#hyposprays ready

[whydotheykeeptakingmine]

A Glimpse to the Past || Closed starter for @starfleetsxvulcan

"Cadet Spock. May I have a word please?" The advanced xenobotany professor motioned to the student, who assisted her with her intro classes as her aid, to stay behind as class was dismissed.

"I was wondering if you can spare some time to assist me with one of your classmates. They are out on a medical leave but I did not get the chance to provide them with the datachips distributed today in class before their leave began and need them delivered, but I have meetings immediately after classes end today." The professor requested him as she offers the small case of the chips used for the assignment for the class.

"It is also why I did not assign you a class partner for the assignment. While I am sure you'll still work alone if you want, but if you're willing, you could also partner with them so they will not have to work alone if not wanted."

[cozyforjate]

It surprises me when people say Chapel doesn’t have a trait, personality, or plotline other than being Spock’s love interest... Let me list all the things we know and have seen about this amazing character.

Christine Chapel is a nurse on The Enterprise. She is on civilian exchange from the Stanford Morehouse Epigenetic Project. She is also a part of Starfleet’s initiative to better observe alien cultures without contamination.

M’Benga treats her as an equal. Pike called her “doctor” in the very first episode which suggests that her medical knowledge and experience must be impressive.

She is an expert on genetic modification. She can mess with your genome and temporarily turn you into an Alien. And she makes it look easy.

She is also interested in archeological medicine. She is doing fieldwork, making discoveries, and writing papers on the subject while doing her other duties on the ship.

Long story short she is quite the genius!

She is outgoing, friendly, witty, funny, adventurous, strong, brave but also compassionate and emotional.

She doesn’t judge, she accepts people for who they are.

She is confident in her abilities. She doesn’t take anyone’s BS. “I don’t think the Vulcan Fellowship is ready for me”… No one, not even Vulcans can bully or make her feel insecure.

But when she was a kid she was bullied. Milo, her Malamute, bit one of those bullies. Good boy!

As it was implied in one of the episodes she is most probably bi.

She has a vulnerable side. She is afraid of commitment. Afraid of romantic relationships getting deep. Perhaps even afraid of falling in love. She uses humor when things get too serious or personal for her. There is a story waiting to unfold in time. And i can’t wait to know more of it!

She was in the Klingon War with M'Benga. They witnessed the ugly face of war and had to make some hard decisions. They used (perhaps even developed) an illegal serum that temporarily gives them enough power and stamina to survive against Klingons. This left a scar on her as much as it did on M'Benga. We will revisit this story in episode 8 (i guess).

She knows how to fight. She is a quick thinker during stressful situations. And she is a badass. For example, she can handle space pirates and all she needs is a hypospray! She can deal with baby Gorns and survive!

She is heroic. She would jump into space without an EV suit to prevent a war.

Oh and she is also Spock's love interest and it's a delicious relationship that enrichens both characters.

This is what we got in 15 episodes. I'm sure we'll learn more about her and she will get new storylines in the seasons to come.

[lamaenthel]

Came Back Wrong

[read on ao3][masterlist]Febuwhump prompt: came back wrong

"I'm sorry, Commander, but I need you awake." Rex snaps his fingers so she'll look at him. "There's a lot to explain, but while you were asleep the Jedi staged a coup and tried to overthrow the Chancellor." Ahsoka sways, blinking unfocused eyes. "W-What?" "It's alright, we know you weren't in on it. Lord Vader flew us to Mustafar—" "Who?" Ahsoka stares at him like he's grown another head. Rex isn't allowed to say the old name out loud. "Your Master flew us to Mustafar, and now he's dueling with General Kenobi but I can't go and help him if you don't—" "Rex!" Ahsoka grabs at his pauldrons and pulls him close. "What are you talking about?" She's shaking, her blue eyes wide and terrified. "Kenobi is going to kill your Master if you don't give me permission to leave the ship!" Rex shouts.

Characters: CT-7567|Rex/Ahsoka Tano, Darth Vader, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Sidious Wordcount: 2935

The screaming in the Halls of Healing has mostly stopped. The men have made quick work of the ones too sick to leave their beds. The Healers—trained Jedi—gave them only a bit more trouble than the comatose ones. They spent their war fighting in operation theaters and triage centers instead of alien plains, and a laser scalpel doesn't do nearly as much damage as a blaster bolt.

Rex regrets that the medics have to die, but he has his orders; including the special order issued by Lord Vader. He steps over the smoking corpse of an elderly blue Twi'lek Jedi to enter the Jedi's bacta center. All of the tanks are full; by the looks of it, most of their occupants are Padawans. He turns off the air supply for every tank except one. "I've secured Ahsoka Tano," he says into their private channel. He watches the sleeping Padawans twitch in his peripheral vision.

"Load her onto my ship and wait for my return. She is not to be harmed under any circumstance." Lord Vader's order is punctuated by blaster fire and the humming of lightsabers.

"Yes, Sir." Rex activates the waking protocol for Ahsoka's bacta tank and preheats the sanisteam for her as he waits; he's served under her long enough to know how much she hates the lingering sweet-sour smell of bacta. He is beyond grateful—all of the men were, in fact, when they received Vader's amendment—that he does not have to execute her like the rest of her traitorous brethren. She may very well be the only Jedi to survive the Order's attempted coup. As Lord Vader has explained, she couldn't have been in on their plan since she'd been in bacta for more than a week, recovering from the injuries she sustained helping to rescue Chance—rescue the Emperor.

Rex catches the slippery, lithe Togruta once the lift deposits her on the ground. "Rex?" she murmurs, groggy and confused, blinking unfocused blue eyes at him.

"Yes, Commander." He keeps a firm grip on her arms as he walks her to the sanisteam, careful to not to let his eyes linger on her exposed body. 

"Where're we—" She sputters as hot water hits her face.

"Just getting you cleaned up, Commander." He rotates her under the water, making sure she's thoroughly rinsed. He wraps her in a warm towel once she's done.

"The Force…" Her knees buckle and she collapses in his arms. "Rex, the Force… it's screaming, what's happening—"

Lord Vader had warned him that as Ahsoka had no idea what the Jedi had done, she was likely to panic once she felt their deaths in the Force. He readies the hypospray he was given for that very reason and shoots it into her neck before her distress worsens. She goes completely limp in his arms with a frightened whimper.

Rex tries to preserve her modesty by looking at the ceiling while he dresses her in a set of caf-colored robes. With one last look to confirm that the other Jedi have stopped twitching in their bacta tanks, he carefully cradles Ahsoka to his chest and begins the long walk down to the Temple hangar.

He's glad she's unconscious. He knows all the bodies would have bothered her, even if she is on the right side.

<br><br><br>

Eight hours later, they land on Mustafar. Lord Vader abandons the cockpit and sits on the edge of Ahsoka's bunk, watching her sleep with a haunted expression. She hasn't come to yet, but whatever she's dreaming of makes her twitch and whimper like a beaten pup. "It's almost over, Snips," Vader whispers. He kisses her on the forehead and tucks her blanket around her, swaddling her like an infant. His eyes are swollen and bruised, wet with unshed tears. 

Rex pretends not to notice.

"Stay on the ship while I finish this." Lord Vader stands, wipes his eyes. "Protect her with your life." 

"Sir, yes sir!" Rex snaps his heels together. 

"The war's about to be over, Rex." Vader gives him a smile that doesn't make it to his eyes. "We did it. We won." He gives Ahsoka one last look before departing the ship, Artoo hot on his heels. The droid rolls back through the airlock a few seconds later, beeping morosely. 

"Don't you worry about him," Rex reassures the droid. "You heard him. He's ending this. It's almost over."

Artoo silently rolls to his charging station and shuts down. Rex turns his attention back to Ahsoka. She twitches violently in her sleep. Her tears have soaked the pillow beneath her writhing head.

"It's alright." Rex removes his helmet and gauntlets and scratches between her montrals like he saw General Koon do after Zygerria. Almost immediately her twitching stops, her pained mewling replaced by a throaty purr. "There you go," he murmurs, smiling a little. It's not necessarily against regs to be petting his CO like a tooka, he's fairly sure, but it's close.

He stops scratching and cups her cheek. Her skin is silky soft, hairless, wet from her tears. He strokes her winged marking with his calloused thumb, amazed; for some reason he thought it would feel different than the rest of her skin. Her plum lips open in a soft O. "Rex," she murmurs. Still asleep, she lays her hand on top of his. "You have… to protect…"

"I'll protect you," he rumbles. "I'll protect you until the end, Ahsoka, I promise."

Ahsoka's big blue eyes flutter open for a few confused seconds, then close. "Anakin," she whispers, then she falls back into a deep sleep. 

<br><br><br>

Rex watches them circle each other like a pair of nexu from the viewport in the cockpit. "Your new Empire?" General Kenobi demands, outraged. At his feet lies Senator Amidala, either dead or close to it after her confrontation with Lord Vader. Her pregnant belly is almost grotesquely large on her petite frame. 

"Don't make me kill you!" Lord Vader seethes.

"Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic, to democracy!"

Rex draws back from the viewport and hurries to Ahsoka's side. "Commander," he whispers, gently shaking her. "Ahsoka, can you hear me?"

Ahsoka's head jerks from side to side, but she doesn't wake up. 

Rex lets out a frustrated huff and looks around for a medkit. Spotting it on the far wall above the droid's charging station, he yanks it off the wall and gets out the epinephrine pen. "Hope this works on Togs," he mumbles to himself. He jams it into her thigh.

Ahsoka rears up with a screech at the same time an angry scream reverberates from outside, followed by the humming of lightsabers. "Rex?" she gasps, clutching at her chest.

"I'm sorry, Commander, but I need you awake." Rex snaps his fingers so she'll look at him. "There's a lot to explain, but while you were asleep the Jedi staged a coup and tried to overthrow the Chancellor."

Ahsoka sways, blinking unfocused eyes. "W-What?"

"It's alright, we know you weren't in on it. Lord Vader flew us to Mustafar—"

"Who?" Ahsoka stares at him like he's grown another head.

Rex isn't allowed to say the old name out loud. "Your Master flew us to Mustafar, and now he's dueling with General Kenobi but I can't go and help him if you don't—"

"Rex!" Ahsoka grabs at his pauldrons and pulls him close. "What are you talking about?" She's shaking, her blue eyes wide and terrified.

"Kenobi is going to kill your Master if you don't give me permission to leave the ship!" Rex shouts.

