#why ELSE would he be hiding his face from everyone in sickbay? his shoulders are shaking!

[lichqueenlibrarian]

Jim!

[hailbop1701]

if you have the time can you do a comforting bones piece for me? Like reader is anxious or stressed and he makes them smile or cuddles a bit.

I want a bones cuddle 🥺💛💛💛

Cave-ins and Cuddles

Word Count: 1,608

Here's another request but this time from the amazing @lauraaan182! She requested some anxiety angst and cuddles from Bones! I hope you like it, sweetie! And I hope everyone likes it as well. Typos will be present as usual!

-H❤���

‘Wasn’t this typical,’ you thought sourly looking at your surroundings. The cave was dark and rock fragments rained down on you as the ground shook beneath your feet. You moved to try and make your way out of the cave but a pair of strong arms wrapped around your middle; the ceiling poured down around the entrance just as you were pulled away. Screaming you felt the person twist you around so they were getting the brunt of the unforgiving stones on their back. 

When the world stopped shaking, you felt the body on top of you not slacken but become dead weight. You felt like one of the fallen stones lodged itself within your stomach and your chest grew tight. The panic was seeping in, getting your teeth you gently rolled the body on top of you onto the cold cave floor. The purple flora that lined the walls gave an eerie glow, giving you a chance to see who saved you.

 “Oh that’s just great,” you gasped out your body buzzing; with shaking hands, you pressed a finger to Leonard McCoy’s neck. Letting out a hysterical laugh when you felt a steady pulse under your fingers you checked the rest of him. Setting your jaw against the anxiety, against the walls closing in, you probed the doctor’s head. “This isn’t my job you know,” you grumbled to him, wincing when your hand came back bloody. “I’m just here for the plants. Though I guess you did save my ass,” you muttered to the unconscious man. 

Sighing knowing that there is nothing you can do you fell back onto your butt and curled in on yourself. Burying your head into your knees you worked and failed to get your breathing under control. A full-blown panic attack was moments away when a low groan broke through the dark fuzzy haze, a gentle hand finds your ankle. It squeezes making you hiccup and lift your head; tears flowed down your face. The blurred outline of Doctor McCoy tried to rise from his prone position on the floor. Your hand surprisingly finds its way to the doctor’s forearm and helped him back up so he was leaning against one of the glowing cave walls. 

He took in your panicked face lines of concern and worry forming around his mouth and eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, taking the hand that rested on his shoulder. That hysterical laughed from earlier bubbled up from your throat again, 

“You’re clearly concussed and you’re asking I’m how I’m doing,” the humorless giggles put McCoy on edge. He shifted his weight biting back a wince and placed your hand on his chest over his heart. “Dalin’ I need you to breathe with me,” he ordered; your eyes widen a fraction. ‘When did I start hyperventilating again?’ the thought slipped through your mind numbly as you tried to fix your breathing again. 

“That’s it, good girl,” McCoy soothed rubbing your back, he held no judgment and his usual ire was nowhere to be found. His eyes and actions simply showed concern and determination. Before this classic “Mission gone wrong,” you had only seen the good doctor a handful of times. Physicals, the occasional illness, and when he would be casually walking down the corridor that held your botany lab. He would stop you and ask the occasional question about a recently discovered plant that held medicinal properties. At first, it confused you on why he would personally wander all the way to your lab to ask a few questions that he could’ve sent in a message; but you eventually assumed that maybe wandering down to your lab was a nice change of routine that he desperately needed. 

Once your breathing was back under control the doctor released your hand and guided you so you were sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. “Claustrophobia?” he asked simply rolling his head on the rock behind him to look at you. You looked down at your hands, wringing them together, “You noticed, huh?” the grumble has McCoy huffing a laugh. “Take one to know one sweetheart. Aviophobia,” 

You glance over at him with an eyebrow raised, “And you joined Starfleet?” the incredulous question left your unfiltered lips before you could even think about stopping it. The CMO chuckled despite your flinch, “It’s a long story darlin’ but my point being is that you’re not alone when it comes to your fears,” 

“You slipped me a drug, didn’t you?” and McCoy burst out laughing, nodding his head he held up a hypospray. “I did it when you checked out on me,” he murmured with an apologetic smile; huffing out a laugh of your own you had to admit that you did feel better. Lighter even. “Floaty,” you mumbled over a yawn, “Doctor McCoy, I have to ask, why did you follow me in here?” you asked sleepily. The man turned his head away from you a blush creeping up his neck, 

“I uh wanted to talk to you but then the ground started shakin’...” he trailed off his Georgian accent thickened in his nervousness. You cocked your head to the side curiously, the sudden movement made your head swim. “What did you want to talk about?” you asked and he cleared his throat awkwardly, 

“It can wait, I think you should get some rest,” he urged, making you sulk a little. “We have a while Doctor,” you pressed, waving a showgirl hand to the pile of boulders in front of the exit. McCoy grumbled under his breath, something about “Mother nature needing to mind her own business,” 

He sighed and ran a hand down his face, he looked as if he were trying to find the confidence and the words. “I uh wanted to ask when this all over and we’re back on the ship if you’d have dinner with me,” he gritted out with a noticeable wince. Your mouth dropped open in shock, gaping like a fish you watched as McCoy’s shoulders drop at your silence. He looked away from you hoping to hide the look of pain and disappointment from his face. Your head buzzed and then it really hit you, ‘All the times he so happened to be in the area of the lab. The long conversations and questions about my plants,’ the thoughts raced through your mind and the shock faded. A blush crept over your cheeks, 

“I had no idea you...I mean I thought you were just being kind,” you whisper but he didn’t turn his head to look at you. Taking one of his hands gently turning it so you could intertwine your fingers; the doctor turned his head sharply at the action. You had always thought he was handsome, with sharp features, kind eyes, and you had always wanted to talk to him outside of work but you were too afraid to ask. The fact that he smiled openly during your chats or when he saw you gave you no indication that he liked you in that way. You simply thought he was being kind, “darlin’ do you know how far sickbay is from your lab?” he asked with a dry chuckle. The sound made your heart flutter and the blush on your cheeks became more pronounced. 

“I uh well…” you stumbled and slumped against the man in a huff. “I guess I’m mildly oblivious,” you muttered, making the man next to laugh. His laughter made you press your lips together in an effort not to join him. You failed miserably. Your own laughter bubbled out and you both sat there laughing at your expense. “The whole ship knows don’t they?” you asked facepalming and McCoy coughed awkwardly. 

“Ah yeah,” he said with a grimace, “I haven’t been as subtle as I was hopin’ “ he grumbled leaning his tender head back against the rough cave wall. You smirked and looked down at your intertwined hands, 

“I will happily have dinner with you, Doctor,” you finally said after a few long silent minutes. The CMO looked at you surprised for a moment before one of his sweet smiles appeared on his lips. He squeezed your hand chuckling to himself, “Jim’s gonna be pissed. He thought I wouldn’t ask till we got back to the ship,” 

An amused snort gracelessly came from you making McCoy’s grin widen, “Darlin’ call me Leonard,” he said pulling you closer. If it were anyone else you would have protested but a small flare of pure joy burst through you as he wrapped his free arm around your waist. Lying your head against his shoulder you groggily watched as the purple glowing flowers pulse and shiver, 

“I hope they aren’t releasing poisonous spores,” Leonard grumbled, eyeing the glowing flowers warily, you chuckled placing a calming hand on his chest over his heart. “It’s fine, I checked that as soon as I stepped in this godforsaken cave; Leonard let out another huff of laughter. You felt him rest his cheek on the top of your head, “Do you have a favorite flower sweetheart?” 

You bit your lip and played with the fingers of his free hand, “I like all types of flowers, lilies, roses, tulips, magnolias…” you trailed off and furrowed your brows at the odd sudden question. Gasping you sat up so you could turn and look at him, “Leonard McCoy you will not touch any of the flowers in my lab!” you warned in a protective growl. Leonard grinned wickedly mischief danced in his eyes; He brought a hand up and brush the stray hair from your face. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it darlin’, I was gonna steal from Sulu’s,” 

Tags:

@thottiewithashotgun

@lauraaan182

@writerdee1701

@stileslover13-blog

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Cream and Two Sugars- A McChapel fic

~~

Sickbay was quiet, something he would never say aloud due to the infamous rule of "Never say it's quiet because it soon won't be". They'd done all the physicals, the check-ups and the shots, in fact, he was quite surprised at how quickly they could get work done with a day away from emergencies and a crew that would cooperate. 

Leonard was trying to get some work done, trying being the opulent word. Christine had just come back from the labs, where she'd been working on some project just to keep up her skills from the long lost days of her scientific career. 

Her hair was up today, he could see the lack of tension in her neck. She was behind him now and whistling a tune to herself as she wrote up her findings. 

He tried to look back at his PADD to read the report but the words muddled together into the same scribbled nonsense. She stood up behind him and grabbed his mug, her perfume swirled around his head. He gulped.

"Len," She was the only one allowed to call him that. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, but without all that cream and sugar shit you put in yours," 

"I have my tastes and you have yours,"

He scoffed, "Taste's one thing, masking that taste is another,"

The mugs clicked in her hand as she placed them under the duel-stream coffee maker inset into the wall. She started to hum just as she replied, "Just because you have to consume everything as bitter as your soul, doesn't mean I do,"

With that he shot up, discarding the stylus onto his desk as he rushed across the room to her side. He heard her breath catch in her throat as his warming cologne, her floral perfume and the steaming coffee scents all mixed. 

Christine had held his interest for a few months now and he had a sneaking suspicion that she did too. He knew there was a possibility she didn't, that her heart still belonged somewhat to Spock. But now the first officer was wholeheartedly in love with the Captain he thought he might have a chance.

"I think we both know my soul ain't as bitter as my coffee," He made sure his words stroked the exposed skin of her neck.

"I don't know, there's little evidence to say otherwise," 

He feigned shock, "Little evidence, have you ever seen me being kind to a child, or one o'those ensigns barely out of the Academy. I think you'll find that I am a very considerate and gentle person-"

She started to prepare her coffee when he turned her around to look deeply in her blue eyes. They gulped in unison and smiled. Both of them knew they were being silly, all these comments and the severe lack of personal space between them.

"Well, you could've had me fooled,"

She leant in and closed her arms around his chest, taking his scent in with deep breaths. He returned her embrace but held back slightly, wanting to nuzzle and kiss her neck, rub circles into her back and hold her tight enough to never let her go. 

"Come on Leonard, show me this gentle side of yourself you're so proud of," She said.

She pulled her head back and saw him pull away when she leant in to kiss him. That fiery thrill in her stomach dissipating immediately. Had she been wrong? Maybe she'd missed the signs or let her infatuation mask reality?

"Leonard, did I read this wrong?" 

He stood a few steps away when she reached for him. His own fire turned sour, almost purple as guilt became the fuel.

"No, I-"

"No? Then why are you pushing me away? We both want this, what's stopping us?"

He didn't reply. All she got was a look of despair, a sad longing in his eyes. She'd waited for Roger to show her she was truly worthy of devotion but he couldn't. His research was his devotion, never her. Spock had caught her eye and her will but he too had a reason, although a much more valid and understandable reason, not to return her feelings. She couldn't be rejected again, not after she'd been given a whiff of Leonard's splendorous love.

"Is it Starfleet? Because I don't care about them, I've always told you that. They may have trained me as a nurse but they can't control who I share my affections with," She still got no reply. "Perhaps because you're my boss? Well we both know that you've never treated me as your subordinate, everyone is in this sickbay is equally as needed and equally as busy, that's what you always say,"

He shook his head and clenched his hands. His body tensed, he was holding himself back. 

"Then what? I know the looks we've shared mean something, the jokes and he touches. So if you're not going to do something about it then I deserve to get a reason why!"

And with that, he exploded, "Because I'm ten years your senior! I've had time to live and screw up and train and have kids and be married and get divorced and chase the possibilities and you're just getting to the good part,"

"You're getting to the part where you might start experimenting with people differently, you know what you like but you want to know how you like it. You're right in the sweet spot of having all the opportunities to get promoted and train to get whatever role you choose. None of that should include settling with a crotchety old coot who doesn't know if he's gonna stay in Starfleet or go home or go somewhere else entirely." 

He stepped into her body again and took a moment to caress her face. She shuddered under his hand, letting herself relax and close his eyes, listen to the sounds of his voice. 

"I can't offer you stability, I can't offer you a willingness to go off gallivanting to who knows where. I've felt trapped in a relationship before and I don't want you to realise when you're my age that you wasted your time on a crush that got too deep when you could've been out realising who you are,"

She held onto his hand and moved it from her face. They looked away from themselves, distracting themselves withdrawing abstract shapes on the backs of their palms. A rushing blush flooded her cheeks, and his too when she checked.

