Chapter Text
“I still can’t really believe this is happening,” Chris says. “My vision—aren’t you afraid that staying on Enterprise will… kill you?”
“We’re Starfleet,” Firis responds with false bravado. “Something’s trying to kill us every day.” She can't see Chris’s face from her current position, but she imagines he’s frowning at her flippant dismissal.
Truthfully, Firis is terrified. But the looming threat of death and her choice to stay because of it—in spite of it—are not as scary or painful as continuing on without Chris.
Laying on her couch for an extended period of time, on the other hand, is every bit as painful as Chris had claimed.
They could have moved to her bed, but that is a line neither of them seem ready to cross. Though for a while, they teetered on the edge—hands and lips, roaming all over… And now, nestled into his side, Firis is half afraid she may never be able to look at Chris again without blushing.
It’s a little too warm for her taste. Residual heat from his fever? Or from the physical intimacy? And god, the feeling of his fingers threading through her hair is so nice. Speaking of, her hair must be a mess. Is it tickling his face? Can he breathe normally with her head on his chest? Maybe next time they can try a different position. There will be a next time, right? What does this make them? She hasn't explicitly told him she loves him yet—
“Stop that,” Chris says, his voice reverberating in her skull.
She must be writhing around too much. Cuddling with a man who has a good foot or so on her is an art Firis will need to practice to master.
“Sorry—”
“You’re thinking too hard. Dangerous.”
“What do you mean, dangerous!” she says, jerking up from his chest and laughing at her own protest. Really, she knows exactly what he means.
“I know what that mind of yours is capable of!” Chris says.
“I can’t help it! There’s so much to think about right now! Like… why do you think your future self didn’t say anything about me the first time you met?”
“Good question. I suppose I didn't know you existed yet. Maybe he didn’t want to spoil the fun?”
“Fun?”
Sure, if they’re ignoring the whole future accident for him and potential death for her thing.
“What else would you call what we just did?” Chris says, giving Firis a cheeky smirk.
Her embarrassment is instant. She’s still accustomed to things between them being unsaid, that for him to reference a moment of passion so directly somehow feels more like the crossing of some line than the actual act itself.
Chris’s cheeks are flushed too, and his typically immaculate quiff is a mess, from sleep, from his earlier affliction, and then from her hands.
They could both use a shower about now.
Together?
She’s in trouble, Firis decides, and promptly pushes herself up into a sitting position on the couch to force some distance. But Chris follows suit and the space she’s created is already gone—a calculated move to get under her skin.
Must he look so satisfied at her expense? And amused? And attractive? He just can’t help himself, can he? The bastard.
“Stop!” Firis says as she attempts to salvage her own mussed hair—a vain endeavor.
“Stop what?” he practically coos.
If this is how he’s going to be, then two can play at this game.
Firis tries to level the playing field. “Being cute.”
It catches him off guard more easily than she’d thought it would, and now it’s Chris who grows sheepish. But in her quest to gain the upper hand, Firis finds herself losing ground all over again to the way his flustered state affects her.
“Cute, huh?” Chris says as he rubs the back of his neck.
“Don’t act like you don’t know!”
No chance he doesn’t. And really, how the hell did she get so lucky?
“It’s different coming from you!” he says.
An unwanted thought makes Firis feel small. This is all new to her, but Chris—he’s been here before. Her inexperience has always felt unimportant until now.
Can she measure up to past lovers? To the person she wants to be for him? Who does he want her to be?
The insecurity must be written all over her face because his expression turns somber. Firis is sorry for disrupting their flirting, but it’s Chris that apologizes first.
“Sorry. I just meant—”
And because she can’t stand how remorseful he looks when he’s done nothing wrong, she interrupts him.
“That you didn't think you’d ever hear anything other than ‘you look like crap?’” she says, hoping to make him laugh.
It's a relief when he does.
“That’s my Firis. Got any more compliments stashed away?”