"Obi-Wan?" she asks incredulously. "Are you insane?"

He points towards the cockpit. "Look outside if you don't believe me!"

Ahsoka pushes him away and staggers to the viewport, nearly tripping over the newly-awakened Artoo. Rex hears a sharp gasp; she turns around and pushes past him in a coltish sprint for the airlock. He grabs her arm before she can leave. "Give me permission to leave the ship," he pleads.

"You don't need my permission!" She yanks her arm out of his grasp.

"Yes I do!" he says desperately. "Please, Commander—"

"Permission granted!" The ramp finishes unfurling with a loud clunk. "Secure Padmé, I'm going after Skyguy!" She makes a break for the twin blue stars spinning in a violent dance over the lava river.

"Ahsoka!" Rex yells, panicked; he has to obey before he can follow. He turns with a curse, drags the senator up the ramp of her ship, and leaves her for the droids to fuss over.

<br><br><br>

By the time he catches up with her, she's sliding down a hill of obsidian sand to where her Masters are. Kenobi stands on the peak of the bank below them. Lord Vader hovers above the lava river on a mining droid, murder in his eyes. He jumps; Ahsoka leaps forward and tackles Kenobi out of the way. "Have you lost your mind?" she shrieks in his face.

"Get out of here before it's too late!" Kenobi rolls them out of the way of Vader's wide, overhand swing. Rex slides down the black sand with a curse.

"She's not going anywhere," Vader seethes. He stalks towards Kenobi, rolling his shoulders with a predator's grin, and flings Ahsoka with the Force directly into Rex's arms.

Rex takes the opportunity to drag Ahsoka as far away as he can while she's stunned. "Get the hell off of me!" she snarls at him. He lets go immediately. "Anakin, what are you doing, stop! It's Obi-Wan, stop!" She darts back towards them. 

"Ahsoka, run!" Kenobi parries every blow that comes his way but he's losing strength; Vader's titanic blows force him to one knee, and he grins madly.

"Anakin!" Ahsoka jumps on him from behind and uses all four limbs to pin his arms to his sides. "Please stop, please!"

"He can't be reasoned with anymore, Ahsoka," Kenobi warns. Vader furiously pries her off of him; Rex hears a sharp crack, and she shrieks and grabs her wrist. "Don't hurt her! It's me you want dead, remember?" He falls back into his defensive stance. His saber arm shakes. "She is innocent."

Vader pins Ahsoka to his chest and holds his saber to her throat. "Yield." He grins.

Kenobi blanches. "Don't, please don't—"

"Better she die by the hand of someone who loves her than be corrupted any further by the Jedi." Vader's blue blade turns Ahsoka's wide, terrified eyes into glowing stars. "I won't ask again, Obi-Wan."

The High General lets out a long, shaky breath and tosses his saber at the lava. Vader laughs and immediately shoves Ahsoka back to Rex. She stumbles and trips into his arms. "You really think I would hurt my own Padawan?" Vader taunts. He raises his saber. "I will give you one last chance to pledge your loyalty to me."

"Come on, Commander," Rex whispers, dragging her backwards. Her legs give out from beneath her. 

"I can't do that, Anakin." Kenobi steels himself for Vader's blow; a sleek black ship enters the atmosphere, scattering clouds with a sonic boom that draws everyone's attention. Kenobi takes advantage of the distraction to pull Vader's saber from his hand with the Force. He hesitates, his eyes darting between the black ship and Ahsoka, then flees with a mighty leap across the lava river. 

"Obi-Wan!" Vader roars, charging to the edge. "OBI-WAN!" He turns on Ahsoka, his face contorted in a nightmarish mask of rage. She is ripped from Rex's arms and flies into the air, clawing at her throat. "WHY DID YOU INTERFERE?"

Ahsoka reaches for Vader and clings to his wrist until her orange face drains to chalk white, mouth gaping open and shut pathetically.

Rex cannot intervene. He watches the life leave Ahsoka's big blue eyes, powerless to stop it. I'll protect you until the end. He draws in a shuddering sob of a breath and sways, shaking.

Lucidity returns to Vader's eyes. He drops her with a gasp of horrified realization and collapses to the obsidian sand beside her. "No, no… wake up, Snips, breathe—"

Ahsoka rears up, gasping and clutching at her purple throat. Vader pulls her into his lap and peppers her forehead with teary kisses. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Ahsoka, I didn't mean to hurt you, I would never hurt you—" He cups her face in his oversized hands and presses their foreheads together, weeping. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"We… we're going to figure this out," Ahsoka chokes weakly, layering her hands over his. "It's okay, Master. I won't leave you."

"A pity." The Emperor has arrived. "Is that how you show respect to your ruler, Captain?" An invisible Force rips Rex to his knees so hard that he feels something pop. "Stay there. Do not interfere."

"Master." Vader bends his knee. 

"Kenobi has fled, but this one still lives." The Emperor hisses like a snake. "The Rule of Two states that there is only one Master, one Apprentice. No more." Hatred oozes from the words like hot tar. "Kill her. Finish what you started at the Temple."

Vader's eyes go wide. "No!"

"You dare defy me?" The Emperor's eyes flash gold.

"Why must she die?" Vader demands. "She's loyal and skilled, and strong in the Force. She would be an asset."

"She would be a rival." The Emperor bares his brown teeth. "I am no fool. The two of you are bonded too deeply in the Force. While she still breathes, your loyalty is divided. You prove it even now as you beg for her life. Kill her and be free of it."

"Anakin," Ahsoka whispers, shaking. She clings to him like a child.

"It is your choice, Lord Vader." The Emperor's maw widens in a psychotic smile. He's enjoying this. "Only I have the knowledge that will save Padmé. Kill Ahsoka, or I will ensure that Padmé dies. Your children die."

Fresh tears stream down Vader's cheeks. He turns to his Padawan, trembling. "I..."

"Master, don't." Ahsoka backs away. Her hands instinctively go to her sides to grab her missing sabers. "Please don't hurt me!"

"I'm so sorry, Ahsoka." Vader advances.

"Do it, Lord Vader." The Emperor's cackle sounds like cracking ice. "Destroy her and take your place at my side! I am the only one with the knowledge that will save your wife."

Vader's face crumbles. "I have done every horrible thing you asked of me," he weeps. "Tell me how to save Padmé, and I will… I will do this too."

Ahsoka looks desperately to Rex for help. He can't even get to his feet without permission.

"Your sentiment makes you weak." The Emperor shakes his head. "Do it now! Kill your Padawan, kill the last, weak piece of Anakin Skywalker, and only then will you have enough strength in the Dark Side to save your family!"

Vader turns back to Ahsoka, despondent. "I'm sorry," he whispers, raising his hand.

Ahsoka stumbles backwards. "Anakin, no!"

Rex's vision goes spotty. He sways, nearly falls, and only when he takes a deep gulp of air does he realize he's been holding his breath since the Emperor touched down.

The Emperor's vile grin grows. "Do it!"

Vader's arm shakes. "I have to save Padmé," he whispers to her. "I… our babies…"

"Skyguy." Ahsoka's blue eyes have never looked bigger.

"Pathetic." The Mustafar night turns blinding blue-white. A bolt of lightning cracks from the Emperor's outstretched hand and hits Ahsoka in the heart, flinging her backwards. She rolls to a stop in front of Rex. Her chest doesn't move.

"NO!" Vader screams. The arm that failed to strangle his Padawan turns towards the Emperor instead, splitting the air with a stream of blood-red lightning. It meets the Emperor's blue in the middle and explodes into a blinding ball of violet plasma, sending the two Sith flying back.

Rex stares into Ahsoka's big, empty blue eyes, and feels something in him die with her. He hears snarling, screaming, the humming of lightsabers; he can't stop staring into her blue eyes. Blue eyes that beg him to do something, anything just get up Captain get up Captain GET UP CAPTAIN

The Captain leans over, pinches her nose shut, and breathes his life into her mouth. Her chest rises. He begins chest compressions, dipping every five seconds to breathe for her again. He is dimly aware of screaming, buzzing electricity, the humming of lightsabers; he doesn't care enough to look away from her. He doesn't even care who wins. 

Her ribs break with a sick crack under the force of his compressions. A blast of boiling, staticky air scalds his face and nearly sends him flying backwards. In his peripheral vision, a head bounces by wetly and rolls into the lava river.

"Move aside." Lord Vader kneels opposite of the Captain and holds His left hand above her heart. His eyes burn like live coals in His skull. Red lightning gathers at His fingertips and surges downward.

She screams. Her body contorts, twitching unnaturally as Vader's red lightning restarts her heart, sending her into a horrifying ball of arched, cracking limbs like a dying spider. She rolls onto her side facing Vader, panting and shaking, and slowly uncurls.

"You're alive." Vader softly pets her montrals. "You're alive."

"I'm alive." Her voice sounds different; higher, unbalanced. It sends a shiver down the Captain's spine. 

Vader pushes up to His feet. "Rise, Darth…" he pauses and tilts His head, listening to an invisible whisper. "Korrē." He smiles and helps her to her feet. "Rise, my daughter." He wraps her tightly in His arms and crushes her against His chest.

"Thank you, my Master." She smiles at the Captain over her shoulder.

Her eyes are gold. Bright, molten gold.

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @febuwhump, @soliloquy-of-nemo Divider: @saradika-graphics

[jaqobis]

💕 & 🖤 (one for nolden & one for jyn/cassian so pick whichever heart inspires you for which pairing the most)

🖤 + nolden

She says, "Don't go."

She says it against the skin of his throat, warm and pulsing with his life's blood; she says it again when her lips find his. He kisses her back readily, eagerly, but gently, too. Jim's always gentle. He doesn't answer, though, and that's all the answer she needs to understand what is going to happen.

Jim never lies to her.

She loves that about him. She hates that about him, too.

💕 + rebelcaptain

The mission hadn't gone smoothly, but they rarely do. It had gone well, though — they got the information they needed, and they hadn't lost anyone in the process. Still, afterwards, as Kay flies the ship through hyperspace, Cassian takes the time to look at Jyn's hands. She rolls her eyes at him for the worry, but she surrenders them unflinchingly even as he peels off her gloves to reveal scrapes and bruising. Nothing terrible, but split knuckles heal much quicker with hypospray than without. So you'll be ready to punch the next Stormtrooper sooner, Cassian offers with a twitch to his lip. Jyn fixes him with a look, eyes glimmering with mirth, as she tosses off, Who says the next person to piss me off's going to be a Stormtrooper?

