damn thing but groan because he's paralyzed on the ground, unable to fight, unable to run, just waiting for the next kick…
"Hey, hey," someone says. "Come on, wake up." He's shaken and shaking as he opens his eyes to the bright light of the room. Alain is bent over him, and he takes in the sight with an enormous feeling of relief. His ex wears boxers only, and while Pike usually prefers a more natural look on his men, Alain's pronounced bodybuilder muscles are a great thing to look at after the horrors of his dream. They look strong - protective.
"All is fine, Chris," Alain says, tender hands on his shoulders. "Get nightmares a lot?"
"Too many, too often," Pike says, clutching Alain's lower arms. "I've been good while she's been here, but now…"
Alain nods in understanding, holding him for another moment before withdrawing to leave.
"Hey," Pike says, raising one hand after him without touching. "Stay here?"
His ex looks at him in surprise. "You're sure?"
"Yes. Please." Pike moves to the side, and after a moment of hesitation, Alain slips into bed next to him.
"This doesn't really change anything," Pike says, aware how shitty this must sound but he needs to get this clear before they move on to… whatever. "I just don't want to be alone. But I don't love you anymore."
"I know that you love someone else," Alain agrees.
"Dael. Her name is Dael." Pike closes his eyes as Alain runs a hand down his naked side. "And Jim and Leonard. And they're all out of reach at the moment, and it kills me." His own fingers glide along Alain's back, up to the well-defined shoulder muscles.
"I'm sorry I'm not them. But you're not the only one who doesn't want to be alone, so don't you think I'm sacrificing myself here." Alain smiles.
Much later, when they're laced around each other after satisfying blowjobs, Alain's lips are close to his ear, whispering, "I missed you. You might not believe me but I missed you a lot."
Missed you too, Pike could say, but it's still fucking damn over between them.
*
There's a text message on his office console, its origin untraceable. He reads it twice before he really believes that it's from Dael.
Christopher,
I wish I could tell you where I am, share the beauty and the challenges with you. I miss you as if a piece of me is missing; it hurts less every day but it never stops. At nighttime, I dream of you by my side. At daytime, I need to forget about you all and be someone else. It's not a bright world where I am, but it is fascinating and welcoming to me. The future is unclear and the plans short-lived but never forget that I love you. D.
He sits in front of the message for a long time, his fingers close to the screen as if he could touch her in the displayed words. Her message is full of foreboding, and there's nothing in it about a swift return. On the contrary, references to unclear future plans make it likely that her absence would again be prolonged. Does she plan to stay in Romulan space, where her tattoos would be nothing to be looked at twice? Does it make enough of a difference to leave her Starfleet plans behind and keep working undercover in a situation where she must be under enormous pressure?
And does he mean so little to her that he doesn't weigh into her plans at all, making him just a severed limb? He closes his eyes, the familiar numbness in his chest substituted by a flash of pain.
He keeps up the façade through the day until he gets home. Alain is waiting there, and it's not what he really wants, but it's better than nothing and he has the feel that it's going to be all he'll have for a while.
His last resort - his unfaithful, criminal ex.
It would be funny if it didn't hurt that much.
*
Having enough of his ridiculous level of self-pity, Pike determinedly shoves every thought of his cloverleaf aside for a while. He takes regular meals, drinks sufficient water, and keeps away from alcohol although Alain pushes a glass of wine at him once in a while. He also exercises again, mostly weights, some treadmill - in short, he does everything to get his life and health under control.
It just doesn't really improve anything. Everything feels like it's going downhill, a lingering depression framing everything Pike deals with at the moment. It's like walking through molasses, every fleeting moment of feeling good just interspersing the dreadful, drawn-out agony of his normal days.
And one evening, the event he'd joked about truly happens; his door bell rings without prior warning, and a few minutes later Farnham walks into his apartment with a serious face.
"Didn't know you're back in town, John," Pike says, paling as the one reason why his friend would come in person, alone, springs to his mind. "Do you bring news about Dael?"
"Keep calm, she's fine. I only came to say -" In this moment, Farnham spots Alain in the kitchen door, and Pike can see first immense disbelief, then bright anger flaring in his friend's features.
"Whoa, why do I even think you care for news about Dael?" Farnham says sharply.
"Come with me." Pike pulls his friend into the office. The second the door is closed behind them, Farnham rips him a new one. "Alain? Are you out of your mind?"
"Come on," Pike says, raising one hand in defense. "It just happened. I know it's a bad idea -"
"Fucking Alain is a really stupid idea and I can't believe that you do it. He dumped you once and he'll do it again in the wink of an eye if he doesn't get what he wants from you."
"We're not in a relationship or anything. This is just a temporary arrangement."
"Is he living here? Sleeping in your bed?" When Pike doesn't answer, Farnham laughs darkly. "See, that's what I thought. And nobody of your tribe around to slap some sense into you. What are you going to do when Dael returns? Dump her for him?"
"No," Pike says firmly. "I'm only helping him out. This is temporary."
"Shit, man." Farnham shakes his head. "Watching your love life is like watching a train wreck bound to happen."
"This isn't about love, John. It's about companionship - about not being alone. It's not like you've been a lot around either -"
"Thank you for congratulating me on getting my job back," Farnham says scathingly. "It's not as if Eric's been waiting for a call from you, and you know damn well that he cares a lot about you. But no, you'd rather hang around with that asshole ex of yours. Did he have a teary story for you? Because everyone knows about that Good Samaritan complex you've got going by now. Ever get checked for personality changes after your last hospital stays? It might explain something."
Pike inhales deeply before answering. "What did you want to tell me about Dael?"
"Ah yes, Dael." Farnham strains his shoulders. "Her return date has been moved again, she'll be back at least two months later than planned. If you still care about her fate."
Pike holds back the impulse for a really cutting answer to this unjust accusation. Instead, he takes the news as fact. "Two months. She'll lose an academy term this way."
"She accepted the prolongation. It's her decision."
"As if Intelligence wouldn't know how to word it best to get their agents' agreement," Pike states sharply.
"As if you don't know how to manipulate if you want to," Farnham states just as sharply. "Don't tell me a captain never has to resort to that." He slaps the nearby wall with his palm. "Damn, Chris, we've had such a great friendship again. Eric and I, we have offered so often. You'd always be welcome with us. Why did it have to be Alain? Don't you ever learn from old mistakes?"
"I mostly learned by now that there's just no lover except from yourself you'd agree with," Pike retorts. "You didn't want to see me with the doc or Jim, and you never liked Dael either."
Farnham struggles for words, then says quietly, icily, "I may have been jealous of them for a long time, yes, but that's a thing of the past. And I always trusted those three that they would take care of you. That they wouldn't take flight and leave you in a mess. Alain will run, and he will leave you in a mess."
"Not this time," slips out of Pike's mouth, and the statement hangs in the air between them, all the underlying hopes that Pike hadn't faced yet suddenly out in the open.
"Oh, damn." Farnham's shoulders sink as his friend pulls away. "I see. Well, then, I'm going to take my leave. Good luck, Chris, you'll need it. And if you need someone to pick up the pieces - don't call me." He leaves in a rush.
"You were right about John," Pike says when Alain joins him. "He never liked you. In fact, he never liked anybody who's closer to me than he is."
"He doesn't matter," Alain replies, putting one arm over Pike's shoulder.
He does, but there are others who matter much more, Pike thinks.
Farnham is right, he doesn't know what to do about the situation, and so he lets it be and goes to bed with Alain.
*
The next morning, Pike should deal with important messages, but instead he sits in front of one of Dael's pictures for a long time, turning his ring with three fingers.
I wish you'd never gone on that mission, he dictates into a message to her. I can't believe how much my life is falling apart without you.
Half an hour later he reads through it, and through all the other never-sent messages, and in a flush of bone-deep frustration and anger about his stupid sentimentality and heartache, he deletes them all irrevocably.
It's not as if anyone cares about the shit he writes anyway.
The messages are barely gone when he's jerked out of his funk by Nogura's sudden appearance. "Chris, would you have a minute?" the old man says gravely.
He follows him into his office, where Nogura points him at the visitor's chair, then takes a seat himself and switches on the big wall screen.
It's a news article from one of the worst yellow presses, and its most prominent feature is a shot of him on his knees sucking dick, the byline reading, "What Starfleet can do for you". Pike stares at it numbly, trying to figure out when it had been taken and who he'd been with. The other person is barely visible but no matter how much he wrecks his brain, there's only one situation that would fit to the strange angle from the side and above and the rather bony hips under his hands… the day when Dael and he had bought and test-run her dildo in that sex shop.
Who the hell had captured that and given it to the press at a time when it would exasperate Nogura the most?
"I take it you know where this is from?" The old man's voice is grave, with a tangible edge of frustration.
"Yes."
"May I ask what you were thinking?"
"Not much, obviously," Pike says tonelessly. His cock had done all the thinking in that moment when Dael had challenged him - though he would've gone down on her anyway, probably.
"The press office will do its best to get it out of circulation, but you know how such pictures keep a life of their own."
"Yes."
Nogura shakes his head, as if he wants to add something, but then only says, "Dismissed."
"Heihachiro -" Pike starts a little helplessly.
"Dismissed, Pike." The old man turns away from him, shutting off the wall screen and not looking up again.
Pike grits his teeth and walks out. Once he's in the corridor, his brain slowly starts working again, and when he's back in his office, he sits down to find the article. He stares at the picture; this hadn't been taken by chance. Even if the shop had cams - which he doubts, considering it had a mostly female, sensitive customer base - they would have needed to get it from the shop owner, which he doubts even more. The only other explanation is that they'd been followed that day, and he idly wonders whether he or Dael had been the original target. There's one person he could ask, though after the latest argument with Farnham, he's not exactly inclined to call him.
