#gabriel o'malley imagines

[ablogcalledrevenge]

Never Really Over 

(a Gabriel O’Malley x Reader Insert Multichapter Fic, Rated M)

Chapter One

There’s a knock on your door around 7pm on Friday night. You’re not expecting anyone and you freeze on the couch, knowing the episode of Wonder Woman is loud and clear. You grab your gun from the table and shove it in the back of your shorts, the metal cold against your skin. It might be nothing, but better to be safe than sorry. Los Angeles in 1978 was a seedy place and you weren’t an idiot. It’s also interesting to note because you live in a gated apartment complex; no one can get in without you letting them in first. So whoever’s at your door means business.

You unbolt and open the door, see who it is, and immediately slam the door in their face.

 “Hey! Fuck (Y/N), let me in! I gotta talk to you. Open the damn door!” He yells through the wood, not doubt alerting your neighbors. Unfortunately it was now that you regretted living with so many secretive people; they knew not to call the cops. While most of the time that was a good thing, now you wish they would. He deserved a long stay in some holding cell after what he put you through. But you also knew he was stubborn and would probably stay there all night yelling if you let him. So with a sigh, you open the door and let him in.

Gabriel O’Malley steps over the threshold and back into your life like nothing ever happened. Like you’d never told him you loved him, and like he never left you without a word. Like a year hadn’t passed without so much as a phone call. You were a little surprised by how much it hurt to see him, how much you still weren’t over him. It was embarrassing.

He sits down at your kitchen table, quiet and waiting. There is a brief standoff where you just stare at each other. Throwing up your hands, you turn on the stove to boil water for tea. You grab mugs from the cabinet, unthinkingly taking his favorite- blue and green swirled porcelain- without even realizing. 

“You know, you got a lotta of nerve coming back here. Everyone knows what you did to me, you’re not going to find many sympathetic friends.” You say as the tea brews. He doesn’t say anything, content to watch you. You’re annoyed that he caught you in your pajamas. It’s a cute set, a pink satin tank and shorts your sister gave you, but he doesn’t deserve to see it. You should plug him full of lead right now, the absolute nerve!

“Yeah well, I couldn’t stay in New York. Shit happened.” He finally says, as you give him his tea. You could doctor it up just the way he likes, you still remember, but instead you place milk and sugar on the table between you. He doesn’t look bad if you’re being truthful. He looks like he gained a little bit of weight, which was good since he was such a beanpole, but he’d lost a lot of the beautiful color he’d gotten working in LA. Everything else is the same. His hair, his stubble, his clothes, the mole on his cheek you used to kiss for luck. It’s all there and you can feel your heart shriveling in your chest.

“Oh I know. We all know what went down in New York. It’s a fucking mess, is what happened. I mean, I’m all for girl power but you completely dismantled Hell’s Kitchen. Apparently the broads you backed couldn’t even keep themselves together. You stole the Hasidim from the Italians, which was a risky move, and you’re gonna hear about it for sure. But then, the girls start to split; one of ‘em died and the other is trying for Harlem? Yeah, good luck with that.” You snort into your tea. He looks pained at the mention of Claire’s death but it’s true. If she were smart, she wouldn’t have died.

“And now you’ve come crawling back to us. You backed the wrong horse and you know if you show your face in Midtown, they’ll cut your throat. I don’t know what’s more stupid; that you came back at all, or that you thought this would work? Did you expect me to open the door and fall into your arms with gratitude? Think you could just walk into Zayde’s office and get your job back? Are you outta your fucking mind? They’ll kill you when they find out you’re back.” You promise, trying to keep your voice down. The walls between apartments were insulated and people minded their own business, but this was still a touchy subject.

“Look I know I messed up! I was trying to help. They’re my people, some of them family and they needed help. The guys in charge were running it into the ground. You should’ve seen the way they treated their wives, it was disgusting! Believe me, even with all the bullshit, the Kitchen is better with the women in charge. But I got too invested and Cathy told me to leave, so here I am. They’re not gonna kill me, I’m no rat. I just, you know, abandoned the family and broke your heart. Sorry by the way.” He shrugs, looking sheepish but not worried. You see red and stand up from the table.

“Sorry by the way? Sorry by the way! You fucking schmuck! You broke my heart! You left without a word, without a reason. I didn’t know what happened to you or where you were. I thought you’d been taken or killed! And then I hear that you’re in New York, helping the Irish and screwing some married bitch! The same one I’ve been in the shadow of since we met! You expect me to be okay with a sorry?” You accuse, the anger practically steaming off your body. 

He sips his tea and you almost lunge across the table. Your cat tinkles in from the other room and meows at Gabriel, who peers down with a very soft look. Your heart cracks again.

“Since when do you have a cat? She’s cute.” He asks, picking up Magenta and letting her snuggle against his chest. You glare at the traitor, as if you didn’t cry into her fur about the man holding her. 

“I got her about 6 months ago. It helped to have someone around, even if she couldn’t really talk back. I just got really lonely here.” You admit, finger running along the lip of your mug.

“What? You haven’t dated anyone since I left?” He asks, looking genuinely confused. Which surprises you considering he’s here to apologize and possibly worm his way into your heart. But his surprise that you weren’t seeing anyone didn’t add up with the other stuff. Why would he want you to date other people? Maybe to make him feel less guilty?

“No I did, but it was never that serious. I just didn’t feel like getting involved with anyone like that. It felt like I was betraying you, even though you would’ve deserved it.” You can hear the faint sounds of Lynda Carter stopping bullets from the other room. Then a beer commercial starts and you bite your lip to stop yourself from crying. With him in the apartment, it’s like everything is reminding you of before. Before he left for New York and took your heart with him.

“Yeah well, looks like we’re both back to square fucking one.” Gabe scoffs, draining his cup and letting Magenta jump down from his lap. He glances around your apartment, though it hasn’t changed much in a year, before leaning back in his chair.

“So, where am I sleeping?” He asks and you pull the gun from your shorts and point it in his face. You’ve reached your tipping point with him, clearly.

“Un-fucking-believable. If you think you can just come back here and everything will go back to the way it was, you’ve got another thing coming. Now get outta my house.” Your gaze is deadly and your hand doesn’t shake. Gabe gets up slowly and walks towards the door, hands up in a placating gesture. The barrel follows him. He opens the door and steps out of your apartment and into the warm night air.