Why couldn't he accept that she wanted him? Was he that lacking in self-confidence or had someone taught him wrongly over years of disagreements?

"How do you know what I'll want in ten years? And why do you get to say what I should do in my thirties," She knocked his forehead with hers and lowered her volume so only he could hear it. "I've done my experimenting, I've had my major bad relationship and my heartbreaking unrequited love. Can't we have this?"

Their hands broke apart as she ran her hands over his chest. He was lean, not too muscular and not too thin. His scrubs were smooth over her hands as she lifted their heads and prepared their lips to kiss.

"Why can't we have this? Who told us we couldn't?"

"No one,"

Their eyes locked and everything internally stopped, dropping to the floor as her head floated just within her grasp for her to pull herself back together so she could truly enjoy this. 

"Then why don't we give it a try, Len," They chuckled lowly at the nickname. "Why don't we try?"

She closed the gap and everything snapped back into place again. Her thoughts flew out of her head. His hands drew across her waist, running through the few loose hairs falling out of her bun and holding her still with a single grip.

They broke but dove back in. She'd never had something like this before. It wasn't passionate, she didn't have the urge to rip their clothes off and truly discover each other right there in the empty sickbay. Instead, it was home. It was warm blankets and old holofilms, family recipes and days spent in bed as snow fell outside.

He hummed as she pulled away to lay her head on his shoulder and lazily stroke the creases in his undershirt. They stood breathless for a moment before she whispered.

"How about we have a proper date?"

"Sounds like a good idea, how about twenty hundred hours in the mess hall on deck eight?"

"Deck eight? But no one goes there,"

He gave her that charming smile and her stomach swooped. "Exactly, no one goes there,"

They met in the middle again and fell into a routine. Her tongue flashed against his bottom lip just as he broke off and twisted his head to plunge in again. His hands grabbed a hunk of her dress in one hand as they bent slightly and bumped into the counter.

"Ehem, doctor,"

They turned with a gasp to see the Captain and the First Officer at the door to sickbay. Jim had that goofy smile on his face and Spock simply raised an eyebrow.

"I was going to say were you listening to Uhura's announcements, but you clearly were occupied," He made a signal for Bones to follow him. "We have a possible concussion on the bridge, come along,"

Leonard gave a wave to Christine and rubbed his face a few times in a failed attempt to hide the raging red flush on his face. She merely laughed and sipped her coffee as he left sickbay.

"Captain, did you get McCoy? Chekov says he's feeling drowsy," Uhura's voice said through Jim's communicator.

"Yes, we have him now, on our way up, Lieutenant,"

"Where was he Captain, I was beginning to think my transmissions weren't going through,"

"Oh not to worry, Lieutenant, Doctor McCoy was just having a meeting with his nurse," He said with a grin just as he collapsed to the floor after tripping over Leonard's outstretched foot.

"Oh sorry Captain, did I trip you up?" He said, changing his tone from joking to serious when he added. "And how about we start acting professionally, you know, how we're meant to?"

Spock gave one of his ghosts of a smile and stated simply, "That seems like far too great of a task for you Doctor, considering how you were just acting with Nurse Chapel,"

Leonard made a mental note to add more security on his office door just as he stepped onto the bridge and caught as woozy Chekov in his arms.

So, I wrote this in one night after having a day of major McChapel feels. Also, Christine is born in 2237 in TOS? I always thought she was closer to Bones' age but I guess not. I hope you enjoyed this, tell me if you did!

[atinytokki]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐥𝐥

Chapter 3: I Love My Desire 

“I met him— Babylon— along with the rest of Eden’s crew when I ran away with them and joined their voyage east. He was the ship surgeon and cook.”

Hongjoong was seated again, finally delving into the tale of the sorcerer who was tracking them down at every turn. The officers were listening in rapt attention, save for Wooyoung who had gone off to find San.

“He was always kind and welcoming to me. He mended my clothes when I put holes in them, and then he taught me how to stitch them back together myself. The Babylon I knew at the start of that journey would never have betrayed us.”

There was a widespread shuffling from the audience. They had an idea of where this was going.

“He became interested in mystic arts when he found an old spellbook at a village market on one of our stops. No one saw a problem with his studying it, and he became quite skilled. His specialty was altering appearances, especially his own. Shapeshifting got us out of several scrapes on our way east... but gradually, he became consumed. Babylon had taken a turn for the dark arts at some point and he changed bit by bit until it was clear he wasn’t the same person anymore. And he wasn’t on our side anymore either.”

Memories played out in his mind and onto the twisting shadows on the wall. “When it was discovered that Babylon was killing crew members one by one to perform a blood ritual, Maddox and the other officers begged Eden to kill him and put an end to the slaughter. But Eden couldn’t do it. Instead he marooned Babylon with nothing but his spellbook, at his own request.”

“That’s why he’s responsible for the threat on our lives,” Mingi hummed in understanding.

Hongjoong nodded. “Somehow Babylon has taken the form of an old sorcerer, allied himself with the Navy and caught on to us. All because Eden couldn’t kill one of his own crew, one of his closest friends, no matter what he had done...”

There was a tense silence over the officers for a moment, before the question on all their minds was finally voiced.

“Would you...?”

“Don’t.” Seonghwa gave Jongho the death glare for daring to pose the question. Jongho shrugged and averted his eyes.

Hongjoong caught on anyway. “Let’s hope it doesn’t ever come to that,” he answered firmly. 

“Captain!” A voice outside was growing louder and soon the door was flung open, revealing a breathless San. “Captain, come quickly! It’s Wooyoung!”

Wasting no time, all the officers raced after the frantic surgeon as he led them back to the sickbay, where Wooyoung was unconscious on the floor. “I need help to lift him, someone—”

San was cut off by Jongho reaching past him and scooping up the motionless body himself, laying him gently on the examination table and awaiting further instruction. 

“What happened to him, San?” Seonghwa tried to catch the younger’s eye, but San was flying around the room, checking that everything else was still in order. “I don’t know, I just walked in and he was like this. I can’t seem to get him awake...” he trailed off as he found what he was looking for, a vial of smelling salts. “Hopefully this works,” he bit his lip and leaned over Wooyoung, brushing the opened vial just under his nose. 

Wooyoung shot up off the table in sudden alertness before descending into a coughing fit and allowing Jongho to push him back down.

“Wooyoung! Are you alright?”

It took a moment to identify which of the seven figures in the room was speaking to him, but Yunho entered his field of vision and repeated himself. Wooyoung opened his mouth to answer but only a hoarse grunt was produced.

He frowned and placed a hand to his neck. The skin was raw and red and Wooyoung suddenly flashed back to the arms encircling his throat, cutting off his air supply.

Again, he sat up straight and again, Jongho pushed him back down. Wooyoung gave him a frustrated glance but began to motion at his throat and the door behind the crowded officers.

“Someone was in here?” Mingi guessed along with the hand movements. “Did they strangle you?” Judging from Wooyoung’s fervent nodding, he was correct.

“But who?” Seonghwa breathed out in disbelief. “Who onboard would do such a thing?”

Wooyoung stilled and tried to think back to the fleeting memories before darkness closed in. All he could offer Seonghwa was a shake of the head.

“You don’t know?” Seonghwa turned to San, who had taken a seat and watched the proceedings with worry in his eyes. “Did you see anyone leaving?” 

“No,” San cleared his throat and finally looked up at him. “And no one was admitted to the sickbay today. There shouldn’t have been anyone in here.”

The troubled glances the other officers were sending around were lost on San as he poured Wooyoung a glass of water and offered it to him. After a few careful gulps the patient was finally able to clear his throat and croak out his account.

“I came to look for you, San, and it was dark and empty when I walked in. Someone came up behind me and, well...” Again Wooyoung rubbed his throat gingerly. “I fell unconscious.”

“He can’t have been out long,” Mingi realised, doing the math in his head. “He only left the Captain’s cabin around 15 minutes ago.”

“Check the area then, Mingi,” Hongjoong ordered. “Whoever it was may still be nearby.” Mingi nodded and made his way out. “Let’s give him some space to recover,” Yunho suggested, nudging Jongho and Yeosang out the door with him. Seonghwa and Hongjoong followed, both retreating to their living quarters, and San was the last one out with a forlorn glance at Wooyoung who lay, silent, on the examination table. 

“Don’t go.”

San stopped in his tracks and slowly turned back around. “Please,” Wooyoung croaked out. “I need to know what happened to me.”

San’s face was unreadable, but he complied, closing the door and joining Wooyoung’s side. He wouldn’t make eye contact, and the ball in Wooyoung’s stomach was growing. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know.”

“Don’t know or don’t remember?”

San’s head snapped up at Wooyoung’s uncanny question. “What do you mean by that?” He was suddenly on the defence, and Wooyoung sat up slowly, one hand extended to calm him while he advanced closer.

“I’m just asking where you were when I was attacked and what you saw when you found me.”

A dry swallow was forced down San’s throat and he almost decked Wooyoung when he felt his hand on his shoulder. “What are you so nervous about?” The whispered concern loosened San’s tongue and he finally admitted, “I don’t remember.”

Wooyoung’s breath caught in his throat. “The attacker got you too?” San was shivering now, but leaned in to Wooyoung’s touch. “I think, I-I don’t know what happened. I went to the forecastle to clear my head and then there’s just a gap in my memories... Like someone took them away from me! The next thing I remember was coming back here and finding you on the ground. I meant it, Wooyoung, really! There wasn’t anyone or anything strange!”

Despite the reeling of his own head, Wooyoung hushed San and drew him closer. 

Someone was loose on this ship, and until they were caught they would be a danger to everyone. 

...

“Mingi, don’t play dumb. You and I both know San is hiding something.”

“So, what, that means he’s aiding and abetting? Or does it mean he’s the attacker? I don’t want to throw accusations around, Yunho.”

The two were investigating all the corners and crevices of the ATEEZ for anything— and anyone— even the least bit suspicious. “Come, now, I’m not throwing anything around. It’s just awfully convenient that San happened to be out here when Wooyoung was being strangled and didn’t notice anything  out of order at all, don’t you think?” Yunho frowned and peeked between the necks of cannons on the gun deck.

“Alright, I’ll entertain this train of thought then,” Mingi halted and turned to face Yunho, his arms crossed with an air of skepticism. “Why would San attack Wooyoung? Why would San attack anyone? He’s San!”

Yunho opened his mouth and shut it again before he said anything hasty. “I’m just trying to make sense of his behaviour lately,” he finally sighed, unsure himself of where this train of thought was going. “Don’t you think it’s strange that the attacker left Wooyoung alive? His grip was enough to knock him out; he easily could’ve finished the job. That’s the real mystery here.”

Mingi shook his head, easily picking up on the sudden topic change and redirecting it. “Yunho, has something happened between you and San? Did he do something on the island... something that has to do with the demon that possessed you?”

The look Yunho gave him made his blood run cold. “I’m not even entirely sure what I saw... but he’s up to something. And I really don’t think it’s in his control anymore.”

Mingi paled at this. “Who else knows?” He lowered his voice to a near whisper and stepped closer, just in case any powder monkeys were hanging around.

“Wooyoung,” Yunho listed. “Anyone he’s told, so probably Yeosang... potentially Hongjoong-hyung... I don’t know, if I’m honest.”

Mingi wrung his hands down his face in a moment of honest weakness. “I don’t know what to do about this, but I can predict what Captain will say.”

Yunho nodded at him and finished the thought, “See if it blows over. Keep an eye on everyone. Be careful who we talk to.” 

Mingi cracked a smile at this. “You’re almost better at my job than me. I’ll mention it to Captain, from now we should investigate quietly.” The two nodded in perfect sync and moved on to the next deck.

...

The eyes were back. 

In every nightmare, and every time Hongjoong reimagined the scene of his parents’ deaths, the eyes watched him and did nothing.

He awoke with a cry after he plunged into the sea and his head made contact with something, like it always did. Red strands of hair stuck up in every direction, and he rubbed tear tracks off his face until he met eyes with Seonghwa.

Both of them almost jumped out of their skin, equally surprised to see another pair of eyes on them in the darkness. 

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong mumbled, still frozen in place. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Seonghwa’s stare didn’t reveal his state of mind, but something about it was very disarming despite coming straight out of a nightmare where it was the eyes on Hongjoong that drove him mad. 