All the more reason, then, Cassian returns dryly.

And he does carefully apply the numbing, healing spray to her knuckles — but not before lifting each of them to his lips, one by one, and planting a soft kiss on each.

send a heart and a ship for a brief snippet!

[thehomeofplatonicfics]

Found You

Reader x Kathryn Janeway (platonic!)

The captain was growing reckless in her desperation. It had been one week since the away mission had ended disastrously. One week since you had been assimilated. One week of the crew searching for you, trying everything to return you safe to Voyager. Janeway’s patience was wearing thin, and the senior staff could feel it. Chakotay certainly didn’t approve of Voyager deliberately flying toward every Borg vessel they came across, and the not-so-secret arguments created a cold and tense atmosphere on the bridge.

“Red alert,” the captain barked out, her voice edged with steel resolution that this time they would not fail to bring you home. As the lights dimmed and a red glow fell across the bridge, those at their stations glanced at each other with a half grimace. “On screen.” The Borg vessel rapidly approaching on the view screen loomed over Voyager. If a fight started Voyager could not hope to win.

The Borg cube however flew slowly past Voyager, not noticing them in the slightest. Janeway grinned triumphantly, gently patting the shoulder of Tom Paris before jumping up the small stairs to Tuvok’s station. “Just as we planned, Lieutenant.” “Indeed.” The captain smiled, heading towards the turbolift and turning round at the last second.

“The bridge is yours, Commander. We’ll keep an open comm link with you, but maintain silence as much as possible.” The short and clipped instructions were evenly matched with Chakotay’s tense response. “Understood, Captain.” Janeway nodded curtly and turned to enter the turbolift. “And Captain?” Kathryn half-turned her head. “Yes?” A moment of silence passed. “Be careful out there. Bring them home.” Janeway smiled, stepping into the turbolift. No reply was needed.

The captain joined the rest of the away team in the transporter room, phasers and medkits being handed out whilst the away team were briefed. Then, with the familiar blue and the hum of the transporter pad, Voyager disappeared and the inside of the Borg cube materialised. Luckily, no Borg were present in the little corner the team appeared in. “Okay team, “ Janeway whispered softly as her eyes flittered about the room on high alert. “This is a stealth mission until necessary. Voyager is keeping a lock on us so keep an open comm link at all times, but do not speak unless you have to. Shoot as a last resort only. Is everyone clear on our mission?” The security team nodded as they opened their comm links. The captain gave a tense smile, before giving a steely nod of her own. “Good luck.”

With that, the away team disbanded and headed in opposite directions. Kathryn kept her phaser concealed, instead pulling open her medkit. She had come up with an idea with the help of the doctor and Seven and she was eager to try it. She hid in the corner to program a hypospray, keeping it in her hand as if it were her weapon.

The familiar whirring and mechanical walking sound of a Borg drone caught her attention, and her head snapped up. Janeway couldn’t conceal the gasp that escaped her as her eyes widened. It was you, what was left of you anyway; your skin sapped of its colour, your hair gone and replaced with circuitry, your eye replaced with an unforgiving red laser, your arm replaced by machinery. It hurt to see you like this, and yet even finding you was a miracle, one which the captain couldn’t hide her happiness for. “Found you,” she muttered triumphantly.

This caught your attention, as the collective urged you to assimilate the intruder to the cube. With no will but the collective’s in your mind, you walked towards your former captain, your arm outstretched ready to inject her with your nanoprobes. “You will be assimilated.” Your voice, once so warm and sweet (in Janeway’s mind, at least) was now cold and heartlessly robotic.

The captain did not cower back as most your victims had, but rather stood her ground, a curious smile dancing on her lips. “Resistance is futile.” Your robotic voice sounded once more, as your remaining hand reached up to pin Janeway by her throat. “I doubt it.” Kathryn smirked, as just as you grabbed her she injected the hypospray into your hand.

For a second, your grip remained firm and the captain felt the sudden pang of fear that their plan had failed. She had lost you for good, and worse, you were about to assimilate her. Then you jerked away from her, your circuitry causing you to convulse unnaturally before you collapsed on the floor.

Kathryn heard the whirring of other Borg drones making their way towards her, clearly you had called on the collective for assistance. “I don’t think so.” Janeway muttered to you, before she called out to Voyager. “Voyager, I have them. Beam us out NOW!” She held you close to her, waiting for the blue to surround you both.

The team plus yourself materialised on the transporter pad, Janeway crouched on the floor holding you in her arms, and the security officers all in various states of alert, phasers pointed in all directions. They soon turned their phasers to you, ready to stun you in case you sprang to life again. “Janeway to bridge, get us out of here!”

Tom Paris immediately made Voyager jump to warp 7 to make a quick escape before the Borg could catch up. It seemed to work, as the sensors did not pick up any pursuing vessels. “At warp 7, and we’re not being followed, Captain.” Paris replied with a poorly hidden smile. The rest of bridge seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. “Understood, Lieutenant. Maintain speed for now, I want as much distance between us as possible.” The captain looked down at you, and silently gestured to the crewman manning the transporter pad to directly beam you both to sickbay.

The doctor sprang into action as soon as you both materialised. You were quickly transferred onto the operating biobed, a forcefield put up soon after. If you did re-awaken, it was best if you could not escape. Kathryn stood as close as she could to the forcefield, watching as the EMH set everything up, passing in and out of the forcefield with ease. He turned once more towards the workstation, and almost walked straight into her. "Captain, please! You realise this is going to take many hours. I suggest you -" "No." Janeway shook her head, her lips pursed together. "I'm not leaving them." The doctor stood there for a second before a resigned look slowly drifted onto his face. "Alright. Can you please not hover over us though? Take a seat, at least."

Kathryn hesitated for a second, glancing around the doctor to look at your assimilated form, before reluctantly sitting down on the nearest biobed to you. She did not take her eyes off of you for a long while, though after 6 hours even Janeway was beginning to tire. She noticed though that the most taxing and dangerous part of the doctor's procedure was over. She stood up, stretching for a moment, before walking over to the replicator. "Coffee, black." She took a sip, closing her eyes and breathing a sigh of relief as the familiar flavour hit her tongue. Turning towards you and the doctor, she slowly walked closer, taking her time to look at you. The majority of the borg technology had been removed from, and equally most of your original form had been restored. With some human colour back in your cheeks, you already looked a thousand times better. Kathryn made a small sad smile, cradling the coffee cup in her hands a little closer to her.

She turned to the workstation and lowered the force field. There was no need for it anymore. “Captain?” The Doctor questioned, pausing what he was doing. He saw the curious glint in Janeway’s eye, and he suspected he knew what she was about to say.

“Can I help you?” Kathryn asked, her voice wobbling as she stepped by your side. “Of course! Your assistance would be greatly appreciated. You can start with the regeneration process.” The Doctor began, handing her a tray of hyposprays. “I’ll need these administered once every ten minutes.” Janeway nodded, though her gaze remained solely on you.

The time passed quickly in this way, and the pair of them stepped back to admire their handiwork as you were almost fully restored to your original self. The captain was disappointed that some Borg technology at the base of your neck could not be removed, but the doctor reminded her that at least it could be hidden by your hair.

They waited for you to naturally regain consciousness. The Doctor pottering about in his office, Janeway remaining by your side with a fresh cup of coffee in her hand. Gosh, she was tired, but she refused to let you wake up alone.

You stirred, shifting slightly in the biobed, and Kathryn was hovering over you in a second, like a concerned mother watching over her sick child. After a few more moments, you opened your eyes. Your brow furrowed as you took in where you were, turning your head towards your Captain. When she came into focus for you, you smiled with relief, your eyes welling up with tears. You listened as Janeway explained to you all that had happened, and you listened silently, taking it all in. Once she finished, you couldn't help but let the tears overflow. Janeway laid a soothing hand on your shoulder, trying her best to comfort you. Then unexpectedly, you burst out laughing in pure relief and joy that you could cry again, feel again.

Once you had calmed down slightly, the Captain helped you to sit up. "You'll be off-duty for another week if all goes well, but I know the trauma of what happened to you may take much longer than a week to recover from." Kathryn gently began, her hand remaining on your shoulder as a beacon of support. "If you ever need to talk about it, my door is always open for you. I'm sure Seven or the doctor will offer the same whenever you need it." She smiled down at you so kindly, and fresh tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Thank you, Captain." You whispered, as you wrapped your arms around her, clinging onto her as if you'd die if you let go. You were finally safe, finally home with your true family.

[seaphoam-writes]

A Father's Duty (30/?)

A Father's Duty on AO3

Summary: An encounter with a quantum fissure leaves Picard with more responsibility than he asked for, but he'll do what he always does—his duty.

Chapter 30

The moment Jean-Luc steps out from Louis’s bedroom, the air changes, becomes suddenly taut and charged.

Beverly knows she caused this. It was, admittedly, by design. She kissed him in his ready room, teased him, suggested things, wore an outfit she knew he’d notice—she doesn’t consider herself vain, but she does know how to style her hair and makeup to highlight her features, what to wear to flatter her figure…

In short, Beverly knows how to build anticipation, an anticipation so palpable, apparently, that after crossing the room with his eyes locked on hers, Jean-Luc halts at the threshold to the sitting area.

Ok, calm down, Beverly tells herself.

They can’t exactly dive right in and rip each other’s clothes off, much as that is an actual temptation—much as that is the actual vibe building between them. Jean-Luc only just put Louis to bed; Louis needs at least 45 minutes to reach a deep enough sleep that any noises they make won’t wake him.

(Her brain, unhelpfully, offers up its opinion on what sorts of noises, precisely, it believes she could provoke Jean-Luc to make.)

And, anyway, as they established earlier, there are things Beverly and Jean-Luc need to discuss first.

“Your coffee’s getting cold,” she says.

The anticipation fractures. Jean-Luc’s shoulders drop as if a weight was lifted from them, and an easy smile crinkles his eyes. She hands him his coffee after he sits.

“None for you?” he asks, his knee shifting to rest against hers.

“I can’t. I won’t be able to sleep.”

He sips his coffee. “Speaking of sleep, the hypospray you gave me last night worked. Thank you.”

“You didn’t have any nightmares?”

“Only in the morning, when I was close to waking up.”

“Do you want to talk about them?”

He looks away and shakes his head, grimacing in disgust or discomfort or both. “No.”

Beverly considers pushing him, but the rigidity of his expression, the line of tension down his back, in his arms—his absolute stillness—sways her against it.