He fights with himself, then finally sends the article to his friend anyway.
"If that's your bureau's attempt to get me out of the office, they're doing a good job for once. C."
It takes three day before Farnham replies.
"Seems you're contributing to that just fine. Should learn to keep your dick in your pants. J.
P.S. Nobody around here admits to knowing about the picture."
Pike can't really believe that.
*
The meeting is long and tiring, and Pike has a hard time concentrating - like often lately, which possibly comes from his lack of good sleep and the general exhaustion he feels. Still, he does his best to keep track of their endless lists, and says at one point, "About the updated shield parameter tests, I think we could schedule them for next week." He lifts his eyes from the PADD and stops as everyone looks at him.
On his right side, Thelin bends a little forward. "We've already decided that, sir," the Andorian says quietly.
"Oh, I must have missed that today," Pike says. "Carry on."
"We decided that already two days ago," Esteban says, and underneath the usual vibe of disdain, there was a sudden hint of concern.
"Oh." Pike doesn't know what to say. It's not been uncommon that he'd missed a detail lately, but he'd never forgotten an actual decision so far.
"I think we're quite done with our meeting," Thelin says, looking around. "Let's move the other topics to our next meeting on Friday."
Pike knows that young man is trying to save him. With a heavy heart, he keeps sitting until all but the two of them are left.
"Do you feel well, sir?" Thelin asks with concern.
"I don't feel particularly unwell," Pike says, which isn't a lie considering that the leaden feel in his body and brain lately are pretty much standard - and that's probably the sign that he's in a bad state. But at least not bad enough to end up tied to a table under the SFM scanner, thank god for small pleasures.
"May I be of any help?"
Pike looks at the young lieutenant, who he'd fantasized about once in a while, and Thelin firmly holds his gaze. There is an unspoken invitation lingering but Pike is too exhausted to take the man up on it. He doesn't need another potential problem in the admiralty. Besides, there's Alain now...
"No, thanks," Pike says at last. "Dismissed, Lieutenant." Thelin hesitantly leaves him alone, and he keeps sitting in the meeting room, eyes unfocused and PADD set to unresponsive, until the next group comes to claim it.
*
He dreams about his lovers that night. It's all about him, all three focusing on what he wants, and in the end it's the doc who leans over him, showing that special smile from those moments when Pike had given all of himself, and they have magic, beautiful sex.
Mine, you're all mine, the doc says, but then Jim comes and steals him, steals everyone until Pike is alone, the room empty, the walls bare, and the sound of rain the only thing left.
*
The sound of rain, it turns out, is for real, and slowly carries Pike out of his almost-nightmare into reality, where he finds green eyes resting on him in sympathy. Pike lifts his hand, running it down his exes' face. When his thumb meets the pale lips, Alain licks on it without hesitation.
For weeks, he had taken care to keep them apart and limited to blowjobs, something safe and distant, but he's tired of that and badly needs more today to get rid of the profound sadness that lingers from the dream. He unfolds his legs and moves them both into the scissors position they'd used during many morning fucks back then, one of his past favorites.
"You really want that?" Alain asks hushed as their legs lace.
"Yeah," Pike murmurs and rubs one finger along Alain's lower lip. Alain runs sensual hands down Pike's side, making him shiver a little, then pulls away for the lube. It's a brief pause before the fingers dive in; it's a bit cold and strange for a second, but then they warm him up, and Pike moans as they dig deeper, stimulating his prostate.
Alain is up on the other elbow, putting kisses on his chest and nipple as he deepens the stimulation. "Touch yourself," he whispers, and Pike obliges, fisting his own erection in time with the pushes and pulls. He smiles expectantly as Alain draws out and angles his erection for penetration. Pike whimpers as the welcome intrusion comes far too slow for his taste. "Damn tease."
"You always complained, and you always liked it."
"Fuck yes." Pike takes a deep breath as the dick is finally in up to the hilt, and Alain just holds on for a second before starting slow, rolling movements.
"Keep touching yourself," Alain whispers. "Give me a show."
With effort, Pike gets back to stimulating his hard-on, running his fingers up and down, teasing the glans, nudging the balls, trying to give Alain a good look on what he's doing, while his ex gives him a fabulous, well-paced ride, nudging one of his nipples with gentle fingertips.
He shifts his hips, giving them both another centimeter to go deeper, and is rewarded with Alain's groan. The pace picks up a little, and they dance on it with their breathing growing harsher, quicker, but still torturously controlled when all Pike wants at this point is to get fucked through the mattress.
"Another time," Alain says, and Pike whines a little in an unvoiced complaint. Rolling his hips forward, Alain rides him in fluid motions. "Keep touching yourself, Chris. Keep touching… yeah… come on, I want to see you come."
Pike coils, his head and shoulders lifting from the bed as he crosses the point of no return, bucking into his hand as he comes hard, his ejaculate splattering all over his groin and belly. Alain joins him, pushing deep into him in his own orgasm, riding out his own and Pike's in one gorgeous crescendo.
At last Pike sags back on the bed, depleted of all energy, just enough left to groan when Alain licks him clean, broad strokes of a tongue along his skin. Pike curls one hand into his ex' hair, caressing him. Now that he's slowly coming back to his senses, he wonders if it was a good idea to let Alain in like that.
But maybe he'd already done that on the very first day of seeing him again.
*
It's a number he's never seen before but as the call comes in via his private account he accepts it anyway on this early morning.
"Hey, Chris," Eric's voice says on the other side of the line.
"Eric." Pike switches on the viewer. Farnham's boyfriend looks unusually serious but forces a smile on his face when they see each other.
"Thought I'd give you a call, say hello," Eric says vaguely. "Sorry for not having kept in contact more often. I've been terribly busy lately, jetted all over the planet for weeks."
"No problem." Pike shrugs. "You're not my keeper. And John isn't either, for that matter," he adds, jumping right to the presumed heart of the matter.
Eric draws a face. "Yeah, well… I don't know the old story and I really don't have an opinion, but it's strange to think you'd have such a fall-out over someone. Maybe if the four of us would hang out together, like with Dael..."
"John hates Alain," Pike says. "That's nothing that's going to be fixed over an evening. And while it's nice that you called, you definitely shouldn't get between the front lines here. Don't make it your problem."
"I really like you," Eric says softly. "I wish we'd hang out together some more. It's been always… special."
"Yes, it's been that, but it wouldn't work right now." Pike's console announces his first meeting, and he shakes his head. "Have a good time, Eric. I'm sure things will straighten out again - they usually do between John and me, though it might take a while. Don't take it too seriously."
"Okay. Take care, Chris." Eric signs off.
Pike sighs. Eric is such a sweetheart, but he'd have to learn which challenges to pick. Trying to make John accept Alain is way over the young man's head and could only end in disaster.
*
I'm concerned about you, Nat writes in a message that comes with a billion attached shots of her and her husband, smiling all over on every single one of them.
Tom says you're keeping away from them, and John told me that Alain is back and living with you? Please tell me that Dael is going to be around soon again. I miss you all, but Robert is determined to show me around some more planets. He says after giving up Starfleet in the past, it's the least he could do for me. He's the best thing that ever happened to me.
Pike doesn't feel like reading about anyone's wonderful vacation trip when his own life is toggling between unsatisfying and problematic, and his reply might not be as charming as it could be. He might also have been a little drunk when writing it late in the night but it's already sent off by the next morning, with no chance of calling it back.
Dear Nat,
John is a nosy asshole and should keep to his own damn relationship instead of interfering with mine. It's only because of him that Dael is on a mission where I can't contact her at all and which just got prolonged for who knows how long. The Enterprise is somewhere out in space and I don't know where either, and I'm tired of it all.
C.
P.S. Stop sending me pictures of happy couples, it depresses the hell out of me.
He probably deserves it that the next bunch of pictures features ugly, stone-faced gargoyles that snarl at him with distorted grimaces.
We've visited a cathedral built by humans on Asidian II and instantly thought of you when seeing these.
Take care - Nat.
*
The days go by and he catches himself staring at the photograph of the four of them on his office desk one morning, remembering the words he'd once said to the doc.
"I know how it is to be on a ship. Everything that is not within daily sight feels like it almost doesn't exist. It's a life apart, and that's what many of us were looking for when we went into space."
How could he ever think he'd really be a part of them, when they're away most of the time. And Dael… who knew if she'd ever return, now that she seems to have found something really worth fighting for.
Pike shakes his head, despising himself for his thoughts. He'd wanted to sign in their names, bought a ring with Dael because he'd meant it, even studies that terrible language for her - he wants to be with them, he wants to believe in a future together. But right now, as reality cuts sharply through his dreams, it's hard to hold on to that thought.
There might be a train wreck after all.
"Good day, sir," Asimov greets him cheerily when walking into his office with brunch supplies in his hands, and Pike forces an answering smile on his face; he might never need the Romulan he works on, but the young lieutenant has become one of the better aspects of his life, and for that he's grateful.
*
Despite the lingering danger for Alain, Pike decides that they absolutely need to get out for a night, and with a carefully planned escape by beaming, they land in his club, which should be relatively free of criminals. Putting Alain's face under a half-mask is the second layer of protection and should be enough to disguise him in the relative dark of the club. Having escaped their self-made house detention, they spend an enjoyable evening that includes some hot sex in Pike's private room as well as socializing at the bar.
"Finally came back to your senses?" Ole says when they're about to leave in the early morning, and the statement is like a slap into Pike's face.
