Reboot Fic: Morning Sun 1/4 (Draws XII) [Pike/Dael/Kirk/McCoy]
Title: Morning Sun (Draws XII)
Author: syredronning aka Acidqueen
Series: Reboot aka ST:XI aka AOS - Draws Series
Codes: Pike/Dael/Kirk/McCoy (in particular Pike/McCoy, Kirk/Dael, Kirk/McCoy), various OCs and other pairings in passing
Rating: NC-17; kinky; complex psychology; dark themes; disability; recovery; relationships with large age differences
Word count: Complete 35.000
Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek, I own my brain.
Author's Note: This is the sequel to "Shadowplay". It breaks most of the mold of the series (the POV, the game theme) and can therefore be considered as another interlude. The title is from the song "Morning Sun" by Robbie Williams.
Draws Masterpost at LJ or at AO3. Re-reading the first part "Disciplinary Measures" might be helpful.
Thanks for the wonderful beta and helpful comments go to shagungu, who also taught me the expression 'resident optimist'! All remaining flaws are solely mine.
Summary: In the aftermath of Chris' breakdown, Leonard takes care of Chris, Jim takes care of Dael - at least, that's the general idea.
***
The bedroom is flooded with light that comes in through the half-closed curtains, as the sun slowly ventures from morning to midday position. Two men are on the bed, one awake, one asleep in the other's protective embrace. The house is deadly silent, except for the rhythmic, soothing background noise coming from the sea, gentle waves against the shore.
You're a goddamn idiot, and not worth your goddamn license, the sentinel mutters to himself. The expression on his clouded face says that he'd really like to throw something now, only he can't, because moving would mean disturbing the barely reached peace of his bed partner, the man he's here to care for and has failed spectacularly just three hours into his mission, making him almost relapse.
Keep everything predictable and clear.
Be careful, Leonard. Be really careful.
He should get Dael's words tattooed on his arm, maybe he might remember then that the man he'd returned to isn't exactly the man he'd said good-bye to all those months ago.
They'd get there again, though, if he'd any say in it.
With a sigh, he closes his eyes. With only two days on Earth which had been completely spent in debriefings, he hadn't had time yet for his own usual shoreleave breakdown (he should find a better word for it; it sounds damn wrong in comparison) which consists of sleeping for two days.
What better time to start than with Chris in his arm?
***
The stairways up to the palace are crowded with beings of all species in dress uniform and ball gowns, jewelry and medals sparkling in the fake candlelight that illuminates the curved, winding gala stairs. At first, nobody seems to register the new arrivals that descend from an unobtrusive cab, shining command gold not exactly rare at the annual Admiralty's Ball. It's only when the man laces his arm with the young woman next to him that the first guests look more closely at the couple, and a whisper travels up the stairways as the crowd parts for them.
Maybe their faces are a little too pale for what is supposed an exciting evening, a little too tense around the edges. Maybe the man's trademark, easy smile isn't as easy tonight, and as for his companion - barely anyone has ever really seen her smile, and not just for the layers of makeup she wears tonight that give her the face of a porcelain doll, fitting to the green, Chinese silk coat buttoned up to her chin.
You really want to attend with her? Bones' question reverberates with every step Jim takes, his eyes daringly darting from one staring person to the other while he tightly holds onto his companion. You're going to throw her to the sharks to keep up appearances?
We're not pretending anything - we'll only show that we're still together, still a force to be reckoned with, all four of us.
And she'd agreed with his reasoning when he'd asked her upon her arrival.
Somewhere in the back of his head, Jim thinks as he steadies his breathing, it's almost amusing that he's approaching this ball with the same tension in his guts and coolness in his demeanor as he would a confrontation with Klingon warriors, but truth is that he'd definitely rather take the warriors, and from Dael's look, she'd be right with him.
"Captain," a calm voice says next to him as they're halfway through the gauntlet, and a large weight is lifted from his shoulders as Spock joins his side, head tilted in a greeting gesture. "I am pleased to see you."
"Oh, yes. And what a lovely lady you've got at your side," Uhura says and smiles at his woman, the curious flicker in her eyes not tainting the accepting, heartfelt sound of her welcome.
"May I present - Dael, our partner," Jim says gracefully, for the first but by far not the last time tonight.
***
When Leonard opens his eyes, it's to midday light and Chris' grey-blue eyes dreamily resting on him. His lover lays close, head propped up on one elbow, his free hand lingering over Leonard's body without touching.
Without thinking, he reaches out to catch Chris' hand.
Chris blinks, then his lids drop closed for a moment. His at first limp hand curls, tightening around Leonard's.
"I'm real, I'm here," Leonard whispers.
There's a very small smile on Chris' lips as he opens his eyes again, taking a deep breath. "I know… there was just a part of me that still couldn't believe it and wondered whether you'd vanish if I touched you."
"Not going to vanish." Leonard pulls their joined hands to his lips for a kiss. "Not going anywhere."
Chris leans forward and they meet in a kiss, first tentatively exploring, then hot and deep, devouring each other's mouth.
"Damn, Chris," Leonard growls when they break apart, pulling him into a strong embrace and burying his face against his lover's neck. "I missed you so much."
"Missed you too," Chris says choked.
"Love you," Leonard whispers between nipping kisses along Chris' shoulder. His erection, strained to full size just from their brief contact, rubs along the leg Chris has half-thrown over his groin. Chris has buried one hand in his hair and, if the rolling hips are any indication, has the same idea.
There are so many things Leonard wants to do, so many things he'd dreamed about - and he does have the collar in his bag - but he's extremely unsure whether it's good to jump into anything sexual just yet.
Because he's read every fucking report available to him, talked to anyone who could give him an opinion, and he's still not sure what exactly happened between Chris and Alain on that weekend before the stroke, if those reported cuts had been made in anything resembling a consensual situation. The fear of pushing Chris, whose mental state is really damn fragile, into some flashback is almost choking his libido. Torn between wanting to ask and wanting to stop, though, he wavers and the moment passes.
Fail by indecision, Leonard thinks before he groans deeply from Chris' lips on his cock. This, so much. Months of little sex, much sorrow culminate in a storm of arousal that sweeps over him, leaving him whimpering. He tries not to rock too hard into the welcoming mouth, tries to keep his hands away from the bowed head he can't stop looking at, which bobs up and down above his groin in absolute dedication. And he really tries to keep it slow, he doesn't just want…
…there, yes, please, sweet lord…
He comes thrashing and arching, calling out Chris' name, grabbing his lover's head and holding it down to ride out this beautiful, best orgasm ever.
At last depleted, he sags back onto the mattress, fighting for air. He only vaguely registers that Chris joins him when a gentle kiss descends on his mouth, a little sticky and tasting of his own cum. He sweeps his tongue over his lover's lips, licking them clean before delving deeper, more than sorry when they've got to come up for air.
"Oh, Chris…" he whispers, looking into those long-missed grey-blue eyes.
"Doc…" Chris smiles. It's almost his former smirk though there's something missing - the usual, wry distance between him and the object of his focus is gone. He's much less guarded, and that's exactly the part of the more vulnerable that Leonard fears, because they'll be here together for weeks. He remembers how intense it's always been between them and he has no clue whether they'll manage to keep everything under control.
Whether I manage to keep myself under control, Leonard thinks with a groan, as just Chris' simple touch on his chest makes him want another ride.
"You're the death of me," he mutters, then instantly regrets that particular word choice. Chris only keeps smiling, though.
Suddenly decided, Leonard rolls them over so that Chris is on his back. He examines him, following every line with eyes, lips and hands, half professional assessment (damn occupational disease), half his deep, personal need to see that the man he'd yearned for is, if not all right yet, at least well on the way to physical recovery. The muscles are leaner, the body slimmer, the hair greyer and some wrinkles deeper - but all in all, there's much less change than feared. Of course, he'd need to see Chris in action; his stance had looked a little unstable in the kitchen this morning but the shock could probably account for that…
"Stop thinking, doc," Chris says, running both hands down Leonard's upper arms. "Now that you've made sure I won't fall apart under your hands, do it."
"Do what?" Leonard asks, teasingly caressing the length of Chris's beautiful cock. It's not completely hard, and he remembers Dael's vague statement of last night that the two have had sex a few times but not really of the penetrative variety, so maybe this is just the status-quo and -
"Leonard…" Chris whispers, and Leonard would give a lot for an actual order but there's not a trace of that in his lover's words.
Well, then…
He goes down, wraps one hand around Chris' member and swallows it, rewarded with a deep groan from above and one tender hand on his sweaty hair. He gives due focus to the task at hand, running his lips up and down the hardening shaft, tonguing the slit once in a while, cradling the balls when he remembers to, in the haze of his own hormonal turmoil.
"Doc… Leonard…please -" Chris gasps at one point, tugging at his head.
Leonard lifts his head, more than pleased as he finds the erection in his hand as strong as ever, a little drop of precum among the wetness caused by his own mouth.
"What do you want, Chris?"
"Fuck me," Chris says, and Leonard finds himself in the quadrant of concern again, wondering whether penetrative sex is a recommended procedure right away.
Aside the fact that his own dick is barely at half-mast.
"Got a better idea." He reaches to the side to pick up a strategically placed bottle of lube, giving it to Chris before crouching higher. "I want to ride you, Chris. I want your hand in my ass to prepare me, and then I want to ride your cock."
"Not complaining," Chris rasps. "Though I'm not sure…" He gestures a little apologizing towards his groin.
"All in perfect working order," Leonard attests, and takes the fine piece into his hands once more to keep it warm and ready. He's a little smug that he seems to have been successful where Dael hasn't been, but given Chris' sexual orientation, he probably shouldn't ascribe it to his hot ass alone.
Similar thoughts seem to run through Chris' head for a moment, before his lover agrees. "Good." Chris uncaps the lube and coats his fingers.
With a sigh, Leonard lets go of his soon-to-be prize and scoots upwards, spreading his legs. When Chris reaches through them and dips one cautious finger into his ass, he can't help pressing down against it.
"We've got time," Chris whispers. "Right?" There's a flicker of insecurity in his gleaming eyes, among the arousal, and Leonard nods quickly.
"At least a month… oh, yes." Momentary hesitation gone, Chris seems to be on autopilot and damn hell, he's always been great in bed but this is a new level as he makes Leonard ride four fingers and then some, spreading him wider than anyone had over the last months.
Just when Leonard is ready to beg for real, Chris sets him free. "Tell me what you had in mind, doc."
Hastily, Leonard moves downward. Chris' erection has flagged a little but he manages to stroke it back into full bloom under the heated gaze of his lover. "Want to ride you. Want to feel your cock in me, taking possession of me. Marking me with your come…" He says a lot of things, can't remember half of it after a second, only knows that he needs to sit down on Chris or he'll just come again, no matter that his own dick is still soft and a little out of blood because all of it has settled around his prostate, demanding little bugger.
He scoots forward and rises on his knees, letting Chris guide the head right into position.
I'm going to die any second, but at least with a smile on my face, Leonard thinks as he lowers his body, using his own weight to drive the cock up his ass. He whimpers as it hits bottom, not because it hurts or anything but because he wants so much more - deeper, larger, just more of Chris.
But then Chris rocks his hip a little and there is the more that he'd needed, and with a groan he bends forward over his lover's chest, kissing small, perky nipples buried in grey curls.
"Move, please, move…" Chris whispers, and who's Leonard to deny that wish so he gets into gear and rocks up and down in slow, careful moves. Chris' eyes have turned to slits, but there's still blue flickering at him. He waits for more of Chris' classic hip rolls before he shakes his head over his stupidity; Chris just doesn't have the strength to fuck upwards into him against gravity and Leonard's considerable weight, so it's his job alone to make the ride a RIDE, capital letters. Determined to meet his former acclamations, Leonard sets out to give Chris a great time with well-paced moves, driving them both a little insane when his body claims a break once in a while.
"Not getting any younger either," Leonard groans after the third time, his arms supporting his shaking body from crushing Chris.
"I've got problems coming," Chris mutters. "Took ages last time, felt really bad about it."
"We've got time," Leonard soothes him.