“Nothing to apologise for,” Seonghwa finally said, tugging the blanket on him closer. His gaze persisted, and Hongjoong wasn’t sure if he was seeing concern or some kind of fascination. “If you’d like to talk about it—”

“I don’t need to talk about it,” Hongjoong cut him off and instantly regretted it. “I mean, it’s alright. Just go back to sleep.” 

“Is it Eden?”

Hongjoong was mid-movement, trying to roll over so that he wasn’t facing the elder boy but froze again and peered over at him. Seonghwa simply looked back, expectant.

“No, I-I don’t know what it is.” Hongjoong knew Seonghwa had something to say, so he let the silence fill space in time. Both just sitting and waiting.

Instead, Seonghwa stood from his bed and went to pull something out of a drawer in the desk. Crossing to Hongjoong, he opened his hand to show him the trinket resting in his palm.

The compass from the treasure.

“It’s been pointing south ever since you altered course,” Seonghwa explained. “For some reason instead of following it, it follows us. Tell me, Hongjoong. Why are we going south?”

Hongjoong swallowed and bowed his head. “I know I promised to bring you to the mainland, and I’m going to keep that promise. But we need to stop Babylon, because he will keep causing trouble for us until we do. We can find an island to hide at in the southern archipelago, and we can lure him in.”

Seonghwa scanned Hongjoong up and down before giving up and sitting on the edge of his bed. “I can’t tell if you want me to go or stay, I’ll admit.”

This conversation again.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Hongjoong insisted. “This is your chance to go home, that’s your decision, Seonghwa. Whichever choice you make, I’ll agree to.”

“Then why are you still pushing for finding Eden, Hongjoong?”

Finally Seonghwa’s voice raised past a whisper. “Be honest with me. Be honest with yourself.”

“We need him to stop Babylon—”

“What makes you think he will be able to go through with it the second time around?”

“He never makes the same mistake twice.”

“What makes you think he’ll even show up at all?”

Hongjoong had to stop the urge to grind his teeth together. “If there’s one regret I know he has, it’s Babylon. We all knew he’d be back to haunt us one day, and now he’s here. Eden won’t fail us again.”

“This is twice he’s failed you now, don’t you think—”

“You didn’t know him, Seonghwa.” Exasperated, Hongjoong threw the covers off and shoved his feet into his shoes. “If the compass points south then we must be on the right course.”

Seonghwa stood to stop him but he strode to the door as if to leave the conversation when he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

“The compass hand followed us south...”

Seonghwa heard the realisation from Hongjoong and looked down at the compass in his hand until it hit him too.

“Babylon isn’t the only one following us!” 

Hongjoong had turned back around, mood completely changed and previous argument flung out the window. “Eden is too!”

He approached the bed again to get another look at the compass in Seonghwa’s hand. “The compass must be pointing to him. It is his after all, that would make the most sense, wouldn’t it?”

Seonghwa was loathe to admit it but he had to agree it made the most sense. “Yes,” he conceded. “It does seem Eden is following us. But we need to be ready for Babylon nonetheless— if he couldn’t kill him then, there’s no guarantee he’ll kill him now.”

Hongjoong could agree on that much, and pulled his shoes back off, releasing the tension he hadn’t realised was building up in his body. The air was clearer now, and his eyelids were heavy again. He sunk back into the covers and lay back, ready for sleep but not for the nightmares.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your dream?” Seonghwa said, quieter this time, and from his position at the foot of Hongjoong’s bed. Hongjoong felt bad for being upset with Seonghwa, but the older boy had an astounding ability to get inside his head and voice his own doubts. 

“It’s just a memory, not a real dream,” he admitted in a quiet voice. Perhaps saying out loud would make it go away. “Except...”

“Except what?”

“If I tell you, it becomes your burden too.”

Seonghwa sat on the side of the bed, mindful of his proximity but eager to open Hongjoong up, stumbling blocks of stubbornness cast to the side. “I don’t care, tell me anyway.”

“It’s just the night my parents died, playing over and over, but there’s something out of place,” Hongjoong finally said. “A pair of eyes watching me as I become separated from them. They’re always there now, someone watching and doing nothing.”

Seonghwa sat back. It would explain Hongjoong’s reaction at seeing his own eyes on him when he awoke. Truthfully, Seonghwa had witnessed many a nightmare since moving in, and he always watched from the side, too frightened to say anything.  It was time to change that. 

“It might not make sense to you now, but I’m sure it will become clear with time,” he offered. “And besides, it can’t hurt you. It’s just a dream.” 

“Thanks, mother,” Hongjoong teased, settling back against his pillows.

“Why don’t I make you some tea or something, too?” Seonghwa returned, only half joking.

“No, no,” Hongjoong’s smile was back. “Not necessary. I’ll let you get to sleep now.” Seonghwa shook his head and returned to his own bed, turning the compass over in his fingers a few times. 

They’d find out what all this meant soon enough.

“Goodnight Hongjoong.”

“Goodnight Seonghwa.”

...

Jongho spied the speck of green on the horizon a few hours after the sun came up and reported it first thing. 

“Is that—?”

“The island where I built the ATEEZ? Yes,” Hongjoong informed him before handing over the spyglass to their eager youngest. “Swore I’d never return and yet here we are.”

“My, my,” Yeosang chuckled. “The past is really haunting us now, isn’t it?”

The officers (save for Wooyoung and San) were all assembled at the forecastle to scope out a landing spot. The island was barely more than a strip of land with some thick vegetation in the middle of it, and if it had somehow become inhabited in the few years since Hongjoong left, it didn’t show from the outer facade. 

“When do you think our tail will catch up, Yunho?” The captain turned to their master rigger, who had been keeping an eye out from the crow’s nest (and another eye on San in their quarters). “By sunset if he keeps up at the speed he’s going. But he’ll certainly be suspicious of why we stopped here.”

“As long as he walks into the trap, it doesn’t matter what he thinks,” Yeosang put in, wrestling the spyglass off of Jongho. The youngest pouted at him and turned to Hongjoong. “All the men are armed and ready. We can camouflage ourselves as well, if need be.”

“I’d prefer us to have to cover of nightfall,” Hongjoong sighed. It would be a much more effective trap if they were afforded that advantage. “Have you taken the gun teams as well?”

“No need,” a voice chimed in from behind them. It was Wooyoung, with San trailing behind. “I’m ready to fight.”

“Are you sure?” Seonghwa went to his side to check the bruises that had formed around his neck. “You might have to join physical combat if it gets bad.”

Wooyoung nodded fervently. “I’d never run from a battle. Especially not one the rest of you are fighting in.” He glanced at Yeosang, who nodded in approval. It would take more than a minor injury to keep him from staying by his side like he’d promised.

“If you’re sure,” Hongjoong tilted his head reluctantly. “Then we’d be glad to have you back. There’s work to do bringing the cannons to shore and preparing for the ambush.”

Wooyoung nodded and hurried to the gun deck. It was time to whip his crew back into shape.

By noon, the ATEEZ had landed and unloaded, following their captain as he showed them the best place to set up camp. The foliage was thick and good for concealing cannons and the pirates themselves, but there wasn’t much of an incline to angle their shots from. It would depend almost entirely on the element of surprise. 

All the officers and all the men set up for the fight, save one mate to remain with the ship. Wooyoung could see Yeosang’s hands shaking around the handle of his cutlass and gave him an encouraging shoulder squeeze. This wouldn’t be an easy hit and run merchant ship raid; it was Babylon.

He was unrelenting and hot on their heels. And he was coming for blood. 

“Has it changed since you were here?” Mingi remarked casually in Hongjoong’s direction, cleaning the inside of his blunderbuss and instructing Seonghwa on how to clean his. “Not a bit,” Hongjoong murmured back. “Though I hope there aren’t any more coastal jaguars.”

San’s eyes widened at this and he sent a wary glance towards the thicker jungle beyond them.

Luckily they didn’t need to kill a jaguar for their dinner, as Seonghwa had brought enough rations for all the men to share and they ate in shifts, always at least one pair of eyes on the horizon. They were prepared for the enemy to come at any time, though they desperately willed for the sun to go down and provide them with cover. 

Wooyoung clutched his gun closer to his chest. It was the waiting that tore him apart inside. Staring at the horizon until his eyes watered and he remembered to blink. Wondering how long the fight would last and how many they would lose on both sides. There were questionable motives all around, and uneasiness between the officers was running rampant, but for a moment there was a sense of unity in dread.

Once the sun began to set, the call went up from Yunho.

“He’s here.”

...

Taglist: @nightynightnyx @yunhopuff @celestial-yunho @theinvisablessed

A/N: Oof... it’s getting obvious that I prefer writing one on one dialogue lol. I know it’s later than I said it would be.. that’s because I didn’t like the entire middle section and rewrote it lol. Wish me luck in the 5 exams, paper, and performance that I have to do in the week and a half 😭 I literally read comments to motivate myself to write so please leave them if you want more of this and soon!!

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Try, Try Again (pt. 7)

(Cpt 1) | (Cpt 2) | (Cpt 3) | (Cpt 4) | (Cpt 5) | (Cpt 6) ||  (AO3) Just to preface, this chapter will include some OC characters. If you’d like, you can see art of them here.  Chapter 7 (3518 words)

Emmet was crouched down, his eyes just barely peeking over the edge of the windowsill. Outside, past the thick, cold glass and a long stretch of the glastroid’s sheer surface, a second ship rested at an awkward angle. 

The ship was probably white under all the dust, with long fuchsia fins and blue domed windows. In random places across its surface, faded stickers had begun peeling away from the hull. More interesting than its physical appearance however, was the fact that it appeared to be utterly and completely dead. 

There were no lights or movement that Emmet could see, and Trinity’s readout when they initially landed had confirmed that the ship was, for all intents and purposes, inactive. 

Of course, that didn’t mean that Emmet was any less afraid of the thing. 

Watching the ship from his hiding spot, he tried desperately to push his fears to the back of his mind. He was a starship captain now. He was supposed to be tough now. And yet, here he was, cowering from a long abandoned ship. 

He wasn’t especially afraid that the aliens might hurt him. He had, after all, been living in Apocalypseburg for years now and, even before that, there had been the events of Taco Tuesday. Threats of physical harm weren’t particularly alarming to him anymore. 

What Emmet was afraid of, truly afraid of, was that he’d do the wrong thing. That he’d let his little team down, and then they’d look at him with that same pitying stare as the others, and it would prove that everyone had been right about him all along. 

Logically, he knew that he shouldn’t be this worried, that his successful landing the day before should serve as proof of his abilities. But the fear still sat low in his gut, lurking like a shape under the water, whispering up at him that he just hadn’t let everyone down yet. 

He tried to push the feeling away, tried to cover it up by imagining for the hundredth time how his return to Apocalypseburg would pan out. The swelling music, the applause of the raptor crew, the faces of his friends turning to joy as they realized that Emmet was back and, more importantly, that he was better. Things would finally be like they had been before, in that one shining moment left in the wake of Taco Tuesday. The moment when people had called him a hero. 

The way his chest clenched at the thought was stronger than any fear. 

“CAPTAIN!” A shrill voice rang out from behind him, causing Emmet to jolt in surprise. Turning, he could see the silhouette of a raptor approaching. 

“CAPTAIN,” Tiberius repeated herself solemnly. “WE NEED YOU… ON THE BRIDGE.”

“Oh, uh,” Emmet leapt to his feet. “Of course!” Hastily pasting a cheery grin across his cheeks, he trotted off after Tiberius. 

Upon entering the bridge, Emmet could tell that the little crew had been hard at work. Hawkeye was still in the sickbay, preoccupied with taking care of The Other One, but the other three had clearly been prepping for a while. Hovering in front of the main windshield was a detailed holographic image of the enemy ship. Little arrows and snippets of text rotated around the display, highlighting various details and areas of the ship.  

Emmet gawked at the floating image momentarily, before Trinity drew his attention back to the moment.

“CAPTAIN,” she screeched, “WE HAVE SUCCESSFULLY LOCATED A WEAKNESS IN THE ENEMY BASE.” 

With a long tapered claw, she gestured towards a massive, complicated machine that seemed to occupy the majority of the ship’s interior. “THIS IS THEIR CENTRAL ENGINE.” She turned back to Emmet. “WHEN YOU DESTROY IT, THE SHIP WILL BE RENDERED COMPLETELY NONFUNCTIONAL.” 

“I- Destroy it?” Emmet paled. “Couldn’t Snake do that part? Not- uh, not that I couldn’t, but I’m pretty sure she’s got like, three bombs on her right now.”

“YOU’RE RIGHT,” Snake hissed, “BUT UNFORTUNATELY, THIS IS A REQUIRED PART OF THE SEMINAR.”