It's true, most of his casual club acquaintances seem to think that tonight's companion is much more up his alley than Dael. With her, Pike is an outsider to all communities - they always end a little apart from everyone, without having had enough time to build a circle of friends together so far.
With Alain, Pike is just a guy with another guy, and nobody's batting an eye about that in this century. They fit in smoothly, no need to explain anything, nobody getting a shock from some tattoos. The only remarks Pike and Alain had received tonight had been along the line of how well they fit together, charming compliments from people who would have liked to be included in their action.
It would be so easy to fit in, and it shakes Pike's world a little, the world in which he buys rings with the girl he loves, but which is also the world that rarely acknowledges what they have, mostly only criticizes them. Maybe that's part of what had driven her away.
"Anything wrong?" Alain asks when they're home, and Pike shakes his head, unwilling to reveal the cause for his bout of sadness and frustration.
"Come here," Alain mutters and pulls him into an embrace, for the first time supporting him just like a partner would do, with a shoulder to lean on and gentle words to lighten up his mood.
Pike doesn't sleep well that night, and it makes his med app pulse in dangerous shades of light red in the morning, which he can only tame with an extra shot of medicine.
*
The next day starts with bleary meetings, so Pike decides he needs something intellectually challenging for a change. When Asimov meets him in his office for lunch, Pike gets right to the point of what has been on his agenda for the longest time.
"You're once said that Dael writes in boards. Show these boards to me," he says, his sandwich ignored on a plate next to him.
Asimov gives him a reluctant look. "It's been months that she wrote anything. Her opinions might've changed since then."
It gives Pike a fair idea of what she might have written, statements bordering on treason, maybe. "Considering that Intel nevertheless shanghaied her and she made it through all security tests, it can't have been too bad."
"Intel?" Asimov asks with an alert gaze.
"Yes," Pike confirms. He's not quite sure why he's saying it now, besides wanting to make Asimov open up a little beyond their strictly professional interaction. Deal's ongoing radio silence makes him itch to read all she'd written - there's a Dael beyond what he knows of her, and he wants to get a feel for that person. "So please, show them to me."
Asimov gives in, surfing with him to the boards she'd written on.
"That's her profile." Her picture shows one of her tattoos, the one above her heart. Her nick translates as One Spica. The slogan is convoluted, and Pike needs Asimov's help to translate it; it boils down to Only humans ever hurt me.
"Not an exactly uplifting slogan," Pike notes. The profile dates a few months from before her Academy admission.
"She felt like a teenager to me when I read this," Asimov says. "You know, people with the feeling that the whole world is against them. The way she wrote in the forums only supported that view."
They list her entries, coming up with hundreds. They wouldn't have time to go through them all, so Pike randomly opens those with interesting subject lines.
"Re border protection policies" brings up a brief comment that doesn't make sense without reading the whole thread, so he surfs on to "The artist in Romulan culture". It is a rather well-written article by her about the deep embedding of art in Romulan culture, where basically everyone feels the need to express themselves through art. As freedom of expression is limited in the Romulan Empire, art is frequently used with strong encoding and symbolism, and she lists a few examples of this. He's a bit surprised about the depth of her analysis; her father had been human, after all. At least this posting is beyond criticism.
Pike moves on to something more political, "Re Federation influence and border conflicts". A discussion that shows a tendency towards conspiracy theories, happening in a board that claims they've got the only full list of military campaigns of the Federation against Romulan space. Pike skims through it, checking for some of the secret campaigns he knows of. He finds them all - it seems surprisingly complete, listing many encounters that should never have left confidential documents. Various campaigns are documented in detail, with photographs, strategic diagrams and timelines. He wonders where the contributors sit, whether the Tal'Shiar feeds most of it or if the people contributing think they fulfill a duty in informing others of what happens far out there in space.
From a militaristic viewpoint, Pike is strongly against whistleblowers because it endangers the crews out there; from the viewpoint of a Federation citizen, he cannot help thinking that some information leaks are necessary to allow the public to act as a supervisory body of the government. No matter how good someone's intentions are, there's always a chance of major fuck-ups, decisions gone wrong, and if they're never published and brought to justice, the politic atmosphere will get poisoned over time. Overall, Pike thinks, freedom is more endangered by cover-ups than by publications. But on the level of individual lives, it's different.
It makes Pike wonder if their current Borg activities are documented out there in the cloud. He could probably ask Farnham but they're not really on good terms right now.
"What bullshit," Asimov says over the long list. "As if Starfleet would do that."
Pike looks at him. "The Federation is large, Lieutenant, and Starfleet not the only fleet out there."
"You mean - that list is correct?" The young man pales.
"Probably not everything in it, but a fair amount." Pike leans back in his chair. "There's a difference between political statements, and real life politics. The relationship with the Romulan Empire is very complex. And this list doesn't show the various campaigns of Romulans against Federation space."
"Guess their government would've instantly deleted it and then executed the writers," Asimov says ironically.
"Maybe." Pike takes a bite of his sandwich; if he didn't eat now, his med app would raise the first alert. "Did you ever write in these boards?"
"Rarely. As I once said, they're mostly fans of anything Romulan. Many of them are humans or other Federation citizens, who haven't even been to Romulan space." Asimov curls his lip in disgust. "They've never had to buckle under a Romulan whip."
"But you had to."
The young man squares his jaw. "Read my file if you want to know details. I'd rather not speak about it."
"And you still have a major in Romulan linguistics and culture."
"I wanted to use my knowledge for something good. Defend the Federation from this threat, not add to it," he says with a glare at the screen.
"For them, we are the threat."
"We're different. We wouldn't stop ships and take innocent people as slaves."
"We stop ships and make innocent people end up in detention centers," Pike says.
"That's different," Asimov growls.
"I agree," Pike says calmly. "But often not as different as we'd like it to be."
"You know what Nero did. You saw it live, as I well know."
Pike frowns, shaking his head. "He was one mentally disturbed Romulan. That doesn't say anything about a species, or we'd all be Hitlers."
"They applauded him, right here." Asimov points at the board. "Found excuses for his actions, indulged in wild fantasies of why he was moved to destroy a world."
"I bet not all did."
"Too many. I wish this board didn't exist."
Pike nods, rubbing a finger over his bottom lip in thought as he looks at the lieutenant. "Did Dael defend him?"
"No, she didn't go that far. But she strongly criticizes Federation politics regarding the colonial planets along the border, claiming that much too often people who are working on international understanding are seen as enemies, despite the Federation tagline of supporting variety. She also thinks that Vulcans preach IDIC but rarely live it."
"I'd probably agree with all her points."
"You didn't read her postings. They just - I just don't know what she's in Starfleet for, when she keeps raving on about its failures," Asimov states.
"She wants to make a difference. Make sure that next time, maybe a colony is protected as it should be."
Asimov shakes his head and falls silent, taking a bite of his own sandwich.
Pike goes back to randomly surfing the board. He could read and translate Dael's other postings at another time; right now it might be more interesting to get a feel for the other contents. He idly scrolls through more discussions about politics, taking in the strong pro-Romulus focus of them all. Then he goes back to the art forum, looking at a few discussions, nothing too interesting but -
He makes a double-take as he gazes at the picture of an older Romulan with a teenaged human girl on his lap that looks like…
Pike reaches for the PADD with the old photographs of Dael he'd scanned.
"What is it?" Asimov asks curiously. Pike scrolls to the picture with her father and shows it to Asimov.
"That's Dael," Pike states, and spell-bound they check the images together, back and forth between the posted shot of the artist and the shot of teenage Dael.
"That's her," Asimov agrees. "So they've been in the same colony?"
"Obviously," Pike says thoughtfully. "Do you think we can contact the man?"
"Not anymore," Asimov replies, reading the text around the pictures. "The man was Al'Retrrln, an artist. He died a fortnight ago. His son made this posting to announce his passing to the community. Seems they live in the Aethhon enclave on Pluto. Exiled Romulans."
"What's his son's name?"
"T'Anihl."
T.A! Pike's heart makes a joyful leap. He can't believe that he's actually managed to trace down someone from Dael's past - someone she'd probably be delighted to meet again. If she ever returns, that is, he adds soberly. But still...
"Let's write him a message. Get into contact."
"Why would he want to establish contact with us?" Asimov says darkly. "We're Starfleet. We're the enemy."
"I'm doing this for Dael, and you'll help me."
Asimov gives him a dubious look but then opens an editor to create a message to T'Anihl ch'Retrrln with him.
*
Sex with Alain flows surprisingly easy ninety percent of the time, like on this long weekend in a cabin in the woods (and Pike tries not to think about how much he yearns to have such a weekend with the doc). The other ten shows up when Alain suggests tying him up for sex, and Pike declines rather harshly.
"Still averse to it?" Alain asks afterwards. "Would've thought that after thirteen years, you'd be over it."
"Thirteen? The Narada incident was only seven years ago." Only - it's actually a long time when hearing the number.
Alain looks at him thoughtfully. "Back then, you said you're weren't in favor of it because of some bad experiences on a mission. You never delivered details but it seemed to have been rather horrific."
Pike needs a moment to remember - then is totally flabbergasted that he could ever forget. The mission on Celestis had been one of the worst of his career, right from the get go. It was one of the few he made undercover: the orders came basically right down from Intelligence, and he ended in the captivity of a terrorist splinter group that tried to get information from him, mostly by the means of severe beatings… and needles, which was some cultural thing. His own people barely recognized him when they located him after four days, and it took weeks before he made it back into the captain's chair for full duty.