"Let's change position," Chris suggests. He directs him around until they're in a kind of scissor position. It makes a little more distance between them than Leonard prefers, but it's an interesting angle. Cradling his half-hard dick, he waits for Chris to find his entry again. His eyes drop close as the cock drives into him in one swift move.
"Do you like it?" Chris asks, reaching out to join in Leonard's stimulation. "Been one of my favorites in the past. Though mostly on the other side." He gently rocks forward into Leonard, and while it's definitely hot the friction is limited. Leonard doubts that it'll make Chris' orgasm any easier to reach, but who knows.
Determined he relaxes, turning his head so that he can meet Chris' eyes fully, melting under their intensity. Chris looks so happy and glowing; hell, if that's the therapy he needs, Leonard is willing to give everything he has, any time.
"Love you so much," Chris says, his gaze suddenly a little dreamy again, and Leonard tilts his pelvis to increase their friction before his lover might question the reality of all of this.
"Love you too. Move, please…" He moans as Chris sets his body into motion, tiny little pushes and pulls that add up to a large, big needtocomeNOW without reaching the top, and after a while, Leonard gives up and tries another position.
Chris rolls onto his back and punches the pillow into submission to support his head, then motions Leonard to sit down over him.
"Higher, doc," he directs him, and Leonard reluctantly complies, crouching so that he could feed his cock into Chris' mouth. By all rights, this should be one of the trigger positions but Chris looks relaxed, not a hint of psychological stress, so with one palm supportively against the wall, Leonard leans forward. Chris' hands reach around his ass to take hold, and then his dick gets swallowed to the hilt by that amazing mouth and Leonard stops thinking until the moment when the last of his sperm gets swallowed and his dick licked lean.
"Two orgasms…" he whimpers as he sinks down to the left of his lover, and it sounds strangely like a complaint. Chris grins.
The psychologist in Leonard demands a good answer as to how Chris can swallow dick like that again, but the man in him is drop dead tired and also self-conscious that Chris hasn't been satisfied yet. He lays a hand on the somewhat deflated organ.
"We've got time, you said," Chris says lazily, offering him an opt-out. "I really could use a cup of tea."
"You're not going to leave this bed before you're 100% satisfied," Leonard states, and starts stroking as Chris chuckles amusedly.
Half an hour later, they're both wiped from their orgasms and ready for another round of sleep, steadfast ignoring the beautiful day outside.
***
They make the first round together side by side, greeting officers and Federation officials, foes and friends alike. They assume their roles in this play, answering any inquiry about Chris with some noncommittal words, never saying too much. Nogura himself brings Dael a drink with a jovial smile, and she takes it with a face devoid of expression.
Jim can imagine what it costs her to keep herself under control, because he'd prefer nothing more than to throw that drink into the old man's face. But the way he'd had chosen to play this game is the one that brings better results than open warfare; a battle played by the rules of the Admiralty, with lists of broken regulations and overthrown board decisions, unreasonable orders and actions that were unbecoming to officers.
He knows exactly where he stands with most officers in the room. Some see him as a hero; some as a troublemaker whose actions, presumably based on personal revenge, weaken Starfleet. Many agree that Shaa had been the wrong choice but most think she should've been removed more quietly from her post, though nobody ever has a good suggestion how that should've been achieved with Nogura unwaveringly holding onto her as he'd done. Quite a few think that Chris had brought his problems onto himself and Jim shouldn't have felt compelled to clean up after him, relationship or not.
Don't get me wrong, Kirk - Pike has been a great man. Emphasis on has been, though. He's well over his zenith, and you'd be well advised to take precautions not to go down with him, one commodore had told him plainly just a day ago, and more than one colleague had suggested that Bones and he should get rid of those partnership entries in their files.
Like hell, he thinks, feeling his jaw tightening.
He looks over to Dael who's quietly talking to a young Andorian - must be Thelin, Jim gathers, one of Chris' former task force members. Bones had repeatedly reminded him that Dael had been almost as much of a recluse as Chris for the last months, and that the return to San Francisco, much less attending this major social event, would sorely tax her. She seems to be doing fine, though, considering that she's not exactly a soul of the party kind of girl.
Taking his leave from the commander he'd been talking to, he tries to join Dael to take her to the small Enterprise group that's gathering in a corner, but yet another ambassador corners Jim for information about Chris. Before tonight, he hadn't realized in which prominent circles their lover had socialized, and he wonders if they could make use of these connections when Chris comes back.
The next man that takes a hold on him is someone else he hadn't planned to speak with, but it's hard to escape Chris' former CMO who lengthily apologizes to him for not having noticed Pike's state, although he hadn't even been on Earth most of the time. Jim listens with a patient half-smile and his thoughts on something else until Boyce gets a little psychoanalytical.
"You might think he's without friends, but he isn't. He just never asks for help." Boyce looks decidedly annoyed. "He's got no problem handling a crew of 800 with a snap of his fingers, because that's in his job description. That's what he's been trained for, what he always wanted. One of the longest-serving captains, good guts, willing to risk his head for his people - he was great in that chair, although a little prone to leaps in logic. That's why he wanted Spock for the Enterprise." Boyce shakes his head. "But he's not an easy friend to make and keep, not at all. He's not good with relationships on eye level. He needs clear responsibilities and ranks, then all is fine. The many details of intimate, long-term relationships are a challenge for him, because he can't just issue an order - or follow one, for the matter. That's why Nogura had such a strong hold on him."
"You make him sound as if he can't decide on his own," Jim says a little sourly.
"Oh, he's fine with making decisions," Boyce hastens to clarify. "But he's not really one to question orders when he gets them, you know. Or question his own decisions, once made. He's got that iron core of self-denial that makes both for great victories and great disasters."
Thanks, we just had that, Jim thinks.
"I sometimes wondered about his family background…" Boyce levels his voice down, "but he's been always been very tight-lipped about it."
Boyce looks at him expectantly, but even if Jim knew it in depth - which he doesn't, because Bones had never shared the details of that particular discussion with Chris back then - he definitely wouldn't tell them to this nosy man.
"Commodore Decker is waving at me," Jim lies smoothly. "Please excuse me, Doctor." He walks away.
The funny thing, Jim ponders as he eases himself through the crowd towards Dael, is that Chris, despite often sounding and appearing like a clenched-ass-kind-of-guy, is also a man who breaks important regulations when he sees fit. He doubts that any other officer would've chosen a whipping session in a dungeon, of all things, as punishment for Bones' and his serious fuck-up back then. And that had been before the Narada, before anyone could claim that maybe Chris wasn't working on all thrusters ever since.
It seems that Chris' inappropriate liaison as cadet with that instructor at the academy, a relationship which Jim had taken lightly when first hearing about it, had really left a deep impression and become a kind of blue print for his more deviant actions. In certain sexually charged moments, Chris is absolutely able to disregard both normal morals and rules of conduct, and it's probably only due to Chris' generally strong sense of privacy and distance from the people around him that this dangerous tendency hadn't impacted his reputation and career much earlier.
Starting their relationship had unleashed the beast, kind of - no, that's stupid, Jim berates himself. For all Jim knows, Bones' influence had changed Chris' mind on his action back then, and Chris didn't start anything with anyone at the academy but Dael. And Dael is able to make her own decisions, now more than ever, and she hadn't been pressured into anything - despite Esteban's fucking insulting ideas.
Getting himself a drink from the tray of a waiter, he looks for Dael, but she's vanished in the crowd.
***
It's maybe an hour later when Leonard wakes up again, and while staying in bed curled around Chris is a fabulous thing, he also needs to go to the bathroom and then find something to drink and preferably eat - he couldn't even remember his last meal.
A brief shower later, he's ready to check the kitchen, deciding that scrambled eggs and bacon would be the perfect thing to start the day. Soon, a delicious smell fills the house, and Leonard is a little surprised that it doesn't lure Chris into the kitchen. Putting the pan aside, he goes to the bedroom.
Chris lies on his stomach, one arm stretched out towards the empty left side of the bed as if trying to find someone there.
And of course he is, Leonard thinks with an eyeroll at himself. Carefully he stretches out, covering the lonely hand with his left. Chris' lids flicker.
"Good morning, lover," he says with a smile. "Brunch is ready. Some protein for your body and soul." He runs his fingers up Chris' arm up to the shoulder blade, eliciting a soft sigh from the sleeper. He keeps the motion for a while, and when he stops, Chris mutters, "More, please."
Changing position and grabbing a bottle of oil that's conveniently placed on the nightstand, Leonard kneels up and gives Chris a serious massage, devoting himself to every muscle in his back and down his calves. It has quite an effect, both on Chris' relaxation and on his own arousal, running his hands over that ass down those lightly spread legs…
"Please, doc…" Chris whispers, lifting his pelvis into his touch.
His hands already slick and oiled, Leonard slips a single finger down Chris' crack, his thoughts running. He still isn't without misgivings, but they'd have to do it eventually or Chris would ask him about his hesitation, and he can't really answer without suggesting something bad had happened, which might well start the whole avalanche… if there was one.
Gnawing at his bottom lip, he tentatively caresses the ring muscle. He really wishes Jim were here to push him a little, he thinks wryly, and then slowly glides inside.
Chris grunts, hands curling into the sheets, legs tensing and pressing back at Leonard. "Oh yes. Missed this."
In a way, it's beautiful and perfect; having Chris stretched out and suppliant to his touch had been one of Leonard's favorite images to jerk off to. But it had always included a power game between them, a struggle of wills, and that's something he can't get from Chris right now. He can imagine it, though, imagine that Chris lies that willingly because he's ordered to, or tied up, or…
Dammit.
Tearing himself back to the here and now, Leonard focuses back on his lover and fists him open to three fingers, which takes longer than ever. Obviously, Dael and Chris really hadn't done anything like this. It makes him cautious again, going back to massage and kisses along Chris' lower back and ass, despite his dick being very demanding by now.
Chris groans in frustration. "Don't stop, doc. You know what I want."
Leonard kneels over him on all fours, hands spread out left and right on the mat. "What do you want? Ask me for it."
"I want to feel your body on mine… want to feel you inside of me." Turning his head, he questioningly looks at Leonard. "Or is anything wrong with me, that you can't do that?"
"Oh no, everything's all right," Leonard replies quickly, dipping two fingers back into the stretched hole. "Just wanted to make you beg," he says lightly.
There's no answer to that aside from a deep sigh, and he gives in. Pulling Chris' hips slightly up with two hands, he angles for penetration and slips in without effort.
I'm so not going to last, he thinks as he almost comes from this simple act, and stops once more, arms trembling from the effort. Chris lies so silent - inactive, kind of, and it keeps making him nervous. Cautiously, Leonard starts rocking into his lover, and this at last makes Chris whimper and answer his moves more physically. Not wanting to overdo anything, Leonard doesn't keep his orgasm from spiking quickly, then sucks off Chris, more than happy when the goal is accomplished soon.
Their kissing afterwards is long, sticky, and more of a mouthfuck, as if they can't get enough of each other… and this, Leonard reflects with his hands glued to Chris' body in happy bliss, is exactly the unsolved problem.
***
For a while, Jim assumes Dael's gone to the restrooms or engaged in talking with someone, but when she's gone for longer than half an hour, he actively starts searching for her. His communication officer stands nearby, chatting with a friend, and he politely pries her away.
"Uhura, have you seen Dael lately?"
"I think she was dancing not so long ago," Uhura says, tilting her head towards the dance floor.
"Dancing?" Not exactly Dael's favorite activity, as Jim recalls from the one time they'd tried in the middle of the living room, a little tipsy from champagne - a sweet memory of the four of them together on the night after the photoshoot.
He quickly shakes it off as Uhura adds, "Yes, she was dancing with one of the ambassadors, I think."
"Thanks," he says and heads off in concern, searching for another moment before he finds Dael seated in the very back of the table space, someone near her. When he draws close, the person gets up and readies to leave.
"Sp - Selek!" Jim exclaims as he recognizes the old Vulcan. "I didn't know you were here." His gaze flickers between them in an unvoiced question. "I see you've met my partner, Dael."
"I did, and it was a pleasure to speak to the person who is so important to Admiral Pike's well-being." Spock tilts his head. "Captain, t'sai Dael - I need to take my leave. Please relate my best wishes for a swift recovery to the admiral, or the doctor in his stead."