“You look real beautiful (Y/N), fuck it’s good to see you.” He says wistfully before you slam the door in his face again. What an asshole. Still, you can’t help but smile at his boldness. Gabriel O’Malley wasn’t a loud man, didn’t care about being in the spotlight, but he was always bold. It was nice to see some things hadn’t changed.

  ~~~~~~~~

  He ends up taking a bus to Tony’s house, happy to still remember where everything is. The house looks the same, pale green siding with blooming flower boxes under the window. It looks like the hydrangeas finally grew, that was nice.

Taking a deep breath, Gabe knocks on the door as the fireflies buzz around him. Shit, it was late, wasn’t it? He should’ve come at a different time. But before he could flee, the door opens.

“Gabey! Oh Gabey, it’s so good to see you! Come inside and eat something, I made stuffed shells. Here, I’ll get you a plate.” Mrs. Petrillo says, ushering him into the house. Even if he wanted to argue, he wouldn’t. You didn’t argue with Mrs. Petrillo. She was 5 feet of pure Italian dynamite and he loved the old broad to pieces.

A huge plate of food is set in front of him, along with wine and bread, and he eats happily as Mrs Petrillo putters around her kitchen. Her house slippers make scuffing noises on the laminate floor and the sound is comforting to him.

“Gabey patatino, how are you? What are you doing back? How was New York?” She asks, sitting next to him at the old diner style table and patting his hand. 

“I’m good Mrs. P, I’m good. New York was… well some good things happened and some bad things happened but I’m doing okay.” He explains in between bites. She makes a sympathetic noise and gives him another slice of bread.

“Hey Ma, who was at the door? Was it… Gabriel O’Malley, you sonuvabitch! You know, you gotta lot of nerve coming back here.” Tony says, entering the kitchen with a grimace. Gabe gives a tight smile in response.

“Anthony Michael, is that any way to talk to your friend? Let him eat before you start yelling in my kitchen.” Mrs. P shoots back. Her son looks abashed for all of a moment before rounding back to Gabe, his gold cornicello swinging on his neck.

“Friend? This chooch fucks off for New York without a word and breaks (Y/N)’s heart with it and we’re supposed to let him back like it’s nothing? Ma, he doesn’t deserve the stuffed shells.” He yells, rightfully so; Gabe thinks as he wipes his mouth. 

Tony’s mother starts yelling about language and hospitality but the sound of Gabe pushing his chair back makes them quiet.

“He’s right Mrs. Petrillo. I’m a real jerk. I did a lot of things wrong. I was trying to help who I thought was my family and I ended up hurting the real one I had here. I made a lotta mistakes, the biggest one being how I treated her. But that’s why I’m back. I want to say I’m sorry, sorry to everyone, and fix things with her. I know it’s a mess, I don’t even have a place to stay or money.” Gabe sighs, rubbing at his forehead.

Mrs. P makes a soft sound of commiseration and hugs him. 

“Don’t worry patatino, everything’s gonna be fine. You can stay here until you get back on your feet. Right Anthony?” She offers, shooting a glare at her son. He glares at Gabe before nodding in concession. 

“I can’t stay mad at you, you leprechaun. Stay here and work on getting your life together.” Tony says, joining his mother to wrap Gabe in a hug. 

For the first time in months, Gabriel feels safe, he feels comforted. In New York, despite the power he had and Claire in his bed, he always felt so antsy. Like he was just waiting for everything to fall out from under him. When it did, well, it was probably a good thing that no one was in the train compartment with him on his way back to California.

“So what do I do Tony? Got any jobs for me? You know I’m good for it.” He finally says when he sits back down at the table to eat and his throat doesn’t feel so tight.

“Well, there is a wedding next week.” Tony says and he grins over his wine glass and Gabriel can’t help but laugh and raise his own glass in agreement.

Chapter Two Coming Soon...

Tagging: @babbushka​, @theold-ultraviolence

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

[kyluxadjacents]

FANFIC Kissing, Confessing by oorsprong

Summary: Moon and Gage settle in for the night at an inn and talk about the past.

Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

Moon (True Grit) + The Snickers Commercial Cowboy

Disaster Cowboys (Moon/Azarado Gage)

_____________________________________

Resolute by spiteandmalice

Summary: Philip is trying to become an actual responsible adult. But first, he’s going on vacation.

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Phillip Altman (This Is Where I Leave You), Thomas McGregor (Peter Rabbit), Bea (Peter Rabbit)

Phomas + Bea (Thomas/Phillip/Bea)

______________________________________

Withdraw by starkickback

Summary: A bunch of adjacent ships converge in a spooky old house.

Teen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Abraham H. Parnassus (SNL), Clyde Logan (Logan Lucky), Flip Zimmerman (BlackKklansman), Paterson (Paterson), Rick (Tracks), Sevier (Midnight Special), Ash Starmer (Black Mirror), Dr. Faraday (The Little Stranger), Gabriel O'Malley (The Kitchen), Monty Schafer (Barry Seal), Stensland (Crash Pad), Thomas McGregor (Peter Rabbit), Matt the Radar Technician

Ashterson (Ash Starmer/Paterson), Clydeland (Clyde Logan/Stensland), Techienician (Matt The Radar Technician/Clan Techie), Parnassus/Faraday

______________________________________

Blind Confidence by Jathis

Summary:  “I wish I could go out and eat in the cafeteria like everyone else.”

Gen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Fluff

Clan Techie (Dredd), Matt the Radar Technician

Techienician (Matt The Radar Technician/Clan Techie)

______________________________________

Kyluxception - Adjacents' Month 2019 by DeviantDarkBelle

Summary: Collection of works for Adjacents Month

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Flip Zimmerman (BlackKklansman), Gabriel O'Malley (The Kitchen), Other characters as apply

Flip Zimmerman/Gabriel O’Malley

______________________________________

Whispers by spiteandmalice

Summary: It starts with a whisper amongst the Stormtroopers. An assassin, sneaking ship to ship, killing as he goes.

Teen

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Matt the Radar Technician, Clan Techie (Dredd)

Techienician (Matt The Radar Technician/Clan Techie)

______________________________________

this glistening hour by srawratskcuf

Summary: Paterson saves Ash, or maybe it's the other way around.

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Paterson (Paterson), Ash Starmer (Black Mirror)

Ashterson (Ash Starmer/Paterson)

______________________________________

Aquatic Rescue by Jathis

Summary: He watched the Human carefully from just below the waves. His cousin had always told him to stay under the waves, moving with the motion of the water. It was easier to blend in that way, ensuring the Humans wouldn’t be able to spot him from their boats.

Gen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Mermay

Matt the Radar Technician, Clan Techie (Dredd)

Techienician (Matt The Radar Technician/Clan Techie)

______________________________________

Hold Your Tongue by srawratskcuf

Summary: Stensland asks Clyde to shut him up. By sitting on his face. Clyde is more than happy to oblige.

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Smut

Clyde Logan (Logan Lucky), Stensland (Crash Pad)

Clydeland (Clyde Logan/Stensland)

______________________________________

Light Years Away From You by Tagatha

Summary: The First Order were not spared from the snap.

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Angst

Matt the Radar Technician, Clan Techie (Dredd)

Techienician (Matt The Radar Technician/Clan Techie)

______________________________________

Obsidian by dreamyafterdark

Summary: Freddie Joyce is stewing in prison, until a mysterious man appears, hell-bent on getting him out of there.

Mature

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Angels & Demons

Man (Archangel) & Freddie Joyce (Calvary)

Fredman (Freddie Joyce/Man)

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Gloriously filthy by dreamyafterdark

Summary: Gareth Averill has a problem. When he gets nervous or excited, his skin breaks very easily, and oh how the blood flows

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Smut

Gareth (Your Bad Self) + Neil (Gayby)

Gareth (Your Bad Self)/Neil (Gayby)

______________________________________

Undercover by starkickback

Summary: Paul and Monty's "relationship" is on the rocks. Monty will have to call for reinforcements.

Teen

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Flip Zimmerman (BlackKklansman), Sevier (Midnight Special), Gabriel O'Malley (The Kitchen), Monty Schafer (Barry Seal)

Ponty (Paul Sevier/Monty Schaefer), Zimmalley (Gabriel O'Malley/Flip Zimmerman)

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The Fire Theft by for_autumn_i_am

Summary: On a lonely night in 2019, sad med student Faraday got a boner and it nearly ruined his entire life.

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Smut

Basil Anthony (Man and Boy), Dr. Faraday (The Little Stranger)

Basilday (Dr. Faraday/Basil)

______________________________________

Hold You Tight by spiteandmalice

Summary: Paterson meets AA Milne and invites him into his life.

Teen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Paterson (Paterson), A.A. Milne (Goodbye, Christophe Robin)

Milne/Paterson

______________________________________

Oh Detective, My Detective by Chifuyu

Summary: A disgruntled Flip Zimmerman working undercover, a bored Gabriel O'Malley & a mafia wedding. What could go wrong?

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Smut

Flip Zimmerman (BlackKklansman), Gabriel O'Malley (The Kitchen)

Zimmalley (Gabriel O'Malley/Flip Zimmerman)

______________________________________

Carried with Him on the Crosswise Streets by CallmeLyss1

Summary: Faraday and Basil navigate life in 1950s New York, their respective pasts, and a possible future.

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

BDSM, Smut, Medical Kink

Basil Anthony (Man and Boy), Dr. Faraday (The Little Stranger)

Basilday (Dr. Faraday/Basil)

______________________________________

Just A Conversation by DaisyChainz

Summary: Stensland meets a handsome stranger in the jazz club. Paul isn't sure if he's in the right mindset to get picked up.

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Smut

Sevier (Midnight Special), Stensland (Crash Pad)

Sevierland

______________________________________

May I Have This Dance by dreamyafterdark

Summary: When Dr. Faraday spots a young disabled man trying to kill himself on his property, his instincts as a human and a doctor prompt him to try and intervene.

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Suicide Attempt

Dr. Faraday (The Little Stranger), Glen Stetson (You Don't Know Jack)

Doctor Faraday/Glen Stetson

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take my hand (take me whole life, too) by sstensland