Funny - he'd always thought he'd bounced back well considering how bad it had been. He hadn't lost a limb and had scratched along a kidney rebuild, then made it through with the minimum number of shrink sessions and got a clean bill of psychological health faster than anyone thought, including his CMO. Looking back today, though, this failed mission had probably been part of the reason why he even considered staying on Earth and doing recruitment after the end of that tour three months later. It damn looks as if Celestis had left a chink in his armor that hadn't been properly mended. In fact, he hadn't even been quite so critical of Intelligence before that, having aligned himself with Farnham's career choice rather easily in the past.
Maybe he should go and read his old mission reports once in a while, he'd probably find interesting things in there, Pike thinks sourly, and curls one hand in thought. The memories of the torture are so vague that he can't even summon the pain anymore, like of those pins under his fingernails, but the effects on his life are still real.
"Chris?" Alain asks, bringing him back to reality.
"Just thinking," Pike replies. "You're right, that was probably the start of it." Saying it, he realizes exactly why the Narada had been different, aside from losing his command - he hadn't given in through four days of agony on Celestis, but he had poured out every damn 'fleet code he knew over a little pain and a slug on his brainstem. A part of him just never forgave his body for being so weak in the most important moment of his life.
"You ever try to shovel the shit out again?"
Pike shrugs. "Lately, yes. Getting better." Baby steps with the doc, the man that owns him, kind of - if the doc wanted to, but Pike hadn't received an answer yet thanks to the annoying radio silence. It's a far cry from the way he lived sexuality in the far-away past, where other ghostly memories reside in which he could really enjoy tight bondage and the feeling of giving up control. Even with Leonard, it's more of a challenge than joy, some ego-against-ego battle.
Or maybe he glorifies the past a little by now; maybe he'd just grown out of that leaning over time. It's not particularly rare; other men had told him the same.
"I might have something for you," Alain says, pulling him out of his thoughts once more.
"Hmm?"
"Not telling yet. Just trust me." Alain runs one warm hand down Pike's chest, soothingly stroking him.
"I do." Which is both the truth and crazy, and Pike knows he really shouldn't do this, invest any emotions in a man who'd left him once and might do it again. But he can't help his feelings and he's in too deep. He'd like to blame his absent lovers but it's his own fucking problem that he now always chooses people with their own careers out in space.
Alain's hand runs deeper down, cupping his package. It's just a reflex that Pike spreads his legs a little, he's actually rather done. Or so he'd thought before he feels his length hardening, and he groans.
This thing with Alain might fuck up his life but the sex just remains fabulous.
*
When he's back in his office Monday morning, there's a message from his men on the console which hadn't been forwarded properly to his PADD due to some wonky headers.
Out of radio silence - how about a real time transmission? Sunday your time, 2200. Drop us a note if you can't make it.
It's the first time this method of date arrangement fails, and he's a bit at a loss what to reply. He can imagine them sitting and waiting for the connection, and it must've hurt them.
It takes him half an hour to compose a reply, and it's apologetic and convoluted and he deletes it for a short, truthful answer.
Got your message too late, sorry for that. How about Thursday night my time? Please send the reply directly to my PADD.
They agree on Thursday, but Pike has to cancel it because of a meeting that runs far too long, and then it's the weekend and he's busy with Alain, so he offers the next time on Monday evening. They've got to cancel on him because of time constraints, and their real time chat is shifted around for another week, something completely unusual.
It's no wonder that when McCoy gets ahold of him at last, with Kirk having had to cancel once again, the doc is concerned, having been able to read too much simply from the way their usual pattern has been disrupted.
"We're out of communication for some weeks and suddenly things seem to have changed between us? What's happening on Earth, Chris? Please, tell me," the doc says without introduction, his gaze intense and demanding.
I missed you so much, Pike wants to say. Seeing you again makes me happier than I can put into words. But the doc's words have an accusatory ring that reminds him of John, raising his defenses in addition to the lingering bad conscience he's already nurturing about Alain. "Nothing really changed. I only met an old lover of mine."
"That's all?"
"He was in need of lodging and I helped him out." Pike pauses. "We also reconnected, kind of."
"Does the guy have a name?"
"It's Alain. The man I'd been living with for a while." Pike had never told them much about his ex, aside from the basics, but he's not surprised when McCoy remembers those.
"The guy who dumped you and turned you into an embittered hermit for years?" McCoy asks, his brows drawing together.
"The same."
Pike can see McCoy battling, his mouth opening and closing until in the end, all that comes out is a single question. "Something serious?"
"Maybe."
"Where is he staying?"
"With me right now. He needed a place to live."
"That serious, uh?" McCoy's face is rather frozen. "What about Dael?"
"As I said, it's only temporary." Pike repeats. "I felt so disconnected from you all. It's as if I've got two lives running, with no real connection between them. I'm glad we could chat again." Missed you, missed you, the mantra runs in the back of his head but he can't bring himself to say it because it would sound as if he wants to gloss over their tension and evade the discussion.
"The connection will get very real when she comes back," McCoy says darkly. "You fell out of love with her?"
"No. But sometimes it's so complicated… with Alain, it's all easy."
"I never saw your relationship with Dael as that complicated," McCoy says and it surprises and also annoys Pike, because the doc's criticism of her had been a large part of the complicated for quite some time.
"A young, female cadet, remember?"
"Well on her way to become an officer," McCoy says. "Or is that part of the complicated, that she's making her own decisions by now?"
Pike feels his shoulders tensing, wishing the discussion to be over. "Maybe I'm just not good at handling too many relationships."
"Great. And we're those too many?"
"Damn, Leonard - give me a little time," Pike says sharply. This is all wrong, they shouldn't fight but speak about something else, like the recordings they'd exchanged before the radio silence, the ones in which Pike had bared his soul and had not yet received an answer to. But instead, they're just making things worse here. "It's happening all so fast. The thing with Alain- he was very special to me, he's got the potential to become special again. But I'm not going to make any rushed decisions, one way or the other, and I hope you don't either. Or do you want to get rid of me?"
McCoy takes a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. "No, of course not. Sorry for giving you the third degree. In any case, we'd like to get in touch again, if that's all right by you."
"Of course." Pike reaches out to the cam. "I meant it when I said I feel disconnected from you all. I need to hear from you."
"Good. You will. Take care, talk to you soon."
"You too."
McCoy signs out, and only after the line closes Pike realizes that they both didn't say the words they've said for a longest time, the "I love you".
It stings sharp and painful.
*
Onto Part 8
"I thought about calling you but then found that I couldn't, with my communicator gone," Alain says as they sit opposite to each other in the kitchen. Pike looks at him over his cup of strong coffee that would hopefully support the pain pill he just took, which should tame the brutal headache in his forehead to manageable proportions.
"Sorry for that," Pike says. "Didn't even consider you wouldn't have one available."
Alain shrugs. "I've waited in worse places. Had some of your deluxe cereals for breakfast."
"Good." Pike sips from the coffee, enjoying the sharp tang of the strongest espresso setting his machine delivers. "I really need to sleep for a moment," he says. "Do you want to leave or -?"
"I'd rather stay here for now," Alain says.
"Good. Talk to you later." Pike slips off his chair and goes to his bedroom, quickly stripping out of uniform. His med app pulses in a subdued orange as he curls under the sheet, the discussion with Roxanne suddenly in his mind again.
"If you were a really decent man, you wouldn't have given in to Dael in the first place," the woman had said.
His answer had come without hesitation. "Guess I'm not decent enough to say no to someone who makes every day more bearable just by being with me… I'm not saint enough to make myself and her unhappy by stopping a development between two consenting adults because certain people do not approve."
Looking back, maybe he had done the wrong thing; maybe he should've been a truly decent man and let Dael live her own life, apart from him. She would have gotten over her crush on him, and he… if not for John's goddamn photograph, he might never have noticed how much he loved her… which might have been better for all parties involved…
When he wakes up again to his empty bed and the smell of food in the air, the headache is mostly gone.
*
"Thought I'd cook something," Alain says almost apologizing as he waves towards the prepared table.
"Glad you did," Pike says. He's not really hungry, but his med app is still complaining and only food would remedy that. Addressing the simple pasta with tomato sauce, they eat in silence.
"Come on, Alain, spill. What's your problem?" Pike asks when the table is cleared, only their two glasses of red wine remaining.
"Too many, I guess," Alain says with a sad smile. "Fucked up a lot of things over the last year. My family, my friends…"
"Still working in marketing?"
"No. Changed the company after our marriage because it didn't work with Carmen as a colleague, but I lost that job a while ago."
"That the time when you started with illegal trades?" Pike asks directly. When Alain looks at him in surprise, he adds, "As I said, I'm not stupid; this city is pretty damn safe for most people. What did you do?"
"I only helped a few friends of mine," Alain says defensively. "I didn't know they were stupid enough to deal with an Orion Syndicate - Oanai Sqail."
Pike straightens in alert as he hears the name. It's not a particularly large group but relatively active on Earth, much to the chagrin of the Federation. "If that's your problem, then you'll absolutely have to report to the authorities."
"If I do… I'll lose every right to see my kids." Alain stares down into his glass. "I wouldn't know how to survive that." He looks up. "No, I'll have to deal with that on my own for now. I'm sorry it became kind of your problem. They waited for me in front of your old apartment, so I can't go back - but I'll leave tonight, it's okay. I wouldn't want to endanger you, Chris. I'm glad you came to my rescue. Didn't give you any reason to be kind to me, considering how I treated you in the past."
Pike shakes his head. He might not be in favor of Alain's naïve take on the situation, but no way he'd let his ex walk out into obvious danger - he'd feel eternally responsible if two kids lost their father. "You can stay here for a few days. This place should be quite secure, as long as nobody knows where you are."
"I hope not," Alain says. "I made sure to change directions a lot."