"Please, Selek, can't you stay for a while?" Jim asks urgently, his hand hovering over the Vulcan's arm without actually touching it. "I'd really love to talk to you about a few things. It's been a long time - I was concerned about you."
"This is not the time and place for this," Spock says, the crinkles around his eyes softening marginally. "We will meet again."
Jim helplessly watches him leave, then turns his focus towards Dael. She looks pale and tired, a glass of light-blue juice in her hands.
"What did he want?" he asks as he sits down in front of her.
Dael looks at him. "He inquired about Christopher's state, and I told him because I remember he's a friend of his. I hope it was all right?"
"Yes, absolutely."
She searches his eyes. "You know him too?"
"Yes. He's an old friend… a very old friend," Jim says a little evasively, as he suddenly realizes that she isn't privy to the information that Selek is actually Spock from another timeline, and he's not sure how much she's allowed to know here. "That's all you talked about?"
"Mostly. He'd asked me to dance with him but I didn't feel well so he led me here and brought me some Andorian chasvas." She worries her bottom lip.
"What else?"
"He… seems to know where I have been," she says slowly. "This is supposed to be highly secret, and it disturbs me."
"Ah." Jim inhales. "He's a very influential man with many connections, especially concerning the Romulan Empire, but he's never a security risk. So don't worry about him."
She frowns but even for this, her energy seems to be lacking, her lids half closed.
He takes the glass out of her hands. "What do you think - we could leave this place, now that we've made our point, and do something better with the evening." He's got plans for them and is itching to see them through.
"Yes, please."
It feels as if everyone's eyes follow them as they walk through the room and out into the smaller hall, taking their jackets and leaving.
"Good night, Sir, Mylady," the doorkeeper says he shows them to a cab, waving with one white-gloved hand when they drive away.
***
The question isn't unexpected but comes earlier than he'd anticipated, when they're lazily draped on the couch after their brunch, eggs and bacon microwaved back to the pretense of being edible.
"So, what's my diagnosis, doc?" Chris asks, his head resting against Leonard's shoulder.
"You had a psychotic episode in the aftermath of the stroke," Leonard says, "provoked by the drugging but I guess that the ground for it was laid long before."
Chris quietly inhales the news. "Sounds bad," he says after a moment.
"It's not that rare, actually. And recovery is usually quick and complete."
"Hmm." Chris looks more disbelieving than Leonard would like to see.
"Trust me, you're doing fine. You instinctively made the right decisions, pulled back from the world to get a rest and build up your psychic shields. You needed that time-out, but you also needed to open up after a while."
"So it was your idea to send Dael?" Chris casts a glance at him.
Leonard looks away, the memories of that one conference call replaying in his head: Jim and him on the Enterprise, Dael on the courier ship, and John, Eric, Natasha and her husband on Earth, with John giving his report of his impromptu and very unofficial talk with Chris.
"He knew I was there but he reacted to nothing I said until the very end, when I concluded that he's obviously not interested in anything. To that, he nodded. I then warned him that this might work with me but that Dael was on her way back and she wouldn't just give up. He looked unconvinced but also a little hopeful. I think she's the only one right now who's got a chance to get to him. At least as long as we don't wait for the Enterprise, but we can't really count on that, can we?" John added with a sharp gaze at Leonard, who couldn't refute this argument.
"No, it wasn't my idea. And frankly…" Leonard clears his throat. "I didn't want her to do it."
Chris looks a little stunned, and Leonard can't blame him for it.
"You know her backstory, Chris. From my point of view, letting her taking care of you had a great potential for failure, and then, what would it do to her?"
Chris' face takes on a pained look. "I… don't understand."
Leonard sighs.
Be clear in what you say. There isn't left room for vague suggestions, though he's not sure how well Chris will deal with the straight answer, so he takes a detour. "What do you know about her father?"
"That he turned mad over the murder of his wife and youngest son," Chris says slowly. "That - he must have had strong bouts of aggression. Learned that the hard way once when I lost control and smashed some dishes. She almost walked out on me."
"Right. From the bits Jim told me - nothing too detailed but of course we spoke about her and how she might be able to help you, her father probably had a psychosis too which turned more severe over the months. Moods like a rollercoaster, emotionally instable, losing grip on reality. At times he addressed her thinking she's his dead wife. Or pretended to prepare dinner for them all with five plates on the table and then served his kids a pot full of waste."
Chris tenses. "I didn't know that."
"She was his major caretaker because he turned increasingly aggressive against her brother. She managed to keep them all alive until that fucked-up rescue, where the children lost their father in the crowd without ever learning about his fate. So ultimately, she failed. And now we wanted her to return to a similar situation - being alone with someone she cared for too damn much and trying to build up his sanity. I couldn't support that, neither as a doctor nor as her friend." Suddenly noticing Chris' starch-white face, he stops and takes a deep breath.
Fuck. Where's Jim to kick my ass and shut me up at the right moment?
"But she wanted to do it anyway, so we set a few ground rules and off she went," Leonard adds hastily and with feigned ease. "She had to stay in daily contact with us, and if anything went wrong, she'd have to call us ASAP. She also got a supervisor from rehab that would talk with her about her activities and adjust the pacing and your meds accordingly. She didn't like it a lot but she accepted it because I needed to sign off her interaction with you. Naaz had been pulled off your case, but you hadn't officially pulled me so I contacted your attending physicians and…" Realizing that his rambling thoughts are do nothing but making Chris closing down like charm, he shuts up for good and takes his lover in a tight embrace, stroking his hair.
"Sorry for swamping you, Chris," he mutters, slightly rocking the tense body in his arms. "Sorry."
Sorry for forgetting that you're more my patient than my lover right now.
He's so emotionally compromised it isn't even funny, and they should have a therapist here that isn't involved with Chris. The one time Dael had suggested such a thing, though, Chris had shut down and didn't interact with her for hours, so that hadn't seemed like a feasible step in this stage of his convalescence. They would get to that when they returned to San Francisco… hopefully. For now, all he's got left is fixing the effects of his own damn stupidity.
"It's all fine, Chris," Leonard whispers, massaging the taut shoulder muscles. He's never quite sure whether Chris realizes how much of a father figure he is to Dael, no matter that the two close their eyes to that in textbook repression style. One day they'd have to deal with it.
Though not today, Dr. Leonard H. Freud.
"It's not fine," Chris mumbles against his shoulder. "You're right, you shouldn't have allowed it. If I'd ever been aggressive…"
"She would've backed out. That was her hard limit, and she made that clear before seeing you." Running his hands up and down Chris' back, Leonard can slowly feel the tension diminishing. "Didn't tell us the details but it was obvious there'd been an incident with you in the past. Add that to the fact that you had delusional moments in which you talked with an invisible visitor… You can imagine that I was anything but happy with the situation, but I lost the debate." Leonard sighs softly. "And of course I wanted to help you in any way I could, and deploying Dael to you seemed the only feasible proceeding."
"I never wanted to tie her down."
"You didn't. She had her mission, didn't she?"
"I thought she'd never come back."
"Yeah, I can imagine that. I wasn't too happy when I heard about those extentions," Leonard says. "It was up to her to make those decisions, of course, but it was really bad timing." He tries to downplay his sour feelings, but truth is that if Dael had returned in time, none of the downward spiral would've happened. On the other hand, it's fucking hypocrisy to blame her when it was his and Jim's fault that Chris had started this relationship thing at all.
"How about going to the beach?" Leonard asks, dying for a change of theme and scenery. "I've heard great things about it but didn't make it that far yet."
"Yes," Chris says, though sounding a little absent-minded.
"Everything okay?" Leonard runs one hand over his lover's chest, trying to convey protective warmth. "Chris? Hello, planet earth to Captain Pike?"
That brings Chris out of his momentary freeze, and he turns his head to stare at him in confusion. "Doc?"
"Just thought we could enjoy the scenery," Leonard says. "What were you thinking about?"
Chris hesitates, then mutely shakes his head.
Leonard helps him up, a supportive hand on Chris' upper arm. "Come with me," he says, leading the way for them both.
***
Jim's driving fast and reckless, the rented machine smooth between his legs, his body tightly wedged into the protective gear that comes with the motorbike, Dael behind him in a similar outfit. For weeks he'd been aching to go on this tour with her, had booked everything well in advance so that they'd only need to switch clothes after the ball, get to the shop, collect their goods and head off. Now that they're on the road, it's almost better than his dreams, the air fresh, the roads deserted, a few stars in the sky - this is freedom as he needs it right now.
It's still dark as they climb the mountains, and in some curves that he takes particularly narrowly, she clutches her hands tightly around his hips. But she doesn't say anything, and he's damn grateful about it because he really, really needs this trip, this adrenaline rush. He still notes that when he slows down at a truck stop, her body posture relaxes as the machine comes to a full stop. When she removes the helmet, her gaze is quietly disturbed, watching him in silence as he dismounts the vehicle. Over the mountains, the first morning light tinges the sky deep yellow.
"Going to buy something to drink and eat. You want to come in with me?"
"No, thanks," she says tonelessly.
"Fine, I'll be right back." He stomps over, a little clumsy in the fat biker boots they'd been forced to take.
When he enters the stop, he finds it's a rather rundown joint; the wooden interior darkened from age, forbidden tobacco and other illegal substances, half of the lights switched off, two slot machines from the turn of the century in the corner. An ironic smile tugs at his lips as he considers that ten years ago, this would've been exactly the place he'd gone to look for a fistfight when his dark moods struck. In fact, the seven guys hanging out on the bar even look like people who'd appreciate a bit of a physical quarrel, all broad-shouldered and with hands like pans, their jackets carrying similar emblems of skulls and crossbones. As he walks towards the bar, aware of how all eyes suddenly focus on him, he starts wondering if stopping here had been a serious error.
The bartender, a bull with a beard like a badly cut hedge looks at him with an unmoved face.
"Good day, sir. I'd like four sandwiches and a bottle or two of coke. Do you have that? Preferably two cheese, two ham."
The bartender gives him a disinterested nod. "Could get you some prepared." He shouts the order into the kitchen, then puts two bottles onto the counter. "That's all?"
"Yes, thanks." Jim whips out his credit chip and gives it to the man.
"You've got a nice bike," a guy next to him suddenly says, slightly slurred.
"Thanks, man. Rented it down in San Francisco." Jim half-turns his head, giving the dark-haired man an assessing gaze. He's pretty sure the guy hasn't been that close to his shoulder a minute ago, and a quick glance around tells him that he's not the only one who's drawn closer to him. Rotating a little more, he finds that the main door is blocked by a fat guy who grins broadly at him. He turns back, his whole body going to alert level.
Okay, he thinks as he considers his options, maybe he's been a little stupid not to cover his back, especially as this isn't just about him, Dael outside on the bike the perfect fodder for such a gang. The thought of anything happening to her because of his carelessness is frightening him on a whole new level, making his usually flippant words get stuck in his throat.
The bartender gives him the credit chip, and he puts it into a secure pocket.
"Sure you need your bike tonight?" the dark-haired guy says, a smirk on his unshaven face. "You look like you had a long trip. You really should take a break."
"No, thanks," Jim says with barely a gaze at him. In the kitchen, the sandwich preparation seems to go into the last stage, and he wonders whether they'll ever end in his growling stomach, or rather on the floor of the joint.
The guy leans in a little closer. "I'm sure we could find a bed for you. And for your young friend too."
So they haven't identified her as a girl yet, good thing. An old woman comes out of the kitchen, giving him a bag and vanishing back into her area with an aura of I ain't seen nothing. He takes the cokes and the bag, turns - and stops.
They're in a half-circle around him, with the seventh guy still at the door, and they smirk at him with leering visages.
"You really should take up our offer, you know," a blond-haired guy says dangerously low. "Let me help you with that."
The second the man grabs the sandwich bag, Jim lets go of everything but one bottle of coke which he uses as a club against the dark-haired man closest to him. Taking them slightly by the surprise, he manages to knock down three before the first blow lands on his chin, sending him sprawling over the bar. He's pulled off it by strong hands, turned and pushed against it with his back, an attempt to elbow one of his attackers fizzling due to the protective gear that slows his moves considerably. It makes the punches that land in his stomach and on his chest a lot more bearable, but then they push him into the room and another slap lands in his unprotected face like a sledgehammer, knocking him out for the fraction of a second.