Summary:  His eyes meet Techie’s. Warmth fills him. Butterflies flutter in his gut. He feels light, dizzy, under the gaze of those big blue eyes. There's a pull—magnetic or otherwise—bringing them closer together. Or is that just Matt’s imagination? His desperation? The crush he’s been harboring for the last six months? Has he finally gotten to the point of desperation?

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Fluff

Matt the Radar Technician, Clan Techie (Dredd)

Techienician (Matt The Radar Technician/Clan Techie)

______________________________________

Out of Hand by srawratskcuf

Summary: Stensland has an unusual proposal for Clyde.

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Smut

Clyde Logan (Logan Lucky), Stensland (Crash Pad)

Clydeland (Clyde Logan/Stensland)

______________________________________

Once Upon A Time At SWC by HastaLux

Summary: Techie attends a Star Wars Convention dressed as General Hux and meets a really awesome guy dressed as Kylo Ren.

Teen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Matt the Radar Technician, Clan Techie (Dredd)

Techienician (Matt The Radar Technician/Clan Techie)

______________________________________

Sample Taking by Naniris

Summary: Paterson, as the first man on Mars, takes routine semen samples to check how being on Mars affects his sperm count.

Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

Masturbation

Paterson (Paterson), Ash Starmer (Black Mirror)

Ashterson (Ash Starmer/Paterson)

______________________________________

Transient by DaisyChainz

Summary: Clyde Logan is in town to get his new arm fitted properly.

Mature

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Smut

Clyde Logan (Logan Lucky), Stensland (Crash Pad)

Clydeland (Clyde Logan/Stensland)

______________________________________

happiness isn't happiness (without a violin-playing goat) by storytellingape

Summary:  Thomas runs a little toy shop in Crouch End with the aid of his intrepid shop assistant, struggling actor Adam Sackler. Then Adam catches a big break that catapults him into stardom. The rest is history.

Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

Fluff

Adam Sackler (Girls), Thomas McGregor (Peter Rabbit)

McSackler (Adam Sackler/Thomas McGregor)

______________________________________

And They Were Cellmates by BoStarsky, StartingWithTheRidingCrop

Summary: Or the one in which Stensland ends up in prison with Clyde and they slow burn their way to heaven.

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Clyde Logan (Logan Lucky), Stensland (Crash Pad)

Clydeland (Clyde Logan/Stensland)

______________________________________

Last Kiss by DeviantDarkBelle

Summary: There is a way for Caleb to get out. He's not sure if he wants to take it or not.

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Hurt/Comfort

Clyde Logan (Logan Lucky), Caleb (Ex Machina)

Caleb/Clyde

______________________________________

Adjacents Three by DeviantDarkBelle

Summary: Rental car problems Bea being... unreasonable... And Thomas just needed to go to that bar and get a pint. Of course he did.

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Smut

Matt the Radar Technician, Ronald Peterson (The Dead Don't Die), Thomas McGregor (Peter Rabbit)

Peterson/McGregor/Matt (Technical McPocalypse?)

______________________________________

Long Past by Ezlebe

Summary: “Shit,” Clyde curses, drawing the whiskey bottle back and up the right direction, watching money more than liquor dribble down the bar and into the cracks. “I – shit. Hey there, Monty.” “Logan,” Monty says evenly, leaning forward slightly over the bar. It might only be imagination, but he looks… disappointed, a tight smile crossing his lips before he looks down at the mess. “Sorry to surprise you.”

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Smut

Clyde Logan (Logan Lucky), Monty Schafer (Barry Seal)

Monty/Clyde

______________________________________

Three Things by Thrasirshall

Summary: “Gabriel O'Malley, you are now under arrest, you have the right to remain - ” 

There was a grunt from Gabriel, “I remember these being a lot more pleasurable.” 

“ - silent. Please use it.”

Mature

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

A/B/O, Zombie AU, Mpreg

Flip Zimmerman (BlackKklansman), Gabriel O'Malley (The Kitchen)

Zimmalley (Gabriel O'Malley/Flip Zimmerman)

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A gift from God by rudbeckia

Summary: Captain Henry, running for his life through the forest where he has been trapping, trips and falls unconscious. When he wakes, he is still in a forest but it is very different. He meets a ragged man, close to starvation, who says Henry is proof that he has not been abandoned by God for his despair.

Between them, they must survive, work out where they are, and find a way back to civilisation.

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Hurt/Comfort

Garupe (Silence), Andrew Henry (The Revenant)

Henrupe (Andrew Henry/Garupe)

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And You Don't Say Much (but I Lose It When You Do) by itsallaboutflowermetaphors

Summary:  “You wanna, like, do stuff?” Matt asks quietly, leaning forward to whisper into Techie’s ear hoping the mic won’t pick up his voice.

They talked about it before, how they maybe want to do something where people might listen in.

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Smut

Matt the Radar Technician, Clan Techie (Dredd)

Techienician (Matt The Radar Technician/Clan Techie)

______________________________________

Bait by Deadsy, Ktula

Summary: Techie’s goal is a slow takeover of the First Order network via virus-infected porn. Call it an insurance policy. The side-effect is that porn doesn't do shit for him anymore, but that was bound to happen. His dick works fine for everything else, so when he gets edgy, he fucks someone anonymously. Crosses their name off the list, one and done. No repeats. It's fine.

Explicit

Rape/Non-Con

Smut

Matt the Radar Technician, Clan Techie (Dredd)

Techienician (Matt The Radar Technician/Clan Techie)

______________________________________

Caleb's Lucky Day by liviay

Summary: After receiving the best news ever on his job, Caleb meets a weird guy on the subway, and the day gets even better...

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Fluff, Smut

Adam Sackler (Girls), Caleb (Ex Machina)

SackSmith (Adam Sackler/Caleb Smith)

______________________________________

What Would It Take? by srawratskcuf

Summary:  Techie is extremely insecure and doesn't understand why someone as built and hot as Matt could ever be into him. When it comes to sex, he's afraid that he won't compare to Matt's past partners and that Matt will leave him. The first time Matt penetrates him, he's nervous and underprepared and it's so, so painful but Techie doesn't say anything because he doesn't want to disappoint Matt. Instead, he encourages Matt to keep going because it's obvious that Matt is enjoying himself, even if Techie isn't. This makes Matt get rougher and rougher because he thinks he's pleasing Techie, when he is really putting him in increasing pain. Matt was actually a virgin and Techie's worry about past partners is completely unfounded. Somehow Matt finds out afterwards and hurt/comfort ensues.

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Hurt/Comfort, Dub-Con

Matt the Radar Technician, Clan Techie (Dredd)

Techienician (Matt The Radar Technician/Clan Techie)

[writesandramblings]

The Captain’s Secret - p.101

“The Memory of Your Heart”

A/N: There is a scene referenced in this chapter that took place in episode 15 and was not included in this fanfic. Just want to make sure the non-show watchers know they didn't miss anything I wrote; the scene didn't really fit in this story except as a moment of reminiscence. If you rewatch this scene with a mind towards the context it's presented here, though, it really is pretty unnerving.

I'm at the big Star Trek convention in Vegas if anyone wants to drop me a line.

Also, hey, did you catch that the titular captain is Saru? Yep. Planned that one from day one. He ended up with a different secret than originally intended because Lorca lived, but it was Saru all along.

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << 100 - The Captain’s Secret 102 - Only Then Am I Free >>

The lobby of the opera house was stunning. Swirl-patterned windows rose three and a half stories tall with terraced levels of curving wood and white walls that caught the reflected light of the moonscape outside. Blue and purple plants native to Vorasa system cascaded down like a waterfall of life from the top level, weaving down towards the garden on the first level with bursts of orange and green flowers.

"This is incredible," breathed Tilly, barely able to catch her breath at the sight of it.

Next to her, Stamets was more concerned with the tickets. He smacked his hand twice on the side of the holoticket and the seat numbers fritzed into view along with live directions to reach them. "There we go."

"Couldn't you just live here? If there were beds, I mean, and..." She trailed off, uncertain what else living in a space this immense would require.

"It is stunning," admitted Stamets. There was a time when he might have come here and found the architecture preferable to the music. Now he felt capable of appreciating both.

"Wow," said Tilly, head tilted up towards the ceiling, her feet following the movement of her eyes across a series of rippling metal ribbons arranged along the ceiling. There was a soft impact as she backed into another guest, almost tripping over the trailing hem of a gown. The Bolian she had collided with turned to look at her with wide-eyed surprise. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking—"

The Bolian smiled at Tilly. "It's fine," the woman assured her, sweeping the shimmery, peacock purple fabric of her floor-length gown to the side. "Your first time?"

"Yes," Tilly nodded, excitement overcoming her fluster.

"Enjoy your visit," said the Bolian kindly and resumed her conversation with her companion.

Stamets watched the exchange with a smile of his own. "Making new friends everywhere we go," he gently teased. "Shall we find our seats?" They followed the instructions on the ticket to the middle terrace level and the far left of the auditorium. The theatre itself was shallow but tall—as tall as the lobby—with multiple levels of seating stacked almost on top of one another so every seat had a view of the stage, with the preference being for the audience to be above the performers but a stone's throw back, rather than deep and far away as most theatres on Earth. Elegant scalloping behind the stage directed the sound from the base up towards the top. At the moment, the sound consisted of a gentle, whispering murmur of patrons seeking seats and the orchestra members taking their places, punctuated by notes of instrument tuning,

"We're so high up," said Tilly, feeling slightly queasy. It was impossible not to feel a momentary sense of acrophobia. The theatre was the polar opposite of Discovery's low, modest ceilings and the scalloped back wall of the room created the illusory sensation of leaning over the stage below in a mild optical illusion.