“You have really pretty hands. I’m jealous of your nail beds…”
If he realizes that she’s caught the note of sadness that flashes across his smile at those words, he doesn’t remark on it. Instead, his voice is warm as he teases her.
“Ah, I’ve heard that one before. Give me something original.”
Maybe if she asks him for context later, he’ll share. Right now though, she needs to stop unwittingly flubbing her lines.
She loves his eyes, smile, hair—all physical traits that certainly haven’t gone unappreciated. She could praise him for his many other strengths: patience, forgiveness, benevolence… But something tells her he’s heard all that before, too.
Just as Firis thinks to voice her surrender, she sees Chris challenge her with a dimpled smirk.
“You’re—” she starts, knowing he will never let her live it down if she fails now. “I don’t know! Distracting?”
That can’t be original either, she thinks. The look on his face resembles one of recognition. Indeed, Chris shakes his head, giving a small chuckle.
“You asked me once—your first dinner—what my personal report on Firis Corsixer was.”
“Classified,” she recalls. But why is he bringing this up?
“Distracting,” he answers. “Very distracting.”
Leave it to Chris to take her words and turn them against her.
A near silent oh is all she can manage in response, and a stunned Firis feels like her past self had: self-conscious and overwhelmed by his gaze. By his attention. Chris—Captain Pike, back then—singled her out for attention.
Sure, she was never great at being surreptitious in how much she basked in it, but… her? Distracting?
“And you’ve just confirmed the feeling was mutual,” Chris adds.
Somehow, sometime, mutual distraction turned into more. He’s confessed as much, on her behalf too, when he called it a… burden. Does he still feel that way?
“While we’re confirming things, when did I stop being a distraction?” Firis asks.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. You still are.”
Of course he’s going to make her spell it out.
“The earrings. I think that’s when it clicked for me. I mean—it happened before I knew it, but that was the first time I admitted—” Firis sighs and looks at his right shoulder. “I love you.”
When Chris doesn’t answer right away, her eyes flit back up in panic. In his eyes she sees not contemplation nor tenderness, but… amusement?
“Will you stop looking so terrified?” he says with a light laugh. “I love you too. You know I do.”
“I guess,” Firis bemoans. “But I wanted to hear you say it.”
“Though in hindsight, we seem to have gone about this totally wrong. It’s all been pretty backwards.”
“What do you mean?”
“We skipped a few steps. I haven't even asked you out on a proper date yet.”
“Oh—I mean—I don’t care too much about that.”
Chris’s eyebrows reach for the ceiling. “Are you saying you don't want to go on a date with me, Lieutenant?”
“Don’t ‘Lieutenant’ me! I’m saying it feels like I already have! Even if we didn't call it that.”
“Come on. Indulge me! I pick you up at your quarters, we go out, I bring you back and kiss you at your door. A proper boyfriend—”
The word causes Firis to laugh, and Chris’s confused look tells her she needs to explain.
“Sorry! It’s just… I think I’ve loved you for so long now—” she breaks again at how the confession already feels easier to say, “that boyfriend sounds a little silly.”
“Well, what do you want me to be then?” he asks, only slightly less confused.
Firis blurts out, “Everything.”
“Wow! No pressure!”
“Sorry! I don't know! Partner, maybe?”
“Now that I can do. Partner,” Chris drawls, making Firis groan.
“Nevermind, cowboy. Boyfriend is fine.”
“See? You’ll get used to it.”
“Not for too long, I hope,” Firis responds before it hits her that she’s somehow managed to come off unacceptably needy and desperate. What is it about this man that makes her thoughts bypass any filter?
If Chris is put off by her comment though, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he seems emboldened by the implication.
“How long is too long?” he asks, clearly entertained.
Hastily, Firis shakes her head and tries to backpedal. “No—sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
“Have you picked names yet? Y’know, for—”
“What—Chris!”
“We’re naming our child after me?”
Firis swings at him with a throw pillow and his hands fly up.
“You started it!” Chris hollers. “What happened to the Firis from a minute ago?”