As his body hits the hard floor, he feels the blood on his face. Then, in slow motion, he can see heavy, metal-capped boots drawing close. Shit. This is going to hurt a fucking lot...
"Stop," a voice says sharply, and everything comes to a crashing hold. "One more step, and I'll kill this man."
With effort, Jim forces himself up from the wooden floor, scrambling to his feet. It's hard to look through his quickly swelling eyes, but the picture that unfolds is damn impressive; Dael, with her tattoos sharp on her angry face and a killer expression in her eyes, stands over the fat guy now kneeling next to the door, one hand in his hair, forcing back his head - the other pointing a dagger against his carotid artery strong enough to dent his skin.
"You all, go to the back room. Jim, lock the door behind them," she sharply orders. When the group doesn't react at first, she tightens her hold on her victim, eliciting a strangled gasp from the man.
"Do what she says, dammit," he barks at the men, and they finally obey, with angry shuffles and loud swearing. Jim drags himself to close the door, turning the key and blocking the old-fashioned handle with a chair. She orders her hostage to stand up, still aiming the knife at his throat's most vulnerable spot as they slowly walk out backwards. Only after Jim has managed to put on his helmet and gloves, does she knock the guy out with a well-aimed hit of the handle to his temple; he topples to the ground like dead meat.
"Let's go," Dael orders, stowing away the dagger before putting on her helmet. She drives, which is good because he wouldn't really be able to drive, but it's been a year since she'd been sitting on such a machine and it shows in the wobbly start and the dangerously slow speed with which she guides it around the first corner. For a while, she just drives along the main road, then takes a few smaller roads in case the gang would try to follow them, but the mountains remain quiet.
"Whoa, Dael, that was fantastic." Jim's voice wavers as she finally pulls the bike off the road and stops. "I'm really sorry for having put us into danger. Shit."
Without comment, she dismounts, pulls off her helmet, takes her bag and walks back the road they've come along. There's a meadow a few hundred meters away, where the trees open to reveal a great view of the morning sun. She sits down on the wet grass, slinging her arms around her folded knees.
He hurries along as fast as he can with his hurting body, and sinks down to the ground next to her.
"I'm really sorry," Jim says again, a little desperate for an answer. He's used to Bones' loud complaints, getting torn a new one when he's being an ass; he doesn't deal well with her silence that suddenly reminds him of Winona (he stopped calling her mother a long time ago) in one of their few communications, when she'd stared at him in disapproving accusation. "Dael?"
She stretches her neck, then unpacks her bag, whipping out a bottle and shoving it into his hand.
Clumsily, he takes it with bloodied fingers. "Romulan Ale?"
"Have a go," she says, while unpacking a small medikit.
"Isn't that supposed to be illegal?" he says while he unscrews it. He takes a deep gulp, and it feels as if a rolling barrage shoves him down, stealing all of his breath out of his lungs, burning away his guts and then settling as a piece of glowing red iron in the pit of his stomach. Tears spring to his eyes, and fuck, this is exactly what he needs.
He takes another gulp. "Do you always have a dagger in your pocket?"
"If I can help it," she mutters and deals with his free hand. "A matter of habit."
"Had one with you when babysitting Chris?"
She doesn't answer him, only finishes her work, which is all the answer he needs, not that it should've surprised him after what he knew about her history. Besides - he really shouldn't complain after having been rescued by her.
"I'm sorry, Dael. Really," he says contritely as she tackles his other hand, cleaning the cuts, bandaging the knuckles. He feels incredibly guilty and more than a little ashamed that she'd got to witness what looks like a bounce-back to his stupid behavior of the past, even if it hadn't been intended.
When she's done with his face, the pain in his body is nicely drowned out after the fourth deep slug of the blue liquid, all of him a little floating.
One hand on his face, she forces him to look straight into her eyes. "What's the matter, Jim?"
"Nothing," he slurs, waving the open bottle carelessly in the air. "Why should anything ever matter to me? Always got the answers, so don't care, just carry on."
Prying the bottle from his fingers, she sips from it before screwing it shut and putting it aside, not heeding his longing gaze.
"It's not about me, anyway," he mutters.
She drags him down to the ground with her, and he stretches out on his back with a groan while her face towers above him.
"You're angry." Her voice is cool and analytical, and she does a good copycat of Bones' patented shrink gaze.
"I'm never angry. Here, look at me." He stretches out his arms, at least as wide as he can before pulled muscles hurt and her body is in the way. "Do I look angry to you?" Giving her a comical look through long lashes, he plays the fool. Still his best strategy to deflect questions like these, gazes like hers.
Her lips quirk. "That's why I gave you the ale."
Shit. "You made me drunk on purpose?" He's been avoiding getting drunk for years, doesn't even like to see other drunken people anymore ever since he'd straightened out some psychological shit about his stepfather. Hell, when he'd once come back to Chris' apartment and found his lover stupidly wasted, his first impulse had been to turn on his heel and leave, subconsciously fearing Chris might be of the violent type of drunk. Turned out Chris was just sweetly needy and suppliant, but he still doesn't need a repetition.
"Why did you do that?" Probably Bones had said something about getting him a little loosen up.
"Get you to speak what you really think. Call it therapy," she says, her other hand flat on his chest, seeping warmth.
"I don't need a shrink. And I especially don't need you to do that job," he says, though it doesn't sound half as firm as he'd intended to, his voice a little shaky around the edges from the alcohol and the receding adrenaline. "Bad enough that you've got to be that for Chris. Don't you ever get tired of picking up his pieces? It was the third time, wasn't it?"
She nods as if she'd expected that, then shakes her head. "You don't know me half as well as you think."
He looks at her marvelous features, the way her tattoos curve in new, amazing ways from his distorted sight. "I know a Samarian complex when I see one. I live with Bones. You want to keep doing that, never acting, only reacting to what other people want from you?"
Dael laughs quietly. "I didn't want to attend the Admiralty's Ball to which you dragged me right after my arrival. I didn't want to drive away either. And I didn't really get asked by you, did I?"
Yeah, he knows. Yeah, he'd been glad she hadn't resisted his suggestions.
He can still dislike it from the bottom of his heart. "We needed to attend."
"Yes." She laces her legs with his, the protective gear cushioning her bony limbs. "So you're angry that it's all been about Christopher lately."
"Yes." He curls his lips. "Yes, I am. And I just don't want to talk about him anymore, or Bones, for the matter. I'm tired of it. I'm fed up with it."
Drunken ramblings, drunken truths. Just what she wants, right?
"You resent him for his problems, for not being strong anymore. And that his health problems bind Leonard's time and interest." She corners him enough to make him avoid her gaze. "Do you fear you will lose Leonard?"
His shoulders sink against the ground, and he's averting her gaze in silence for a while before he looks back at her. "I'm not sure I haven't already."
"You think Leonard would want to stay with Christopher, just the two of them?"
"I always knew he's not really poly. He got used to it while being with me, because we wouldn't have been able to have a successful relationship otherwise. And Chris… same thing. Maybe it just could never work out. I should've known it was a mistake. My own damn fault, bringing them together."
It feels incredibly good to let it flow, all the things he couldn't tell anyone else, not Bones who'd been brooding all through the radio silence, not Chris who found his own solution in a way that had left everyone else afloat. She's the perfect listener to his confessions, the truth behind the all-easy façade and his usually positive outlook on life that had taken some serious damage over the last months.
"So you think Christopher will break up with me and push me out of his life to make room for Leonard?" she asks.
"Uh." Put like this, it sounds a little bit unbelievable. "No," he says reluctantly. "I don't think he'd do that."
"Good. Because I cannot imagine Leonard separate from you either." She puts one hand on his, lacing their fingers. "I made my own choices - I went on the mission, and I agreed to its extension. I made both decisions although I knew that Christopher would have a hard time with them. It's possible that I wanted to make up for some of my regret about the results by spending these months with him, but I also needed some quiet and peace. It wasn't an easy mission."
"I can imagine," he says, still turning over his own thoughts, own fears, more things he needs to share with someone who can understand him. He rubs her hand, checking for the ring that hadn't registered on his sensors at first, but it's there, and instinct tells him it's got to be Chris' ring. It makes him feel even stranger, beyond the fact that he's lying on his back, beaten and drunk in the morning sun, and pouring out his heartache to a woman in a way he hadn't done in ten years.
Maybe because he simply hadn't felt so heartbroken in the last ten years either.
"You know," he says slurred, "maybe Chris doesn't want to leave you but that doesn't mean that Bones wouldn't leave me anyway for him. You could do that, the three of you, it would work well I guess, Bones is a good guy, he can share." Jim chuckles darkly.
A thoughtful frown tilts her pattern. "Why do you feel so insecure? You never felt like this when we were all together. Or did you?"
"No, not like that. Had my misgivings, but thought I could deal with it pretty well. I did deal well, right? Just…"
"Just what?"
He stares at the sky as he speaks. "Bones and I didn't have many rules when it came to others, but the one big rule was - no secrets. We shared everything important. Not the little things, we trust each other enough that we don't need to know every detail. But we just didn't have secrets when it came to things that had a serious impact on our relationship."
"And that's been different with Christopher?"
"Not at first. But on the last tour, Bones played some game with Chris over long distance communication, and I didn't know what it was about and he didn't share anything. I only knew that something had changed. When the order of complete radio silence came in, Bones was in an absolutely foul mood but also, I don't know - relieved? I started to obsess over the situation, because I wondered if Chris had offered something special, or placed an ultimatum of some sort. I asked Bones and he said - I promised it would be between Chris and me, and I can't break that promise."
"So he broke the promise he'd made to you."
"Yes," Jim says, and all the frustration and sadness that had kindled up in him over the last months sweeps up to the surface, his mind clear and focused, the comforting haze of inebriation gone. "There wasn't anything short of hacking into his files and checking their communication, but I couldn't do that. I also couldn't pressure Bones because I just knew that if I did that, he'd break apart and I would still lose him. We were on a really critical mission and we just didn't have time for this shit. And when the battles were over and communication reestablished, Chris pulls this ex out of the hat and Bones is in an even fouler mood. I put on a brave front and tried to ease the tension between them. Thought I had succeeded too until Chris calls me for a big, fat lecture on how to deal with the admiralty." Jim rolls his eyes and instantly winces, damn, his face hurts from the slightest movement. "He was right but I've spent the last three months in open conflict with Nogura because of that. There are moments when I wish I were just some low rank way out in space, and not James T. Kirk, troublemaker extraordinaire."
Dael just quietly listens, and he feels guilty for swamping her with his self-pity, his moment of happily wallowing in his shit ending abruptly as if someone poured a bucket of cold water over him.
"I'm sorry, Dael," he mutters and throws one arm over his eyes, wishing he could get beamed away, wishing he could be a good partner and the friend she needs instead of the guy who's dumping his personal relationship problems onto her.
"You're wrong," she says softly, her fingers curling around the hand of his folded arm. "Christopher loves you, and he'll never ask Leonard to stay. They both love you, and they're aware that they're causing you pain."
"Is he?" he asks throatily. "Does Chris really know what he's done to us? What he's still doing to all of us?" He knows it's wrong to accuse Chris of having broken down on purpose, he knows there've been bad circumstances adding up and people wanting to get Chris out of the way, up to the level of a damn conspiracy, but a part of him can't really forgive Chris.
Dael's right, he does blame Chris for having been too weak.
How fucked-up it all is…
"He's not ready to face it yet, but deep down he knows. Give him some time." She takes away his arm, prompting him to embrace her. Her body molds against his, her lips slightly brushing over his.
"We all love you. Never doubt that. Space isn't big enough for you to get away."
Jim screws his eyes shut, wishing she'd be right, knowing in his heart that she isn't. This isn't about him walking away, never has been, it's about the others walking away and leaving him, all of them. His hazy, drunken, fucking maudlin mood returns full-fledged, the weight of a million tons crushing his chest as he tries to find a good answer.
"Hold onto me." Her arms tighten around him, fingers laced into his hair as she kisses him, and he pretends that the small, desperate sob between them isn't coming out of his own mouth.