"At least we're not on the front row," said Stamets, because merely standing at the front row of any section was enough to create the sensation of teetering at the edge of a cliff. Species prone to inner ear imbalances like humans were advised to avoid those seats entirely.

They took their seats, Stamets smart in his tuxedo and Tilly looking the picture of elegance in a long black dress and attached capelet. Her red curls were pulled back into a ponytail big enough to be a halo. Stamets listened to the whisper in the air and for a moment it felt like he might hear Culber if he listened closely enough. "Thank you for doing this with me."

"I'm honored you invited me," said Tilly, consulting her program.

The conductor arrived to brief fanfare. As the lights dimmed and the stage came to life, a triumph of horns and flutes played their spirited invitation to the world of Puccini's La Bohème and were joined almost immediately by the voices of the performers.

The notes floated upwards through the air. The movements of the singers were balletic when viewed from above, carefully choreographed to suit the swirling aesthetics of classical Kasseelian culture, and Tilly was soon lost in the music even if she did not understand the exact words.

Stamets was lost in the music, too, but he could barely see the performers through the watery field of his eyes and soon closed them, imagining he was in another time and place with a different companion. He settled back against the plush velvety material of the seat and heard partly the music and partly the memory of Culber, his mind's eye picturing the doctor's smile and the brush of stubble across his jaw. The opera house was forgotten in favor of the soft blue lights of their shared quarters late at night. Moonlight settings they had called it, and the singing became a backdrop to a far more beautiful moment.

Stamets’ eyes only opened when the version of Culber in his mind said, "Come on, we're missing the show."

At intermission, they refreshed themselves with a pair of drinks as Tilly fretted about the wisdom of drinking at all. Taking a bathroom break while the performance was ongoing seemed a terrible social faux pas.

"You're overthinking," Stamets told her.

"You know what? I am!" She downed her drink in one go. "Whew!"

Tilly turned, looking across the crowd to see what else people did during opera intermissions besides imbibe alcohol and saw something on the far side of the terrace that made her face light up with recognition. "Is that..."

Stamets turned in the direction she was looking. Even across such a large room, it was hard to mistake the form of a lului as anything else and impossible to deny the familiar shade of grey-blue epithelial tendrils beneath the gossamer strands of the lului's semitransparent shawl. She was stretched up to the height of a human with the support of a cocktail table. Beside her stood a humanoid in a full environmental suit leaning with one arm on the table and the other on his hip, an angled black cape hiding the slight offense of the environmental suit's vulgarity against the sea of well-dressed operagoers.

"I think it is! Lalana!"

"Don't—" But it was too late. Tilly was already waving her arms to get Lalana's attention and the lului, with her massive eyes that took in whole vistas at a glance, had seen them first. Stamets felt his heart drop.

Approaching the table, Tilly was startled to find she recognized the alien's style of environmental mask. She had seen one exactly like it once before. "Hello Sylvia and Paul!" said Lalana. There were three empty drink tumblers on the table, though how many had gone to Lalana and how many her companion was unclear. (The answer, of course, was that none of the alcohol had gone to Lalana.)

"Fancy meeting you here," was Tilly's cheerful reply. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Omen. May I introduce Paul Stamets and Sylvia Tilly. They were with me during my time on Discovery."

"Pleasure," said Omen, his voice a low metallic timbre that seemed to hint at a darkly wry tone.

Stamets considered the masked figure. The height and build checked out. "I think we've met once before," he ventured. "You were with Lalana when she came to visit my research station the first time. Before Discovery."

There was no audible reply, but the masked figure tilted his head to the side and Stamets could well imagine the dry and disapproving frown.

"Was that where you got the idea?" asked Tilly. Lalana's head twisted in a manner indicating confusion. Tilly gestured to her own head to supply some visual context to supplement her verbal deficiency. "The—Memory Alpha."

"Why, yes," said Lalana. "Omen's species was the source of the design." She began clicking her tongue in a private joke. Lorca figured it out after a moment and shook his head with annoyance at the lameness of essentially saying the design was a human one.

The coincidence was too much. Stamets shot Lorca a sidelong glare. "What brings you here?"

"I am very much a fan of live music, especially singing," Lalana answered. "Gabriel and I used to attend concerts when we would visit Risa."

"Lorca liked opera?" said Stamets, incredulous.

"You're telling me people enjoy this caterwauling?" shot back Lorca, absolutely confirming his identity to Stamets.

"People with good taste," Stamets retorted, though Culber's love of opera had not been something they shared while the doctor was alive. It was only now that Culber was dead and the sound of opera brought him back to life in Stamets' mind that the engineer found he could appreciate the genre fully. "I wouldn't think this would be of interest to... someone like you."

"Likewise," was the response from under the mask. Tilly reacted with momentary surprise at hearing the word, which she associated with O'Malley.

Lalana was untroubled by the tenseness between Lorca and Stamets and said, "I am enjoying it very much!"

"Me, too!" bubbled Tilly, launching into an excited discussion of the specifics with Lalana that lasted until the lights flashed to signal the end of intermission, another one of those Earth customs that had successfully migrated across the Federation as an easily understandable universal cue.

Lalana's presence Stamets could almost understand, but he seriously wondered what Lorca had been doing there. Thankfully, when he and Tilly returned the following year for what soon became an annual pilgrimage, Lorca and Lalana were both blissfully absent.

2259.

They had unleashed a monster into the galaxy. Philippa Georgiou, every bit the bloodthirsty, murderous, opportunistic tyrant she had always been, spent the first few months learning the ins and outs of the universe she had landed in, playing along with the charade requested of her by Starfleet, and when she was satisfied she had enough of an understanding of her circumstances and her enemies, she left a trail of corpses in her wake that sent a ripple of fear across the whole of the Federation.

For the first few weeks after the initial refugee camp massacre, no one suspected it was her. It was not until the massacre repeated in another system, on another planet, that the rumors began to swirl across subspace of a great Starfleet captain gone inevitably insane after a full year of Klingon prison.

Then the rumors shifted subtly, the fringes of the story changing as a new version emerged. Georgiou was not insane, they said, but rather, the sanest person in the universe. She had seen the truth of what was required in the wake of the Klingon conflict and hers was not a way of madness but of strength: a galactic necessity if they were to prevent the Klingons from reorganizing against them in the future.

The Federation, these rumors further claimed, was being taken advantage of by the Klingons and various non-member states. The aid being offered to others was not being returned with anything of value and non-citizen refugees were illegally flocking to Federation worlds, straining resources already depleted by the recent war and taking what rightfully belonged to the Federation's full, legal citizens.

Georgiou was like a virus, her actions and ideas a contaminant, but this time, her contamination had spread far beyond Cornwell, Sarek, and the other wartime leaders who had approved her hydro bomb proposal in the waning days of the war.

Some flocked to this bold legend, exactly as Georgiou knew they would, because they saw the recent Klingon conflict as a sign of things to come and they longed for the authoritarian strength of someone who would crack down on the Federation's enemies in every way possible.

Others retaliated to this evolution of the narrative by doubling down on the claims of insanity. There could be no other explanation for a mental break so total, so complete, and so bloodthirsty.

A further subset of the population saw this new version of Georgiou as proof of the dangers posed by humans and their viral genetic instability and wondered if perhaps the solution to the problem was something else entirely.

Then there were those who knew the truth of who and what Georgiou truly was.

"You must track her down," ordered Admiral Sherak. "You are the only crew who understands what we are dealing with."

"Yes, admiral," Saru agreed, but after three weeks they were no closer to stopping Georgiou and the death toll had risen to seventy-two. Saru and Burnham were forced to confront the fact their knowledge of this universe's original Philippa Georgiou was not translating into an understanding of the Terran emperor.

In the ready room, Burnham standing across the table from him and a fresh cup of salted tea between them, Saru decided it was time to consider a more drastic measure. "Perhaps it takes a Terran to track a Terran," he mused.

Petrellovitz's little behavioral experiment—approved by Sarek at the time of its proposal—had lasted only seven months on Discovery. In the end, it was not Petrellovitz's lack of morals and systematic disregard for experimental safeties that had doomed the venture, it was Michael Burnham's enduring tendency to regard herself as knowing better than everyone around her and correlating habit of inserting herself into every aspect of ship missions and operations under the auspices of this assertion.

Put another way, Petrellovitz could not get along with this universe's Michael Burnham, and Burnham equally did not get along with her. Petrellovitz was used to a version of Burnham that relied on her for science, not one that tried to tell her how to run her own projects. The two were constantly at odds with one another in a way that went far beyond the rivalry Burnham and Saru had been locked into back on the Shenzhou.

They might have continued in this battle of wills indefinitely but Burnham and Petrellovitz were both too clever for that and had come to the mutual conclusion they simply needed to be on different ships. That, thought Saru, was an exemplary conclusion to the experiment that reflected well on both of them. Petrellovitz had since transferred to the USS Lemaître, where she was now a chief science officer.

"I mean, I can help you, but you should ask Omen," Petrellovitz told them over the holocomm. "Keeping tabs on the emperor was never really my thing." Her thing had been the opposite, avoiding the emperor at all costs.

That was what Saru had been afraid of. It seemed there was no way around it in the end. "I assume you can still contact them?"