“She got nervous! Can we just go back to talking about that date…”
“Okay, but don't think you've charmed your way out of this,” Chris says, and Firis’s mind is reeling all over again.
In truth, she does believe that marriage and kids are topics to broach early in a relationship. But with her uncertain fate and his certain one, are they allowed to entertain those ideas?
She really would like to. Luxuries that she’s never given much thought because they seemed so out of reach have suddenly become possibilities to consider.
Chris, with his uncanny ability to sense her inner turmoil, gives a knowing smile.
“I know you're scared,” he says, and Firis wonders if he might be, too. “We’ll figure it out, okay? For now, I’m just happy we’re here. We get to have this.”
Firis silently curses their circumstances for what must be the millionth time. What an awful thing it will be to someday lose this. Their earlier intimacy reflected the rush she feels to make up for lost time, for time they won't have in the future.
But Chris is right. They're here. Not just here in her quarters or on Enterprise, but here—together. Alive.
The thought, and the pull of Chris’s comforting gaze, is enough to disarm the ticking time bomb in her mind. If their former kisses were demanding and desperate, the one that follows—one she initiates with a palm to his cheek—is gentle and assured. Pure peace.
So why does she feel tears where they’re joined?
Not hers.
Firis pulls back. It’s the first time she’s seen Chris cry, and she's startled—not by his tears, but by his smile and his hand enveloping her own, caressing it as though she is the one that needs soothing. For as much time they’ve spent together, she thinks no sight of him has ever painted a more perfect picture of Captain Christopher Pike.
But then he’s apologizing again, and it’s nearly infuriating.
“Sorry, I’m not sure why—”
“Please. Don’t,” Firis interjects. “If I’ve ever done anything to make you think you should apologize for crying, then I’m sorry.”
Chris blinks away his last tears huffs a weary laugh. “Alright. Ceasefire on apologies. I think we’ve both wasted enough time on those.”
She doesn't protest, instead silently nodding her assent. They’ve acknowledged the weight of their new relationship. For now, at least, they can set it aside. As content as she’d be to stay secluded with him forever, there is still a starship to run, after all.
Time for things to go back to normal—as normal as they can be. What that’ll look like, they’ll just have to learn together.
“I know we just called ceasefire, but sorry,” Firis says. “I told Erica I’d check in on her again soon. Am I going to see you again tonight? Or—”
“Captain stuff,” Chris says with an apologetic smile.
“I get it,” Firis says, though she doesn't bother to hide her disappointment at what should have been an unsurprising response. “I have stuff tonight, too. The transfer request… I guess I should notify Starfleet.”
“You let me handle Starfleet,” he says, and she would be relieved if that is what she’s anxious about.
“Thank you. But I have to call Commander Bechtel, too.”
“Bechtel? What for?”
Right. It had completely slipped her mind that she owes Chris an explanation why she thought to transfer to the Farragut specifically. Not that she feels it’s anything to hide now, but the guilt that creeps up on her regardless compounds her worries.
“Back when we were helping the Republic with repairs… he told me he’ll be Farragut’s chief engineer soon. And he offered me a spot on the team.”
The look on Chris’s face is somehow, again, one of amusement.
“I distinctly remember him saying he wasn’t trying to steal my engineers. But yeah, you should handle that one,” he banters. “I can’t imagine he’d be much too pleased to hear it from me.”
Firis can’t help but laugh. “Yeah. You’re not wrong.”
Chris always seems to know what to say to make her feel better. She shows her gratitude with a parting kiss. Reluctantly, they leave her couch to split up for the day.
“You’ll let me know if he gives you any trouble?”
“I will. But he’ll understand. I hope.”
“You ain't making any sense.”
“Shane—”
“Can't say I'm surprised. Figured you were full of shit. All that crap about being a danger and needing to leave, or whatever.”
Shane holds an unamused expression while Firis stares in consternation… and then she watches his face erupt into smile lines.