Whatever demons he’s battling, she thinks, he’s not yet ready to drag them into the light.

“How did the flute lesson go?” she asks brightly.

He softens immediately, eyes crinkling once again in a warm, relaxed smile.

“He’s a natural,” Jean-Luc murmurs, voice gilded with pride. “I don’t think my tutelage will last very long before he surpasses me.” He looks down at his coffee, the corners of his smile slipping. “He must have inherited his mother’s musical ability.”

“And yours too, I imagine.”

His glance is dubious.

Beverly shrugs. “You said you taught yourself to play the flute. That’s no small feat. And besides that, you’ve always been an admirer of music, even before you became a musician. I think it’s equally likely he inherited his talent from you—or at least your interest in music.”

Jean-Luc stares at his coffee, rotating the glass idly between his fingers. “He told me that whenever his mother played the piano, his father would stop whatever he was doing to go and listen.”

“Louis’s father must have loved his mother very much.”

“Yes,” Picard agrees quietly.

Initially, Beverly was struck by how much Nella Daren resembled her. Not that she’ll ever mention it aloud. There’s no need to cheapen the other Jean-Luc Picard’s attraction to her, reduce an entire human being to a mere replacement for that reality’s Beverly Crusher.

That can’t be all it was, anyway, given what Beverly knows of Jean-Luc. He’s not given to casual affairs. For Jean-Luc to have fallen in love with Nella Daren—to have compromised his ambitions, put his career second—she must have been a brilliant, forceful woman, adventurous if she was willing to raise a family on the Enterprise with him, independent if she continued to pursue her own career while doing so.

She must have been his match.

“I wish I could have met her,” Beverly says.

“Me too.” Jean-Luc blinks, realizing his admission, and amends quickly, “I don’t mean that I regret I wasn’t romantically involved with her. I mean that…I don’t know who she was. I wish I knew so that I could tell Louis things about her. Tell him which parts of him are her.”

“I know. I understand.”

Beverly is jealous, but she refuses to dwell on it. She chose Jack. She had a child with him. She can’t begrudge a Jean-Luc she’s never met for making a similar choice, and she can’t blame this Jean-Luc for looking at the product of that choice and wondering who it was that changed something so fundamental about him.

“It seems that music was a significant part of Louis’s life, before,” Jean-Luc continues. “I want him to be able to maintain that connection to his past. To his mother.”

At least Wesley had Beverly to help keep his memories of his father alive, to fill in the gaps and make his father whole, a real person that lived and breathed and loved him, and not just a ghost.

“It’s good that the two of you can connect here in that way, too,” Beverly says.

Jean-Luc’s gaze drifts sideways. “I keep thinking about how lucky I am that we share so many interests in common. It’s very easy to do activities together and be genuinely interested in them.”

“I think even if it was difficult, you would still try.”

“I would.” His eyes harden suddenly. “My own father never took an interest in my hobbies. It’s one of the reasons we were never very close.”

That’s your father’s fault, not yours.

When he speaks of his family, which is rare, he speaks fondly of his mother, but all Beverly’s gleaned of his father is that he was a stern, unkind man whom Jean-Luc had a complicated relationship with. She knows they parted ways on bad terms and never reconciled, but there seems to be something more there, something deeper and darker that he won’t share.

“You don’t talk about your father much,” Beverly observes.

“There’s not much worth discussing.”

Jean-Luc drains the remainder of his coffee in one gulp, and just like that, the curtain closes once again on the subject of his father. Beverly doesn’t try to pry it back open, but the ensuing silence is heavy, too heavy, so she stands, intent on replicating herself a tea, something to hold, to distract her, but Jean-Luc catches her wrist and stops her.

His eyes are wide, his expression abruptly open and vulnerable. He takes a deep breath. “Let’s talk.” His thumb is against her radial artery, her pulse, stroking lightly. “About us.”

Beverly swallows, her heart having wandered upwards to flutter somewhere in the vicinity of her throat, and sits back down.

“Last night,” he says, “I broke a promise to myself.”

Their bodies aren’t touching this time; Jean-Luc’s holding himself very carefully within his own personal space, elbows on his thighs, hands loosely joined between the cage of his knees. But his attention’s fully on her, unguarded, sincere.

“From the moment Jack first told me that he was in love with you, I vowed that I would never reveal my feelings for you.”

Her voice surprisingly calm, she asks, “And what are your feelings for me?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you know?”

Yes.

But she’s incapable of facing it head-on. She needs to approach it from the side. Cautiously.

“I guess I always knew there was an…attraction between us right from the start,” she says. “But I…I never knew how strongly you felt until last night.” She pauses, remembering his kiss, remembering the depth, the weight of everything behind it. “Why didn’t you ever tell me how you felt?”

Why didn’t you ever tell me you’re in love with me?

“Beverly, you were married to my best friend.” He looks away. “At first, I thought it was harmless infatuation—something hormonal rather than emotional.” One corner of his mouth lifts. “Then the months went by and the three of us started spending more and more time together, and I realized it was something else. And it wasn’t right.”

He takes a slow, deep breath. Sighs. “Although I would never act on it, I couldn’t help the way I felt.”

“And when Jack died,” she finishes for him, “you felt guilty.”

He huffs a short, derisive laugh. “I felt guilty before he died. Having feelings like that for my best friend’s wife…”

“That’s why you didn’t want me on the Enterprise.”

After Jack’s death, Jean-Luc pulled away. Beverly thought it was guilt over having made the decision that led to the accident, but it was an entirely different sort of guilt all along.

“I didn’t know how I would react,” he admits. “At first, I believed I didn’t have those feelings anymore—10 years is, after all, a long time. But then, little by little, I realized I did still have those feelings. And they…grew.”

The last word leaves him on a shaky exhalation and Beverly bridges the distance between them, presses her thigh to his, lays her hand on his knee.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me,” she says gently.

“Because telling you how I felt would be like betraying my friend.” Jean-Luc’s brow contracts and his nostrils flare. “Because I could never be certain that it wasn’t my imagination—my hope and my—” He bites off the next word— “hormones making me believe that I saw something where there was actually nothing.”

He hesitates, mouth stretched around a word that never comes.

“And?” Beverly prompts him with a nudge.

“And,” he says, “I was afraid of the consequences. I was afraid I would lose you. When you returned from Starfleet Medical, I realized that I couldn’t live without you, and if being your friend was the only way to keep you in my life, then I was willing to keep my feelings a secret for all eternity.”

The flutter in her throat is erratic, nearly choking her. “You didn’t know how I felt?”

“I guess I always knew there was an…attraction between us,” he says, parroting her words with a smirk.

She slaps his knee and he chuckles, turning away, ducking his head.

Beverly’s thoughts are countless and knotted, questions, confessions, and reassurances warring with each other while, in the background, her brain tucks each revelation that spilled from Jean-Luc’s lips into a slot and tidily reorders her entire worldview, her understanding of everything that’s ever passed between them.

And there’s just…so much. It’s not simple. She doesn’t know where to begin, she doesn’t know what she should say first. She doesn’t know what she should say at all. And Jean-Luc is still turned away, stationary and silent. He stripped himself to the bone for her, laid open his chest and exposed his heart, and now he’s awaiting her verdict—braced for her rejection.

Despite everything, he’s not convinced his feelings aren’t wrong, that continuing to act upon them isn’t wrong, that even though she clearly returns his feelings she won’t still somehow be disgusted by his.

“It wasn’t nothing, Jean-Luc,” she whispers. “I have those feelings for you too.”

His eyes flutter shut.

Slowly, she reaches over and cups his cheek. “Now that we know how each of us feels—” Beverly won’t name the emotion throbbing in her chest. Jean-Luc never named it either—but then again, he wouldn’t. “Perhaps we shouldn’t be afraid to explore those feelings.”

“Perhaps we should be afraid,” he cautions, voice low, a rumble.

“Or,” she counters, “maybe—despite our fears—we should try anyway. Those are our only options: try, or don’t try.”

Beverly wants to try. She’s willing to try.

Jean-Luc grimaces, as if in pain. “I’m afraid if we try and it doesn’t work out, I’ll lose you.”

“You won’t lose me.”

Can she promise that? She doesn’t know. There’s only one thing she’s certain of.

“I can’t go back to the way things were,” she says. She needs to see this through to some sort of conclusion, whether it be happily ever after or crash and burn. “Can you?”

Jean-Luc meets her gaze again. Sure. Steady. “No,” he breathes, and then time stops and he kisses her.

It’s different than before, urgent and full of desire, their lips parting at the same time, his tongue slipping into her mouth. He tastes like coffee and cranachan. She would have expected him to try and dominate a kiss or control it but he doesn’t; once their tongues meet he lets her lead and Beverly loses herself in the sensations, in the warmth and the glide and the light scratch of his chin, the scent of his skin.

Heat crawls up her spine and Jean-Luc’s fingers chase it, trace her shoulder blades and then plunge down her sides to settle on his waist. Beverly tries to angle her body closer to his and he reacts fast as lightning, sliding a hand down her thigh to hook her behind the knee and pull her expertly into his lap.

A heartbeat’s pause, a mental adjustment—she’s straddling him, centered over his very obvious arousal—and their kiss resumes, more slowly this time, half of her attention on the gradual lowering of her weight. She almost jerks her hips back at first contact, the few, thin layers of fabric separating them inadequate cushion to mask his hardness and it’s…startling.

Exhilarating.

The heat diverts itself to pool between her legs. Jean-Luc’s hands are beneath her skirt, resting featherlight on her thighs. He’s stroking her with just his fingertips and it feels like encouragement, so she sinks down.

Another pause, another mental adjustment, their respective needs aligning perfectly, a miracle of human design. A shudder passes through both of them and on the tail end of it, Beverly rocks her hips.

Jean-Luc hisses in a breath—and then freezes.

-/-

Beverly goes still above him.

“Jean-Luc?”

Picard can barely hear her over the sound of his own thundering pulse. He focuses first on his hands. They’re beneath Beverly’s skirt, positioned at the top of her thighs with his thumbs on the inside. He could move one hand lower, caress her where he can already tell from her reactions that she’s extremely sensitive; or he could move both hands higher, take her by the hips and hold her steady while he grinds himself against her until he sees stars.

He wants so desperately for this to continue that it physically hurts to say, “I think I need to explore our feelings a little slower.”

Beverly’s eyes flick back and forth between his, then her mouth slants to one side in a smile.