"As for the syndicate, it's not something that will simply go away. You'll have to deal with that pro-actively. I'll talk to a few people, see what they recommend."
Alain draws a face, but Pike waves his hand. "You have to do something about it, or not seeing your sons will be the smallest problem in your life."
Alain drops his head, brushing his fingertips over his forehead. Pike watches him, feeling strangely sympathetic.
No, thanks, he forces himself to think. Been there, done that. This is simply his stupid tendency to be unable to resist helping complicated cases, which will probably be his downfall one day.
"I've got to work," Pike says.
Alain laughs quietly. "Still working night and day? I hope they know what they've got in you."
"You still dislike the 'fleet, don't you?" Pike retorts.
"It's never been about the 'fleet. I know it's necessary. I just didn't like the influence it had on you." Alain smiles a little. "Always wondered who the man in that uniform really was."
"Obviously nobody you got to meet," Pike replies somewhat sharply.
"No." Alain nods. "Those shots in the living room, the tattooed girl - that's the one you bought the rings with?"
"Yes. And I hope you also saw the group picture in my office on your tour of my apartment," Pike says. "The four of us." He's not sure why he never says their names; it's as if some part of his brain adheres to the irrational, archaic belief that there's power in knowing names, and Alain shouldn't get a hold on them.
"Yes, I did. Sorry, I had time to kill and I was curious. But I didn't touch anything, just walked around," Alain admits, apologizing. "She's a good painter. I was surprised to see that. Somehow, I tend to think that everyone within Starfleet is as single-minded as you are."
"I do have other hobbies," Pike says stiffly. "Did a lot of horse riding, just not lately."
"Too much work, I guess."
"Yes," Pike says, because his health troubles are nothing to Alain. "Which means I'll leave you alone for now. I'll give you a guest entry to the media systems."
Quarter of an hour later, Pike can hear subdued noises of a movie coming from the living room, an old western from the sound of it. He hadn't watched a movie in weeks, always too preoccupied with this and that, and as he stares at his screen now, he wonders if it's been worth it. He'd done so well at the beginning, the first weeks without Dael, but the longer she's away, the worse he gets. Especially with the Enterprise still under radio silence - but he tries not to think about that because it hurts a damn lot, and he can't do a thing about it.
Wishing there was someone else waiting for him on the couch, he focuses on a delayed report, numbing his sorrows with work.
*
Alain stays with him, and while Pike still isn't completely relaxed about having him in his apartment, coming home to the lights being on and the smell of food lingering in the air is an uplifting prospect. It makes his days in the office shorter, his inclination to withdraw from too many unpleasant meetings higher. He spends some time investigating the Orion Syndicate problem and connects Alain to two of the leading specialists in the field, hoping his ex would make good use of that.
Still unwilling to give his visitor any of the available beds, Alain sleeps on the large, comfortable couch in the living room and would probably have remained there if not for one of those nights in which Pike is plagued by another nightmare. Their contents have moved away from their vague Narada theme over the last weeks, now more often featuring him running away from a shadow. Sometimes he escapes; sometimes he's shot and goes down, unable to move when steps draw close.
It's a first though when that night, the shadowy figure reaches him and pitch-black boots stop in front of his eyes. There's a pregnant pause before one boot, like in slow-motion, kicks his face. He can feel his nose breaking, a dozen missions gone wrong having carved that particular agony into his mind, and he still can't do a damn thing but groan because he's paralyzed on the ground, unable to fight, unable to run, just waiting for the next kick…
"Hey, hey," someone says. "Come on, wake up." He's shaken and shaking as he opens his eyes to the bright light of the room. Alain is bent over him, and he takes in the sight with an enormous feeling of relief. His ex wears boxers only, and while Pike usually prefers a more natural look on his men, Alain's pronounced bodybuilder muscles are a great thing to look at after the horrors of his dream. They look strong - protective.
"All is fine, Chris," Alain says, tender hands on his shoulders. "Get nightmares a lot?"
"Too many, too often," Pike says, clutching Alain's lower arms. "I've been good while she's been here, but now…"
Alain nods in understanding, holding him for another moment before withdrawing to leave.
"Hey," Pike says, raising one hand after him without touching. "Stay here?"
His ex looks at him in surprise. "You're sure?"
"Yes. Please." Pike moves to the side, and after a moment of hesitation, Alain slips into bed next to him.
"This doesn't really change anything," Pike says, aware how shitty this must sound but he needs to get this clear before they move on to… whatever. "I just don't want to be alone. But I don't love you anymore."
"I know that you love someone else," Alain agrees.
"Dael. Her name is Dael." Pike closes his eyes as Alain runs a hand down his naked side. "And Jim and Leonard. And they're all out of reach at the moment, and it kills me." His own fingers glide along Alain's back, up to the well-defined shoulder muscles.
"I'm sorry I'm not them. But you're not the only one who doesn't want to be alone, so don't you think I'm sacrificing myself here." Alain smiles.
Much later, when they're laced around each other after satisfying blowjobs, Alain's lips are close to his ear, whispering, "I missed you. You might not believe me but I missed you a lot."
Missed you too, Pike could say, but it's still fucking damn over between them.
*
There's a text message on his office console, its origin untraceable. He reads it twice before he really believes that it's from Dael.
Christopher,
I wish I could tell you where I am, share the beauty and the challenges with you. I miss you as if a piece of me is missing; it hurts less every day but it never stops. At nighttime, I dream of you by my side. At daytime, I need to forget about you all and be someone else. It's not a bright world where I am, but it is fascinating and welcoming to me. The future is unclear and the plans short-lived but never forget that I love you. D.
He sits in front of the message for a long time, his fingers close to the screen as if he could touch her in the displayed words. Her message is full of foreboding, and there's nothing in it about a swift return. On the contrary, references to unclear future plans make it likely that her absence would again be prolonged. Does she plan to stay in Romulan space, where her tattoos would be nothing to be looked at twice? Does it make enough of a difference to leave her Starfleet plans behind and keep working undercover in a situation where she must be under enormous pressure?
And does he mean so little to her that he doesn't weigh into her plans at all, making him just a severed limb? He closes his eyes, the familiar numbness in his chest substituted by a flash of pain.
He keeps up the façade through the day until he gets home. Alain is waiting there, and it's not what he really wants, but it's better than nothing and he has the feel that it's going to be all he'll have for a while.
His last resort - his unfaithful, criminal ex.
It would be funny if it didn't hurt that much.
*
Having enough of his ridiculous level of self-pity, Pike determinedly shoves every thought of his cloverleaf aside for a while. He takes regular meals, drinks sufficient water, and keeps away from alcohol although Alain pushes a glass of wine at him once in a while. He also exercises again, mostly weights, some treadmill - in short, he does everything to get his life and health under control.
It just doesn't really improve anything. Everything feels like it's going downhill, a lingering depression framing everything Pike deals with at the moment. It's like walking through molasses, every fleeting moment of feeling good just interspersing the dreadful, drawn-out agony of his normal days.
And one evening, the event he'd joked about truly happens; his door bell rings without prior warning, and a few minutes later Farnham walks into his apartment with a serious face.
"Didn't know you're back in town, John," Pike says, paling as the one reason why his friend would come in person, alone, springs to his mind. "Do you bring news about Dael?"
"Keep calm, she's fine. I only came to say -" In this moment, Farnham spots Alain in the kitchen door, and Pike can see first immense disbelief, then bright anger flaring in his friend's features.
"Whoa, why do I even think you care for news about Dael?" Farnham says sharply.
"Come with me." Pike pulls his friend into the office. The second the door is closed behind them, Farnham rips him a new one. "Alain? Are you out of your mind?"
"Come on," Pike says, raising one hand in defense. "It just happened. I know it's a bad idea -"
"Fucking Alain is a really stupid idea and I can't believe that you do it. He dumped you once and he'll do it again in the wink of an eye if he doesn't get what he wants from you."
"We're not in a relationship or anything. This is just a temporary arrangement."
"Is he living here? Sleeping in your bed?" When Pike doesn't answer, Farnham laughs darkly. "See, that's what I thought. And nobody of your tribe around to slap some sense into you. What are you going to do when Dael returns? Dump her for him?"
"No," Pike says firmly. "I'm only helping him out. This is temporary."
"Shit, man." Farnham shakes his head. "Watching your love life is like watching a train wreck bound to happen."
"This isn't about love, John. It's about companionship - about not being alone. It's not like you've been a lot around either -"
"Thank you for congratulating me on getting my job back," Farnham says scathingly. "It's not as if Eric's been waiting for a call from you, and you know damn well that he cares a lot about you. But no, you'd rather hang around with that asshole ex of yours. Did he have a teary story for you? Because everyone knows about that Good Samaritan complex you've got going by now. Ever get checked for personality changes after your last hospital stays? It might explain something."
Pike inhales deeply before answering. "What did you want to tell me about Dael?"
"Ah yes, Dael." Farnham strains his shoulders. "Her return date has been moved again, she'll be back at least two months later than planned. If you still care about her fate."
Pike holds back the impulse for a really cutting answer to this unjust accusation. Instead, he takes the news as fact. "Two months. She'll lose an academy term this way."
"She accepted the prolongation. It's her decision."
"As if Intelligence wouldn't know how to word it best to get their agents' agreement," Pike states sharply.
"As if you don't know how to manipulate if you want to," Farnham states just as sharply. "Don't tell me a captain never has to resort to that." He slaps the nearby wall with his palm. "Damn, Chris, we've had such a great friendship again. Eric and I, we have offered so often. You'd always be welcome with us. Why did it have to be Alain? Don't you ever learn from old mistakes?"