“Just giving you a hard time,” he continues. “Still don't fully understand, but I ain't blind. You got a good thing goin’.”
“Yeah,” Firis says meekly.
“Just pissed at myself, I guess. Really thought I was about to steal you from Enterprise.”
“You and me both,” Firis admits. “For what’s worth… I really am sorry.”
Shane clears his throat. “Yeah, well. We had our fun,” he says with some measure of melancholic resignation.
That word for the second time today: fun.
Fun, sure, if they're ignoring how supportive he’s been during some of the hardest times of her life and how she’s only troubled him in return.
Fun? Shane must be using the word to put up a front, eagerly dodging a topic that requires him to be sensitive. Or maybe she’s being unfair to him, and he means to spare her from the pain of knowing how he truly feels.
Whatever the reason, she’d be cruel to force further discussion on it now. She’s always been the one to be too sensitive, while lingering on emotions has never been his style. She could really take a page from his playbook—
Or not. There's got to be a healthier balance in between. She’ll have to ask Chris for his thoughts later—
Christ. She can’t even provide Shane the courtesy of focusing on their current conversation.
Firis switches gears, thinking about what she can do—respect his wish to keep the tone light.
“We had our fun,” Firis echoes, “but you say that like you'll never have fun ever again.”
“New title comes with some responsibilities, y’know,” Shane mutters.
“You’ll be okay, yeah? Down an engineer for a bit?” she asks, and he shrugs.
“I’ll manage. No shortage of fools around to torment.”
“You haven't even met them yet and you're already insulting them! The Farragut’s got no idea what’s coming their way.”
“They’ll be fine!” Shane laughs, rubbing the back of his head. “Never could handle the sensitive ones, though. They keep runnin’ off—”
“Eh, I turned out alright,” Firis says, and it makes Shane laugh even harder, only quieting when a snort escapes him.
“Fuck,” he huffs after taking a moment to catch his breath. “Sure. Guess you did. You’re welcome, by the way—for telling you to talk to Pike! Figured that’d get it through your thick skull.”
“It did.”
To think that she may have ended up leaving Enterprise without a word to Chris if it hadn't been for Shane… She knows she owes him a great deal of gratitude but isn't sure if she should express it with sincerity or humor.
On the other end of the call, Shane looks to be in a suddenly pensive mood as well, and Firis wonders if he could be receptive to vulnerability—that he could share with her whatever underlying hurt he harbors. For once if they would just quit dancing around things—
But then she sees him smile and the moment passes, and she reigns in her selfish impulse.
“Well. If you ever change your mind, again,” Shane says, “you know where to find me.”
He clearly intends to end the conversation on a friendly note. Firis can only hope it means he’s made his peace with all that has happened between them. On this, she really could take a page from his book.
“Try not to die,” he continues, clueless about how loaded those words are to her now.
“No promises.”
“Alright, go on. Get outta here. You look like you're about to cry and it’s freaking me out. And don’t forget—”
“Yeah, yeah. Wedding invite. I know.”
“See you around. Bechtel out.”
Firis smiles but her heart is heavy as she terminates the transmission and sets down her PADD. She should have found some consolation in the unexpectedly anticlimactic conversation but instead she feels perturbed.
If she is honest with herself, a part of her had wished for a clean—or, rather, explosive—break from being cared for more than she deserves. The sort of escape she’d also hoped for when she thought to leave Chris.
Inexplicably, Shane and Chris see something in her worth holding on to. If she’s going to measure up, she’s got to get it together and stop being such a—
Burden?
No. She and Chris have already made the mistake of going down that line of thinking. It’s time to leave it behind.
Though it is not an easy choice, they’re choosing hope now. Shane's parting words relay hope for a reunion. Chris hopes that the plans he’ll make with her will come to fruition.
Firis will choose hope, too. Hope that the wedding Shane keeps teasing her about will happen, that she’ll get to love Chris for longer than they can imagine…
Maybe they could start with that first date?