***
Onto part 2/4
Author: syredronning aka Acidqueen
Series: Reboot aka ST:XI aka AOS - Draws Series
Codes: Pike/Dael/Kirk/McCoy (in particular Pike/McCoy, Kirk/Dael, Kirk/McCoy), various OCs and other pairings in passing
Rating: NC-17; kinky; complex psychology; dark themes; disability; recovery; relationships with large age differences
Word count: Complete 35.000
Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek, I own my brain.
Author's Note: This is the sequel to "Shadowplay". It breaks most of the mold of the series (the POV, the game theme) and can therefore be considered as another interlude. The title is from the song "Morning Sun" by Robbie Williams.
Draws Masterpost at LJ or at AO3. Re-reading the first part "Disciplinary Measures" might be helpful.
Thanks for the wonderful beta and helpful comments go to shagungu, who also taught me the expression 'resident optimist'! All remaining flaws are solely mine.
Summary: In the aftermath of Chris' breakdown, Leonard takes care of Chris, Jim takes care of Dael - at least, that's the general idea.
***
The bedroom is flooded with light that comes in through the half-closed curtains, as the sun slowly ventures from morning to midday position. Two men are on the bed, one awake, one asleep in the other's protective embrace. The house is deadly silent, except for the rhythmic, soothing background noise coming from the sea, gentle waves against the shore.
You're a goddamn idiot, and not worth your goddamn license, the sentinel mutters to himself. The expression on his clouded face says that he'd really like to throw something now, only he can't, because moving would mean disturbing the barely reached peace of his bed partner, the man he's here to care for and has failed spectacularly just three hours into his mission, making him almost relapse.
Keep everything predictable and clear.
Be careful, Leonard. Be really careful.
He should get Dael's words tattooed on his arm, maybe he might remember then that the man he'd returned to isn't exactly the man he'd said good-bye to all those months ago.
They'd get there again, though, if he'd any say in it.
With a sigh, he closes his eyes. With only two days on Earth which had been completely spent in debriefings, he hadn't had time yet for his own usual shoreleave breakdown (he should find a better word for it; it sounds damn wrong in comparison) which consists of sleeping for two days.
What better time to start than with Chris in his arm?
***
The stairways up to the palace are crowded with beings of all species in dress uniform and ball gowns, jewelry and medals sparkling in the fake candlelight that illuminates the curved, winding gala stairs. At first, nobody seems to register the new arrivals that descend from an unobtrusive cab, shining command gold not exactly rare at the annual Admiralty's Ball. It's only when the man laces his arm with the young woman next to him that the first guests look more closely at the couple, and a whisper travels up the stairways as the crowd parts for them.
Maybe their faces are a little too pale for what is supposed an exciting evening, a little too tense around the edges. Maybe the man's trademark, easy smile isn't as easy tonight, and as for his companion - barely anyone has ever really seen her smile, and not just for the layers of makeup she wears tonight that give her the face of a porcelain doll, fitting to the green, Chinese silk coat buttoned up to her chin.
You really want to attend with her? Bones' question reverberates with every step Jim takes, his eyes daringly darting from one staring person to the other while he tightly holds onto his companion. You're going to throw her to the sharks to keep up appearances?
We're not pretending anything - we'll only show that we're still together, still a force to be reckoned with, all four of us.
And she'd agreed with his reasoning when he'd asked her upon her arrival.
Somewhere in the back of his head, Jim thinks as he steadies his breathing, it's almost amusing that he's approaching this ball with the same tension in his guts and coolness in his demeanor as he would a confrontation with Klingon warriors, but truth is that he'd definitely rather take the warriors, and from Dael's look, she'd be right with him.
"Captain," a calm voice says next to him as they're halfway through the gauntlet, and a large weight is lifted from his shoulders as Spock joins his side, head tilted in a greeting gesture. "I am pleased to see you."
"Oh, yes. And what a lovely lady you've got at your side," Uhura says and smiles at his woman, the curious flicker in her eyes not tainting the accepting, heartfelt sound of her welcome.
"May I present - Dael, our partner," Jim says gracefully, for the first but by far not the last time tonight.
***
When Leonard opens his eyes, it's to midday light and Chris' grey-blue eyes dreamily resting on him. His lover lays close, head propped up on one elbow, his free hand lingering over Leonard's body without touching.
Without thinking, he reaches out to catch Chris' hand.
Chris blinks, then his lids drop closed for a moment. His at first limp hand curls, tightening around Leonard's.
"I'm real, I'm here," Leonard whispers.
There's a very small smile on Chris' lips as he opens his eyes again, taking a deep breath. "I know… there was just a part of me that still couldn't believe it and wondered whether you'd vanish if I touched you."
"Not going to vanish." Leonard pulls their joined hands to his lips for a kiss. "Not going anywhere."
Chris leans forward and they meet in a kiss, first tentatively exploring, then hot and deep, devouring each other's mouth.
"Damn, Chris," Leonard growls when they break apart, pulling him into a strong embrace and burying his face against his lover's neck. "I missed you so much."
"Missed you too," Chris says choked.
"Love you," Leonard whispers between nipping kisses along Chris' shoulder. His erection, strained to full size just from their brief contact, rubs along the leg Chris has half-thrown over his groin. Chris has buried one hand in his hair and, if the rolling hips are any indication, has the same idea.
There are so many things Leonard wants to do, so many things he'd dreamed about - and he does have the collar in his bag - but he's extremely unsure whether it's good to jump into anything sexual just yet.
Because he's read every fucking report available to him, talked to anyone who could give him an opinion, and he's still not sure what exactly happened between Chris and Alain on that weekend before the stroke, if those reported cuts had been made in anything resembling a consensual situation. The fear of pushing Chris, whose mental state is really damn fragile, into some flashback is almost choking his libido. Torn between wanting to ask and wanting to stop, though, he wavers and the moment passes.
Fail by indecision, Leonard thinks before he groans deeply from Chris' lips on his cock. This, so much. Months of little sex, much sorrow culminate in a storm of arousal that sweeps over him, leaving him whimpering. He tries not to rock too hard into the welcoming mouth, tries to keep his hands away from the bowed head he can't stop looking at, which bobs up and down above his groin in absolute dedication. And he really tries to keep it slow, he doesn't just want…
…there, yes, please, sweet lord…
He comes thrashing and arching, calling out Chris' name, grabbing his lover's head and holding it down to ride out this beautiful, best orgasm ever.
At last depleted, he sags back onto the mattress, fighting for air. He only vaguely registers that Chris joins him when a gentle kiss descends on his mouth, a little sticky and tasting of his own cum. He sweeps his tongue over his lover's lips, licking them clean before delving deeper, more than sorry when they've got to come up for air.
"Oh, Chris…" he whispers, looking into those long-missed grey-blue eyes.
"Doc…" Chris smiles. It's almost his former smirk though there's something missing - the usual, wry distance between him and the object of his focus is gone. He's much less guarded, and that's exactly the part of the more vulnerable that Leonard fears, because they'll be here together for weeks. He remembers how intense it's always been between them and he has no clue whether they'll manage to keep everything under control.
Whether I manage to keep myself under control, Leonard thinks with a groan, as just Chris' simple touch on his chest makes him want another ride.
"You're the death of me," he mutters, then instantly regrets that particular word choice. Chris only keeps smiling, though.
Suddenly decided, Leonard rolls them over so that Chris is on his back. He examines him, following every line with eyes, lips and hands, half professional assessment (damn occupational disease), half his deep, personal need to see that the man he'd yearned for is, if not all right yet, at least well on the way to physical recovery. The muscles are leaner, the body slimmer, the hair greyer and some wrinkles deeper - but all in all, there's much less change than feared. Of course, he'd need to see Chris in action; his stance had looked a little unstable in the kitchen this morning but the shock could probably account for that…
"Stop thinking, doc," Chris says, running both hands down Leonard's upper arms. "Now that you've made sure I won't fall apart under your hands, do it."
"Do what?" Leonard asks, teasingly caressing the length of Chris's beautiful cock. It's not completely hard, and he remembers Dael's vague statement of last night that the two have had sex a few times but not really of the penetrative variety, so maybe this is just the status-quo and -
"Leonard…" Chris whispers, and Leonard would give a lot for an actual order but there's not a trace of that in his lover's words.
Well, then…
He goes down, wraps one hand around Chris' member and swallows it, rewarded with a deep groan from above and one tender hand on his sweaty hair. He gives due focus to the task at hand, running his lips up and down the hardening shaft, tonguing the slit once in a while, cradling the balls when he remembers to, in the haze of his own hormonal turmoil.
"Doc… Leonard…please -" Chris gasps at one point, tugging at his head.
Leonard lifts his head, more than pleased as he finds the erection in his hand as strong as ever, a little drop of precum among the wetness caused by his own mouth.
"What do you want, Chris?"
"Fuck me," Chris says, and Leonard finds himself in the quadrant of concern again, wondering whether penetrative sex is a recommended procedure right away.
Aside the fact that his own dick is barely at half-mast.
"Got a better idea." He reaches to the side to pick up a strategically placed bottle of lube, giving it to Chris before crouching higher. "I want to ride you, Chris. I want your hand in my ass to prepare me, and then I want to ride your cock."
"Not complaining," Chris rasps. "Though I'm not sure…" He gestures a little apologizing towards his groin.
"All in perfect working order," Leonard attests, and takes the fine piece into his hands once more to keep it warm and ready. He's a little smug that he seems to have been successful where Dael hasn't been, but given Chris' sexual orientation, he probably shouldn't ascribe it to his hot ass alone.
Similar thoughts seem to run through Chris' head for a moment, before his lover agrees. "Good." Chris uncaps the lube and coats his fingers.
With a sigh, Leonard lets go of his soon-to-be prize and scoots upwards, spreading his legs. When Chris reaches through them and dips one cautious finger into his ass, he can't help pressing down against it.
"We've got time," Chris whispers. "Right?" There's a flicker of insecurity in his gleaming eyes, among the arousal, and Leonard nods quickly.
"At least a month… oh, yes." Momentary hesitation gone, Chris seems to be on autopilot and damn hell, he's always been great in bed but this is a new level as he makes Leonard ride four fingers and then some, spreading him wider than anyone had over the last months.
Just when Leonard is ready to beg for real, Chris sets him free. "Tell me what you had in mind, doc."
Hastily, Leonard moves downward. Chris' erection has flagged a little but he manages to stroke it back into full bloom under the heated gaze of his lover. "Want to ride you. Want to feel your cock in me, taking possession of me. Marking me with your come…" He says a lot of things, can't remember half of it after a second, only knows that he needs to sit down on Chris or he'll just come again, no matter that his own dick is still soft and a little out of blood because all of it has settled around his prostate, demanding little bugger.
He scoots forward and rises on his knees, letting Chris guide the head right into position.
I'm going to die any second, but at least with a smile on my face, Leonard thinks as he lowers his body, using his own weight to drive the cock up his ass. He whimpers as it hits bottom, not because it hurts or anything but because he wants so much more - deeper, larger, just more of Chris.
But then Chris rocks his hip a little and there is the more that he'd needed, and with a groan he bends forward over his lover's chest, kissing small, perky nipples buried in grey curls.
"Move, please, move…" Chris whispers, and who's Leonard to deny that wish so he gets into gear and rocks up and down in slow, careful moves. Chris' eyes have turned to slits, but there's still blue flickering at him. He waits for more of Chris' classic hip rolls before he shakes his head over his stupidity; Chris just doesn't have the strength to fuck upwards into him against gravity and Leonard's considerable weight, so it's his job alone to make the ride a RIDE, capital letters. Determined to meet his former acclamations, Leonard sets out to give Chris a great time with well-paced moves, driving them both a little insane when his body claims a break once in a while.
"Not getting any younger either," Leonard groans after the third time, his arms supporting his shaking body from crushing Chris.
"I've got problems coming," Chris mutters. "Took ages last time, felt really bad about it."
"We've got time," Leonard soothes him.
"Let's change position," Chris suggests. He directs him around until they're in a kind of scissor position. It makes a little more distance between them than Leonard prefers, but it's an interesting angle. Cradling his half-hard dick, he waits for Chris to find his entry again. His eyes drop close as the cock drives into him in one swift move.