Petrellovitz hummed and bounced slightly. Being in this universe had revealed an irreverent edge to her personality that had never been able to fully manifest in the mirror universe. "I can. Mac likes to hear from his sister every now and again. In return, I'd like the full, unredacted mission report from your recent jaunt on Nirros V and detailed scans of the next five magnetars you encounter. I'll send my specifications."

"I agree to your terms." Nirros V was more a curiosity than anything else. The incident was not classified, but several personnel details had been purged to protect the privacy of those involved, piquing Petrellovitz's interest. Saru knew she would keep the salient details to herself. She might even reply to him with some insights into how the crystalline entity had caused the polarity instability in the transporter stream.

"What do you think this means for our old experiment?" Petrellovitz wondered aloud.

"It means all Terrans are different," said Burnham, "same as all humans." Petrellovitz smiled at Burnham and terminated the call.

"Send Petra a copy of our Nirros V report as soon as possible," ordered Saru, but Burnham could not leave until she had asked one more question.

"Who or what is Omen?"

"That information is highly sensitive. There is still a chance they will not respond to our request. If they do not, then there is no need for me to tell you."

Four hours later they had coordinates for a rendezvous and Saru was forced to reveal the truth. The look of horror on Burnham's face made clear she interpreted this as a betrayal. "I saw his body."

"What you saw was Einar Larsson. A gruesome ruse on Lalana's part, assisted by Mr. Groves."

Burnham shook her head, still reeling from the shock. "The Lorca I knew would never have been able to lie low this long." In her ideation of Lorca, he was a self-aggrandizing, egotistical manipulator who had thrust himself to the forefront of the Federation's war with the sole intent of using that mythos to schism and conquer the Federation once the Terran Empire was under his sway. At least, that was what she had to believe to justify the way she had watched Georgiou stab him through the chest. Sometimes she still saw his face in her dreams, his eyes twisted with pleading desperation as he reached towards her.

"Perhaps you did not know him as well as you thought," suggested Saru.

"How could they keep this from me?"

Saru sighed in almost human fashion. "I know it has always been a great difficulty for you to 'put yourself in another's shoes,' but I implore you, attempt to do so now. There was no benefit to telling you this. A decision was made by persons higher-ranking than either of us that Lorca's existence must be kept secret. It was my duty to abide by it."

"You know how he was—is obsessed with me."

"I am your captain," said Saru, but warmly, in a tone that felt like a knowing smile, because theirs was now a long friendship centered around mutual respect. "Captains must be able to keep secrets. I have not held many, so I hope you will forgive me for the one. If I thought he posed any threat to you I would have told you regardless. If you do not wish to be present when he is, there is no need for you to see him."

"No," said Burnham, "I'm the first officer on this ship and I'm the reason Georgiou is here in the first place. This mission is more my responsibility than anyone's."

She was worried, though, what seeing him would do to them both.

They waited at the rendezvous point for hours. Even Saru began to doubt if anyone was coming. Then a small, V-shaped cruiser devoid of any identifying marks and with a disabled transponder dropped out of warp almost on top of them and requested to dock. Saru and Burnham waited at the airlock.

None of the three figures on the other side of the airlock were entirely familiar. There was a pale, yolky yellow lului with a splash of darker yellow on its chest and red on its hands, tail, and head. Beside it stood a humanoid in a black and grey environment suit and rebreather helmet with silver latches. A tall grey alien with long, raven-black hair and red eye slits dressed in a navy-blue gown brought up the rear of the group—a Misellian.

"Greetings, Captain Saru," said the lului. "I am Lolalen, and these are my companions Omen and Aeree."

"Changed my mind," remarked the helmeted alien beside the lului in a metallic voice, turning on his heel.

"Captain!" said Burnham. The helmeted figure paused mid-stride. There was a chance that word had not been for him, but Burnham could imagine he wanted it to be.

"Perhaps we should convene in the conference room to discuss the specifics," suggested Saru.

Once the doors were closed and the official record disabled, all pretext was dropped. Lalana shifted back to her usual blue-grey and Lorca hesitantly removed his helmet. There were streaks of silver peppered throughout his hair and the years had crinkled some new lines onto his face, but the eyes were the same.

He did not hold Burnham's gaze. Half a second after their eyes met he looked away, focusing instead on the polished sheen of the conference table, the objects on the side of the room farthest away from Burnham, and finally the stars outside the window as he went and stood there with his back to the assembly. When he spoke, he addressed and responded only to Saru and his crewmates, treating Burnham as if she were some sort of void in the room.

Burnham did not take her eyes off him. She could not understand his behavior.

"We don't need your help," Lorca declared. "We can get her on our own."

"Then why haven't you gone after her before now?" challenged Burnham. "I thought you hated the emperor."

Lorca's fingers twitched behind his back. Burnham could just make out the enduring frown of his reflection. "Why indeed," he sighed to no one in particular, as if her question had come drifting in through the window on some cosmic wind.

"Because there could not be any question as to who had killed her," said Lalana. "We will help you, but only if you leave us out of all reports, official and otherwise, and take all credit for stopping her."

Burnham was confused. "You don't want people to know it was you."

Truth be told, he had always been a self-aggrandizing, egotistical manipulator, and he still was, but he had been forced to temper this against the realities of living on the fringe.

"It would be counter to our role in the universe," said Lalana.

"I was addressing Lorca."

At last he spoke to her, but his eyes remained locked on the stars outside. "Then you're shit out of luck, Burnham, 'cause there is no Lorca. But if you want to put a line in there about the great and mighty Captain Omen, you be my guest."

"Omen," said Burnham. "As in a portent of fate. You haven't changed at all."

Lorca snorted so hard he got saliva in his nose. Burnham was entirely missing the trick to the name. He turned away from the window, keeping his back to Burnham, and addressed the Misellian sitting at the conference table. "Ree! You handle the specs." He grabbed his helmet from the table and stormed out.

"Let him go," Lalana advised Saru and Burnham. "He did not want to come."

Burnham looked at Lalana with pity for how little the lului knew about anything. "That may be what he wants all of us to believe, but that does not make it true. The Gabriel Lorca I remember was obsessed with me."

"Oh, Michael Burnham, it was not that he was obsessed with you, it was that he loved someone who had your face. And when you have lost someone you love, it is such a comfort to still be able to see their face."

The problem, Lorca informed them all once he had calmed down, was that they were trying to track Georgiou down. "You don't track Georgiou, you draw her out to you."

They knew roughly what region of space she was in. From there, it was a simple matter to falsify a set of refugee transfer records, disguise the stealth cruiser as a transport, and fabricate a distress signal for a fake engine emergency.

"Can't be subtle about it. She doesn't go for subtle. Whatever you put in that message, you gotta clobber her over the head with it."

"If it's too obvious, she'll see through it," said Burnham.

"Trust me," said Lorca to Saru. He was still pointedly avoiding looking at Burnham.

While the real refugees hitched a ride on Discovery to somewhere more welcoming than this region of space, Burnham and three of Discovery's security officers boarded the cruiser.

"Welcome aboard the Hayliel," said Lalana.

The ship was dark both inside and out. Its interior felt like being in a hole deep underground rather than the infinite reaches of space and the passages that made up the ship's veins were so narrow Burnham and her entourage could only walk in a single file. It was claustrophobic, dimly lit, and eerily quiet. It felt very Terran.

They arrived in the cargo bay and encountered a fourth crewmember: a young human woman who smirked up at them as she expertly cleaned and reassembled a rifle weapon. "The great Michael Burnham," said the woman, identifying herself as "Simi the Starkiller."

The security officers were permitted to wander the ship freely because, as Lalana said, "Anywhere that you are not allowed, you will not be able to enter." It was an opportunity to familiarize themselves with the layout of the ship and prepare for the coming trap.

Lorca was on the bridge, sitting in the captain's chair and gnawing on his finger in agitation. Burnham took up a position just off to his right, almost but not quite in his eyeline, and kept watch on him from the corner of her eye. He remained clearly displeased by her presence even if he was refusing to actively acknowledge her.

He was not the only one to take issue with the mission. "I am under no obligation to help with missions I do not agree with," said Aeree from what appeared to be an operations station. "That's not the deal. Give me the shuttle. I can still make the rendezvous with Jochrat and complete our objective."

Most humans would not have recognized what Lorca and Aeree were discussing, but Burnham had grown up on Vulcan and knew a Romulan name when she heard one. Exactly what had Lorca and his friends been up to?

"I'm amending the deal," said Lorca. "You want Mac to find out what you did to that cat? No? Well then, you're staying here."

Aeree said in a tone so cloyingly sweet it felt like it was dripping sugary ichor, "You cannot hold that over my head forever, Omen."

"You don't eat a man's cat!" Was that anger or exasperation in Lorca's voice? Burnham could not decide which.

"Even I know that, and I once ate a man," clicked Lalana from the helm controls.

Aeree hissed softly. "Very well, but you are warned," she said nebulously. Burnham was reminded of Lorca's time commanding Discovery. Then, as now, he had created a highly contentious ship environment. She failed to realize that this was a game to them all, and that it had been a game back on Discovery, too, with the sole difference that all the participants on the Hayliel knew they were playing. In time, Lorca would do something that Aeree could hold over his head and the balance of power would be restored between them and perhaps even tip in the Misellian's favor.