“Too fast?”

He nods.

Neither of them is sexually inexperienced. It’s because of that, he thinks, that he knows what this could be. He knows what he wants it to be. He wants to take his time. He wants to savor every step forward, every new discovery, every first.

Because if this doesn’t work, he wants more than just one night’s worth of memories. There’s no guarantee that this isn’t it. What’s between them is explosive and intense but it might burn itself out in an instant with nothing left over upon which they might build.

“I would like to continue kissing you,” he assures her. “We just need to…change positions.”

Picard does not, in fact, live like a monk. He takes care of his physical needs when required, but he wouldn’t describe that as a frequent occurrence. His body strains for release. If Beverly remains where she is, the pressure alone will send him, and he doesn’t want her to see him climax in his pants like a teenager.

The twinkle in her eyes is downright devilish. She’s aware of the power she has over him, and she enjoys it.

(Picard is neither upset nor insulted by that.)

Once she’s safely beside him, he turns towards her. The action is not without a fair amount of awkwardness, given a certain appendage and its current size and angle relative to the rest of his body as well as the general fit of his trousers; he, however, refuses to adjust himself in such plain view, and her attention is not uncaught by his arousal and that causes his body to flush once more with a fresh wave of desire, as invigorating as a shot of adrenaline.

Another time another time another time—

With deliberate care, Picard touches the curl by Beverly’s ear, running it delicately through his fingers. “May I continue kissing you?” he asks.

“Please do.”

[funnywormz]

i feel like we don't talk enough abt how garak was actually, textually, going to commit suicide via overdose in "the wire" and would have almost certainly succeeded if bashir hadn't been there......... like 😨 holy shit man.

and even if you don't count the whole hypospray thing, he was ready to lie down and die multiple times in that episode and then this optimistic federation doctor comes along with so much love in his heart and picks him back up off the ground and REFUSES to let him die. bashir went to all that trouble for HIM. even when garak tells him he isn't worth it. even when garak tells him awful, horrible things, trying to scare and hurt him and drive him away. bashir doesn't give up on him. bashir saves his fucking life. he sees him at his worst and he still tries his hardest to save him. i just fucking

[fiadorable]

67 Great Things in Serene Squall

Strange New Worlds season one episode seven... we're starting a mutiny 🏴‍☠️

Strange New Worlds | Children of the Comet | Ghosts of Illyria Part 1 & Part 2 | Memento Mori | Spock Amok | Lift Us Where Suffering Cannot Reach | Serene Squall

T'Pring gets the opening monologue!

Long distance relationships are hard - I like the ritual of Spock and T'Pring both sitting down with a PADD and a glass of wine to try to bridge the distance

Spock narrowly avoiding a spit take as T'Pring drops "I have been doing research on human sex" right out of the gate

T'Pring rightly does some research on human culture to better understand her boyfriend, but seems to skip the part where she confirms that Spock is ready to embrace or even acknowledge that part of himself

Spock being distracted while walking with Chapel is delightful

Chapel helping a friend out with his relationship trouble

"Spock, are you telling me your girlfriend is moving too fast for you?"

"Don't try to be smarter than the truth"

"Also - pro tip: Pay better attention to me when I'm talking because…" "You are very charming and I am completely missing it?"

Dr. Aspen/Captain Angel's character is so cool, they are a treat to watch laying the groundwork for the takeover as early as this dinner (calling Pike a boy scout to prompt him to take risks later on in the episode)

Pike is 100% Starfleet's boy scout, in the best sense

Looks like Pike made lasagna for dinner, but La'An interrupts with the announcement they've arrived before they can eat

Bridge troubleshooting!

Finally! Someone in Trek who listens to music that sounds like it was made later than the 1960s. It's the antagonist, but it's a start.

"Interesting. He hasn't snipped his emotions yet."

Pike and Ortegas bridge banter I

The sound design for the ship moving through the asteroid field is great - all of the external ship stuff is great in this episode. I feel like I have a real sense of how the ship is moving in relation to its surroundings.

Asteroid laser trap!

Camera shot from behind Pike so we see what he sees on the bridge - I like it

Kaboom!

The laser net is a great first test for Spock - if he fails, then I'm betting the trap would disable the ship and then the Serene Squall would swoop in and attempt to take over the Enterprise. But if he passes, then not only does Enterprise get to continue on and reach the point where the crew is separated, but Spock is now off kilter from being forced to use his "gut". Either way is a win for Angel, although I'm betting they were hoping Spock would be able to solve the puzzle so they could fuck with him some more

Visible sigh of relief from Number One and Ortegas as the puzzle deactivates

Angel's little crab-legged ship is cute

Spock and Angel's "maybe you're neither" nonbinary discussion

Pike and Ortegas bridge banter II

In the future people will be accepting enough of other people's fashion choices that they will deliberately ignore the increasingly villainous vibes from a self-professed humanitarian aid worker's wardrobe as they approach their destination

Headcanon: Pike had Una and La'An do rock paper scissors to see who was going to be on the away mission with him

And as Pike beams away with the chief of security, there's Angel's first check, but not mate

Very clean takeover of the ship all things considered

Spock is a beast in hand to hand combat, dang

Everything about Remy the pirate is a win as are Pike's very reasonable, non-threatening-yet-not-impressed facial expressions

Number One death glaring at Spock from down the hallway as they march her to the transporter room 😂😂

The entire interrogation scene from "Handsome and witty. Aren't you a charmer" to "What's wrong with my cooking?"

Chapel is wearing the perfect white jumpsuit to be camouflaged on this empty white ship

I know those are Jess Bush's actual tattoos on her wrists and hands, but I would love to see an in universe explanation for them, it's an interesting character beat

Action!Chapel and her Hypospray of Doom

Pike butters up Remy like he's a dinner roll at Golden Corral while dishing out chili (?) to a pirate crew - it's a nice parallel because he's using the same tactics as Angel

Never ever put the senior staff together in a holding cell, come on, guys

"More good news: I convinced these guys to sell us to the Klingons."

Bahahaha Number One is suspicious (and rightfully so) and Ortegas is convinced Pike's lost his mind

The idea that Pike and Number One regularly start mutinies on away missions gone wrong is amazing and I need fic, please

Chapel trying her damnedest to get that SOS out to Starfleet

Chapel is the fault in Angel's plan - she's the worst person who could be left on the ship with Spock

Once Captain Angel reveals themself, their sarcasm gives me life

Great twist that they don't need any information from Spock, they just need Spock himself as bait

Gasp STONN???

T'Pring immediately starts out with "Who are you", no hi hello nothing, just who are you and why are you calling me

Sarcastic death threats have never been sexier

Angel's look of incredulous disgust as Spock insists that Vulcans aren't swayed by emotion 😂😂😂

Angel being pissed that Chapel is on the stupid ship in the first place, ruining their little back and forths with Spock

"Love is the only thing that makes the cold loneliness of space bearable"

Setting the mutiny in motion 🏴‍☠️

"Now let's get those transporters hot and trade lovers" 😂 what am I watching

"Spock, you are failing to communicate effectively" 😂😂😂😂

"Oh, you guys are fun"

Angel's plan going completely to pot because one little nurse got missed when they took over the ship

The pirate ship has a goddamn steering wheel

Backdoor codes!

Pike and Ortegas bridge banter III

Chekhov's necklace

"The question isn't what you are. It's who you are"

"Our mutiny is still in progress" as pirates literally climb the walls in the background 😂

Just a normal shift on the bridge, on the way back into Federation space to deliver some pirates to the authorities. Then out of nowhere… "Arrrrgh me mateys!" Your captain affects an old Earth pirate accent and demeanor from behind you. It is hilarious and sudden. The Dad vibes are off the charts. You beg the captain to stop before you burst into giggles on the bridge and ruin the carefully cultivated image of "where fun goes to die". You feel his frown and hear him sit back in his chair, but he desists and ship travels on. Your reputation is intact and the morale is lifted.

T'Pring's unwavering faith in Spock's faithfulness is beautiful and heartbreaking, as is Spock's relieved "of course" as T'Pring confidently says the one thing he's wondering if he's capable of

"So I know for certain there's no feelings between us" uuuuugh the angst… the mutually unrequited feelings (because I do think Spock does feel something for Chapel even if he can't or won't accurately quantify it right now)

With this episode ending on Stonn and T'Pring walking to Sybok's cell together, I wonder if he helped her do the prisoner swap - maybe he was even on the ship with her and we just didn't see… hmmm…

Sybok and Captain Angel had better return in Season 2

[whydotheykeeptakingmine]

Welcome Party

|| Closed starter for @starfleetsxvulcan ||

"Lieutenant Knight reporting for service, Commander Spock."

The Lieutenant was in proper salute after they stabilized and stepped off the transporter pad, their uniform fully smoothed out and all appropriate piping newly adored on their wrists as they saluted.

"I am grateful to be offered a position on the ship, Commander. I hope to do it proud."

It was known that Commander Spock was second in command on the Enterprise, but it was one thing knowing, and another entirely seeing the classmate turned instructor turned senior officer again.

They kept a tight hold on their shields, both as a sign of respect for those around him, but also as a sense of comfort, keeping the control matching to the firm control over their body as they stood in proper formation waiting to either be set to ease or released to make their way to his quarters and stations.

[raffaelamusiker]

please be okay for the whump prompts

From this list of prompts.

Raffi’s not sure what wakes her up at first, drowsy from her slumber and cosy and content from where she’s curled around Seven. She opens her senses, let’s them feel around and try to wake her brain up enough to think properly. She’s awake for a reason, and it feels like a very important reason.

It takes Raffi several more minutes than she’d like to admit to realise Seven’s shaking. No, not shaking. Shivering. Untangling herself slightly from her girlfriend, Raffi leans up on her elbow to look down at her. In the darkness of the bedroom she can barely see her, but the shivering continues to vibrate against her.

“Computer, raise lights to twenty percent.”

Dim, but enough for Raffi to see, the lights brighten and she watches as Seven continues to shiver with her eyes squeezes shut as if she’s pretending it’s not happening.

“Honey? Whats wrong?” Gently Raffi raises her hand to brush some of Seven’s hair from her forehead. Her skin feels clammy and warm and she can instantly tell she has a temperature. She watches as Seven reaches up for her hand, seeing how stiff her movements are and how Seven signs fine on her palm.

“Yeah, no, I’m not believing that.” Raffi tuts as Seven signs fine again a little more aggressively.