“So what,” Emmet asked hesitantly. “You’ll just… loan me a bomb?”

“NO.” Snake stepped closer. “YOU HAVE TO BREAK IT YOURSELF. YOU HAVE TO BECOME A MASTER BREAKER.”

“A… Master Breaker?”

“LIKE REX.” Trinity explained. “A MASTER BREAKER IS SOMEONE WHO CAN REDUCE ANY STRUCTURE TO ITS CONSTITUENT COMPONENTS WITH A SINGLE BLOW.”

Emmet stared at her blankly.

“THEY BREAK STUFF WITH PUNCHING,” she sighed.

“And… you think I can do that?” His voice grew small. 

Tiberius smiled down at him, as friendly as a velociraptor was capable of. “WE KNOW… YOU CAN.”

*******************

“So uh,” Emmet whispered, shivering despite the thick fabric of his spacesuit. “Why do we have to go so far just to practice?”

Snake twisted her long neck to face him. “MASTER BREAKING IS NOT EXACTLY SUBTLE. IT WOULD NOT DO WELL TO ALERT THE ENEMY TO OUR PRESENCE.” 

“Makes sense,” Emmet muttered, glancing once again over his shoulder towards the distant pair of ships. “What, um,” his voice faltered. “What do we do now?”

Trinity clicked a button on her belt and a translucent screen flickered to life in front of her. Emmet couldn’t see the screen clearly, but it appeared to be covered in writing. Messy writing, he guessed, by the way Trinity squinted and cocked her head in confusion. 

After a moment, she turned to face him. “YOU HAVE TO THINK ABOUT SOMETHING THAT MAKES YOU MAD.”

“What… makes me mad?” Emmet repeated, dumbfounded. Suddenly feeling very much like he was taking an unannounced pop quiz, he glanced around at the other raptors, as if one of them might somehow give him the answer. 

“WHAT MAKES YOU MAD?” Trinity repeated herself, her eyes bearing down towards him.

“I- I don’t,” Emmet stammered. “I don’t know. I’m uh, actually pretty easy-going.”

Trinity’s eyes narrowed. “IF YOU WANT THIS TO WORK,” she screeched, “YOU NEED TO BE HONEST WITH YOURSELF.” 

He stared back mutely, his throat feeling abruptly like it belonged to someone else.

“WHAT MAKES YOU MAD, EMMET?”

Unbidden, images of Apocalypseburg flashed through his head. Thoughts of people dismissing him or ignoring him played over and over in his mind’s eye. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but he could still see them.

“I, uh, maybe when people d- don’t use their blinkers?” He tried desperately. “Or- or when I forget about my coffee and it gets cold?”

Trinity simply shook her head.

WHAT

He thought about President Business, about how the man that was supposed to be in charge, supposed to care about them, had just left them behind as soon as it became inconvenient. 

MAKES

He thought about Lucy, about the edge in her voice whenever she’d remind him how he needed to grow up. He could see that dreadfully familiar look of pity in her eyes each time he failed to do so. 

YOU

He thought about his other friends: Batman, Benny, Metalbeard, Unikitty. He felt that gut-deep ache of being ignored, being left out again. 

M A D ?

“I DON’T KNOW!” Emmet hollered. Shocked at his own outburst, he quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, as if he could shove the words back in. 

Trinity and the others just looked at him with that same terrible pity as his other friends. He dropped his head, feeling the flush of embarrassment creeping into his cheeks. As the crew quietly walked back to the ship, he kept his head down, absent-mindedly watching his feet trudge along. His reflection looked back up at him from the glassy blue rocks. The slippery surface made the image of his face quiver and swim, and it was easy to pretend that it was the only reason his eyes looked so awful watery. 

The heavy silence lasted until they entered the ship, when it became glaringly obvious that something was terribly wrong. Neither Hawkeye nor The Other One were in sickbay, nor any of the other rooms that the crew frantically checked. 

“THEY’RE… GONE!” Tiberius wailed.   

“But why?” Emmet asked, trying desperately to shake himself out of his earlier funk in order to focus on the situation at hand. “Could- Could they have just gone for a walk maybe?”

“NO.” Snake hissed coldly. “THE ALIENS TOOK ADVANTAGE OF OUR ABSENCE. THEY WERE TAKEN.”

Trinity shook her head dejectedly. “WE UNDERESTIMATED THEM...”

“What- what do we do?” Emmet asked, his breath catching in his throat. 

“WE SHOULD RETREAT.” Trinity answered solemnly. “AFTER ALL, WE PINPOINTED THE LOCATION OF THE ENEMY BASE. THAT’S VALUABLE INFORMATION THAT NEEDS TO BE RETURNED TO THE REXCELSIOR.”

“You want… to leave them?” Emmet’s voice was soft with disbelief.

She met his gaze coolly. “WE AREN’T READY TO STAGE A RESCUE MISSION.”

“YOU’VE PROVEN AS MUCH,” Snake scoffed. “WE’LL JUST WAIT UNTIL REX COMES BACK.”

“No!” Emmet sputtered, his face growing hot. “W- We can’t just leave them behind! Please, I can do this. I promise!”

“CAPTAIN,” Tiberius hissed softly, crouching down to his level. “IT’S ALRIGHT. A RESCUE MISSION… WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE A PART… OF THE SEMINAR.”

“Okay,” he countered. “But learning how to take control of a situation and lead a team is part of the seminar, right?”

The raptors nodded hesitantly. 

“So,” Emmet continued before he could change his mind. “How about I take control of this situation and lead this team on a rescue mission?”

Quickly, the raptors exchanged a few, fleeting glances with each other.

“ALRIGHT THEN,” they said, looking back towards Emmet. “WHAT’S THE PLAN, CAPTAIN?”

*******************

Vents… are not fun to crawl through, Movies lie. Emmet was more disappointed than he would have admitted. He didn’t feel like a cool action hero at all. Mostly, he felt cramped and sweaty. 

“ARE YOU NEARLY THERE?” Snake’s voice crackled through the speaker of his walkie-talkie. Emmet grunted as he struggled to pull the device towards his face. 

“Uh, ye-urgh, yeah!” His voice echoed in the narrow duct. “Yeah, I’m like, probably a hundred feet out?” He guessed, trying to visualize the map from earlier in his head. 

“ROGER THAT.” Snake’s voice vanished into the hiss of white noise, which sputtered momentarily before Emmet could click the radio back into place on his belt. 

With a grunt, he pulled himself back up onto his elbows, the metal groaning underneath him. Emmet paused for a second, but it was too late. With a slow, ear-splitting squeal, the bottom of the duct fell away, depositing him rather unceremoniously onto the cold floor below. 

Emmet yelped as he hit the floor, a jolt of pain shooting up his spine. 

Behind him, another voice yelped too. 

In a panic, Emmet leapt to his feet, spinning about to face… someone he absolutely did not recognize. 

The figure in front of him was seated in a tall, high-tech chair, illuminated on all sides by walls of dimly glowing monitors, each displaying seemingly random strings of garbled text. With a motorized whirr, the figure’s chair spun about and the monitors flicked off simultaneously, dropping the room into darkness. 

Emmet blinked frantically, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. For a moment, all he could see was a pair of glowing green eyes, growing steadily closer. 

“HELLO.” A grating, metallic voice crackled from somewhere in front of him. “WHO ARE YOU?”

“I, uh,” Emmet stumbled backwards, groping around his belt for the suit’s emergency light. “I- my name’s Emmet...”

His light clicked on, catching the mysterious figure in an impromptu spotlight. The yellow beam glinted off of their dark armor, accented with all kinds of buttons and bands that gently pulsed an acidic green color. 

Their eyes narrowed from the sudden brightness, but didn’t waver from Emmet’s direction. They stared at him from behind a thick metal mask, a helmet split down the middle by some sort of intricate, hissing valve. As the figure continued to stride closer, closing the gap between them, a long purple cape swirled around their feet. 

“I DO NOT RECOGNIZE THAT NAME.” The masked figure studied him intensely, their head cocked to one side in confusion. “ARE YOU… FROM BRICKSBURG?”

“Um,” Emmet choked out a response. “A- Actually we’re calling it Apocalypseburg now...”

“I SEE.” The figure’s helmet wheezed. They were directly in front of Emmet now, and he had to look down slightly to meet their gaze. “HOW VERY CONSIDERATE. WE WERE, OF COURSE, PLANNING ON VISITING EVENTUALLY, BUT IT IS AWFULLY KIND OF ‘ALPACA-LIPS-BURG’ TO COME TO USE INSTEAD.”

“And who, uh,” Emmet forced himself to ask. “Who are you exactly?”

The figure’s face was obscured, but Emmet could hear the smile in their words. “I AM MAJOR CATASTROPHE. I AM THE CAPTAIN OF THE S.S. GEMINI.”

“The… Gemini? You mean this ship?”

“OF COURSE.” Catastrophe reached up with a metallic claw, grasping the “R” shaped patch on Emmet’s suit. “AND YOU ARE THE CAPTAIN OF THE REX-EXPLORER, ARE YOU NOT?” 

His mouth dropped. “How did you-”

“YOUR CREWMATES TOLD ME, SILLY BILLY.” The claw retracted. “YOU WILL BE HAPPY TO KNOW THAT THE INJURED ONE IS FEELING MUCH BETTER. MUCH HAPPIER.” 

“Oh, that- that’s good.” Taken by surprise, Emmet couldn’t help but feel relieved before the reality of the situation came crashing back. “Wait, no! Not good!”

“NOT? GOOD?”

“You kidnapped her! You kidnapped both of them!” Emmet pointed an accusing finger down at the Major. “And you need to give them back right now!”

Catastrophe laughed. It was a weird sort of metallic wheezing, like a squeaky radiator that someone’s father had been promising to fix for years now. 

“I- ” Emmet froze, his anger dissipating in the face of Catastrophe’s clear disregard. “I’m not joking…”

Clapping him over the shoulder with a gloved hand, Catastrophe started pulling him towards the doorway at the end of the room. “THEY WILL BE STAYING. YOU ARE, OF COURSE, MOST WELCOME TO STAY HERE AS WELL, EMMA.”

“It’s Emmet-”

“I WILL HAVE NOVEL COME FETCH YOU,” the Major continued, oblivious to Emmet’s interjection. 

“Wh- Novel?” He stammered, trying futilely to pull himself out of Catastrophe’s literal iron grip. “Is that a person? Who is that?”

“SHE IS THE PILOT.” Catastrophe raised a claw to press one of the gleaming green insets in his armor. “I AM CALLING HER NOW. SHE WILL TAKE CARE OF YOU UNTIL THE TOUR CAN BEGIN.”

“What...” Emmet looked at the strange figure. “And what will you be doing?”

They laughed again. “I WILL GO COLLECT THE REST OF YOUR CREW, OF COURSE. WE CAN’T HAVE THE SHOW WITHOUT EVERYONE PRESENT. GOODBYE, ELLIOT.”

Emmet’s heart leapt in his throat. “W-w-wait!” Before he could interrupt however, the Major shoved him out into the hall, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. 

For a moment, Emmet just stared at the doorway. As if in a trance, he reached for his walkie-talkie. In slow-motion, he raised it up to his mouth. But, upon clicking the button, the radio stayed frustratingly silent. It was dead. It was rather narratively convenient. 

“Hey.” A voice shook him out of his thoughts. Turning a bit to look down the hall, he spotted a tall woman approaching him. Her suit was a much lighter purple than Catastrophe’s, and her face was unobscured. She had a short copper-colored ponytail, disinterested amber eyes, and warm brown skin that creased into well-worn divots at the corners of her frown. 

She stopped next to Emmet, staring down at him impassively. “Are you gonna bite me?”

“What?”

“Are you. Going to. Bite me?” She repeated in a clearly exasperated tone. 

“I, uh, wasn’t planning to?”

“Good,” she continued dryly. “Maybe you could convince some of your crewmates to think the same way.”

“Yeah, sure.” Emmet nodded, still stupefied. 

“So,” she gestured for him to follow. “I’ll show you to your room then.”

 “I- ” His voice trailed off. He was rapidly losing any semblance of control over this situation, and the panicked voice in the back of his head was growing ever louder. A part of him wanted to make a break for it - take off down the hall, try and find his crewmates, and then sneak back to the Rex-plorer together. 

But… he knew that plan had a very low probability of working. The wisest choice was to go along with the aliens for now, giving himself a chance to regain his bearings, learn more about his enemies, and allow himself time to think of a plan. 

“Ok,” he finally agreed, and began to trail after her, albeit at a distance. 

She shrugged and set off down the long, cold hallway. 