"I mostly learned by now that there's just no lover except from yourself you'd agree with," Pike retorts. "You didn't want to see me with the doc or Jim, and you never liked Dael either."
Farnham struggles for words, then says quietly, icily, "I may have been jealous of them for a long time, yes, but that's a thing of the past. And I always trusted those three that they would take care of you. That they wouldn't take flight and leave you in a mess. Alain will run, and he will leave you in a mess."
"Not this time," slips out of Pike's mouth, and the statement hangs in the air between them, all the underlying hopes that Pike hadn't faced yet suddenly out in the open.
"Oh, damn." Farnham's shoulders sink as his friend pulls away. "I see. Well, then, I'm going to take my leave. Good luck, Chris, you'll need it. And if you need someone to pick up the pieces - don't call me." He leaves in a rush.
"You were right about John," Pike says when Alain joins him. "He never liked you. In fact, he never liked anybody who's closer to me than he is."
"He doesn't matter," Alain replies, putting one arm over Pike's shoulder.
He does, but there are others who matter much more, Pike thinks.
Farnham is right, he doesn't know what to do about the situation, and so he lets it be and goes to bed with Alain.
*
The next morning, Pike should deal with important messages, but instead he sits in front of one of Dael's pictures for a long time, turning his ring with three fingers.
I wish you'd never gone on that mission, he dictates into a message to her. I can't believe how much my life is falling apart without you.
Half an hour later he reads through it, and through all the other never-sent messages, and in a flush of bone-deep frustration and anger about his stupid sentimentality and heartache, he deletes them all irrevocably.
It's not as if anyone cares about the shit he writes anyway.
The messages are barely gone when he's jerked out of his funk by Nogura's sudden appearance. "Chris, would you have a minute?" the old man says gravely.
He follows him into his office, where Nogura points him at the visitor's chair, then takes a seat himself and switches on the big wall screen.
It's a news article from one of the worst yellow presses, and its most prominent feature is a shot of him on his knees sucking dick, the byline reading, "What Starfleet can do for you". Pike stares at it numbly, trying to figure out when it had been taken and who he'd been with. The other person is barely visible but no matter how much he wrecks his brain, there's only one situation that would fit to the strange angle from the side and above and the rather bony hips under his hands… the day when Dael and he had bought and test-run her dildo in that sex shop.
Who the hell had captured that and given it to the press at a time when it would exasperate Nogura the most?
"I take it you know where this is from?" The old man's voice is grave, with a tangible edge of frustration.
"Yes."
"May I ask what you were thinking?"
"Not much, obviously," Pike says tonelessly. His cock had done all the thinking in that moment when Dael had challenged him - though he would've gone down on her anyway, probably.
"The press office will do its best to get it out of circulation, but you know how such pictures keep a life of their own."
"Yes."
Nogura shakes his head, as if he wants to add something, but then only says, "Dismissed."
"Heihachiro -" Pike starts a little helplessly.
"Dismissed, Pike." The old man turns away from him, shutting off the wall screen and not looking up again.
Pike grits his teeth and walks out. Once he's in the corridor, his brain slowly starts working again, and when he's back in his office, he sits down to find the article. He stares at the picture; this hadn't been taken by chance. Even if the shop had cams - which he doubts, considering it had a mostly female, sensitive customer base - they would have needed to get it from the shop owner, which he doubts even more. The only other explanation is that they'd been followed that day, and he idly wonders whether he or Dael had been the original target. There's one person he could ask, though after the latest argument with Farnham, he's not exactly inclined to call him.
He fights with himself, then finally sends the article to his friend anyway.
"If that's your bureau's attempt to get me out of the office, they're doing a good job for once. C."
It takes three day before Farnham replies.
"Seems you're contributing to that just fine. Should learn to keep your dick in your pants. J.
P.S. Nobody around here admits to knowing about the picture."
Pike can't really believe that.
*
The meeting is long and tiring, and Pike has a hard time concentrating - like often lately, which possibly comes from his lack of good sleep and the general exhaustion he feels. Still, he does his best to keep track of their endless lists, and says at one point, "About the updated shield parameter tests, I think we could schedule them for next week." He lifts his eyes from the PADD and stops as everyone looks at him.
On his right side, Thelin bends a little forward. "We've already decided that, sir," the Andorian says quietly.
"Oh, I must have missed that today," Pike says. "Carry on."
"We decided that already two days ago," Esteban says, and underneath the usual vibe of disdain, there was a sudden hint of concern.
"Oh." Pike doesn't know what to say. It's not been uncommon that he'd missed a detail lately, but he'd never forgotten an actual decision so far.
"I think we're quite done with our meeting," Thelin says, looking around. "Let's move the other topics to our next meeting on Friday."
Pike knows that young man is trying to save him. With a heavy heart, he keeps sitting until all but the two of them are left.
"Do you feel well, sir?" Thelin asks with concern.
"I don't feel particularly unwell," Pike says, which isn't a lie considering that the leaden feel in his body and brain lately are pretty much standard - and that's probably the sign that he's in a bad state. But at least not bad enough to end up tied to a table under the SFM scanner, thank god for small pleasures.
"May I be of any help?"
Pike looks at the young lieutenant, who he'd fantasized about once in a while, and Thelin firmly holds his gaze. There is an unspoken invitation lingering but Pike is too exhausted to take the man up on it. He doesn't need another potential problem in the admiralty. Besides, there's Alain now...
"No, thanks," Pike says at last. "Dismissed, Lieutenant." Thelin hesitantly leaves him alone, and he keeps sitting in the meeting room, eyes unfocused and PADD set to unresponsive, until the next group comes to claim it.
*
He dreams about his lovers that night. It's all about him, all three focusing on what he wants, and in the end it's the doc who leans over him, showing that special smile from those moments when Pike had given all of himself, and they have magic, beautiful sex.
Mine, you're all mine, the doc says, but then Jim comes and steals him, steals everyone until Pike is alone, the room empty, the walls bare, and the sound of rain the only thing left.
*
The sound of rain, it turns out, is for real, and slowly carries Pike out of his almost-nightmare into reality, where he finds green eyes resting on him in sympathy. Pike lifts his hand, running it down his exes' face. When his thumb meets the pale lips, Alain licks on it without hesitation.
For weeks, he had taken care to keep them apart and limited to blowjobs, something safe and distant, but he's tired of that and badly needs more today to get rid of the profound sadness that lingers from the dream. He unfolds his legs and moves them both into the scissors position they'd used during many morning fucks back then, one of his past favorites.
"You really want that?" Alain asks hushed as their legs lace.
"Yeah," Pike murmurs and rubs one finger along Alain's lower lip. Alain runs sensual hands down Pike's side, making him shiver a little, then pulls away for the lube. It's a brief pause before the fingers dive in; it's a bit cold and strange for a second, but then they warm him up, and Pike moans as they dig deeper, stimulating his prostate.
Alain is up on the other elbow, putting kisses on his chest and nipple as he deepens the stimulation. "Touch yourself," he whispers, and Pike obliges, fisting his own erection in time with the pushes and pulls. He smiles expectantly as Alain draws out and angles his erection for penetration. Pike whimpers as the welcome intrusion comes far too slow for his taste. "Damn tease."
"You always complained, and you always liked it."
"Fuck yes." Pike takes a deep breath as the dick is finally in up to the hilt, and Alain just holds on for a second before starting slow, rolling movements.
"Keep touching yourself," Alain whispers. "Give me a show."
With effort, Pike gets back to stimulating his hard-on, running his fingers up and down, teasing the glans, nudging the balls, trying to give Alain a good look on what he's doing, while his ex gives him a fabulous, well-paced ride, nudging one of his nipples with gentle fingertips.
He shifts his hips, giving them both another centimeter to go deeper, and is rewarded with Alain's groan. The pace picks up a little, and they dance on it with their breathing growing harsher, quicker, but still torturously controlled when all Pike wants at this point is to get fucked through the mattress.
"Another time," Alain says, and Pike whines a little in an unvoiced complaint. Rolling his hips forward, Alain rides him in fluid motions. "Keep touching yourself, Chris. Keep touching… yeah… come on, I want to see you come."
Pike coils, his head and shoulders lifting from the bed as he crosses the point of no return, bucking into his hand as he comes hard, his ejaculate splattering all over his groin and belly. Alain joins him, pushing deep into him in his own orgasm, riding out his own and Pike's in one gorgeous crescendo.
At last Pike sags back on the bed, depleted of all energy, just enough left to groan when Alain licks him clean, broad strokes of a tongue along his skin. Pike curls one hand into his ex' hair, caressing him. Now that he's slowly coming back to his senses, he wonders if it was a good idea to let Alain in like that.
But maybe he'd already done that on the very first day of seeing him again.
*
It's a number he's never seen before but as the call comes in via his private account he accepts it anyway on this early morning.
"Hey, Chris," Eric's voice says on the other side of the line.
"Eric." Pike switches on the viewer. Farnham's boyfriend looks unusually serious but forces a smile on his face when they see each other.
"Thought I'd give you a call, say hello," Eric says vaguely. "Sorry for not having kept in contact more often. I've been terribly busy lately, jetted all over the planet for weeks."
"No problem." Pike shrugs. "You're not my keeper. And John isn't either, for that matter," he adds, jumping right to the presumed heart of the matter.
Eric draws a face. "Yeah, well… I don't know the old story and I really don't have an opinion, but it's strange to think you'd have such a fall-out over someone. Maybe if the four of us would hang out together, like with Dael..."
"John hates Alain," Pike says. "That's nothing that's going to be fixed over an evening. And while it's nice that you called, you definitely shouldn't get between the front lines here. Don't make it your problem."