With a sigh, Raffi tries to bury down the worry she feels any time there’s something wrong with Seven. She knows exactly what’s caused this but that doesn’t mean she can’t be concerned about it. It’s hard to pinpoint how Seven’s physiology is going to react when it comes into contact with something new.

“I told you to stay away from those cacti, that a scratch could give you an adverse reaction.”

Seven scowls with her eyes still closed and Raffi thinks it’s cute (though she knows better than to say that out loud).

Shut up.

Yes, Seven’s clearly not feeling well enough for anything. Raffi rolls her eyes, not taking it personally. Seven gets a pass with how awful she looks.

“This is why we listen to Raffi.”

No. Go away.

She reminds Raffi briefly of how stubborn Gabe was when he was ill; running around not willing to stop until he was practically dropping to the ground. He had always wanted her though, clung to her until he started feeling better.

Raffi goes to move from the bed, ready to get Seven the essentials and then leave her be for a while if that’s what she wants, but is stopped in her tracks when Seven whines and practically flings her arms around her waist.

“Woah, babe, steady.” Raffi’s hand comes down to rub her arm gently. “Do you want me to stay or go?”

Stay. Seven signs against whichever part of Raffi she finds first. Maybe she and Gabe really are similar. That makes her heart ache.

“Okay, I’ll stay, but I need to sort out some supplies for you first. I won’t be long.” Raffi carefully prizes Seven’s grip from around her, causing her to whine again but not try and stop her.

Once she’s free, Raffi gets up and walks to the kitchen to grab everything she needs for her sick girlfriend. Water, an electrolyte smoothie, a cool cloth for her forehead, a hypospray to help with the pain. Everything is placed on the bedside table before she goes to the closet and reaches for her favourite blanket. Making sure Seven is comfortable and warm, she gets her to drink a little before joint her back in bed.

Immediately Seven is clinging to her, resting her head on her chest whilst Raffi places the cloth against her temple and pulls the blanket over them both.

“There you go honey. Are you comfortable?”

She feels Seven nod against her chest and Raffi leans down to press a kiss into her head. She leaves Seven like that for a while, can feel the way she drifts in and out of sleep against her. Raffi reads or works on her PADD but she never lets her attention stray from Seven for long.

After a few hours she feels Seven shift against her, clinging to her tighter and letting out a whimper. Raffi reaches over for another dose of the hypospray and clicks it to Seven’s neck. She relaxes back against her and Raffi strokes her thumb over her cheek.

A small sorry, thank you is signed against her side.

“Don’t be silly,” Raffi’s voice is laced with love. “Anything for my best girl.”

[constable]

[[ semi-plotted starter for @facetedspades (Dr. Bashir)

It had been a long couple days. Frankly, Odo simply wasn't someone who liked to travel. He suspected, after time to observe the Dominion and think about how it might apply to himself, that he might just be somewhat territorial by nature, but regardless, being away from the station he had made his home and the responsibilities he'd accumulated there for any significant length of time left him... antsy. Doing so with only the chatty Dr. Bashir for company wasn't exactly helping.

Odo had obligingly listened to him the whole way to the planet, then done his job while there, providing discreet security in the form of a bag and a chair and, at one point, a hypospray. But now, when they'd gotten so close to home and then had that option cruelly taken by a malfunctioning warp drive, his visible irritation was starting to betray just how uncomfortable he was with the whole situation. Granted, he was always uncomfortable with Dr. Bashir, so he wasn't certain how much would truly be noticable, but without any way to walk away or any polite or easy way to isolate himself, Odo was ready to snap.

"Doctor... I think I've already made it abundantly clear," he began. "I am not interested in having a casual conversation with you. I don't want to get to know you better, I don't have any interest in discussing the situation more than we already have, and I don't want to play a game or sing or whatever else you feel would better pass the time. No matter how much time we spend together or how much you've helped me in the past, we are not friends and I would prefer it if you didn't act as though we were."

[starryeyes2000]

Uncle: Chapter 5

Read on AO3 or FFN

Status: In-Progress

Pairings: Pike & Male!OCs Christopher Pike x Fem!OC (Aalin)

Rating: Teen

Word Length: 2.2k

Summary: When his teenage nephews get into trouble at school, Chris agrees to take charge of them during their suspension. The youngest swiftly develops a crush on Una.

Excerpt: “This will sting a bit,” Chapel warned while loading the medication capsule into a hypospray. The doors to main Sickbay opened, Una entered crossing the room with her long confident strides. Zach’s eyes followed her. He nudged David with an elbow, tilting his head towards the new arrival, saying in a low voice cracking an octave higher than normal, “Diana Prince.”

Chapel hid a smile by twisting her mouth towards one side; the merriment in her eyes refused disguise. Zach looked at the nurse and said, “Anytime now. I’m ready.”

Chris glanced around the comfortable living area located on the top floor of the building, eyes landing on the view of San Francisco bay outside the transparent wall. “Una said you were staying planetside tonight. Did you flirt with the ensign in the housing office?”

Continue Reading on AO3 or FFN

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[thehomeofplatonicfics]

It Wasn't Your Fault

Deanna Troi x betazoid!reader (platonic!)

You were finally off-duty after a Night Shift, and you slumped down on your bed as soon as you returned to your quarters. Taking a deep breath in and letting it out in a satisfying sigh, you forced yourself to approach the replicator. “Hot chocolate.” You ordered, offering a tired smile in thanks to the replicator as the delicious sweet beverage appeared. You took the mug in your hand, cradling it’s warmth into your chest before taking a large sip. Finally, you could give in to your exhaustion and get ready for bed.

Making your way over to the mirror, you pulled your hair out of its style and into a more relaxed state. Removing the jacket and placing it on the bed, you suddenly saw the flash of an image in your mind, intrusive and unwelcome. You shook your head believing yourself just to be tired and therefore more susceptible to the stronger emotions of the crew. Moving to grab your pyjamas, you suddenly saw another image. You gasped, dropping your pyjamas on the floor in alarm.

You reached to tap your combadge to call for help, but your hand only found the fabric of the undershirt. Your badge was still attached to your jacket. Trying to reach for it, your mind was invaded with so many images and this time they didn’t stop. You collapsed onto your knees, clutching your head and crying for it to stop.

Meanwhile the senior staff were engaged in a meeting in the conference room, Captain Picard was running through each head of department’s status reports. Deanna’s brows furrowed as she sensed your alarm after the first few flashes of intense imagery. She tried to telepathically ask you if you were alright, but she found for some reason that she couldn’t get through to you. “Counsellor?” Will prompted Deanna, clearly seeing that something wasn’t right. “Deanna.” He called again, his hand resting on her shoulder as she frowned up at him.

“It’s Y/N. Something is… really… wrong.” Deanna’s voice became strained as she began to feel the stress and panic that you were feeling as you cried out for the images to stop. “Beverly, they need our help now.” Doctor Crusher nodded, and Captain Picard gave his consent for the pair to go and see what was wrong. They quickly stopped by sickbay to pick up a medkit, and Deanna urged them to hurry. “I think they’re under a telepathic attack. I can sense a presence in their mind that I can only describe as not belonging to them.” Deanna raised a hand to her temples, struggling to maintain composure. She could tell how much pain you were in.

They reached your quarters and Beverly punched in the code for a medical override. Deanna rushed in to find you on the floor, jerking and thrashing about, mumbling incoherently under your breath. Tears stained your cheeks and you seemed to be fighting with air. Beverly soon joined Deanna, kneeling down beside you and assessing your state with a frown. She realised this was perhaps a betazoid problem best dealt with by a betazoid. “How can I help, Deanna?”

The counsellor remained silent for a few moments, as she probed your mind and tried to read what was happening. There definitely was a force invading your mind, for what purpose Deanna wasn’t sure. She worried that she couldn’t really help, after all if as a full betazoid you couldn’t protect yourself against the presence, then as only a half-betazoid she wouldn’t be any better.

“I need something to lower their psilosynine levels. That should help to decrease their telepathic field and lower the intruder's reach over their mind.” Deanna told Beverly, while she tried to telepathically call out to you. At first, you looked straight past her, clearly unaware of their presence. Then, as Doctor Crusher administered the hypospray into your neck, you looked straight at Deanna.

She tried again to communicate with you, but you lashed out at her, fighting against her in your head. “No, no! Leave me alone!” You cried, your hands balled into fists as you continued thrashing at Deanna. “What’s happening?” Beverly asked in alarm. “It’s helped them, but they think I’m a threat to them. It might be better to sedate them, then I won’t have to fight them to drive out the intruder.”

Beverly prepared another hypospray as Deanna tried her best to calm you and show she was your friend, not your enemy. You were too far gone though to even comprehend anything she was saying to you. All you knew was that you had to defend yourself. Doctor Crusher injected the second hypospray and the pair waited for a few seconds. Your thrashing soon slowed down, then you relaxed completely. It wasn’t more than a minute when you became unconscious.

They quickly transferred you to sickbay, before Deanna got to work driving the intruder from your mind. She sat by your side, holding your hand, while Beverly hovered by your side with a medical tricorder. The counsellor was clearly having a difficult time to overpower the strange presence. Finally, after an hour, Deanna drew back with a tired but relieved smile. Beverly glanced down at the screen of the tricorder, smiling in satisfaction to see all your vital signs were slowly beginning to return to normal.

The pair waited for you to regain consciousness naturally. Beverly continued her work in sickbay, glancing over at your biobed every couple of minutes. Meanwhile, Deanna used her combadge to contact the Captain and inform him of the situation. He decided to wait to have a report from you about what happened before taking any action. Deanna could sense that Picard would be too impatient to wait for the length of time it would take for you to truly recover to produce such a report. However, for now, she didn’t say anything.

After a couple of hours, Counsellor Troi sensed you were slowly coming to. She sat up straighter in her seat and leaned forward, her hand resting on your forearm. “Y/N?” She called out to you, grabbing the attention of Doctor Crusher, who seconds later was hovering over you with a tricorder.

Slowly and lethargically, you opened your eyes. Beverly asked how you were feeling, but you didn’t respond, merely staring into space. The Doctor glanced concernedly at Deanna, a silent plea for help. The counsellor smiled gently down at you, calling out your name again telepathically. This managed to capture your attention, as you turned your head to look at your fellow betazoid.