They waited. And waited. Lorca's agitation grew to a boiling point and Burnham felt it necessary to point out that the reason the ploy had not worked was likely him. "Our message was too obvious," she announced. "She realized it was a trap."

Lorca jumped up from the captain's chair and stormed out of the room.

"Why did you do that," Aeree hissed at Burnham. "Do you think Omen does not see that possibility?"

"It needed to be said," said Burnham.

Aeree's reply was unequivocally firm. "If everyone in a room knows something, it does not need to be said. You only say things when you think people need to know them and do not already. Do you think we were born yesterday, little Earth child, or that there is any thought in your head that has not already filtered through ours? What are you in the face of a thousand years of experience?"

"Ree, that's enough." Lorca had turned around almost immediately after leaving the bridge and heard most of the exchange from the entryway. "Burnham, with me."

The cruiser was not very big and there were few places to go. Burnham put a hand to the phaser on her hip as she trailed Lorca. She couldn't tell Lorca's mood completely from his back, but his voice was grimly resigned. "Sorry 'bout that. Aeree's a little protective. I'd say she's harmless, but... Her bark is entirely less than her bite."

"If you try anything, I will defend myself," Burnham warned.

Lorca did not respond. Their destination turned out to be a tiny mess hall, surprisingly bright compared to the rest of the ship, with white walls and silver fixtures. A silver table with bench seating took up most of the space. Lorca hit a switch just inside the door and the lights dimmed halfway, shifting the room from glaring white to a more neutral warm cream color he found tolerable. He slid past the table and plucked two cups from a storage cupboard. "When my Michael got tense, it was usually because she was getting peckish."

Burnham watched Lorca's shoulders as he poured coffee into the cups and rummaged for something to serve with it, settling on some sweet rolls. "I'm not your Michael."

"Ree's not wrong. When everyone knows something, sometimes it doesn't need to be said." He pushed one of the coffee cups towards her and sat down at the table.

At last they were sitting across from each other and it became clear the reason he had been avoiding her so thoroughly. He gazed at her with a mixture of melancholy, longing, and relief. A faint smile touched his lips.

This time, Burnham looked away. He sniffed in mildly derisive amusement at her discomfort. "So this is what it's come to. You hate me that much."

When their eyes met again, hers were steady and cold. "I barely think about you. You're nothing but a bad memory that I put behind me a long time ago."

He frowned in annoyance, a frown she remembered from seeing it many times on Discovery, and Burnham was glad; she knew hearing she never thought about him would hurt more than suggesting she possessed any emotion towards him at all. "After everything I did for you," he said, shaking his head. "Without me, you'd still be languishing in Federation prison. Your adopted dad'd be dead in the Yridia nebula, and you wouldn't be back in Starfleet serving as first officer on that ship. A ship I gave you. You ungrateful..." He grabbed his roll and bit off a large chunk, chewing on it angrily.

Burnham was shocked. "You expect me to thank you?" she realized.

He washed the roll down with a swig of coffee and sniped at her, "That'd be a start."

"After everything you did." Burnham shook her head.

"Because of it," he countered.

"You lied. To me, to Starfleet, to everyone."

"What was I supposed to do? You think if I'd waltzed up and said, 'I'm not from this universe,' they'd've given me a ship? I'd have been poked and prodded like a goddamn specimen. I only did what I had to do to get a command."

"You were using us to get back to your universe."

"As if!" He rolled his eyes. It had been the plan, and then it wasn't the plan, and then it was again. The plan had therefore existed in a state of Schrodinger-like uncertainty, both true and untrue, until events had forced it to become a last-ditch desperate effort to retain control of his own destiny. That was all he had ever wanted, really. Control for himself to make up for a life where he'd had none. "I just wanted to keep my goddamn ship." He sighed. "Maybe win that war for you. The right way."

"By bringing the Terran Empire here to 'save' us just so you could turn around and crush us beneath your heel and become emperor of two universes."

"Now that," said Lorca, "sounds like something the other you would've come up with. Maybe I could've managed it. Imagine, the might of two universes united, the possibilities." That was one way things could have played out and he would have been entirely satisfied to make it so. There was no denying it was a solution he had considered. "But if I had..."

If he had gone through with that course of action, he would have lost her. The only thing he had left of Michael. In the end, he'd lost her anyway, but at least it was not because he had intentionally set them down a path towards that inevitability.

"Then what was your plan?"

"Well, now you'll never know, will you."

Had he been feeling more generous, he might have told her his secret. There had never been one plan, there had always been twenty. His brilliance was in coming up with plan after plan so that in the moment, he could make the most of whatever fate had presented him in a way that seemed intentioned. He made the plans and fate chose among them.

Burnham glared at him as she sipped her coffee. Despite his denials, she felt she knew the truth. He was a liar and had always been.

Another sigh. "I didn't bring you in here for this. When I first became this universe's Gabriel Lorca, someone gave me a gift. A story. Funnily enough, a story was the gift I gave my Michael. It's time I gave you one, too."

A lie, she thought to herself, but the story he told felt true.

"I've got a scar on my back. From an agonizer, handheld. Spot where it is, can't quite reach it myself. Which is exactly what the person who put it there intended. She liked to put scars in that spot so her victims would have to debase themselves by asking for help to get rid of 'em. I even did a few times. I hated that scar so much. Every time I got rid of it, she'd put it right back. The last time she put it on my back was just before I came here. Now, I coulda had someone in this universe remove it the minute I arrived because no one here knows what the scar is or what it means, but I didn't. You know why?"

Burnham waited, sensing he did not require her to ask the question.

"She had the same scar on her back. My Michael. I swore I'd keep it until I took down the person who gave it to us both. So thank you, Burnham. It looks like now I finally get that chance."

Knowing that Georgiou was in the habit of marking people on their backs like chattel was disturbing but Burnham held herself firm and said coldly, "That doesn't excuse what you did. Georgiou told me how you groomed the other me."

Lorca's stare was uncharacteristically surprised. "Did she? That's funny. You ever think Pippa mighta been describing herself?"

Until this moment, Burnham never had, because she couldn't possibly imagine the original Captain Georgiou doing anything like that.

Then she remembered a moment before she, Georgiou, Tilly, and Tyler had beamed down to Qo'noS to deliver what turned out to be a hydro bomb. How Georgiou had lit up at the sight of Tilly, stroked her hair, called her "Killy" in a way that sounded like a personal pet name. A knot of revulsion formed in Burnham's stomach. "No. You tricked the other me."

"You don't give the other you enough credit. I couldn't make that girl do anything she didn't wanna do. You have that in common. And she... she always knew she had me wrapped around her little finger." Lorca smiled, his eyes faraway as he recalled his Michael. He had committed a cardinal sin where the other universe was concerned, just not the sin Burnham thought he had. Sins were defined a little differently for Terrans. "She was the one wanted to be emperor. I was just happy to help."

Burnham instantly saw the flaw in the logic he was offering. "She was the emperor's heir. She didn't need your help."

"You think she was Pippa's one and only? Georgiou was fickle and vindictive. Still is, thanks to you. Michael and I lasted longer than most. Didn't mean we were safe. So we took a gamble. Together." He closed his eyes. "I still see her sometimes. My Michael."

If only Burnham had stayed with him in the other universe and taken up the mantle of emperor. He wished he could have seen some version of Michael on that throne. His end goal had always been to remove Georgiou and replace her with someone who would not debase him, threaten his life constantly, and take away the things he loved. Someone who would allow him the autonomy to fly freely across the expanse of the stars. Michael had exceeded his expectation in every regard.

Aeree's voice came over the comms. "Omen, we detect them."

Lorca's eyes snapped open and he smirked confidently. "Time to put on a show."

At the show's conclusion, Georgiou was flat on her back in the middle of the Hayliel's cargo bay, pinned mostly beneath a cargo crate, with Lorca's boot on her wrist and a Romulan disruptor pistol aimed at her head. Burnham stared at this reversal of fortune with panic. "No!"

"King of the misfits," Georgiou said venomously, reviving an old nickname of Lorca's. In their universe, that was what he had been: leader of the aberrations who pursued things other than power. People like Matthew Kerrigan, Jackson Benford, and Emellia Petrellovitz. There were plenty around him who were there for power, but enough that weren't to earn them revulsion.

"Emperor of nothing," he responded.

"Do it," Georgiou hissed.

Burnham walked slowly towards Lorca, her hands outstretched in a plea, her own phaser set to stun. "There's no reason for us to kill her."

"She had her chance," said Lorca. "You really wanna give her another one, Michael?"

"Yes." A chance to go to Federation prison, but a chance nonetheless.

"You didn't give me a chance."

Burnham stopped. There were always signs, of course. Pahvo, the Yridia nebula, Corvan, his attempts to rescue, protect, and help her. Moments that to Burnham were obfuscated by his darkness, his cruelty, his contempt for the people around him, and his apparent obsession with her.

She raised her phaser into the air in a sign of peace. "I'm giving it to you now."

He holstered his disruptor and stepped away. At last, long last, Burnham could see who he was.

At the end of it all, Burnham made an offer she did not expect to make. "I cannot offer you what you had with your Michael, but... If you wish to communicate..."

"No. You've been talking to Lalana." He turned towards her, years of sadness reflected in his eyes. "You know what the worst thing in the universe is? Watching the face of someone you love turn against you. I look at you and I see..." His voice began to break. "You standin' there, staring at me... I just wanted one more moment with her. One last moment. I gave you back the stars and you wouldn't even give me that!"