"Do you like it?" Chris asks, reaching out to join in Leonard's stimulation. "Been one of my favorites in the past. Though mostly on the other side." He gently rocks forward into Leonard, and while it's definitely hot the friction is limited. Leonard doubts that it'll make Chris' orgasm any easier to reach, but who knows.
Determined he relaxes, turning his head so that he can meet Chris' eyes fully, melting under their intensity. Chris looks so happy and glowing; hell, if that's the therapy he needs, Leonard is willing to give everything he has, any time.
"Love you so much," Chris says, his gaze suddenly a little dreamy again, and Leonard tilts his pelvis to increase their friction before his lover might question the reality of all of this.
"Love you too. Move, please…" He moans as Chris sets his body into motion, tiny little pushes and pulls that add up to a large, big needtocomeNOW without reaching the top, and after a while, Leonard gives up and tries another position.
Chris rolls onto his back and punches the pillow into submission to support his head, then motions Leonard to sit down over him.
"Higher, doc," he directs him, and Leonard reluctantly complies, crouching so that he could feed his cock into Chris' mouth. By all rights, this should be one of the trigger positions but Chris looks relaxed, not a hint of psychological stress, so with one palm supportively against the wall, Leonard leans forward. Chris' hands reach around his ass to take hold, and then his dick gets swallowed to the hilt by that amazing mouth and Leonard stops thinking until the moment when the last of his sperm gets swallowed and his dick licked lean.
"Two orgasms…" he whimpers as he sinks down to the left of his lover, and it sounds strangely like a complaint. Chris grins.
The psychologist in Leonard demands a good answer as to how Chris can swallow dick like that again, but the man in him is drop dead tired and also self-conscious that Chris hasn't been satisfied yet. He lays a hand on the somewhat deflated organ.
"We've got time, you said," Chris says lazily, offering him an opt-out. "I really could use a cup of tea."
"You're not going to leave this bed before you're 100% satisfied," Leonard states, and starts stroking as Chris chuckles amusedly.
Half an hour later, they're both wiped from their orgasms and ready for another round of sleep, steadfast ignoring the beautiful day outside.
***
They make the first round together side by side, greeting officers and Federation officials, foes and friends alike. They assume their roles in this play, answering any inquiry about Chris with some noncommittal words, never saying too much. Nogura himself brings Dael a drink with a jovial smile, and she takes it with a face devoid of expression.
Jim can imagine what it costs her to keep herself under control, because he'd prefer nothing more than to throw that drink into the old man's face. But the way he'd had chosen to play this game is the one that brings better results than open warfare; a battle played by the rules of the Admiralty, with lists of broken regulations and overthrown board decisions, unreasonable orders and actions that were unbecoming to officers.
He knows exactly where he stands with most officers in the room. Some see him as a hero; some as a troublemaker whose actions, presumably based on personal revenge, weaken Starfleet. Many agree that Shaa had been the wrong choice but most think she should've been removed more quietly from her post, though nobody ever has a good suggestion how that should've been achieved with Nogura unwaveringly holding onto her as he'd done. Quite a few think that Chris had brought his problems onto himself and Jim shouldn't have felt compelled to clean up after him, relationship or not.
Don't get me wrong, Kirk - Pike has been a great man. Emphasis on has been, though. He's well over his zenith, and you'd be well advised to take precautions not to go down with him, one commodore had told him plainly just a day ago, and more than one colleague had suggested that Bones and he should get rid of those partnership entries in their files.
Like hell, he thinks, feeling his jaw tightening.
He looks over to Dael who's quietly talking to a young Andorian - must be Thelin, Jim gathers, one of Chris' former task force members. Bones had repeatedly reminded him that Dael had been almost as much of a recluse as Chris for the last months, and that the return to San Francisco, much less attending this major social event, would sorely tax her. She seems to be doing fine, though, considering that she's not exactly a soul of the party kind of girl.
Taking his leave from the commander he'd been talking to, he tries to join Dael to take her to the small Enterprise group that's gathering in a corner, but yet another ambassador corners Jim for information about Chris. Before tonight, he hadn't realized in which prominent circles their lover had socialized, and he wonders if they could make use of these connections when Chris comes back.
The next man that takes a hold on him is someone else he hadn't planned to speak with, but it's hard to escape Chris' former CMO who lengthily apologizes to him for not having noticed Pike's state, although he hadn't even been on Earth most of the time. Jim listens with a patient half-smile and his thoughts on something else until Boyce gets a little psychoanalytical.
"You might think he's without friends, but he isn't. He just never asks for help." Boyce looks decidedly annoyed. "He's got no problem handling a crew of 800 with a snap of his fingers, because that's in his job description. That's what he's been trained for, what he always wanted. One of the longest-serving captains, good guts, willing to risk his head for his people - he was great in that chair, although a little prone to leaps in logic. That's why he wanted Spock for the Enterprise." Boyce shakes his head. "But he's not an easy friend to make and keep, not at all. He's not good with relationships on eye level. He needs clear responsibilities and ranks, then all is fine. The many details of intimate, long-term relationships are a challenge for him, because he can't just issue an order - or follow one, for the matter. That's why Nogura had such a strong hold on him."
"You make him sound as if he can't decide on his own," Jim says a little sourly.
"Oh, he's fine with making decisions," Boyce hastens to clarify. "But he's not really one to question orders when he gets them, you know. Or question his own decisions, once made. He's got that iron core of self-denial that makes both for great victories and great disasters."
Thanks, we just had that, Jim thinks.
"I sometimes wondered about his family background…" Boyce levels his voice down, "but he's been always been very tight-lipped about it."
Boyce looks at him expectantly, but even if Jim knew it in depth - which he doesn't, because Bones had never shared the details of that particular discussion with Chris back then - he definitely wouldn't tell them to this nosy man.
"Commodore Decker is waving at me," Jim lies smoothly. "Please excuse me, Doctor." He walks away.
The funny thing, Jim ponders as he eases himself through the crowd towards Dael, is that Chris, despite often sounding and appearing like a clenched-ass-kind-of-guy, is also a man who breaks important regulations when he sees fit. He doubts that any other officer would've chosen a whipping session in a dungeon, of all things, as punishment for Bones' and his serious fuck-up back then. And that had been before the Narada, before anyone could claim that maybe Chris wasn't working on all thrusters ever since.
It seems that Chris' inappropriate liaison as cadet with that instructor at the academy, a relationship which Jim had taken lightly when first hearing about it, had really left a deep impression and become a kind of blue print for his more deviant actions. In certain sexually charged moments, Chris is absolutely able to disregard both normal morals and rules of conduct, and it's probably only due to Chris' generally strong sense of privacy and distance from the people around him that this dangerous tendency hadn't impacted his reputation and career much earlier.
Starting their relationship had unleashed the beast, kind of - no, that's stupid, Jim berates himself. For all Jim knows, Bones' influence had changed Chris' mind on his action back then, and Chris didn't start anything with anyone at the academy but Dael. And Dael is able to make her own decisions, now more than ever, and she hadn't been pressured into anything - despite Esteban's fucking insulting ideas.
Getting himself a drink from the tray of a waiter, he looks for Dael, but she's vanished in the crowd.
***
It's maybe an hour later when Leonard wakes up again, and while staying in bed curled around Chris is a fabulous thing, he also needs to go to the bathroom and then find something to drink and preferably eat - he couldn't even remember his last meal.
A brief shower later, he's ready to check the kitchen, deciding that scrambled eggs and bacon would be the perfect thing to start the day. Soon, a delicious smell fills the house, and Leonard is a little surprised that it doesn't lure Chris into the kitchen. Putting the pan aside, he goes to the bedroom.
Chris lies on his stomach, one arm stretched out towards the empty left side of the bed as if trying to find someone there.
And of course he is, Leonard thinks with an eyeroll at himself. Carefully he stretches out, covering the lonely hand with his left. Chris' lids flicker.
"Good morning, lover," he says with a smile. "Brunch is ready. Some protein for your body and soul." He runs his fingers up Chris' arm up to the shoulder blade, eliciting a soft sigh from the sleeper. He keeps the motion for a while, and when he stops, Chris mutters, "More, please."
Changing position and grabbing a bottle of oil that's conveniently placed on the nightstand, Leonard kneels up and gives Chris a serious massage, devoting himself to every muscle in his back and down his calves. It has quite an effect, both on Chris' relaxation and on his own arousal, running his hands over that ass down those lightly spread legs…
"Please, doc…" Chris whispers, lifting his pelvis into his touch.
His hands already slick and oiled, Leonard slips a single finger down Chris' crack, his thoughts running. He still isn't without misgivings, but they'd have to do it eventually or Chris would ask him about his hesitation, and he can't really answer without suggesting something bad had happened, which might well start the whole avalanche… if there was one.
Gnawing at his bottom lip, he tentatively caresses the ring muscle. He really wishes Jim were here to push him a little, he thinks wryly, and then slowly glides inside.
Chris grunts, hands curling into the sheets, legs tensing and pressing back at Leonard. "Oh yes. Missed this."
In a way, it's beautiful and perfect; having Chris stretched out and suppliant to his touch had been one of Leonard's favorite images to jerk off to. But it had always included a power game between them, a struggle of wills, and that's something he can't get from Chris right now. He can imagine it, though, imagine that Chris lies that willingly because he's ordered to, or tied up, or…
Dammit.
Tearing himself back to the here and now, Leonard focuses back on his lover and fists him open to three fingers, which takes longer than ever. Obviously, Dael and Chris really hadn't done anything like this. It makes him cautious again, going back to massage and kisses along Chris' lower back and ass, despite his dick being very demanding by now.
Chris groans in frustration. "Don't stop, doc. You know what I want."
Leonard kneels over him on all fours, hands spread out left and right on the mat. "What do you want? Ask me for it."
"I want to feel your body on mine… want to feel you inside of me." Turning his head, he questioningly looks at Leonard. "Or is anything wrong with me, that you can't do that?"
"Oh no, everything's all right," Leonard replies quickly, dipping two fingers back into the stretched hole. "Just wanted to make you beg," he says lightly.
There's no answer to that aside from a deep sigh, and he gives in. Pulling Chris' hips slightly up with two hands, he angles for penetration and slips in without effort.
I'm so not going to last, he thinks as he almost comes from this simple act, and stops once more, arms trembling from the effort. Chris lies so silent - inactive, kind of, and it keeps making him nervous. Cautiously, Leonard starts rocking into his lover, and this at last makes Chris whimper and answer his moves more physically. Not wanting to overdo anything, Leonard doesn't keep his orgasm from spiking quickly, then sucks off Chris, more than happy when the goal is accomplished soon.
Their kissing afterwards is long, sticky, and more of a mouthfuck, as if they can't get enough of each other… and this, Leonard reflects with his hands glued to Chris' body in happy bliss, is exactly the unsolved problem.
***
For a while, Jim assumes Dael's gone to the restrooms or engaged in talking with someone, but when she's gone for longer than half an hour, he actively starts searching for her. His communication officer stands nearby, chatting with a friend, and he politely pries her away.
"Uhura, have you seen Dael lately?"
"I think she was dancing not so long ago," Uhura says, tilting her head towards the dance floor.
"Dancing?" Not exactly Dael's favorite activity, as Jim recalls from the one time they'd tried in the middle of the living room, a little tipsy from champagne - a sweet memory of the four of them together on the night after the photoshoot.
He quickly shakes it off as Uhura adds, "Yes, she was dancing with one of the ambassadors, I think."
"Thanks," he says and heads off in concern, searching for another moment before he finds Dael seated in the very back of the table space, someone near her. When he draws close, the person gets up and readies to leave.
"Sp - Selek!" Jim exclaims as he recognizes the old Vulcan. "I didn't know you were here." His gaze flickers between them in an unvoiced question. "I see you've met my partner, Dael."
"I did, and it was a pleasure to speak to the person who is so important to Admiral Pike's well-being." Spock tilts his head. "Captain, t'sai Dael - I need to take my leave. Please relate my best wishes for a swift recovery to the admiral, or the doctor in his stead."