They walked in silence for a while, the tension growing until Emmet couldn’t stand it any longer.

“So,” he croaked awkwardly, before quickly covering up the sound with a cough to clear his throat. “You, uh, you’re Novel, right?”

“Oh my god.” She seethed, her expression swiftly transforming into one of smoldering rage. “My name is NOVA. That robotic dingus just can’t ever seem to get it right.”

Emmet couldn’t help but chuckle. “I guess I shouldn’t wait for them to get mine right then either?”

Nova shook her head. “Sometimes I’m surprised they can even remember their own name.”

“So, uh,” he paused for a second to wrangle his expression into something more cavalier. “What exactly do you guys do here?”

“What do we… do?” Nova looked at him blankly.

“Yeah, I- um, the creepy robo-dude said you were a pilot?”

Nova sighed. “Yeah, technically.”

“How does someone ‘technically’ pilot?” Emmet asked, genuine interest seeping through his bravado. 

Stopping abruptly, Nova turned slightly to face him.

“I… We...” She paused again, her expression shifting as she thought, the crease between her eyebrows growing deeper.

“The Gemini is… non-operational. It has been for a while.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m a pilot on a ship that doesn’t work, a ship that literally doesn’t even have the power to turn on the lights half of the time, much less fly.” 

“So,” she turned back around with a sharp shrug. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself a pilot anymore given all I ever do is clean the place up, wander around aimlessly, and occasionally try to beat the Major’s score at Meteor Blasters.” 

“Oh,” Emmet breathed. “I’m sorry.”

There was a beat of awkward silence before Emmet once again remembered where he was.

“Wait,” he snapped. “No, I’m not. You guys are like, evil aliens!”

“Uh,” Nova stared at him blankly over her shoulder. “No? I mean, we are aliens sure, but like, the Gemini is a diplomatic vessel.”

Emmet scoffed.

Nova’s eyes narrowed. “Seriously dude, I don’t think this thing even has weapons on it.” 

“Uh,” Emmet frowned. “I’m like 80% sure that other guy had laser eyes.”

“No, he’s just thinks it’s neat to make them glow.”

“But...” his voice stumbled out. “Then what’s the deal with you guys? Why are you out here? Why were you trying to get to Bricks- Apocalypseburg, I mean.”

“Well,” Nova sighed. “It all started about three years ago...”

[werewolves-are-real]

Hello! if it isn't too much to ask, can you share a short snippet of whatever you're currently working on? I am particularly fond of your Temeraire fic, but anything would be good - I am enjoying your latest immensely, although Star Trek is not my fandom.

:) Thank you! It’s always nice to hear people enjoy the writing.

I’m having a lot of fun writing more Star Trek - it’s nice to write something different. It seems like I only talk about Temeraire these days, ha, so I included excerpts from a Temeraire fic *and* a Star Trek fic below

The Temeraire snippet is from a fic where things... escalate at the start of book 2, The Star Trek fic is from an old, old WIP I never posted, where I wanted to address the way the crew (and especially McCoy) tend to criticize Spock’s heritage. It’s old and.. not so great, but I like pieces of it, so I’m considering rewriting it (once I’m done with other fics, hopefully)

(Temeraire)

Laurencewakens slowly after the battle. The last thing he remembers is thefighting; Temeraire was flying, the boarders had been repelled, andthen a Petit Chevalier was falling upon them...

“Sir,”says Mr. Allen. “Are you awake? Do not try to rise, please.”

Ignoringthis, Laurence levers himself up with an elbow. He looks around;Digby and Allen are crouched around him, each holding a hand over thehilts of their swords. The three of them are behind the bend ofTemeraire's leg, and in the distance Laurence can hear an argument.

“Iswear to you,” Admiral Barham's voice rings out, “If CaptainLaurence resists we will use force...”

“Goodgod, man, shut up,” Granby snaps. Laurence winces in mortification;the lieutenant will get himself booted from the service, using thatkind of language against an admiral. “Captain Laurence is injured,and you must wait to see him.”

ButBarham's threat has already roused Temeraire. Above them theCelestial lowers his head, snarling. His ruff is blood-streaked andgory from the battle; with his teeth bared he looks savage.

Barhamroars, “You will control that beast, Lieutenant! All of you willstand down, or we will take action - “

“No,Sir,” Granby snaps. “No farther, not one damned step. Temeraire,if these men make ready you may knock them down.”

Thatis too far. Laurence struggles to his feet, ignoring Digby's objects.“Help me up,” he snaps, when Allen insists on waiting for thesurgeon. “I must speak with the admiral.'

Reluctantly,they support him from under the protective shadow of Temeraire's leg.Barham scowls tremendously as soon as he appears.

“Thereyou are,” he says. Granby looks furious. “Did you think you couldhide here like a coward? You are under arrest, and if you prevaricateany more than by god I will have the Sergeant shoot you.” Hegestures to a nearby officer, who reluctantly levels a gun inLaurence's direction, flinching under the weight of Temeraire'sgrowl. “And stand down that animal, at once!”

“Iwill not stand down,” Temeraire says. “And you are not comingnear Laurence, not at all.”

Temeraireraises a claw. At the same moment Granby makes a quick gesture.Immediately the nearest aviators jump behind Granby, forming a line.They start to raise their rifles.

Ashot rings out.

Laurenceslides to the ground, startled. Granby shouts. More gunshots.Temeraire roars – loud enough to rattle his bones – and above thetreeline, at the edge of the clearing, Maximus suddenly looms up. Hepeers over with alarm, alerted by the commotion. All over the covertother dragons rise to look their way too.

“CaptainLaurence!” Digby cries. His hands are covered in blood, and hepushes futilely at Laurence's side. Laurence stares at him, thenlooks down. His jacket is soaked and red.

Laurencerealizes that Allen is holding him by the shoulders, bearing all hisweight.

He'sbeen shot.

“Oh,hell,” Laurence says aloud, and knows nothing more.

______________________________

It'snight when Laurence awakens. He looks up at the star-studded sky,trying in vain to remember the name for the little cluster of lightsabove his head. He's lying atop Temeraire and recognizes the scalesbeneath himself without any issue; maybe this is why it takes him toolong to remember the shooting, and Barham's yells, and the screams.

Laurencetries to stand.

“Oh,there you are,” says Mr. Allen. “Please do not get up, Sir, notagain. Roland, can you tell the lieutenant he's awake?”

Emilyscuttles away. Looking around, Laurence sees that for some reasonhe's resting in a a jumble of blankets and medical-supplies atopTemeraire's back. He becomes aware of people speaking in thedistance; then they cut off, abruptly, and under him Temeraire jolts.“Laurence!” the dragon cries. “Are you well?”

“Yes,my dear,” Laurence lies. His leg is throbbing in time with hisheart, and Laurence doesn't think he could stand,even if Allen let him try; the wound in his side makes him feelqueerly like he could snap in half if he made any wrong movement.“What has happened?”

“Well,I killed that awful admiral,” Temeraire explains. “So now we areall rebelling, but everyone is arguing about how to do it, eventhough I'm not sure how anyone would fight us.”

Laurencestares at him helplessly for a moment. Then he manages to prophimself on one elbow, looking around.

Thereare other dragons crowded into Temeraire clearing; more have sweptaway the trees to combine their space with that of Maximus. There aredragons coiled atop one another, heavy-weights on the bottom withclusters of Yellow-Reapers and Longwings and Bright Coppers clingingto their backs. And in between the dragons are the crews, andservants from all over, with a group of men and women wearingcaptain's-bars standing in a semi-circle before Temeraire.

Andeveryone is craning to look at Laurence.

Laurencedoes not immediately give speech to his dawning horror; Granbyscrambles up Temeraire's side, looking profoundly relieved. There's astreak of blood across his forehead; he doesn't seem to notice. “Sir.I'm glad you're awake – should we call the surgeon?”

“Forgetthe damn doctor,” says Laurence. “What the devil happened?”

(Star Trek)

McCoy has now been aboard for fourteen days, or two Terran weeks.Spock is well aware that his own interactions with the doctor couldbe interpreted as increasingly hostile. He feels no need to censurehimself. If he cannot risk reporting the doctor or properlyreprimanding him, he at least refuses to meekly submit to the man'sslurs. He has survived worse, and he will not give this human thepleasure of victory.

To this end he continues to verbally spar with the man, but howevermuch he makes the doctor sputter and grumble the man always comesback. And however efficiently and logically Spock can cut him down,humans do not much appreciate logic. Officers who watch theirarguments continually express amusement, and this rankles worse thanthe man himself.

After one too many incidents of open disrespect that leave hisscience department highly amused at his expense, Spock resolves tofinally reprimand the irrepressible doctor when he next acts in a wayunfitting a Starfleet officer. Public humiliation is never pleasant,but he is long past the point of having to tolerate racism. McCoyshows every sign of staying aboard for a long while, and Spock willnot let this situation continue.

Then the captain develops Vegan Choriomeningitis.

There is little warning when it happens. The bridge is quiet andcalm, officers moving with easy efficiency. It's only the second hourafter the shift's beginning - late enough for the officers to haveproperly woken, and early enough that everyone is still energized.Except, unusually enough, for the captain.

Spock notices the captain's blinking eyes and the quick, painedgestures he makes to his head. A headache, obviously, but these arefairly frequent among humans. Not a matter of much concern, howeverunpleasant. The captain seems tired as well, but he assumes this is aside-effect.

When Yeoman Tracey hands the captain a requisitions form, though,the man just seems puzzled. Instead of skimming and signing thedocument, he stares at it blankly for some two minutes, Traceystanding awkwardly by his side.

No one else seems to notice, but Spock keeps his attention on theentirety of the bridge. So he hears Tracey hesitantly ask, “Issomething the matter, Sir?” and turns just in time to see thecaptain crumple to the floor.

“Send for a medical team,” Spock snaps efficiently before Uhuracan even turn to see the source of the noise. Jumping, she quicklycomplies.

Spockwaves off the frantic yeoman impatiently, checking the captain'scondition with quick, careful fingers. His skin is significantlyhotter than normal for a human - 39ºC (102.2ºF)- but he seems not to have injured his head in the fall, which isgood. The man's pulse is a rapid flutter, but weak. Spock tilts hishead. The captain must have realized he was sick, and ignored it, tohave come to this state. Illogical.

The door slides open, and in a whiskof blue uniforms and terse orders McCoy takes Kirk straight toSickbay.

______________________________

The whole ship gains a certain tensionwhen the captain is in sickbay. Spock also finds, unpleasantly, thatmore eyes watch him. People want assurance that they are underadequate leadership. Spock wonders if people are comforted by hisdirection. He doubts it.

When the immediate crisis will likelybe over, and the doctor thus free to speak, Spock hands the con toSulu and makes for the infirmary.

“Took you long enough,” McCoysnaps at the sight of him.

Spock doesn't bother with a rebuttal.“Report on the captain's condition.”

Face darkening, a scowl on his face,McCoy complies. “It's not good. Vegan Choriomeningitis. Damn thinghas a high enough fatality rate as is, and Jim, the idiot, has let itgo on much longer than advisable.”

Spock nods. “To my understanding,Vegan choriomeningitis is fatal if left untreated within 24 hours.”

“I can't tell when he picked it up -the incubation period is unpredictable. All we can do at this pointis treat him and hope for the best.”

Spock considers the situation, andsays honestly, “Given the captain's nature, it is quite possible hehas been suffering for far longer than twenty-four hours. Death islikely.”

From what he knows of the captain'snature this is true. Indeed, had Kirk not collapsed on the bridge helikely would have struggled through the entire shift, though Spockknows that this particular disease causes extreme pain in the musclesand extremities. He is an admirably determined man - but, in thiscase, sadly misguided. His death will be... truly regrettable.

But McCoy seems suddenly angry.

“Damn it, man, do have a heart atall?” He bursts.

Spock blinks, wondering at thenon-sequitur. “I fail to see how my physiology is relevant to thepresent situation,” he says, honestly puzzled.  McCoy's sole focusshould be on the captain.

The doctor seems, if anything, evenmore furious. “I'm not in the mood for your damn logic, and I don'tknow what Jim sees in you. A computer has more feelings than aVulcan!”

This being said, McCoy dramaticallystomps into his office, leaving Spock blinking and perplexed in themain portion of Sickbay.

So, with little else to do, Spockleaves.

_______________________________

Later, this is what Spock learns;

Kirk goes into a critical state. Hisbody starts to overheat from the disease, and inflammation to thebrain causes him to have a seizure. After he is stabilized, McCoythrows caution to the wind and tries an experimental drug regimen -dangerous, untried, and wholly inadvisable by every tenet of logic.