"I really like you," Eric says softly. "I wish we'd hang out together some more. It's been always… special."
"Yes, it's been that, but it wouldn't work right now." Pike's console announces his first meeting, and he shakes his head. "Have a good time, Eric. I'm sure things will straighten out again - they usually do between John and me, though it might take a while. Don't take it too seriously."
"Okay. Take care, Chris." Eric signs off.
Pike sighs. Eric is such a sweetheart, but he'd have to learn which challenges to pick. Trying to make John accept Alain is way over the young man's head and could only end in disaster.
*
I'm concerned about you, Nat writes in a message that comes with a billion attached shots of her and her husband, smiling all over on every single one of them.
Tom says you're keeping away from them, and John told me that Alain is back and living with you? Please tell me that Dael is going to be around soon again. I miss you all, but Robert is determined to show me around some more planets. He says after giving up Starfleet in the past, it's the least he could do for me. He's the best thing that ever happened to me.
Pike doesn't feel like reading about anyone's wonderful vacation trip when his own life is toggling between unsatisfying and problematic, and his reply might not be as charming as it could be. He might also have been a little drunk when writing it late in the night but it's already sent off by the next morning, with no chance of calling it back.
Dear Nat,
John is a nosy asshole and should keep to his own damn relationship instead of interfering with mine. It's only because of him that Dael is on a mission where I can't contact her at all and which just got prolonged for who knows how long. The Enterprise is somewhere out in space and I don't know where either, and I'm tired of it all.
C.
P.S. Stop sending me pictures of happy couples, it depresses the hell out of me.
He probably deserves it that the next bunch of pictures features ugly, stone-faced gargoyles that snarl at him with distorted grimaces.
We've visited a cathedral built by humans on Asidian II and instantly thought of you when seeing these.
Take care - Nat.
*
The days go by and he catches himself staring at the photograph of the four of them on his office desk one morning, remembering the words he'd once said to the doc.
"I know how it is to be on a ship. Everything that is not within daily sight feels like it almost doesn't exist. It's a life apart, and that's what many of us were looking for when we went into space."
How could he ever think he'd really be a part of them, when they're away most of the time. And Dael… who knew if she'd ever return, now that she seems to have found something really worth fighting for.
Pike shakes his head, despising himself for his thoughts. He'd wanted to sign in their names, bought a ring with Dael because he'd meant it, even studies that terrible language for her - he wants to be with them, he wants to believe in a future together. But right now, as reality cuts sharply through his dreams, it's hard to hold on to that thought.
There might be a train wreck after all.
"Good day, sir," Asimov greets him cheerily when walking into his office with brunch supplies in his hands, and Pike forces an answering smile on his face; he might never need the Romulan he works on, but the young lieutenant has become one of the better aspects of his life, and for that he's grateful.
*
Despite the lingering danger for Alain, Pike decides that they absolutely need to get out for a night, and with a carefully planned escape by beaming, they land in his club, which should be relatively free of criminals. Putting Alain's face under a half-mask is the second layer of protection and should be enough to disguise him in the relative dark of the club. Having escaped their self-made house detention, they spend an enjoyable evening that includes some hot sex in Pike's private room as well as socializing at the bar.
"Finally came back to your senses?" Ole says when they're about to leave in the early morning, and the statement is like a slap into Pike's face.
It's true, most of his casual club acquaintances seem to think that tonight's companion is much more up his alley than Dael. With her, Pike is an outsider to all communities - they always end a little apart from everyone, without having had enough time to build a circle of friends together so far.
With Alain, Pike is just a guy with another guy, and nobody's batting an eye about that in this century. They fit in smoothly, no need to explain anything, nobody getting a shock from some tattoos. The only remarks Pike and Alain had received tonight had been along the line of how well they fit together, charming compliments from people who would have liked to be included in their action.
It would be so easy to fit in, and it shakes Pike's world a little, the world in which he buys rings with the girl he loves, but which is also the world that rarely acknowledges what they have, mostly only criticizes them. Maybe that's part of what had driven her away.
"Anything wrong?" Alain asks when they're home, and Pike shakes his head, unwilling to reveal the cause for his bout of sadness and frustration.
"Come here," Alain mutters and pulls him into an embrace, for the first time supporting him just like a partner would do, with a shoulder to lean on and gentle words to lighten up his mood.
Pike doesn't sleep well that night, and it makes his med app pulse in dangerous shades of light red in the morning, which he can only tame with an extra shot of medicine.
*
The next day starts with bleary meetings, so Pike decides he needs something intellectually challenging for a change. When Asimov meets him in his office for lunch, Pike gets right to the point of what has been on his agenda for the longest time.
"You're once said that Dael writes in boards. Show these boards to me," he says, his sandwich ignored on a plate next to him.
Asimov gives him a reluctant look. "It's been months that she wrote anything. Her opinions might've changed since then."
It gives Pike a fair idea of what she might have written, statements bordering on treason, maybe. "Considering that Intel nevertheless shanghaied her and she made it through all security tests, it can't have been too bad."
"Intel?" Asimov asks with an alert gaze.
"Yes," Pike confirms. He's not quite sure why he's saying it now, besides wanting to make Asimov open up a little beyond their strictly professional interaction. Deal's ongoing radio silence makes him itch to read all she'd written - there's a Dael beyond what he knows of her, and he wants to get a feel for that person. "So please, show them to me."
Asimov gives in, surfing with him to the boards she'd written on.
"That's her profile." Her picture shows one of her tattoos, the one above her heart. Her nick translates as One Spica. The slogan is convoluted, and Pike needs Asimov's help to translate it; it boils down to Only humans ever hurt me.
"Not an exactly uplifting slogan," Pike notes. The profile dates a few months from before her Academy admission.
"She felt like a teenager to me when I read this," Asimov says. "You know, people with the feeling that the whole world is against them. The way she wrote in the forums only supported that view."
They list her entries, coming up with hundreds. They wouldn't have time to go through them all, so Pike randomly opens those with interesting subject lines.
"Re border protection policies" brings up a brief comment that doesn't make sense without reading the whole thread, so he surfs on to "The artist in Romulan culture". It is a rather well-written article by her about the deep embedding of art in Romulan culture, where basically everyone feels the need to express themselves through art. As freedom of expression is limited in the Romulan Empire, art is frequently used with strong encoding and symbolism, and she lists a few examples of this. He's a bit surprised about the depth of her analysis; her father had been human, after all. At least this posting is beyond criticism.
Pike moves on to something more political, "Re Federation influence and border conflicts". A discussion that shows a tendency towards conspiracy theories, happening in a board that claims they've got the only full list of military campaigns of the Federation against Romulan space. Pike skims through it, checking for some of the secret campaigns he knows of. He finds them all - it seems surprisingly complete, listing many encounters that should never have left confidential documents. Various campaigns are documented in detail, with photographs, strategic diagrams and timelines. He wonders where the contributors sit, whether the Tal'Shiar feeds most of it or if the people contributing think they fulfill a duty in informing others of what happens far out there in space.
From a militaristic viewpoint, Pike is strongly against whistleblowers because it endangers the crews out there; from the viewpoint of a Federation citizen, he cannot help thinking that some information leaks are necessary to allow the public to act as a supervisory body of the government. No matter how good someone's intentions are, there's always a chance of major fuck-ups, decisions gone wrong, and if they're never published and brought to justice, the politic atmosphere will get poisoned over time. Overall, Pike thinks, freedom is more endangered by cover-ups than by publications. But on the level of individual lives, it's different.
It makes Pike wonder if their current Borg activities are documented out there in the cloud. He could probably ask Farnham but they're not really on good terms right now.
"What bullshit," Asimov says over the long list. "As if Starfleet would do that."
Pike looks at him. "The Federation is large, Lieutenant, and Starfleet not the only fleet out there."
"You mean - that list is correct?" The young man pales.
"Probably not everything in it, but a fair amount." Pike leans back in his chair. "There's a difference between political statements, and real life politics. The relationship with the Romulan Empire is very complex. And this list doesn't show the various campaigns of Romulans against Federation space."
"Guess their government would've instantly deleted it and then executed the writers," Asimov says ironically.
"Maybe." Pike takes a bite of his sandwich; if he didn't eat now, his med app would raise the first alert. "Did you ever write in these boards?"
"Rarely. As I once said, they're mostly fans of anything Romulan. Many of them are humans or other Federation citizens, who haven't even been to Romulan space." Asimov curls his lip in disgust. "They've never had to buckle under a Romulan whip."
"But you had to."
The young man squares his jaw. "Read my file if you want to know details. I'd rather not speak about it."
"And you still have a major in Romulan linguistics and culture."
"I wanted to use my knowledge for something good. Defend the Federation from this threat, not add to it," he says with a glare at the screen.
"For them, we are the threat."
"We're different. We wouldn't stop ships and take innocent people as slaves."
"We stop ships and make innocent people end up in detention centers," Pike says.
"That's different," Asimov growls.
"I agree," Pike says calmly. "But often not as different as we'd like it to be."
"You know what Nero did. You saw it live, as I well know."
Pike frowns, shaking his head. "He was one mentally disturbed Romulan. That doesn't say anything about a species, or we'd all be Hitlers."
"They applauded him, right here." Asimov points at the board. "Found excuses for his actions, indulged in wild fantasies of why he was moved to destroy a world."
"I bet not all did."
"Too many. I wish this board didn't exist."
Pike nods, rubbing a finger over his bottom lip in thought as he looks at the lieutenant. "Did Dael defend him?"