"Please, Selek, can't you stay for a while?" Jim asks urgently, his hand hovering over the Vulcan's arm without actually touching it. "I'd really love to talk to you about a few things. It's been a long time - I was concerned about you."
"This is not the time and place for this," Spock says, the crinkles around his eyes softening marginally. "We will meet again."
Jim helplessly watches him leave, then turns his focus towards Dael. She looks pale and tired, a glass of light-blue juice in her hands.
"What did he want?" he asks as he sits down in front of her.
Dael looks at him. "He inquired about Christopher's state, and I told him because I remember he's a friend of his. I hope it was all right?"
"Yes, absolutely."
She searches his eyes. "You know him too?"
"Yes. He's an old friend… a very old friend," Jim says a little evasively, as he suddenly realizes that she isn't privy to the information that Selek is actually Spock from another timeline, and he's not sure how much she's allowed to know here. "That's all you talked about?"
"Mostly. He'd asked me to dance with him but I didn't feel well so he led me here and brought me some Andorian chasvas." She worries her bottom lip.
"What else?"
"He… seems to know where I have been," she says slowly. "This is supposed to be highly secret, and it disturbs me."
"Ah." Jim inhales. "He's a very influential man with many connections, especially concerning the Romulan Empire, but he's never a security risk. So don't worry about him."
She frowns but even for this, her energy seems to be lacking, her lids half closed.
He takes the glass out of her hands. "What do you think - we could leave this place, now that we've made our point, and do something better with the evening." He's got plans for them and is itching to see them through.
"Yes, please."
It feels as if everyone's eyes follow them as they walk through the room and out into the smaller hall, taking their jackets and leaving.
"Good night, Sir, Mylady," the doorkeeper says he shows them to a cab, waving with one white-gloved hand when they drive away.
***
The question isn't unexpected but comes earlier than he'd anticipated, when they're lazily draped on the couch after their brunch, eggs and bacon microwaved back to the pretense of being edible.
"So, what's my diagnosis, doc?" Chris asks, his head resting against Leonard's shoulder.
"You had a psychotic episode in the aftermath of the stroke," Leonard says, "provoked by the drugging but I guess that the ground for it was laid long before."
Chris quietly inhales the news. "Sounds bad," he says after a moment.
"It's not that rare, actually. And recovery is usually quick and complete."
"Hmm." Chris looks more disbelieving than Leonard would like to see.
"Trust me, you're doing fine. You instinctively made the right decisions, pulled back from the world to get a rest and build up your psychic shields. You needed that time-out, but you also needed to open up after a while."
"So it was your idea to send Dael?" Chris casts a glance at him.
Leonard looks away, the memories of that one conference call replaying in his head: Jim and him on the Enterprise, Dael on the courier ship, and John, Eric, Natasha and her husband on Earth, with John giving his report of his impromptu and very unofficial talk with Chris.
"He knew I was there but he reacted to nothing I said until the very end, when I concluded that he's obviously not interested in anything. To that, he nodded. I then warned him that this might work with me but that Dael was on her way back and she wouldn't just give up. He looked unconvinced but also a little hopeful. I think she's the only one right now who's got a chance to get to him. At least as long as we don't wait for the Enterprise, but we can't really count on that, can we?" John added with a sharp gaze at Leonard, who couldn't refute this argument.
"No, it wasn't my idea. And frankly…" Leonard clears his throat. "I didn't want her to do it."
Chris looks a little stunned, and Leonard can't blame him for it.
"You know her backstory, Chris. From my point of view, letting her taking care of you had a great potential for failure, and then, what would it do to her?"
Chris' face takes on a pained look. "I… don't understand."
Leonard sighs.
Be clear in what you say. There isn't left room for vague suggestions, though he's not sure how well Chris will deal with the straight answer, so he takes a detour. "What do you know about her father?"
"That he turned mad over the murder of his wife and youngest son," Chris says slowly. "That - he must have had strong bouts of aggression. Learned that the hard way once when I lost control and smashed some dishes. She almost walked out on me."
"Right. From the bits Jim told me - nothing too detailed but of course we spoke about her and how she might be able to help you, her father probably had a psychosis too which turned more severe over the months. Moods like a rollercoaster, emotionally instable, losing grip on reality. At times he addressed her thinking she's his dead wife. Or pretended to prepare dinner for them all with five plates on the table and then served his kids a pot full of waste."
Chris tenses. "I didn't know that."
"She was his major caretaker because he turned increasingly aggressive against her brother. She managed to keep them all alive until that fucked-up rescue, where the children lost their father in the crowd without ever learning about his fate. So ultimately, she failed. And now we wanted her to return to a similar situation - being alone with someone she cared for too damn much and trying to build up his sanity. I couldn't support that, neither as a doctor nor as her friend." Suddenly noticing Chris' starch-white face, he stops and takes a deep breath.
Fuck. Where's Jim to kick my ass and shut me up at the right moment?
"But she wanted to do it anyway, so we set a few ground rules and off she went," Leonard adds hastily and with feigned ease. "She had to stay in daily contact with us, and if anything went wrong, she'd have to call us ASAP. She also got a supervisor from rehab that would talk with her about her activities and adjust the pacing and your meds accordingly. She didn't like it a lot but she accepted it because I needed to sign off her interaction with you. Naaz had been pulled off your case, but you hadn't officially pulled me so I contacted your attending physicians and…" Realizing that his rambling thoughts are do nothing but making Chris closing down like charm, he shuts up for good and takes his lover in a tight embrace, stroking his hair.
"Sorry for swamping you, Chris," he mutters, slightly rocking the tense body in his arms. "Sorry."
Sorry for forgetting that you're more my patient than my lover right now.
He's so emotionally compromised it isn't even funny, and they should have a therapist here that isn't involved with Chris. The one time Dael had suggested such a thing, though, Chris had shut down and didn't interact with her for hours, so that hadn't seemed like a feasible step in this stage of his convalescence. They would get to that when they returned to San Francisco… hopefully. For now, all he's got left is fixing the effects of his own damn stupidity.
"It's all fine, Chris," Leonard whispers, massaging the taut shoulder muscles. He's never quite sure whether Chris realizes how much of a father figure he is to Dael, no matter that the two close their eyes to that in textbook repression style. One day they'd have to deal with it.
Though not today, Dr. Leonard H. Freud.
"It's not fine," Chris mumbles against his shoulder. "You're right, you shouldn't have allowed it. If I'd ever been aggressive…"
"She would've backed out. That was her hard limit, and she made that clear before seeing you." Running his hands up and down Chris' back, Leonard can slowly feel the tension diminishing. "Didn't tell us the details but it was obvious there'd been an incident with you in the past. Add that to the fact that you had delusional moments in which you talked with an invisible visitor… You can imagine that I was anything but happy with the situation, but I lost the debate." Leonard sighs softly. "And of course I wanted to help you in any way I could, and deploying Dael to you seemed the only feasible proceeding."
"I never wanted to tie her down."
"You didn't. She had her mission, didn't she?"
"I thought she'd never come back."
"Yeah, I can imagine that. I wasn't too happy when I heard about those extentions," Leonard says. "It was up to her to make those decisions, of course, but it was really bad timing." He tries to downplay his sour feelings, but truth is that if Dael had returned in time, none of the downward spiral would've happened. On the other hand, it's fucking hypocrisy to blame her when it was his and Jim's fault that Chris had started this relationship thing at all.
"How about going to the beach?" Leonard asks, dying for a change of theme and scenery. "I've heard great things about it but didn't make it that far yet."
"Yes," Chris says, though sounding a little absent-minded.
"Everything okay?" Leonard runs one hand over his lover's chest, trying to convey protective warmth. "Chris? Hello, planet earth to Captain Pike?"
That brings Chris out of his momentary freeze, and he turns his head to stare at him in confusion. "Doc?"
"Just thought we could enjoy the scenery," Leonard says. "What were you thinking about?"
Chris hesitates, then mutely shakes his head.
Leonard helps him up, a supportive hand on Chris' upper arm. "Come with me," he says, leading the way for them both.
***
Jim's driving fast and reckless, the rented machine smooth between his legs, his body tightly wedged into the protective gear that comes with the motorbike, Dael behind him in a similar outfit. For weeks he'd been aching to go on this tour with her, had booked everything well in advance so that they'd only need to switch clothes after the ball, get to the shop, collect their goods and head off. Now that they're on the road, it's almost better than his dreams, the air fresh, the roads deserted, a few stars in the sky - this is freedom as he needs it right now.
It's still dark as they climb the mountains, and in some curves that he takes particularly narrowly, she clutches her hands tightly around his hips. But she doesn't say anything, and he's damn grateful about it because he really, really needs this trip, this adrenaline rush. He still notes that when he slows down at a truck stop, her body posture relaxes as the machine comes to a full stop. When she removes the helmet, her gaze is quietly disturbed, watching him in silence as he dismounts the vehicle. Over the mountains, the first morning light tinges the sky deep yellow.
"Going to buy something to drink and eat. You want to come in with me?"
"No, thanks," she says tonelessly.
"Fine, I'll be right back." He stomps over, a little clumsy in the fat biker boots they'd been forced to take.
When he enters the stop, he finds it's a rather rundown joint; the wooden interior darkened from age, forbidden tobacco and other illegal substances, half of the lights switched off, two slot machines from the turn of the century in the corner. An ironic smile tugs at his lips as he considers that ten years ago, this would've been exactly the place he'd gone to look for a fistfight when his dark moods struck. In fact, the seven guys hanging out on the bar even look like people who'd appreciate a bit of a physical quarrel, all broad-shouldered and with hands like pans, their jackets carrying similar emblems of skulls and crossbones. As he walks towards the bar, aware of how all eyes suddenly focus on him, he starts wondering if stopping here had been a serious error.
The bartender, a bull with a beard like a badly cut hedge looks at him with an unmoved face.
"Good day, sir. I'd like four sandwiches and a bottle or two of coke. Do you have that? Preferably two cheese, two ham."
The bartender gives him a disinterested nod. "Could get you some prepared." He shouts the order into the kitchen, then puts two bottles onto the counter. "That's all?"
"Yes, thanks." Jim whips out his credit chip and gives it to the man.
"You've got a nice bike," a guy next to him suddenly says, slightly slurred.
"Thanks, man. Rented it down in San Francisco." Jim half-turns his head, giving the dark-haired man an assessing gaze. He's pretty sure the guy hasn't been that close to his shoulder a minute ago, and a quick glance around tells him that he's not the only one who's drawn closer to him. Rotating a little more, he finds that the main door is blocked by a fat guy who grins broadly at him. He turns back, his whole body going to alert level.
Okay, he thinks as he considers his options, maybe he's been a little stupid not to cover his back, especially as this isn't just about him, Dael outside on the bike the perfect fodder for such a gang. The thought of anything happening to her because of his carelessness is frightening him on a whole new level, making his usually flippant words get stuck in his throat.
The bartender gives him the credit chip, and he puts it into a secure pocket.
"Sure you need your bike tonight?" the dark-haired guy says, a smirk on his unshaven face. "You look like you had a long trip. You really should take a break."
"No, thanks," Jim says with barely a gaze at him. In the kitchen, the sandwich preparation seems to go into the last stage, and he wonders whether they'll ever end in his growling stomach, or rather on the floor of the joint.
The guy leans in a little closer. "I'm sure we could find a bed for you. And for your young friend too."
So they haven't identified her as a girl yet, good thing. An old woman comes out of the kitchen, giving him a bag and vanishing back into her area with an aura of I ain't seen nothing. He takes the cokes and the bag, turns - and stops.
They're in a half-circle around him, with the seventh guy still at the door, and they smirk at him with leering visages.
"You really should take up our offer, you know," a blond-haired guy says dangerously low. "Let me help you with that."
The second the man grabs the sandwich bag, Jim lets go of everything but one bottle of coke which he uses as a club against the dark-haired man closest to him. Taking them slightly by the surprise, he manages to knock down three before the first blow lands on his chin, sending him sprawling over the bar. He's pulled off it by strong hands, turned and pushed against it with his back, an attempt to elbow one of his attackers fizzling due to the protective gear that slows his moves considerably. It makes the punches that land in his stomach and on his chest a lot more bearable, but then they push him into the room and another slap lands in his unprotected face like a sledgehammer, knocking him out for the fraction of a second.