She could see that moment, too. A terrified face, staring at her with shocked betrayal, falling to the floor with a wound worse than the physical hole in his chest.

"I don't want to see you. I don't wanna be near you. I wish I'd never—" But he couldn't finish that sentence because it wasn't true. "I wish things had been different. But I want you to know, I forgive you."

Burnham stared at him, confused.

"For thinking the worst of me."

2260.

"We are not far from Risa," said Lalana. "We should visit Sollis and Caxus. They have been asking to see you." As with Stamets and Tilly and that seemingly calculated encounter on the Kasseelian moon, Lorca was abiding by the strict rules set out by Starfleet. He scrupulously avoided contacting anyone from his time on Discovery or the other Lorca's life.

Lalana had made no such agreement. When O'Malley mentioned where Tilly and Stamets were headed, Lalana brought Lorca to give him the chance to antagonize Stamets one last time as a small consolation gift. Also because, as much as Lorca loved pushing Stamets' buttons, he still liked Stamets in his own way.

The thought of visiting Risa made Lorca uncomfortable. Out of all the people who had known the other Lorca, he had not managed to trick any of them for very long, and by all accounts, Sollis and Caxus knew the other Lorca very, very well. He pointed this out.

"Do not worry," said Lalana. "It is you they wish to meet. I knew they could keep a secret and so I told them who you were."

"That wasn't your secret to tell," Lorca chided.

"Wasn't it?"

In the end, they could not go to Risa because it was too much a risk. Sollis and Caxus came to them, beaming aboard the Hayliel after very carefully confirming Lalana was standing far enough away that there was no danger of materializing where she was standing. Lorca shielded his eyes from the blinding white light of the transport. Since they were not headed down to the planet, he had seen no reason to spray his eyes that morning and now he was being rewarded with a wincing pain for his sulking laziness.

"Sollis and Caxus, it is so wonderful to have you on my ship at last. May I introduce Gabriel Lorca?"

Lorca lowered his hand and squinted at their guests, unsure what to make of them as his eyes adjusted.

He froze with his arm hovering in the air. It was her. Impossibly, unbelievably, and miraculously her, and because Risians lived much longer than humans, she looked much the same as she had back then. Those unmistakable emerald-green eyes, the cascade of wavy honey-brown hair, sun-kissed skin and a smile that made you want to drop everything and run to wherever she was.

These details had been entirely diminished in the version of her he had once known, but here they were presented in full radiance, and she was even more stunning.

"You're Sollis?" he asked.

Sollis smiled. "Like the word 'solace' in your language, meaning comfort."

Lorca had never known her name. In his universe, it was likely she had never had one. Many slaves were never given names or were taken from their parents at such young ages they never knew them. If he could have chosen a name for her, though, it would have been exactly that. Solace was what she had been, the other version of her, for that brief moment until Georgiou took her away and created a wound that lasted until he found new purpose in Michael. Now, here she was again, entirely restored. He could scarcely breathe at the sight of her.

Sollis could tell there was something more to this than a mere first meeting. She could see the pain and shock and sensed it was connected to her. There was a lopsidedly helpless yet hopeful smile on Lorca's face, a wish he could not speak, and a despair just beneath it.

She decided to do something about it. She approached, arms raised, and hugged him. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said.

He wrapped his arms around her after a moment, returning the hug more tightly than he should have. Her hair smelled faintly of flowers and the sea. Destiny, he decided. It was destiny. "I've missed your face," he said softly in a whisper only she could hear.

She smiled and closed her eyes, because even if this was not her friend Gabriel Lorca, there was no denying she felt the same. "I missed yours."

Standing to the side, Lalana and Caxus watched this display of desperate familiarity without judgment. Caxus touched a finger to his lips in a pensive motion Lalana recognized all too well. "This Gabriel is a little more of a one partner person," she advised.

"That's disappointing," said Caxus mildly.

"Nn. He is a very good Gabriel Lorca, but he will never be our Hayliel, not entirely."

Caxus reached over and twined his fingers around Lalana's tail. "There was only one Hayliel Lorla."

Watching Lorca and Sollis with unblinking eyes, Lalana pressed her hands together thoughtfully. She was reminded for a moment of Mischkelovitz's sacrifice—a sacrifice intended to save some other version of Gabriel Lorca in what Mischkelovitz believed was the original timeline. If Mischkelovitz was right, then maybe there were two Gabriel Lorcas in the world she had gone to, and maybe one of them was Hayliel.

Except John Allan had gone back in time to the Triton and put Hayliel in Lalana's path. That probably meant in the original timeline, Lorca and Lalana had never met and shared the things they shared here. If so, there was only one Hayliel Lorla, and he was gone.

How happy she was to have ever known him. How much she wished to see him again. All she had left was his reflection from the other universe.

Part 102

[ablogcalledrevenge]

Never Really Over

(a Gabriel O’Malley x Reader Insert Multichapter Fic, Rated M)

Chapter Two

You love weddings, love everything about them. You love watching families come together and celebrate the joy of a new union. You love the dancing and the food and dressing up. You love the extravagance of it all. And the Italians knew how to throw an extravagant wedding. Even if it usually ended up looking more ungapatchka than classy.

You’d asked Simone to do something new with your hair for the wedding and the breeze through the shorter tresses felt amazing. You’d still teased and feathered it out but you felt a little better, with your cool style and pretty new dress. You didn’t want anything too crazy, no matter how many times Simone begged to give you bangs. Maybe once the 80s rolled around, you’d take her up on her offer.

The purple maxi dress is light and airy as you walk among the guests at the reception, saying hello to the dozens of family and friends. It had been a while since such a big wedding happened and when your cousin marries the daughter of the Don, it’s gonna be a big affair. Everyone who’s anyone was already here and hoping to be seen. Everyone wanted to give the best gift, make the best impression to the new couple. Speaking of…

“Lisa, oh my god! You look so stunning, you look like a dream.” You say to the bride, kissing her on both cheeks. The veil and long train she sported during the ceremony were gone and she had the telltale flush of happy inebriation. You’d known Lisa since you were both kids, playing together in her father’s backyard and walking around in her mother’s heels. She was known as Little Lisa back then and it makes your throat tight with happiness to see her not so little.

“Thanks (Y/N). I’m just happy to be here, I felt like that ceremony would never end.” She says, both of you laughing in your joy. Your cousin Benji is talking to his groomsmen and when he glances over at you two, his eyes grow impossibly fond. Fuck, what you would give for someone to look at you like that.

“By the way, I heard Gabe’s back. How’s that going?” Lisa asks, raising her dark eyebrow. You scowl and roll your eyes. You haven’t seen him in a week and you’d be happy if that continued.

“Nowhere, that’s where it’s fucking going.” You shoot back, taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Then Lisa looks over your shoulder and her face turns mischievous. You follow her gaze and groan in realization.

“Really? ‘Cause it looks like he’s here to see you. Seems like it might be going somewhere.” She teases while you down your drink. Handing the glass to her, you square your shoulders and walk towards him.

He’s leaning casually against a tree, smoking a cigarette and looking like a goddamn model. You desperately want to stomp on his foot.

“What the hell are you doing here? You weren’t invited!” You question, feeling more tired than anything else. Gabe opens his mouth, probably to make a smart remark, and then wisely changes tactics.

“I came with Tony. I wanted to see you. I also needed to see the Godfather and I knew he’d be here.” He says quietly, his eyes squinting in the sun.

“Yeah well, you’ve seen me, so scram. I don’t know why you think you can just…” You trail off, his words and their implications sinking into your brain. You stare at him in disbelief.

“Are you fucking mental? You’re gonna ask the Don for a favor? You can’t do that! You can’t give him that power over you.” You whisper angrily. Only desperate men asked the Don for a favor, it was a dangerous thing to do. Sure you got a favor, but so did he. And you couldn’t question it when it came. Gabriel knew this, he saw what happened when favors were called in.

“Nah, it’s just something I have to do. You were right. I can’t get any fucking work out here unless I get in good with the family and this is the way to do it. Trust me, it’s worth it.” He says, pushing off the tree and reaching over to touch your cheek briefly. There’s an air of sadness to the gesture and you swallow down your emotions.

You watch him walk away with Tony and the sudden wave of fear that settles under your skin only slightly overpowers the rush of desire you feel watching him strut across the lawn. 

You walk back to the party in search of another drink. You need it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s cool inside the house, family streaming in and out. Gabriel was proud that his hands weren’t sweaty, that they didn’t shake, as he ascended the stairs to the Don’s office. It also helped that Tony was right behind him, providing quiet support like he always did. As simple as this was, it was good to be working together again.

Back before he left, Gabe and Tony were the guys you called when you wanted to take care of things. If someone wasn’t paying, you sent them to get the money and leave a message. If someone was causing trouble, you sent them to make sure they stopped. They made an interesting pair, he had been told. Tony was shorter than him by a few inches but he was thick and broad. He’d been a linebacker in high school and it showed. He could take a beating like no one else and on occasion, his punch could knock a guy’s lights out in one go. But most people would’ve preferred that to having to deal with Gabe.

Gabe may not have been much to contend with physically, other than his height, but he was quick and he was ruthless. The war had changed something in him and it left him detached when it came to violence. He could gut a guy 10 ways to Sunday without batting an eye and if anyone tried to interfere, he’d shoot them too. Most people would rather meet Tony in a dark alley than Gabe. He did his job and it did it well; hopefully that would be enough to help him now.