"No, she didn't go that far. But she strongly criticizes Federation politics regarding the colonial planets along the border, claiming that much too often people who are working on international understanding are seen as enemies, despite the Federation tagline of supporting variety. She also thinks that Vulcans preach IDIC but rarely live it."
"I'd probably agree with all her points."
"You didn't read her postings. They just - I just don't know what she's in Starfleet for, when she keeps raving on about its failures," Asimov states.
"She wants to make a difference. Make sure that next time, maybe a colony is protected as it should be."
Asimov shakes his head and falls silent, taking a bite of his own sandwich.
Pike goes back to randomly surfing the board. He could read and translate Dael's other postings at another time; right now it might be more interesting to get a feel for the other contents. He idly scrolls through more discussions about politics, taking in the strong pro-Romulus focus of them all. Then he goes back to the art forum, looking at a few discussions, nothing too interesting but -
He makes a double-take as he gazes at the picture of an older Romulan with a teenaged human girl on his lap that looks like…
Pike reaches for the PADD with the old photographs of Dael he'd scanned.
"What is it?" Asimov asks curiously. Pike scrolls to the picture with her father and shows it to Asimov.
"That's Dael," Pike states, and spell-bound they check the images together, back and forth between the posted shot of the artist and the shot of teenage Dael.
"That's her," Asimov agrees. "So they've been in the same colony?"
"Obviously," Pike says thoughtfully. "Do you think we can contact the man?"
"Not anymore," Asimov replies, reading the text around the pictures. "The man was Al'Retrrln, an artist. He died a fortnight ago. His son made this posting to announce his passing to the community. Seems they live in the Aethhon enclave on Pluto. Exiled Romulans."
"What's his son's name?"
"T'Anihl."
T.A! Pike's heart makes a joyful leap. He can't believe that he's actually managed to trace down someone from Dael's past - someone she'd probably be delighted to meet again. If she ever returns, that is, he adds soberly. But still...
"Let's write him a message. Get into contact."
"Why would he want to establish contact with us?" Asimov says darkly. "We're Starfleet. We're the enemy."
"I'm doing this for Dael, and you'll help me."
Asimov gives him a dubious look but then opens an editor to create a message to T'Anihl ch'Retrrln with him.
*
Sex with Alain flows surprisingly easy ninety percent of the time, like on this long weekend in a cabin in the woods (and Pike tries not to think about how much he yearns to have such a weekend with the doc). The other ten shows up when Alain suggests tying him up for sex, and Pike declines rather harshly.
"Still averse to it?" Alain asks afterwards. "Would've thought that after thirteen years, you'd be over it."
"Thirteen? The Narada incident was only seven years ago." Only - it's actually a long time when hearing the number.
Alain looks at him thoughtfully. "Back then, you said you're weren't in favor of it because of some bad experiences on a mission. You never delivered details but it seemed to have been rather horrific."
Pike needs a moment to remember - then is totally flabbergasted that he could ever forget. The mission on Celestis had been one of the worst of his career, right from the get go. It was one of the few he made undercover: the orders came basically right down from Intelligence, and he ended in the captivity of a terrorist splinter group that tried to get information from him, mostly by the means of severe beatings… and needles, which was some cultural thing. His own people barely recognized him when they located him after four days, and it took weeks before he made it back into the captain's chair for full duty.
Funny - he'd always thought he'd bounced back well considering how bad it had been. He hadn't lost a limb and had scratched along a kidney rebuild, then made it through with the minimum number of shrink sessions and got a clean bill of psychological health faster than anyone thought, including his CMO. Looking back today, though, this failed mission had probably been part of the reason why he even considered staying on Earth and doing recruitment after the end of that tour three months later. It damn looks as if Celestis had left a chink in his armor that hadn't been properly mended. In fact, he hadn't even been quite so critical of Intelligence before that, having aligned himself with Farnham's career choice rather easily in the past.
Maybe he should go and read his old mission reports once in a while, he'd probably find interesting things in there, Pike thinks sourly, and curls one hand in thought. The memories of the torture are so vague that he can't even summon the pain anymore, like of those pins under his fingernails, but the effects on his life are still real.
"Chris?" Alain asks, bringing him back to reality.
"Just thinking," Pike replies. "You're right, that was probably the start of it." Saying it, he realizes exactly why the Narada had been different, aside from losing his command - he hadn't given in through four days of agony on Celestis, but he had poured out every damn 'fleet code he knew over a little pain and a slug on his brainstem. A part of him just never forgave his body for being so weak in the most important moment of his life.
"You ever try to shovel the shit out again?"
Pike shrugs. "Lately, yes. Getting better." Baby steps with the doc, the man that owns him, kind of - if the doc wanted to, but Pike hadn't received an answer yet thanks to the annoying radio silence. It's a far cry from the way he lived sexuality in the far-away past, where other ghostly memories reside in which he could really enjoy tight bondage and the feeling of giving up control. Even with Leonard, it's more of a challenge than joy, some ego-against-ego battle.
Or maybe he glorifies the past a little by now; maybe he'd just grown out of that leaning over time. It's not particularly rare; other men had told him the same.
"I might have something for you," Alain says, pulling him out of his thoughts once more.
"Hmm?"
"Not telling yet. Just trust me." Alain runs one warm hand down Pike's chest, soothingly stroking him.
"I do." Which is both the truth and crazy, and Pike knows he really shouldn't do this, invest any emotions in a man who'd left him once and might do it again. But he can't help his feelings and he's in too deep. He'd like to blame his absent lovers but it's his own fucking problem that he now always chooses people with their own careers out in space.
Alain's hand runs deeper down, cupping his package. It's just a reflex that Pike spreads his legs a little, he's actually rather done. Or so he'd thought before he feels his length hardening, and he groans.
This thing with Alain might fuck up his life but the sex just remains fabulous.
*
When he's back in his office Monday morning, there's a message from his men on the console which hadn't been forwarded properly to his PADD due to some wonky headers.
Out of radio silence - how about a real time transmission? Sunday your time, 2200. Drop us a note if you can't make it.
It's the first time this method of date arrangement fails, and he's a bit at a loss what to reply. He can imagine them sitting and waiting for the connection, and it must've hurt them.
It takes him half an hour to compose a reply, and it's apologetic and convoluted and he deletes it for a short, truthful answer.
Got your message too late, sorry for that. How about Thursday night my time? Please send the reply directly to my PADD.
They agree on Thursday, but Pike has to cancel it because of a meeting that runs far too long, and then it's the weekend and he's busy with Alain, so he offers the next time on Monday evening. They've got to cancel on him because of time constraints, and their real time chat is shifted around for another week, something completely unusual.
It's no wonder that when McCoy gets ahold of him at last, with Kirk having had to cancel once again, the doc is concerned, having been able to read too much simply from the way their usual pattern has been disrupted.
"We're out of communication for some weeks and suddenly things seem to have changed between us? What's happening on Earth, Chris? Please, tell me," the doc says without introduction, his gaze intense and demanding.
I missed you so much, Pike wants to say. Seeing you again makes me happier than I can put into words. But the doc's words have an accusatory ring that reminds him of John, raising his defenses in addition to the lingering bad conscience he's already nurturing about Alain. "Nothing really changed. I only met an old lover of mine."
"That's all?"
"He was in need of lodging and I helped him out." Pike pauses. "We also reconnected, kind of."
"Does the guy have a name?"
"It's Alain. The man I'd been living with for a while." Pike had never told them much about his ex, aside from the basics, but he's not surprised when McCoy remembers those.
"The guy who dumped you and turned you into an embittered hermit for years?" McCoy asks, his brows drawing together.
"The same."
Pike can see McCoy battling, his mouth opening and closing until in the end, all that comes out is a single question. "Something serious?"
"Maybe."
"Where is he staying?"
"With me right now. He needed a place to live."
"That serious, uh?" McCoy's face is rather frozen. "What about Dael?"
"As I said, it's only temporary." Pike repeats. "I felt so disconnected from you all. It's as if I've got two lives running, with no real connection between them. I'm glad we could chat again." Missed you, missed you, the mantra runs in the back of his head but he can't bring himself to say it because it would sound as if he wants to gloss over their tension and evade the discussion.
"The connection will get very real when she comes back," McCoy says darkly. "You fell out of love with her?"
"No. But sometimes it's so complicated… with Alain, it's all easy."
"I never saw your relationship with Dael as that complicated," McCoy says and it surprises and also annoys Pike, because the doc's criticism of her had been a large part of the complicated for quite some time.
"A young, female cadet, remember?"
"Well on her way to become an officer," McCoy says. "Or is that part of the complicated, that she's making her own decisions by now?"
Pike feels his shoulders tensing, wishing the discussion to be over. "Maybe I'm just not good at handling too many relationships."
"Great. And we're those too many?"
"Damn, Leonard - give me a little time," Pike says sharply. This is all wrong, they shouldn't fight but speak about something else, like the recordings they'd exchanged before the radio silence, the ones in which Pike had bared his soul and had not yet received an answer to. But instead, they're just making things worse here. "It's happening all so fast. The thing with Alain- he was very special to me, he's got the potential to become special again. But I'm not going to make any rushed decisions, one way or the other, and I hope you don't either. Or do you want to get rid of me?"
McCoy takes a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. "No, of course not. Sorry for giving you the third degree. In any case, we'd like to get in touch again, if that's all right by you."
"Of course." Pike reaches out to the cam. "I meant it when I said I feel disconnected from you all. I need to hear from you."
"Good. You will. Take care, talk to you soon."
"You too."
McCoy signs out, and only after the line closes Pike realizes that they both didn't say the words they've said for a longest time, the "I love you".
It stings sharp and painful.
*
Onto Part 8