As his body hits the hard floor, he feels the blood on his face. Then, in slow motion, he can see heavy, metal-capped boots drawing close. Shit. This is going to hurt a fucking lot...
"Stop," a voice says sharply, and everything comes to a crashing hold. "One more step, and I'll kill this man."
With effort, Jim forces himself up from the wooden floor, scrambling to his feet. It's hard to look through his quickly swelling eyes, but the picture that unfolds is damn impressive; Dael, with her tattoos sharp on her angry face and a killer expression in her eyes, stands over the fat guy now kneeling next to the door, one hand in his hair, forcing back his head - the other pointing a dagger against his carotid artery strong enough to dent his skin.
"You all, go to the back room. Jim, lock the door behind them," she sharply orders. When the group doesn't react at first, she tightens her hold on her victim, eliciting a strangled gasp from the man.
"Do what she says, dammit," he barks at the men, and they finally obey, with angry shuffles and loud swearing. Jim drags himself to close the door, turning the key and blocking the old-fashioned handle with a chair. She orders her hostage to stand up, still aiming the knife at his throat's most vulnerable spot as they slowly walk out backwards. Only after Jim has managed to put on his helmet and gloves, does she knock the guy out with a well-aimed hit of the handle to his temple; he topples to the ground like dead meat.
"Let's go," Dael orders, stowing away the dagger before putting on her helmet. She drives, which is good because he wouldn't really be able to drive, but it's been a year since she'd been sitting on such a machine and it shows in the wobbly start and the dangerously slow speed with which she guides it around the first corner. For a while, she just drives along the main road, then takes a few smaller roads in case the gang would try to follow them, but the mountains remain quiet.
"Whoa, Dael, that was fantastic." Jim's voice wavers as she finally pulls the bike off the road and stops. "I'm really sorry for having put us into danger. Shit."
Without comment, she dismounts, pulls off her helmet, takes her bag and walks back the road they've come along. There's a meadow a few hundred meters away, where the trees open to reveal a great view of the morning sun. She sits down on the wet grass, slinging her arms around her folded knees.
He hurries along as fast as he can with his hurting body, and sinks down to the ground next to her.
"I'm really sorry," Jim says again, a little desperate for an answer. He's used to Bones' loud complaints, getting torn a new one when he's being an ass; he doesn't deal well with her silence that suddenly reminds him of Winona (he stopped calling her mother a long time ago) in one of their few communications, when she'd stared at him in disapproving accusation. "Dael?"
She stretches her neck, then unpacks her bag, whipping out a bottle and shoving it into his hand.
Clumsily, he takes it with bloodied fingers. "Romulan Ale?"
"Have a go," she says, while unpacking a small medikit.
"Isn't that supposed to be illegal?" he says while he unscrews it. He takes a deep gulp, and it feels as if a rolling barrage shoves him down, stealing all of his breath out of his lungs, burning away his guts and then settling as a piece of glowing red iron in the pit of his stomach. Tears spring to his eyes, and fuck, this is exactly what he needs.
He takes another gulp. "Do you always have a dagger in your pocket?"
"If I can help it," she mutters and deals with his free hand. "A matter of habit."
"Had one with you when babysitting Chris?"
She doesn't answer him, only finishes her work, which is all the answer he needs, not that it should've surprised him after what he knew about her history. Besides - he really shouldn't complain after having been rescued by her.
"I'm sorry, Dael. Really," he says contritely as she tackles his other hand, cleaning the cuts, bandaging the knuckles. He feels incredibly guilty and more than a little ashamed that she'd got to witness what looks like a bounce-back to his stupid behavior of the past, even if it hadn't been intended.
When she's done with his face, the pain in his body is nicely drowned out after the fourth deep slug of the blue liquid, all of him a little floating.
One hand on his face, she forces him to look straight into her eyes. "What's the matter, Jim?"
"Nothing," he slurs, waving the open bottle carelessly in the air. "Why should anything ever matter to me? Always got the answers, so don't care, just carry on."
Prying the bottle from his fingers, she sips from it before screwing it shut and putting it aside, not heeding his longing gaze.
"It's not about me, anyway," he mutters.
She drags him down to the ground with her, and he stretches out on his back with a groan while her face towers above him.
"You're angry." Her voice is cool and analytical, and she does a good copycat of Bones' patented shrink gaze.
"I'm never angry. Here, look at me." He stretches out his arms, at least as wide as he can before pulled muscles hurt and her body is in the way. "Do I look angry to you?" Giving her a comical look through long lashes, he plays the fool. Still his best strategy to deflect questions like these, gazes like hers.
Her lips quirk. "That's why I gave you the ale."
Shit. "You made me drunk on purpose?" He's been avoiding getting drunk for years, doesn't even like to see other drunken people anymore ever since he'd straightened out some psychological shit about his stepfather. Hell, when he'd once come back to Chris' apartment and found his lover stupidly wasted, his first impulse had been to turn on his heel and leave, subconsciously fearing Chris might be of the violent type of drunk. Turned out Chris was just sweetly needy and suppliant, but he still doesn't need a repetition.
"Why did you do that?" Probably Bones had said something about getting him a little loosen up.
"Get you to speak what you really think. Call it therapy," she says, her other hand flat on his chest, seeping warmth.
"I don't need a shrink. And I especially don't need you to do that job," he says, though it doesn't sound half as firm as he'd intended to, his voice a little shaky around the edges from the alcohol and the receding adrenaline. "Bad enough that you've got to be that for Chris. Don't you ever get tired of picking up his pieces? It was the third time, wasn't it?"
She nods as if she'd expected that, then shakes her head. "You don't know me half as well as you think."
He looks at her marvelous features, the way her tattoos curve in new, amazing ways from his distorted sight. "I know a Samarian complex when I see one. I live with Bones. You want to keep doing that, never acting, only reacting to what other people want from you?"
Dael laughs quietly. "I didn't want to attend the Admiralty's Ball to which you dragged me right after my arrival. I didn't want to drive away either. And I didn't really get asked by you, did I?"
Yeah, he knows. Yeah, he'd been glad she hadn't resisted his suggestions.
He can still dislike it from the bottom of his heart. "We needed to attend."
"Yes." She laces her legs with his, the protective gear cushioning her bony limbs. "So you're angry that it's all been about Christopher lately."
"Yes." He curls his lips. "Yes, I am. And I just don't want to talk about him anymore, or Bones, for the matter. I'm tired of it. I'm fed up with it."
Drunken ramblings, drunken truths. Just what she wants, right?
"You resent him for his problems, for not being strong anymore. And that his health problems bind Leonard's time and interest." She corners him enough to make him avoid her gaze. "Do you fear you will lose Leonard?"
His shoulders sink against the ground, and he's averting her gaze in silence for a while before he looks back at her. "I'm not sure I haven't already."
"You think Leonard would want to stay with Christopher, just the two of them?"
"I always knew he's not really poly. He got used to it while being with me, because we wouldn't have been able to have a successful relationship otherwise. And Chris… same thing. Maybe it just could never work out. I should've known it was a mistake. My own damn fault, bringing them together."
It feels incredibly good to let it flow, all the things he couldn't tell anyone else, not Bones who'd been brooding all through the radio silence, not Chris who found his own solution in a way that had left everyone else afloat. She's the perfect listener to his confessions, the truth behind the all-easy façade and his usually positive outlook on life that had taken some serious damage over the last months.
"So you think Christopher will break up with me and push me out of his life to make room for Leonard?" she asks.
"Uh." Put like this, it sounds a little bit unbelievable. "No," he says reluctantly. "I don't think he'd do that."
"Good. Because I cannot imagine Leonard separate from you either." She puts one hand on his, lacing their fingers. "I made my own choices - I went on the mission, and I agreed to its extension. I made both decisions although I knew that Christopher would have a hard time with them. It's possible that I wanted to make up for some of my regret about the results by spending these months with him, but I also needed some quiet and peace. It wasn't an easy mission."
"I can imagine," he says, still turning over his own thoughts, own fears, more things he needs to share with someone who can understand him. He rubs her hand, checking for the ring that hadn't registered on his sensors at first, but it's there, and instinct tells him it's got to be Chris' ring. It makes him feel even stranger, beyond the fact that he's lying on his back, beaten and drunk in the morning sun, and pouring out his heartache to a woman in a way he hadn't done in ten years.
Maybe because he simply hadn't felt so heartbroken in the last ten years either.
"You know," he says slurred, "maybe Chris doesn't want to leave you but that doesn't mean that Bones wouldn't leave me anyway for him. You could do that, the three of you, it would work well I guess, Bones is a good guy, he can share." Jim chuckles darkly.
A thoughtful frown tilts her pattern. "Why do you feel so insecure? You never felt like this when we were all together. Or did you?"
"No, not like that. Had my misgivings, but thought I could deal with it pretty well. I did deal well, right? Just…"
"Just what?"
He stares at the sky as he speaks. "Bones and I didn't have many rules when it came to others, but the one big rule was - no secrets. We shared everything important. Not the little things, we trust each other enough that we don't need to know every detail. But we just didn't have secrets when it came to things that had a serious impact on our relationship."
"And that's been different with Christopher?"
"Not at first. But on the last tour, Bones played some game with Chris over long distance communication, and I didn't know what it was about and he didn't share anything. I only knew that something had changed. When the order of complete radio silence came in, Bones was in an absolutely foul mood but also, I don't know - relieved? I started to obsess over the situation, because I wondered if Chris had offered something special, or placed an ultimatum of some sort. I asked Bones and he said - I promised it would be between Chris and me, and I can't break that promise."
"So he broke the promise he'd made to you."
"Yes," Jim says, and all the frustration and sadness that had kindled up in him over the last months sweeps up to the surface, his mind clear and focused, the comforting haze of inebriation gone. "There wasn't anything short of hacking into his files and checking their communication, but I couldn't do that. I also couldn't pressure Bones because I just knew that if I did that, he'd break apart and I would still lose him. We were on a really critical mission and we just didn't have time for this shit. And when the battles were over and communication reestablished, Chris pulls this ex out of the hat and Bones is in an even fouler mood. I put on a brave front and tried to ease the tension between them. Thought I had succeeded too until Chris calls me for a big, fat lecture on how to deal with the admiralty." Jim rolls his eyes and instantly winces, damn, his face hurts from the slightest movement. "He was right but I've spent the last three months in open conflict with Nogura because of that. There are moments when I wish I were just some low rank way out in space, and not James T. Kirk, troublemaker extraordinaire."
Dael just quietly listens, and he feels guilty for swamping her with his self-pity, his moment of happily wallowing in his shit ending abruptly as if someone poured a bucket of cold water over him.
"I'm sorry, Dael," he mutters and throws one arm over his eyes, wishing he could get beamed away, wishing he could be a good partner and the friend she needs instead of the guy who's dumping his personal relationship problems onto her.
"You're wrong," she says softly, her fingers curling around the hand of his folded arm. "Christopher loves you, and he'll never ask Leonard to stay. They both love you, and they're aware that they're causing you pain."
"Is he?" he asks throatily. "Does Chris really know what he's done to us? What he's still doing to all of us?" He knows it's wrong to accuse Chris of having broken down on purpose, he knows there've been bad circumstances adding up and people wanting to get Chris out of the way, up to the level of a damn conspiracy, but a part of him can't really forgive Chris.
Dael's right, he does blame Chris for having been too weak.
How fucked-up it all is…
"He's not ready to face it yet, but deep down he knows. Give him some time." She takes away his arm, prompting him to embrace her. Her body molds against his, her lips slightly brushing over his.
"We all love you. Never doubt that. Space isn't big enough for you to get away."
Jim screws his eyes shut, wishing she'd be right, knowing in his heart that she isn't. This isn't about him walking away, never has been, it's about the others walking away and leaving him, all of them. His hazy, drunken, fucking maudlin mood returns full-fledged, the weight of a million tons crushing his chest as he tries to find a good answer.
"Hold onto me." Her arms tighten around him, fingers laced into his hair as she kisses him, and he pretends that the small, desperate sob between them isn't coming out of his own mouth.
***
Onto part 2/4