It also works.

Quickly, asa matter of fact. The nurses and some biologists talk about theincredible benefit this will bring to the medical community; everyoneelse is just glad to hear that the captain is awake and talking lessthan a day after his collapse.

He is, of course,also tired. Spock assesses the captain's condition when he visits himin Sickbay. Kirk seems to have grown more pale during his shortillness. His face shines with sweat, his hair limp and lifeless. Hismovements are slow and fatigued, made only with great effort. But heseems relieved.

“It was close.And not a pleasant experience.”

“As you nearlydied, I would not expect it to be.”

Kirk smilesweakly. “Oh, not just the pain. Though that wasn't fun. I gotdelirious at the end.”

“That is acommon symptom of the disease,” Spock consoles.

“Whichisn't much of a comfort when you've rambled out all your secrets.”Kirk gives an embarrassed laugh. “I'm just glad it wasBones,” he says. “I trust him, you know? The things I said...”He shakes his head. “Anyway, he said to stop by sickbayimmediately, in the future,if I'm feeling off. What a pain; do you know how often this job givesme a headache?” He shakes his head. “But, I can deal with it forBones. Only for him! I'm not typically a fan of doctors - I'm glad Iconvinced him to come aboard.”

“It is indeedfortunate,” Spock murmurs, trying not to imagine this man dead.

Soon afterwardKirk drifts into sleep. And Spock, reluctantly, resigns himself totolerating Leonard McCoy for so long as he can safeguard thecaptain's health.

[alliemack30]

Ope another scribbled fic for ya 😝😝😝

Background/Inspiration: That moment when Tilly accidentally tells Culber that there have been horrendous side effects to Stamets’s jumps was so quick, but I kept thinking about that look Stamets shot her as he turned to get into the chamber. He looks so angry with her for blabbing, but also so hurt—he isn’t a dude that seems to trust people easily, and in this moment Tilly has revealed a VERY big (if not the biggest) secret of his to the ONE person that they were keeping it from. He hadn’t even been keen on her helping him (or even admitting there was a problem) in the first place, and I was curious as to how everything shook out between them after that moment. Takes place after that moment, but before he goes back in at the end of the episode and everything falls to shit.

((((Also—I really enjoy writing from Tilly’s perspective. She’s awkward, but intelligent. She’s shown she is willing to put herself in uncomfortable situations if she knows something needs to be done (like apologizing to Michael for lying about the assigned computers in the early episodes, and letting Paul glare and snap at her when she confronted him about the side effects), but she still maintains that awkward, gentle air while she does it. She is honestly one of the most relatable characters in all of Star Trek and I love her. )))

—————-

 Stamets all but collapsed into Dr. Culber’s arms as soon as he let go of the chamber doorway. Tilly quickly rushed over to help, supporting his weight and helping him steady himself against the doctor’s side. 

Beside them, the bio read out screen flashed red. 

Culber worked the cuff off of Stamets’s arm, carefully sliding it over the cybernetic implant on his forearm before dropping it to the floor. The scientist’s head lolled heavily, resting with a soft thud against the Doctor’s shoulder.

“Paul.” Culber put a hand to his face, forcing it gently upwards to meet his eyes. Worry and fear were evident on his face, but his voice was level. “Paul, talk to me.”

Stamets blinked blearily at him, confusion clouding his gaze.

“Who’re you?” he slurred. 

Tilly’s breath caught. Culber’s hand froze on Stamets’s face, shock widening his eyes. 

“Paul--”

The scientist ignored him, turning his head to Tilly. His eyes were glazed and unfocused. 

“The woods’re lovely, Captain,” he murmured to a spot several millimeters to her right. “Dark….and deep...” 

As if someone turned off a switch, his eyes rolled back and he sagged bonelessly against them both. His sudden dead weight nearly buckled Tilly’s knees, but Culber sprang to action, locking his arm around the scientist’s back and looping one of his lifeless arms around his shoulders. The worry on his face had tripled, if that was at all possible, but there was durasteel in his tone as called for the emergency transport to Sick Bay. 

A cacophony of voices began shouting orders, klaxons ringing warnings and the flashing of red alarms danced at the edge of her vision, but all Tilly could register at that moment was the devastation on the doctor’s face as he disappeared in the wash of the beam.

~*~*~*~

The ship had calmed considerably around her since the battle. The threat had been neutralized; the Klingon Ship of the Dead bursting apart in a fiery blaze that even the Captain hadn’t been able to tear his eyes from. Michael and Ash had returned safely to the Discovery, the former even allowing Tilly to crush her into a hug for a full five seconds before breaking away.  All was well. 

Kind of. 

She’d heard from Michael that Lieutenant Stamets was alive; she’d seen him only briefly in sickbay while Dr. Culber was repairing her injuries. He’d been in a private room, one of the few in the medbay reserved for the most severe cases, so she hadn’t been able to discern much about his condition. He hadn’t been awake. 

Tilly had tried to check on his status through the computer in her quarters, but access had been denied to everyone except for the Chief Medical Officer and the Captain. 

“Dr. Culber wouldn’t be on active duty if things were really bad,” Michael assured her, gentle hands on Tilly’s elbows to keep her steady. “It’s going to be alright.”

But Michael didn’t know about the side effects, the dizzy spells and memory loss that had been wearing down the Lieutenant with every jump. Tilly had kept that secret for weeks, silently tracking the episodes and promising not to breathe a word. And she hadn’t.

Until today, that is.

She’d seen her superior officer angry before; he was pretty much always angry when she’d first come aboard until the Tardigrade had come along; so the fury in the glare he’d shot her before he stepped into the chamber hadn’t surprised her. But she’d worked with him long enough now to have noticed the undercurrent of hurt, and she knew it had nothing to do with the side effects. He had trusted her, and she’d let him down. 

She wasn’t about to blab the secret to anyone else (was it a secret anymore, if the main person you were hiding it from already knew?), so she nodded along with Michael, injecting an optimism she did not feel into her voice as she agreed. She waited until her roommate left to check on Ash before she tried again to break past the security access on Lieutenant Stamets’s medical status, giving up after her fourth attempt locked her out of her terminal. 

~*~

It had taken two days (and 3 more lock outs on her terminal) to learn that Stamets was stable, and another day of prodding Michael to stop by sickbay to confirm that he’d been released. Tilly had made the trip at least a dozen times herself, but she’d found her feet had frozen to the deck plates each time she came within a few meters of the doors.

Michael had accompanied her to Stamets’s quarters, wanting to check in on the mycologist herself before her shift started. The two of them had waited for several minutes in front of the closed doors, pressing the call button three times before giving up.

“He’s probably ignoring it,” Michael reassured her as they boarded the turbolift. She had to have noticed the tightening in Tilly’s shoulders after each minute had passed with no answer. “He does need the break.” 

They rode to the bridge in silence. As the turbo lift eased to a stop, Michael turned to face Tilly.

“I’m sure Lieutenant Stamets is fine. Dr. Culber wouldn’t have let him out of his sight, if he wasn’t.” The doors slid open, and she stepped out on to the bridge. “We can stop by again later, once he’s had some time to himself.” She gave Tilly a small smile, and Tilly smiled wanly in return before the doors slid shut again.

As they did she breathed deeply, a steady resolve settling in her chest.

Tilly appreciated her roommate’s gentle reassurance, but she knew Stamets wasn’t in his quarters simply ignoring the door chimes. She’d called on him enough early on in her time aboard ship to know that he always answered, even if just to snap at her for bothering him when he was off duty.

If he wasn’t in his quarters, and he wasn’t in sickbay, she knew just where to find him. 

~*~*~

Engineering was bustling with activity, but no one seemed to pay any attention to Tilly as she climbed the steps to and paused in front of the cultivation bay doors.

You can do this, she thought to herself. She tamped down the anxiety bubbling in her chest with a deep breath. You need to do this. Leaning forward, she breathed into the locking mechanism to gain entry.

Lieutenant Stamets stood with his back to her, hands on the railing of the bay as he peered over the softly floating spores below him. He didn’t turn.

She coughed lightly. “Hey—Hi.” She took a careful step inside and let the doors slide shut behind her. “I thought you might be here.” Stamets didn’t respond, but he turned his head to catch her eye for the briefest of moments.

She couldn’t discern anything from his expression. Anxiously she dug her fingers into her palms, willing her nervous hands to stay still at her sides. “How—how are you feeling?”

He shrugged lightly, leaning heavily on the railing.  “I’m fine.”

Tilly joined him at the railing, leaning against it with her hip so she could get a better look at his profile. The soft blue light of the spores floating in the bay cast a bluish tint on this face, giving it an almost eerie glow.

She plunged ahead.  “What---what about the side effects?” 

The scientist’s eyes narrowed, and he squinted at her sideways. 

“Uh, I mean, I know things were getting bad with singular jumps, I just assumed that with 133 things would be a bit more difficult...”  She trailed off awkwardly. “I just….wanted to make sure you were okay, after...everything.”

His voice was flat. “I am.”

She contemplated leaving then, but she forced her feet to stay still; anchoring herself with a tight grip on the railing as she leaned next to him and scanned the mushrooms below.

The plants thrummed with energy, not in the mechanical, harsh way the engines did but with a steady pulse that reminded Tilly of a heartbeat. Blue spores floated gently in the air between them, and the thick durasteel doors behind them did a fantastic job of muffling the bustle of activity happening just meters away.

 She hadn’t spent much time here outside of duty; usually when she was here, she was focused on taking samples, or trying to keep up with the list of tasks Stamets had put in front of her. Standing here now, with no tricorder or communicator demanding her attention, felt calming. It’s almost peaceful, Tilly thought. Mushroom obsession aside, she could understand why her superior spent so much of his free time here.

Newly encouraged by the calm around them, Tilly turned to Stamets again.  

“So…” she began carefully. “So….I know you’re probably mad at me, and before I probably would have just avoided you until I thought you’d forgotten about it because I really don’t like confrontation but I’ve learned that  avoiding problems just makes it worse and I need to face them head on and so that’s what I’m doing.” She paused to take a breath.  Lieutenant Stamets was staring at her now, confusion furrowing his brow.

“I’m sorry I told Dr. Culber about the side effects,” she clarified. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose, I---”

He shook his head, interrupting her. “It’s alright.”

“No, no its not,” she shook her head vehemently. “You trusted me, and I betrayed that trust. I should have never said anything, I---”

“Cadet—”

Tilly shook her head again, letting go of the railing to flail her hands. “And you’ll probably never trust me with anything again, and I totally wouldn’t blame you—I mean, you probably hate me and now Doctor Culber is upset, and, god, he probably hates me too, and I—”

“Tilly.” 

She blinked, startled.  She’d served on Discovery for nearly a year now, and she didn’t remember ever hearing the Lieutenant call her anything other than Cadet. She turned back to him and his eyes bored into hers.

 “You are not the one he’s upset with,” he said slowly, deliberately. He waited until she nodded in response, too floored by the use of her name to reply, before turning back to the spores. 

“And I don’t hate you,” he added. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

“Oh, um. Thanks.”

Tilly stood awkwardly by his side for a moment. She had braced for him to snap at her-had fully expected it, in fact. She wasn’t quite sure what to do, now. Easing her hands off the railing, she began to move towards the bay door.

“Well, I don’t want to bother you, so I guess I’ll just—“

“I didn’t know where I was, when I woke up.”

Tilly stopped, startled. “What?”

“After.” Stamets had dropped his head to his chest, and she could see his hands tightening on the metal rail.  “Usually it comes back, after a few moments, but…..it didn’t, this time. It took a few minutes.” He raised his head to catch her eye briefly, before turning back to the spores. “I didn’t recognize him.”

His voice broke slightly over him.

Instinctively, Tilly reached a hand out to rest on his, patting it a few times in a way she hoped was comforting. His hand flinched under hers and she quickly pulled away, resting it lightly on the rail beside him.

“I told him everything, after that,” he continued. “The memory loss, side effects, all of it.” He tilted his head in her direction. “How you helped me.”

She couldn’t quite read the look on his face, but his eyes were softer than she’d ever seen them as he continued.

“And that when you risked your career to help me, I fought you on it. But you helped me anyway.”

Tilly blinked at him. “Oh. Well, I mean, anyone would have—“

He scoffed. “I doubt that, Cadet. Most of them didn’t even notice. Or they’re afraid of me.”

“Oh....you’re....not—“

He waved a hand. “Stop. You don’t need to do that. I know I’m not the easiest person to work with.”

“Well—“ she started.  He looked at her pointedly, eyebrows raised.