“Y/N, do you remember what happened to you?” Deanna asked you, quickly sending a comforting smile Beverly’s way as she sensed the Doctor’s unease at being unable to hear the conversation between you. “Yes.” You affirmed, and you felt the wave of relief radiating from the counsellor. “Can you tell me?” You hesitated for a second, a tear rolling down your cheek. “No.” You replied, turning away from them both, though you knew this wouldn’t hide anything from Deanna.

“Oh, Y/N…” You heard Deanna sigh out loud as she comfortingly stroked your arm while standing up. “What is it?” Beverly asked, clearly impatient to learn what was going on. Deanna gently held up a hand to Beverly, silently asking her to be patient. She could tell that your mind was exhausted and injured from your experience, and that telepathic communication would be the best way to help you.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Deanna began, walking away from the biobed and towards the replicator. “It was. I should have been stronger. I should have been keeping up with my mental exercises. I’ve let myself grow weak.” Deanna shook her head to herself, a ghost of a sad smile appearing for a second. “You are too hard on yourself. You have had a lot of responsibility here on the Enterprise recently, trying to increase your psionic abilities would have meant you would have no rest period. You know that is not healthy.” She paused in front of the replicator. “Computer, hot chocolate.” Deanna ordered out loud, scooping the mug into her hands as she made her way back over to you.

She knew you were crying before she heard the quiet sniffles and sobs, and she hoped that the sweet treat that you’d been intending to enjoy would help calm you a little. “Beverly, may they?” Deanna gestured to the mug in her hand. Beverly came closer and scanned you again, smiling in confirmation. “I see no reason why not, everything is returning to normal and it may help speed up the process.”

The counsellor stopped in front of you, holding out the hot chocolate for you to take. You slowly shifted to sit up, Beverly rushing to your side to support you as you wobbled slightly. You snatched the mug and cradled it into your chest, the warmth providing some minor comfort. “Thank you, Deanna.” You offered telepathically. “Is it helping?” You took a sip of the sweet drink, smiling for the first time since you awoke as the trickle of warmth down your throat helped to combat the pit of cold dread in your stomach. To finally answer Deanna’s question, you nodded, looking up at the pair as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but is there anything important that we need to know? Is there any threat the captain should be made aware of?” Deanna dared to ask, with a concerned look. She did not expect the strong wave of embarrassment and shame that radiated from you, and she almost regretted asking as you broke down into shuddering, loud sobs.

Beverly cautiously took the mug from your hands to save you from spilling away, which gave Deanna the opportunity to wrap her arms around you in a tight hug. You leant against her, a hand gripping onto her arm as you let all your emotion out. In this wave of devastation, you projected an image of what happened to the counsellor, unable to conceal it. Deanna gasped, her arms squeezing you tighter as a tear rolled down her own cheek in understanding.

The two of you hugged for several minutes as you let out all your distress, Deanna piecing together the whole story based on all the thoughts and images you shared. Once you had calmed down enough, you gestured to Beverly to regain your hot chocolate, and Deanna let go. “Beverly, Y/N has shared information about what happened to them that I think the captain should know about. But I think a telepath needs to remain with them for now until they have recovered.” The Doctor smiled gently at you, hoping she was providing a comforting presence for you. “Say no more, tell me what I need to know and I’ll go report to the captain.”

The pair moved slightly away from you, though they knew of course you could understand every word. Deanna kept reassuring you telepathically while she was talking to Beverly, and you felt much calmer as you dipped on your hot chocolate. The Doctor soon left sickbay and Deanna grabbed her own mug of the sweet beverage, before hopping up onto the biobed. Together, you began talking about happier subjects in companionable silence.

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Sleepless on La Sirena

Bridge

Enoch loves the stars. While the autopilot does what it does, gently rocking La Sirena through the Alpha quadrant, the eternal night sky outside looks majestic. Not for a single second does Enoch get tired of looking at the constellations that light up the black canvas like beacons.

Complicated mathematics ricochet in his internal processor, automatically calculating distances, assessing threats, identifying where exactly it is they are bobbing around in this vast, vast endlessness.

He was programmed for science. But he stares at the beauty. He looks at the stars with the same awe he sees reflected on the Captain’s face when he navigates through space.

The ship flits past a rotating galaxy of lovely orange hues, and Enoch almost feels an ache beneath the wonder and the happiness. That, too, isn’t part of his programming. He likes to think that it’s a fingerprint the Captain left on his holographic soul when he made him.

Engine Room

Ian whistles a Scottish tune that would drive the Captain crazy if he were within hearing distance. But it’s night - according to the ship’s internal clock, not according to space where such concepts as night or day don’t exist - and Captain Rios is (hopefully) asleep or at least passed out in his cabin.

As Ian’s processors pull up grid maps and electrical charts and technical data while he goes about his engineering routines, keeping the ship in fit shape, they do so to the constant tune of a bagpipe playing in a part of his borrowed memory, and sometimes he wonders which distant and unlikely branch of Rios’ ancestry is responsible - or if he went through a phase of historical novels before landing on the existentialists.

Mess Hall

Too much caffeine. Steward, who knows that Captain Rios is tossing and turning sleeplessly in his bed most nights, is convinced that his caffeine intake plays a part in that particular problem. He cannot forbid the Captain to drink coffee, tar black as his moods. He cannot lock him out of the replicator’s selection of stimulating beverages.

But he can secretly reduce their caffeine content to a minimum, which he is doing this very moment, even considering swapping the programming to decaffeinated beans altogether. Mimicking the real taste is easy enough. And if the Captain notices the difference? Steward is ready to bear the consequences - even if it means getting deactivated for several light years - if it brings the Captain one night of peaceful sleep.

Sickbay

Emil runs the biobed through a maintenance routine while he checks the portable emergency kits for expired hypospray charges and completeness of contents. While he doesn’t expect Captain Rios to ever voluntarily enter La Sirena’s small but exquisitely equipped (and run) Medical Bay, he knows from experience that it’s advisable to be prepared.

The Captain may not be the easiest patient, but he’s turned out to be a frequent one, even if he claims the opposite. But then, he isn’t always aware of Emil injecting an anti-emetic or providing him with a hypospray cocktail to lessen the effects of his alcoholic escapades when he’s passed out on the bridge or in his cabin. Thanks to the dermal regenerator, he doesn’t know Emil healed his bloodied knuckles from punching the wall or the occasional cut after he’s slipped on the stairs, too out of it to remember what happened. After all, someone’s got to take care of the Captain if he doesn’t do it himself. So Emil stays prepared.

Captain’s Quarters

Sweat runs down Rios’ chest in rivulets as he sits up in his bed, panting. Last vestiges of a nightmare flee his vision - exploding skulls, blood-spattered bulkheads and unmarked coffins floating in space.

The clock on his nightstand blinks a desolate 3:23 am into the darkness of his cabin. A bottle of Pisco rolls away when he fumbles for his cigars. The red flame of his lighter casts flickering shadows across the room, and Rios sees ghosts scatter. His heart, thumping wildly in his chest, calms somewhat as he inhales the smoke deep into his lungs, but he knows there will be no more sleep for him; he will be tossing and turning until that hateful Hospitality Hologram serves him breakfast he never ordered.

He gets up and pulls on a pair of cut-off cargo pants. From a net by the door, he retrieves a soccer ball and pads across the deck to the transporter area where he will be kicking, heading and balancing that ball until the residue of both alcohol and nightmare evaporate from his blood.

As he kicks the ball against the starboard side of the transporter room, again and again, he thinks he hears Ian whistle softly from downstairs.

Armory

Head resting on a tray of disassembled phasers, Emmett snores loudly.

Also on AO3, if you prefer:

[barebcnes]

@ensnchekov asked: ‘  i didn’t know it was this bad.  ‘ [Memes I reblogged | always open]

"---I didn't know it was this bad." Did McCoy just mockingly quote Chekov with the most sarcastic tone of voice he could possibly muster? Oh yes, he did. He did exactly that.

And while he'd done that, he'd also scanned the young man's body twice, because Leonard is a god when it comes to multi-tasking. He can do multiple things at once and keep his focus, he's a doctor, after all, he needs to be capable of trying to micro-manage an entire fucking ship that's stuck in space where death and disease waits around every damn corner. That's why he's already gotten three hyposprays ready at the same time, developed a third arm to do exactly that - well, actually, said third arm belongs to a very helpful nurse, but she basically is his third arm, so his statement remains correct despite it being disconnected from his physical form.

"You look like a damn balloon, kid.", is what McCoy adds, lifting his brows to lay emphasis on what he's just said. "---Your face is as fuckin' round as a pancake, a very badly done one on top of that. That rash covering your skin? Not normal. Why the fuck would you think that any of those symptoms aren't, and I'm gonna quote you on that again: 'this bad?'"

Poor guy must be pure agony; The mentioned rash Chekov currently suffers from itches like a bad bitch, Leonard knows. He's caught it himself just a couple of years ago, had wished for it to just end him, which it did not. ... Which is good, all things considered.

"---Steady yourself, gonna stab you three times, at least."

The first hypospray clicks and hisses as the doctor presses it against the younger one's neck. Two more go to.

[sharpnothashtag]

The Good Ship CrushWay, Chapter 63

Right where we left off.

Bev: (taking Joy aside) I have a few questions. Joy: Of course. Bev: How did Faith die? Do you know? Joy: Kaanor hosts are very sensitive to sound. It is part of the reason they do not travel off-world--loud sounds can be fatal. Bev: So when the alarm went off, Joy: They were in terrible pain. The instinct, even though loud sounds are fatal, is still to scream. Bev: Is it like a self-destruct button? Joy: Not quite. Sound sensitivity is a genetic trait, but screaming is innate. It is the same desire that all creatures have--when there is trouble we cannot handle on our own, we alert others so that help is able to come. Bev: It's like a feedback loop--trouble comes, they scream. Help doesn't come, so they scream louder, which creates more trouble, so they scream even more. Joy: I have only heard of these tales. To have someone see their family perish because of this? The only thing that can heal him is the passage of time. Bev: Would it not be better for him to forget? Joy: The memories of happiness are stronger than the pain of tragedy and the sting of death. The more time that passes, the stronger the memories become.

Joy leaves as Worf and DeAnna enter. Joy inhales deeply and bows.

Joy: It is an honor to be in the presence of so great a warrior. Worf: (bowing) The honor is mine. To end the one who ended my father is still my life's work. Joy: May you achieve all you seek.

Before Joy can exit, DeAnna hands them Little Guy's leash. Joy holds her hand tightly, and a light illuminates her hand for a moment. DeAnna kisses Joy's hand, and Joy exits. DeAnna, with tears in her eyes, looks to Bev.