He enters the dark and smoky office, Tony staying outside. Everyone knew he was coming but he still needed to make a good impression. This was his one chance.

“Hello Godfather, it’s good to see you. You’re looking well.” Gabe says, shaking the older man’s hand. He hasn’t changed at all, still heavyset with salt and pepper hair cut short and slicked back. Same simple but well made suit, nothing fancy but the rings on his fingers. But before Gabe sits down in the offered chair, he turns to the consigliere. If anything, he’s more worried about Jacob Levine than anyone else in the room.

“Hello Zayde, it’s good to see you too. You haven’t changed a bit.” He says, shaking the old man’s hand. He doesn’t get anything back from either men and he sits in the chair. Someone hands him a small glass of cordial.

There is silence for a moment as the men settle and the Don fixes his eyes on Gabe.

“Gabriel O’Malley, I must say it’s a surprise to see you here. It’s been awhile since you left us for New York. And, from what we hear, you didn’t return to us of your own volition. I don’t know whether to call you brave or stupid for coming back here after what you did.” He says, his deep voice steady and clear.

“You know, you got a lot of fucking nerve coming back here after the shit you pulled! You didn’t see the way-” Zayde starts, pointing an angry finger in Gabe’s direction. The Godfather holds up a hand and he shuts up, glaring daggers at Gabe.

“I’m sure Gabriel is aware of the risk he took in coming back. But now that he is here, I’d like to know what he wants.” The Don continues, sitting back in his chair. Gabe takes a fortifying breath.

“I came here to ask for a job. I know it’s been a while and I know everyone is mad at me, but I have nothing. I have two suitcases and a gun and not much else. I need to get back on my feet. I always did good work for you, I was quick and clean wasn’t I? I could do that again. I’ll start at the bottom if you want me too, taking the rough jobs and teaching the newbies. I’m asking for a job and I’m asking for protection.” Gabe says, keeping his emotions in check while the Don listens, stone faced.

“That’s quite a request Gabriel. You’re not wrong, you did good work for me. I remember things like that. But you also left us with no warning or preparation. We let you into our operation Gabriel, and you broke our hearts when you left. Then we hear about New York and Gabriel; that wasn’t a good look for you. Now I consider myself a progressive man, I believe women can do anything they want to. God knows most of them are smarter than us. But women don’t belong in this world Gabriel, you know that. It’s messy and dark and dangerous, I don’t like the women getting involved. So when I hear you’re helping a bunch of women take control of their business, well I have to tell you, I don’t really like that.” The Don lectures with a sigh.

“But, from what I hear, maybe the women should’ve been in charge this whole time. Having you there to protect them was smart and I can respect a man who protects women. But Gabriel, you let them take the Hasidim from the Italians; you let one of them die on the steps outside his store, payis covered in blood. You know we don’t like that, we’re all a family here. So before we continue, I need the truth Gabriel. Did you kill that man?” Don Rossi asks, gaze turning fierce and getting up from his desk.

Gabriel shakes his head. “No Godfather, I would never.” It’s technically the truth and no one would be saying otherwise. Zayde seemed to relax a little from his spot on a couch.

“So,” The Don continues, looking out his office window at his daughter’s wedding, “why should I let you back in?”

“I left for New York because they were in trouble and they were my flesh and blood. I had to go and help them. You taught me how important family was and it seemed like the right thing to do. I know I disrespected everyone with the way I left but I had to rush to Midtown to help Cathy and the girls. But while I was there, I noticed some things and I remembered some things. When I left New York the first time, it was because I ran into some trouble with the cops. I got in trouble with the cops because the guys out there didn’t protect me. They treated me like a machine. They treated me like I was expendable, which maybe I was, but it’s not a good way to feel about yourself. Instead of helping me after the war, they kept me in that mindset. I was mindlessly killing and going insane. I was going insane Godfather. Then I came out here and I was terrified. You would’ve had every right to ignore me or kill me just for being Irish, but instead you took me in. You gave me a place to stay and good food in my belly. You taught me what family really meant. I knew I was safe with you. I felt like I was an important part of the business, like I was needed.” Gabe says, drinking his sweet cordial with a soft smile. 

“I guess I could’ve gone anywhere after Cathy kicked me out. I could’ve gone upstate or to Boston. I could’ve gone to Iowa and become a peanut farmer. But I didn’t feel safe; I was afraid. I needed my family again. I know I’m going to have to work really hard to prove to you that I’m here to stay, but I’ll do whatever you need me to. I was stupid for leaving the way I did, I was stupid for leaving at all. I thought I was doing the right thing. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t. But all I know is that the whole time I was out there, I wanted to come home. Home to this family and this place.” Gabe finishes, praying to God he doesn’t start crying.

The Don nods his head in understanding, tapping his chin with a finger. He glances over at Zayde who gets up from the couch and approaches Gabriel.

“What about (Y/N)?” The consigliere asks, lips going tight.

“That’s the other reason. I know I messed things up with her and I want to apologize. I want to make things right. Even if she never wants to have anything to do with me again, I want to at least show her how sorry I am. She never deserved a lousy guy like me but I figured that the least I could do was try to make things better. I know I hurt her badly Zayde, and I regret everything I did to make her feel that way.” Gabe offers focusing on the man in front of him, your grandfather. The Don leaves the window and comes around his desk.

“You’re a good boy Gabriel, I always thought that. So I’m going to give you a job. There’s this Hollywood bigshot who’s causing trouble with the unions, I’ll send you to deal with him. Zayde will give you the details.” The Don says, extending his hand.

Gabriel kisses the gold ring with gratitude and respect, the older man’s hand turning in his grip to rest on his cheek.

“Thank you Godfather, I won’t let you down. Whatever you need, I’ll do it. I won’t disappoint you again.” Gabe says, full of relief and something approaching joy. The Don smiles down at him.

“I know you won’t Gabriel, I’m glad you’re back. We all are.” He says, slapping Gabe’s face once before pulling him up off the chair.

Laughing wetly, Gabe nods and pulls out an envelope of cash and offers it to Don Rossi.

“Here, for your daughter. It’s a beautiful wedding, and I wish them every happiness.”

The Don gives a rueful grin and takes the envelope, shooing Gabe out of the room. Before he crosses the threshold, he hears his name from the older man.

“Just promise me that you’ll work things out with (Y/N). She’s a nice girl Gabriel, make things right.” Is what he says, but the warning is implicitly clear. Zayde’s raised eyebrow guarantees it.

“If she’ll have me Godfather, I’ll spend the rest of my life making her feel like a queen.” Gabe shoots back with a grin.

“Get outta here you beanstalk, go get some food and dance.” The Don chides, waving an affectionate hand in Gabe’s direction and kicking him out for good. The door closes and he lets out a huge breath, the tension leaving him.

He needs a drink and he needs a dance, preferably with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve been pacing the small stone patio that led into the house the whole time Gabe and Tony were up there. To be honest it wasn’t even the Godfather’s reaction that you were most worried about, it was your grandpa’s. When they finally come back outside, you attempt to screw your face into something calmer but your bitten lip and clasped hands probably reveal your worry. Gabe sees you and breaks out into a big grin.

Letting out a whoop of happiness, you rush into his arms and he spins you around in glee.

“I’m back baby, they took me back!” He cheers, taking your face in his hands and kissing your forehead. You laugh and hug him tightly before remembering everything and pushing him away with a scoff. Tony smirks as he walks past you towards the party.

There’s a brief moment where you and Gabe just stare at each other in the bright sunshine. It seems like all you do nowadays is look at each other. A lot of the stress he seemed to be carrying was gone and he looked relaxed; that was good. The sun makes his hair shine like copper and his suit fits beautifully on his lean frame. It’s a great suit, dark blue linen with a light blue tie and-

“Is that the suit I bought you?” You ask, stepping closer to him to inspect the suit. You run your fingers down the lapel and across his shoulders. Gabriel flushes and looks at your hands.

“Yeah it is. Best suit I’ve ever worn, fits like nothing else. But you’ve always had a good eye for that sort of thing. I was afraid it wouldn’t fit but it looks good, right? First time I’ve ever worn it.” He says incredulously. You look up at him, which is a mistake. Those green-blue eyes arrest you and you forget how to breathe for a moment.

“You didn’t wear it in…?” You ask, refusing to finish the sentence. He shakes his head.

“Nah, didn’t feel right too. The first time you wear a suit shouldn’t be to a funeral and I wanted to save it for something special. You got it for me, it deserved a grand reveal. Now come on, let’s dance.” He says quietly, pulling you towards the large open dance floor. Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” is being sung by the Italian bandleader and you give Gabriel a withering look. But you still join him because you’re weak.

Gabe’s hand settles on your lower back as you sway with all the other couples. You forgot how nice it was to dance with someone. You haven’t danced in a long time. His cheek rests against your forehead and you hear him hum along to the words.

“You look beautiful (Y/N), that’s a great dress. You always look so good, you know that? Fuck I’m glad I’m back.” He mumbles into your skin, breath warm and smelling like the sweet cordial the Don liked. You step closer to him and close your eyes, letting yourself be a little pathetic.

“I guess, I guess I’m glad you’re back too. I’m glad they gave you a job. But don’t think just because we’re dancing, that everything’s fine. You’re a pain in my ass and I still hate your stupid face. But I’m glad you’re back. I missed you Gabe.” You whisper into his neck and his arm wraps tighter around you. The song has changed, it’s something faster and lighter but neither of you stop dancing.

You just stay in your corner enjoying the sunshine, the good music, and each other.

Chapter Three Coming Soon...

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