“--okay, no,” she admitted. Where is he going with this?

“And, as difficult as this is to believe, I’m even worse to take care of.” A small smile ghosted his lips. “As a certain doctor can probably attest to. Most people wouldn’t have even bothered.”

“So....” the smile slipped from his face, and for the first time he looked hesitant. It took Tilly a moment to even place the expression, it was so foreign on him.

“So, I’m sure I didn’t make this easy on you. And I’m sorry for that. For dragging you into this lie with me. And for taking so long to tell you how much I’ve appreciated it.”

Tilly stared at him for a moment, too stunned to speak. Stamets did not dole out compliments—especially not ones that made his eyes shine and the tips of his ears tint the lightest shade of pink, as they were now—but there it was.

Whatever she had expected out of today, this was not it.

“You’re welcome,” she said at last, her manners finally catching up with her astonishment. Stamets nodded at her, and turned quickly away to face the spores. He lifted his chin, jaw tightening in a way that told Tilly he was working to bury the vulnerability he’d just shown her.

She gave him a moment, replaying the conversation in her memory.

“But...I mean, you didn’t exactly drag me,” she said finally, leaning forward on the rail. “I kind of...made you take me with you, if anything.”

Stamets snorted at that. “Yeah. You kind of did.” The snarky, pre-Tardigrade DNA Stamets tone was back in his voice, but, strangely, Tilly found it didn’t cut quite like it used to.

They stood silently at the rail together, watching the blue spores below them float through the air like delicate moths.

To her surprise, she felt a hand drop on to hers, squeezing for the briefest of moments before letting go just as quickly.

“Thanks for that.”

——————————————————-

Stamets and Tilly friendship and mentorship fics are my kryptonite and there aren’t enough. Fic writers please do your thing.

Read some more finished fics here.

[misscrazyfangirl321]

Winter Whumperland Fic

Hello, @ouchthatwasgood ! I was your whumpy Secret Santa! I’m really sorry about the delay on this story. As promised, the explanation, which you are free to skip if you like:

When I first discovered the whump community, I was ecstatic. It seemed like an amazing community, and don’t get me wrong: It is. But I dove in headfirst, signing up for the whump exchange relatively quickly. Then, I began to realize a few things: 

1. I strongly prefer emotional whump to physical whump. In fact, I basically only enjoy physical whump inasmuch as it causes emotional whump. 

2. I much prefer reading whump to writing it. On the best of days, I don’t have the heart to write the intensely painful physical whump. On the worst of days, I don’t have the stomach for it. Reading it is different, but writing it, for some reason, is difficult and draining. 

These things said, I have written something, but it focuses strongly on the emotional aspects of whump. I’m afraid the physical whump in minimal, because I tried several times, but hated each attempt I made more than the last. Finally, I decided to write something I liked, and hope that you liked it too. I probably should have asked for a pinch-hitter, but I have an unfortunate stubborn streak. I hope you enjoy this, even if it wasn’t exactly what you were expecting. 

Now, with all that out of the way, let’s get to the fic!

Title: Worry Is Illogical

Rating: G

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Friendship, Family

Summary: In which Spock is injured, but his family is there, and sometimes, it’s okay to be illogical. 

Disclaimer: Not mine. Even the Vulcan words came from a Vulcan language website. 

Story under the cut.

---

Any of them would have done it.

They all would have made the same choice, without hesitation.

That was the kind of loyalty found aboard the Enterprise: relentless, unquestionable, even unto death if need be.

Maybe the loyalty was spread throughout Starfleet, but in all his life, Leonard McCoy had never seen it as fierce as it was aboard Captain Kirk’s ship. It wasn’t hard to understand why, either; as he’d once heard Spock say, Kirk was the kind of man to stand between a dragon and a child with nothing but a pointed stick, and yell until the dragon went away. Thankfully, he did have a fair amount of luck, (something Spock would never admit,) because otherwise, he would have been dead a hundred times over.

His luck was bound to run out sometime, and Leonard was sure that everyone aboard the Enterprise knew it. He also knew he wasn’t the only one willing to step in when the day came. Almost anyone onboard the ship would have taken a hit for Kirk without question.

But it wasn’t supposed to be Spock.

He could practically hear the Vulcan in his mind, calling his emotions “illogical… As the one who spends the most time with the Captain, I was significantly more likely to be in this situation.”

Thing was, he wasn’t here, so he didn’t get to call Leonard “illogical.” Stupid as it seemed, he would have given anything to hear that judgmental tone about then.

It was pure human luck that Spock was still alive, because if the bullet had been an inch to the right, it would have pierced his heart. A wound that would have been unpleasant, but barely threatening, for anyone else, could have killed Spock instantly, and he still wasn’t out of the woods. If surgery went poorly…. Leonard wasn’t too proud to admit that the thought terrified him.

A bullet, of all things. Not a beam from a phaser, but an old-fashioned bullet, fired from a handgun. Where the aliens had even gotten it, he wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered, but it was something to keep his mind occupied. The Favolian healers hand insisted on treating Spock, refusing to let Leonard into the room, and Kirk didn’t exactly have a choice. In the interest of maintaining peaceful relations and securing a treaty, he agreed.

The would-be assassin had yet to turn up, and they had several crew members out looking for him, but Kirk stayed, along with Leonard. For them, there was no other choice. Lieutenant Uhura was on her way, along with Christine Chapel. Kirk had insisted it wasn’t necessary, but Uhura had firmly insisted that it was. Not many people defied Kirk and won, but the Lieutenant held a stubborn fire unlike any he’d ever seen. They’d agreed to beam down outside of the hospital, at the request of the beings on the planet, but they’d be there soon. Not much time for him to do something, if he wanted.

“How are you holding up, Jim?” It was a ridiculous question. For the fifth time in as many minutes, the captain paced the room, hands clasped tightly together. His eyes were dark and weary, as if he hadn’t slept in days. If Leonard looked closely, he could even see a red rim to them, but out of courtesy, he didn’t look. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t shed a tear or two himself.

Jim laughed, empty and humorless, and shrugged. “How do you think?”

He knew Kirk wouldn’t believe him, but he needed to say it anyway. “You can’t blame yourself, Jim.” At the dismissive look that received, he added, “You can’t! Are you telling me you wouldn’t have done the same thing for him?”

Kirk didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. Of course he would have taken a bullet for Spock. Without hesitation. Just like Leonard would have. But that’s not what happened. “He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

He realized the error of the words seconds too late, but by Kirk’s grimace, it was definitely an error. “Already speaking of him in past tense, doctor? Is it that bad?”

The thing was, it wasn’t. It shouldn’t have been. If they could have taken him back to the Enterprise, this kind of injury wouldn’t have even been on Leonard’s radar. There was no question he could treat it. But the Fovalians… He hadn’t been able to get a good look at their facilities, their equipment, or their medications. He had no way of knowing what they were capable of, or if they could save Spock. “Jim, I….”

“How is he?” The familiar voice of Christine Chapel broke in, and the moment was over. Kirk’s Captain Façade fell on like a second skin, and Leonard tried to match it. Christine and Uhura were frantic, scanning the room as if they expected to see Spock lying in the corner somewhere.

“We don’t know yet,” Kirk answered, voice deceptively calm, “but the Favolians are doing everything they can for him.”

Chapel scowled. “Why aren’t we doing everything we can do for him? He would be fine if we could just-“

“Nurse.” Kirk cut in, a hint of warning in his tone, and the younger woman pressed her lips together tightly, fire in her eyes.

“I’m with you, Chris,” Leonard admitted quietly, “but we’ve gotta follow the chain of command. Spock knew the risks, but he made his choice, and Starfleet wants this treaty to go through.”

Unlike Kirk, the women made no effort to hide the fact that they had been crying, although Uhura was surprisingly calm at the moment. Chapel, on the other hand, still had tears trickling down her cheeks. He moved instinctively, wrapping his arms around her, and she buried her face in his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kirk following suit with Uhura, though she didn’t linger as long as Christine did.

“Have we heard anything?” The lieutenant asked, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

Just as Leonard was about to reply with a negative, the door to the small room opened once more, and a Favolian walked in. “Your friend will live,” he announced, and even Kirk didn’t resist a sigh of relief, “but he needs rest. You may go and see him, but be quiet. He is asleep.”

“Lead the way, doctor,” Kirk ordered-not requested, but ordered, in his firmest captain tone-and the doctor nodded.

“Follow me.” They filed out of the room, down a narrow hallway, into a room that closely resembled the sickbay of the ship. Comforting, Leonard mused. They seemed to be somewhat modern, in any case. Maybe they knew what they were doing after all. Of course they did. They were an advanced society. To think otherwise would be... Illogical. Shut up, Spock, he thought, and he could have sworn he heard a smug I’m not actually speaking, doctor, in response.

There were four chairs scattered around the room, and they each grabbed one, pulling it up to Spock’s bedside. Kirk took the one closest to Spock’s left side, Christine took the mirroring one on the right, and Uhura and Leonard took up the seats by his feet.

With a final warning to stay quiet, the doctor slipped out, giving them much-needed privacy.

For a long moment, they all sat in silence, taking in Spock’s sleeping form. He was pale, even more than usual, but otherwise, he looked none the worse for wear. Leonard suspected that he would have his fair share of pain when he woke, but for the moment, he looked almost peaceful.

Christine reached out toward the sleeping Vulcan, but hesitated, hand hovering in the air. Spock was firm about his personal space, but Leonard wouldn’t have faulted her for ignoring that, just the once. A little physical reassurance that Spock was still alive? He wouldn’t mind that himself. In the end, she lowered her hand, not onto his, but onto the bed right beside him. Close enough to touch, but not quite doing so. She glanced around the room, half defiant, as if she expected judgment, but when she found none, she relaxed.  

“Surely, you all have far more productive things you could be doing,” a familiar voice cut in. They all turned in unison, and stifled chuckles filled the room. Spock was staring back at them, mildly curious but otherwise unbothered. “What are you all doing here?”

“We were worried about you, you ridiculous Vulcan!” Chapel snapped, and he turned his head toward her. His eyes lingered on her hand, so close to his, but only raised his eyebrow, not bothering to move away.

“Worry is illogical, Miss Chapel. It does not aid the healing process.”

She stared back, mouth agape, struggling to come up with some sort of retort. Kirk cleared his throat, answering for all of them. “Yes, well, humans are illogical, Spock. You know this. And when someone we care about is in danger, we worry.”

“I’ve noticed that, Captain,” the Vulcan agreed, turning his attention to Kirk, “and I cannot understand it.”

A snort escaped before Leonard could stop it, and suddenly, all eyes were on him. He thought about making an excuse, brushing it off as nerves or such, but there was a definite challenge in Spock’s eyes, and Leonard was never one to back down from a challenge. “Are you saying you weren’t worried when you saw Kirk in the line of fire?”

“I wasn’t.” If Leonard didn’t know better, he’d say Spock sounded indignant. And frankly? He didn’t know better. “I took the necessary actions the situation called for. Worry was not a factor in my actions.”

“About that,” Kirk cut in, tone deceptively light, “we’ve talked about this, Spock. Next time, call out.” It came off as teasing, probably because they had an audience, but Leonard heard the quiet reprimand beneath. Clearly, so did Spock; his closed his eyes briefly, and nodded.

“Apologies, Captain. In the heat of the moment, it slipped my mind.”

A better man would have let it slide without comment. Leonard had never claimed to be a better man. “What went wrong, Spock? Were you too worried?”

The look he received would read impassive to those who didn’t know the Vulcan. Those in the room saw the withering glare. “Of course not, Doctor McCoy. That would have been-“

“Illogical. Right.”

“Precisely.”

Good-natured chuckles filled the room, and Leonard hesitated, studying Spock. At some point, his hand had slipped down to rest on his injury, and his eyes were a touch too strained for Leonard’s liking. Subtle things, but coming from Spock, concerning. “You’re in pain,” he announced, and humor fled the room instantly.

“I did just get shot, Doctor,” Spock pointed out dryly, but Leonard refused to rise to the bait.

“You’re hurting, Spock! If we could get you back to the ship-“

“You’d give me some concoction to dull my pain and turn my stomach, I have no doubt. But I presume there is a reason I have not been taken to the ship.”

Kirk nodded. “The treaty,” he confirmed softly, but his attention was fixed on Leonard. “Do we need to take him back, McCoy?”

All he had to do was say the word, and Kirk would do it. At this point, he’d throw away the treaty in a heartbeat if Spock was anything less than okay. A part of Leonard just wanted to give in, to make the call and get Spock back to safety, but the professional part of him stilled the urge. “Spock, where’s your pain, on a scale of one to ten?”