Bev: He's exhausted. DeAnna: I don't care. KJ: (coming from behind a divider) You're exhausted, too, DeAnna. Worf: Captain. How is Commander Riker? KJ: (defensively) As my wife just said, he's exhausted. DeAnna: (sobbing) I have to see him. (She runs past them to where Riker is. KJ runs after her.) KJ: He is NOT ready for visitors! Bev: Keep an eye on them, will you? (Worf nods and follows her.) Worf: Captain, please let her be with Commander Riker. They are connected. KJ: Beverly said he's exhausted and DeAnna immediately blew past her! Bev: Let her be, Kathryn. (angrily, once KJ comes to Bev) Kathryn O'Dell Janeway, you will not talk to DeAnna or Worf in that manner. KJ: (confused) I was defending you. Bev: (angrily) I do not need defending, especially not from my best friends. KJ: Bev- Bev: Dismissed. (She walks away with tears in her eyes.)

KJ watches her walk away, befuddled. She follows everyone else back to Riker's side. Picard is still sitting on the bed with Riker in his lap. He wipes Riker's tears. DeAnna is holding Riker's hand, clearly communicating with him telepathically. Picard stands, allowing Bev to scan him and give him a hypospray. Worf removes Riker's shoes and socks and puts them on another biobed. He waves the fumes into the air.

Worf: nI'be'puq, muSHa'ghachlIj tlhaQ nIv puS. 'ej qIbmaj luSovmoHtaHvIS, lalDan tuq. (close to his face) bangwI' DaSovpu'bej. (Translation: While your family is in Sto-vo-kor, may the smell of you comfort them. May they know how they are grieved. May they know how you loved them.)

DeAnna: (telepathically) Imzadi. I'm here. Riker: (telepathically) Faith? DeAnna: (telepathically) No, Imzadi. I wish I could have met her. Riker: (telepathically) Faith. She's gone. DeAnna: (telepathically) It's me, Imzadi. Faith may be gone, but I'm here. (Riker's hand squeezes DeAnna's hand--part of him knows she's there. The hypospray takes effect, and Riker finally closes his eyes. Bev pulls up a chair and sits with him, stroking his hair as he sleeps. Picard sits cross-legged with Riker's head in his lap, just staring.)

KJ: (coming onto the bridge, prickly) Data, you're relieved. Data: Thank you, Captain. How is Commander Riker? KJ: (matter of factly) He is sleeping. Data: May I go to see him? KJ: (more prickly) You may join the rest of the crew at his bedside. Data: Is something wrong, Kathryn? KJ: (snapping) Of course not. Data: (He can read her just enough to know that he shouldn't ask again.) Have a good evening, Captain.

KJ sits alone on the bridge. She's clearly upset.

Back in Sick Bay, Wesley and Data have joined the bedside crew.

Data: Please let us know if there is anything you need for us to do, Doctor. Wesley: Or if you need us to get out of your way. Bev: I couldn't kick you out if I wanted to. Worf: I still can't believe Starfleet let us think he was dead all this time. DeAnna: I should have known. He is my Imzadi--we are connected at the soul. Bev: There are plenty of people who live on without their soulmates, DeAnna. DeAnna: Maybe those who are fully human. Bev: Hey. If you had gone through the same thing, he'd be right where you are. Worf: He is one of my closest friends. Starfleet's behavior is without honor. Picard: I will raise hell at Starfleet Command when we return. Wesley: He looked out for me while you (Bev) were gone at Starfleet Medical for a year. He made sure I was safe so many times that I lost count. He's the closest thing I've had to a father since Dad died. The fact that he's here again--I'm still in the state where I am happy. I can't be mad at Starfleet yet. He's--here again.

(They sit in silence for a while. Data eventually stands, walks over to a panel, and taps a few keys. Liszt's "Un Sospiro" plays. Patrick enters, hears the song, and is transported away, back to his original reality.)

(Riker and Patrick are in bed with one of those ridiculous shiny blankets. Patrick is absolutely knocked out. Riker is tossing and turning. Patrick stirs.)

Patrick: Will? What's wrong? Riker: I can't sleep. Patrick: My aunt Adele's reci- Riker: I know. I already tried it. Patrick: (sitting up, concerned) Aunt Adele's recipe works every time. Something's going on. Riker: Jean-Luc, I have a decision to make. Patrick: Between me and DeAnna? Riker: Yes. You've helped me so much. I'm a strong, bisexual, polyamorous man who knows his own power. Patrick: But? Riker: But nothing. Being with you has been like nothing I've ever felt before. Patrick: But? Riker: You're absolutely the most wonderful man I know. Patrick: But? Riker: (sadly) DeAnna. Patrick: DeAnna is a very special woman, Will. Riker: I feel like I'm choosing a side. Patrick: You're choosing a person. Riker: If I'm attracted to her, I'm straight. If I'm attracted to you, I'm gay. If I'm attracted to you both, I'm bisexual. Patrick: There are other terms you can use if they make you feel more comfortable, but bisexual is accurate. Riker: If I choose her, then I give up being bisexual. And our relationship becomes invalid. Patrick: Will. Calm down. Your sexuality is not attached to your partner. What we had was...is special. It's not invalid, no matter what you choose to do or who you choose to love. Riker: How can I retain my queerness without cheating on DeAnna? Patrick: (chuckling) Trust me, Will. You are more than gay enough to retain your queerness. Plus, (more seriously) DeAnna may not be polyamorous, but I'm sure that if you talked to her about it, she might be open to something. Riker: I don't want her to feel like she's not enough for me. Patrick: She is more than enough, and she knows that. Riker: And you. I can't imagine losing you. Patrick: William Thomas Riker. You know quite well that I am never far from you. Riker: I don't want to sound like a child, bu-- Patrick: I promise you. I will never be further than a breath away when you need me.

(They hug. Patrick comes back to this reality, quietly crying. He enters the room, and everyone sees him. They silently back away as Patrick takes the hand DeAnna was holding.)

Patrick: Voir? Je t'ai promis. Je n'en suis qu'à un souffle. (Translation: See? I promised you. I am only a breath away. The Liszt continues to play quietly.)

(Daneel enters the bridge.)

Daneel: Captain, I've come to relieve you. KJ: Understood. (a beat) Daneel, may I ask you a question? Daneel: Of course. KJ: Does Data understand your relationship with Wesley? Daneel: What do you mean? KJ: You and Wesley are...soulmates. Right? Daneel: Sort of. KJ: Is there a better, more accurate term? Daneel: Not really. I suppose "soulmates" works. Data understands that Wesley is very important to me, and I don't think he would ever stand in my way or make me choose between them if Wesley ever needed me. KJ: If Wesley ever questioned your abilities as a strategist, would Data defend you? Daneel: Wesley would never insult me, but I guess so. KJ: Would you be mad at Data for defending you in that situation? Daneel: No--but you're becoming awfully specific. What's the matter? KJ: Beverly snapped at me. I was just trying to back her up. DeAnna just couldn't-- Daneel: Wait, you went against DeAnna? KJ: And Worf, for the record. (Daneel looks at her, mouth agape.) ...what's wrong with that? Daneel: Partners do not get to contradict best friends. KJ: What do you mean? She's my wife! Daneel: That's not the point. Beverly and DeAnna (from what Wesley tells me) have been through hell and back. Worf, too! Beverly has brought him back from the dead--you do realize that, right? KJ: That doesn't matter--no one in my life that comes before my wife. Daneel: That may be true for you. You don't strike me as the "best friend" type of person. KJ: What does that mean? Daneel: Do you have a best friend? KJ: Yes--I married her. Daneel: Other than her. KJ: Okay. She was standing right next to me when I got married. Daneel: What's your history with her? KJ: We've known each other all our lives. Once we were old enough, we dated. She broke up with me to focus on herself when she transitioned, and then we dated again. We both decided it was best that we break up when I went to the Academy, but we've been there for each other through everything. She came when I graduated from the Academy, when I was made a Lieutenant, a Commander, and a Captain. She...knows every part of me, and I know every part of her. Daneel: So, what if she had asked you to stay when you were made aware of Commander Riker's situation? KJ: I would have considered it, even though it wasn't what needed to be done. Daneel: What if, before you even got to think about it, Beverly told Lady Fierbolg that she was being selfish? KJ: (dawning on her) I would have defended Fierbolg, too. I have to apologize. (KJ enters the turbolift and heads for Sick Bay)

Sick Bay. DeAnna has passed out from exhaustion, so Worf is putting her on another biobed. KJ enters. She and Bev lock eyes and meet in Bev's office.

KJ: (simultaneously) I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier. Bev: (simultaneously) I'm sorry I snapped at you. (a beat while they observe that that was cute) DeAnna and I have been through hell and back. I brought Worf back from the dead. I am Alexander's godmother. I love you, but KJ: She's your best friend, and I had no right to call her out like that. Bev: (shocked, but beginning to smile) Thank you for understanding. KJ: Daneel helped me put some things in perspective. (a beat) When we return to Earth, do you want to tell me about you and DeAnna and Worf? Bev: When the time is right, I'll tell you. That can most certainly be during our extended honeymoon when we get back to Earth. (she winks) KJ: (they share a laugh, a beat) Well, I'll let you go so you can sit with him. Bev: (holding out her hand) Why don't you come join us? (KJ takes Bev's hand and follows her in.)

Patrick, Worf, Data, Picard, and Wesley look up as KJ enters. They make room for her. KJ sits at Riker's bedside and holds his hand.

KJ: Hey, Riker. Before you left, you told me to take care of her. I asked you if you meant the Enterprise or Beverly. I've really tried to take care of both. (tearily) Luckily, I had a good deal of help. (realizing what she is really saying, looking around at Worf, DeAnna, Picard, Data, Wesley, and Patrick) She is not just mine to care for.

Starfleet Command: Several admirals gather around a small table.

Admiral 1: They've found him. Admiral 2: Please tell me they found him dead or with amnesia. Admiral 3: No such luck. Admiral 2: At least tell me it was only Janeway. Admiral 3: You think you'd get Janeway without Crusher? And where one Crusher goes, another follows. Where Beverly goes, DeAnna will follow, and Worf will come with her. Where the other Crusher goes, Daneel Akares and Data also go. Admiral 1: And since nearly the entire Enterprise D crew is together, they can't go anywhere without their Captain. Admiral 2: And they're going to raise hell until they get answers. So, what are we going to tell them?