If Vulcans sighed, Spock definitely did. (And if they didn’t, he must have been feeling exceptionally human.) “This is unnecessary. I am perfectly fine.”

Unimpressed, Leonard stared back. “You’re in a hospital bed; you’re far from fine. But that’s not what I asked.”

“Answer the man, Spock,” Kirk ordered, leaving no room for argument in his tone. Spock opened his mouth to reply, but Chapel grazed his arm with her fingertips, catching his attention.

“And remember,” She pointed out, “lying is illogical.” Immediately, she drew her hand back, not maintaining the contact. Whether it bothered Spock that she’d done it at all, it was difficult to say.

“So it is. I would rate my pain at approximately a three. I may be experiencing some discomfort, but it is manageable.”

Doubled for stubbornness, so at least a six, Leonard decided, weighing their options. As much as he wanted to do everything in his power to help this man-against all odds, his friend-the treaty was too important to risk. If Spock was managing the pain, waiting was probably their best bet, as much as he hated it. “He’ll be okay, Jim. But if the pain gets worse, he’ll tell us. Right?” The last part was directed quite pointedly at Spock, who gave a perfect imitation of innocence.

“Naturally.”

Kirk seemed unconvinced, but made no move to argue. Instead, he pulled his chair closer to the bed, and the others followed suit. “Alright, but we’re staying here. Scotty can handle diplomacy; we’re needed here.”

“You are not needed here,” Spock insisted, but at the stubborn expressions of his friends, surrendered. “However, your presence is appreciated.” His lips curved up at the edges, in what could almost pass for a smile. The reaction was instantaneous: Kirk’s, Chapel’s, and Uhura’s faces lit up, and Leonard reluctantly admitted to himself that his probably did the same.

Clearing his throat, trying to clear away the turmoil of the day at the same time, he found his stern doctor voice, and scolded, “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, mister?”

“If I were tired, I would sleep.” Just like a little kid, too stubborn to admit he was exhausted. Maybe Kirk should read him a bedtime story, he mused. The mental picture was enough to startle a laugh from him, and he waved off the curious expressions of the others.

Although, maybe he was onto something. A bedtime story might not work, but even Spock caved to a good lullaby. “Lieutenant Uhura, are you up for singing something?”

She had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the visit, and Leonard wondered briefly if that was the only way she’d kept her composure so well. Still, she smiled at him, knowingly enough that he was sure she got his idea, and nodded. “Of course. Just a moment.” She hummed to herself, getting a tune into her mind, and drew in a breath. “Pen-nil-bek,” she began. “Qual se tu?” As always, her voice was rich and full of emotion, enough to awe even the coldest heart. It took him a moment to register that the words weren’t in English.

Spock blinked once, almost a non-reaction from anyone else, but from him, it was enough to confirm the theory taking shape in the back of Leonard’s mind: she was singing in Vulcan. He may not have been able to understand the words, but the slow, steady pattern made it clear; their resident musician was singing a Vulcan lullaby.

If anyone else tried that, they’d get scolded for being ‘illogical,’ Leonard mused, a half-smile tugging at his lips. But then, no one else could sing quite like Lieutenant Uhura.

“Pen-nil-bek… Qual se tu?”

Chapel leaned back in her seat, her eyes drifting shut. Leonard scanned the room for a spare blanket, but found none, so he slid his jacket off, laying it over her. She opened one eye, smiled at him, and drew it tighter around her.

“Bola utu shom….”

It was getting to him, too. He felt the call of sleep, the call to rest after an exhausting day. He resisted, forcing his eyes open. Until Spock fell asleep, there’s no way he would. No way at all…

“Bolau tu shom….”

But he never heard that, because he’d already given in to sleep.

-

A/N: Pen-nil-bek: Just a moment.

Qual se tu: Is it you?

Bola utu shom: You need to rest.

The best start to a lullaby I could think of in the middle of the night, honestly. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, even if it wasn’t exactly what you were expecting. Merry Late Christmas, and a Happy New Year!

[jhelenoftrek]

imagine Captain Janeway visiting you in sickbay, after you've been injured on your first away mission

“Welcome back,” you hear a soft voice say as the room spinsinto rightness around you.  

Bright, artificial light blinds your eyes and the voiceorders for them to be dimmed quickly.  You try to sit up but you’re met with a hand pressed flaton your shoulder and you haven’t the strength to push against it.

“Captain?” you croak, seeing her blurry form come intoshape.  Your lungs are burning still, andthen you’re accosted with images from when you were last conscious.

Fire.  Smoke.

Oh,God.  The smoke.

It threatens to smother you again and you begin to gasp forair.

“Easy, Ensign,” you hear her say.  “Take slow, regular breaths.  The Doctor will be right back.”

You nod, pinching your eyes closed. And then you remembersomething else.

“My leg,” you whisper, and realize you can’t feel whetherit’s still a part of you or if it’s been left behind on that god-awful planet.

“Your leg is just fine,” she reassures you.  “You’re going to be alright.”

Eyes now adjusted to their surroundings, you take in herface.  She looks tired, you realize.  Worry still strains her features though she’strying hard to hide it.  

“The others?” you ask, softly.

“They’re all fine. You were the worst of them.”

“You weren’t injured?” you manage, noticing that she’sstill wearing her scorched and dust-covered uniform jacket.

She shakes her head. You’re so focused on her face; her kind, gentle and tired eyes – that youdon’t notice when the Doctor slips up beside you.  It is a surprise when you feel the cool hissof a hypospray against your neck.

“That should help with the numbness you’re feeling in your legs,”he assures.

“When will the ensign be able to leave?” she asks on yourbehalf.

“Mmmm…” the Doctor ponders a moment, looking over the paddin his hand.  “A few more hours, but thenno duty shifts for at least three days. We need to make sure those tendons heal properly.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” she says.  Then she looks back down at you, her handstill on your shoulder.  “I’m sorry yourfirst away mission didn’t go quite as we had planned.  I promise the next one will be better.”  You nod, still wondering why she’s here talkingto you instead of on the bridge. “Rest up, and report to me in person when you’reready to resume your shifts.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply, pleasantly surprised that yourvoice is returning and no longer as painful. She takes your arm and gently assists you in sitting upright and handsyou a cup of water.  

‘Chakotayto the captain,’ you hear as you test a swallow.  

“Janeway here,” she says, tapping her badge with practiced ease.  

‘Justchecking on the ensign.  A few of us onthe bridge wanted to be sure everything was alright.’

“Just fine, Commander,” she says, throwing you a wink.  “Everything is just fine down here, you canall relax.”

‘Goodto hear, Captain.  And, I trust you’ll begetting some rest now too?’

You’re trying not to look directly at her, instead focusingon your feet which are miraculously starting to feel like your own again.  Try as you might, you can’t help but steal apeek back to her face and then hear her voice hitch as she replies, “Yes,Commander.  I’m headed back to myquarters to rest right now.”

‘Inthat case, goodnight, Captain,’ you hear him say, and she taps off herbadge.

With one last pat on your back, she leaves sickbay, theDoctor is by your side once again.

“Does she visit everyone here?” you ask, secretly hopingshe wasn’t paying you special attention.

To which the Doctor simply nods.  “Everyone. Every, single time.  And when shecan she stays until they’re conscious, like she did with you.”

You shake your head, hardly believing what you’ve justdiscovered.  “How long was I out?” youmanage.

“Six hours.”

“Six hours?” you repeat, incredulous.  “You mean to tell me the captain stayed herewith me for six hours?”

“She surely did.” The Doctor confirms, working the consoleby your bedside.  “Lay back, would youplease? I need to check your lung function.”

You do as he asks, head heavy on the pillow behindyou.  “Unbelievable,” you whisper.  

“Excuse me?” the Doctor asks.  

“Nothing,” you wave off. “Never mind.”

And then you vow, right then and there, if you’re ever acommanding officer – if you ever have anyone serving under you that ends up injured- you’ll be there when they wake up.

[space-girl-7]

Paradox

Hi all, I posted this on AO3 a few days ago but I didn't get around to posting it here. Anyways Enjoy!

To the outside viewer, the relationship between William Riker and Deanna Troi was a paradox at times it looked like nothing but a close working friendship, and other times it looks as though they had been together for years. To the people, a little closer to them knew that it was so much more than anyone could truly understand.

It was the simple way that they greeted each other when they meant for lunch. The way Riker's face lit up as soon as Deanna walked through the door. The way they always looked for each other after something happened, the simple little touches as they pass each other. The rumors have been flying around them about their past and present relationship for years, some say it's just because she's a Betazoid and they look at everyone like that. Others say that Rikers just trying to add her to his list... for the sake of his reputation of course. But the few that are close to them, Beverly, Picard, Geordi, knew that it was more than that. Beverly heard the stories form Deanna when she was hurt, dazed and drugged, the mumbles asking for Will. When one of them gets hurt how the other won't leave sickbay unless she though them out. The fact that as soon as they would wake up they would ask about the other not caring what happened to themselves. Geordi can't count how many times he has run into one of them frantically look for the other. Or how many times he's walked into Ten Forward and seen them sitting unreasonably close for collages, and just a touch too close to be friends. He wants to tell them they're not being subtle that they couldn't keep a secret even if they tried. Friends faces don't light up like that when they haven't seen each other all day, they don't smile at each other like that. And they certainly don't hold each other like that but he doesn't because if they think they're convincing each other how can he tell them there not fooling everyone else? Picard notices it the most when they're sitting on the bridge and he'll catch a little smile on Deanna's face or Riker will bite his cheek and suddenly find the floor very interesting. He should be annoyed that his officers are acting like this on the job, but he cant help give a little leeway no one really knew the effect of being on the bridge and contacting new and often openly hostile species almost every day has on a Betazoid. He himself had caught Deanna in the aftermath of a breakdown because it had been too much, the fear and anxiety of the crew had just amplified her own. He also hadn't failed to notice how Riker would always know when she had enough and always found some subtle way to help, whether it standing just a little closer so their shoulders touch or just a look that Picard couldn't even begin to understand. Deanna didn't pay any attention to all the thoughts that she picks up on when she and Will walks into a room. Sometimes she thinks people forget that she is an empath, but she didn't really realize how bad it really was until she was watching Alexander one night. "When is Will gonna be here?" Alexander asked excitedly. "Why would Will be coming?" she asked him slightly confused, "Because Will always stops by when I'm here, at least for a few minutes," he said to with all the innocents that only a child could have, a lot more than one would expect from a Kilgon. She just watched Alexander for a moment when she heard her door chime, she walked over and opened it and saw WIll standing in her doorway with that grin on his face. She just stood there for a moment and then got a big smile on her face and invited him in. She leaned agisted the door and watch him walk over the Alexander, she couldn't help but give a little laugh, maybe she wasn't hiding her feelings so well after all.

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Mirrorverse- TrekTober2020

So, I’m doing this challenge, only 1 prompt a week so I’m not stressing myself and getting burnt out but I’m still excited to do this! I love the idea I went with here but no spoilers. @trektober-challenge

TW: Torture, Blood, References to Death & Gore- Don’t read if this will harm you, it’s just a fanfic, it’s not worth risking your healthy over

~~

The room was dark, the lights on the walls were turned down low, leaving just enough light for the seven of them to sneak across and climb into the separate chamber. The chamber was just as dark as the main room. It was smaller, just large enough for a group to observe with a rectangular, one- way, glass screen.

Jim stood at the front of their group, his hands resting on the window ledge, Spock to his right, Bones to his left, behind him were Uhura, Sulu and Chekov.

He watched as their two allies, in this universe, prepared a tray of medical instruments. They were the only two people who helped them so far, and who seemed to have a hint of a moral code. This universe’s Dr. McCoy and Nurse Chapel.

He could distantly hear them conversing just as the room was flooded with light and a footsteps echoed into the chamber. 

It was Kirk, his counterpart, accompanied by three security guards. His very presence made a sickness flood his stomach, made his hair stand on end and hands clench.

“Here he is,” Said the evil Captain. “Ensign Peters,”

Dr. McCoy looked up from the tray with his singular eye, he stepped towards the shaking crewmen. His hands were still as he gripped the man’s chin and turned his head left and right, inspecting his shiny face.

“What did he do?” He asked, Nurse Chapel joining his side.

“He disobeyed my orders,” Said Kirk.

The Medics rolled their eyes, “What did you do?” Dr. McCoy aimed his question at the person in hand, beginning to circle him as Kirk tapped his foot and glared at his ally. 

“I killed eight natives, sir,”

Kirk barked a laugh and hit his arm, hard enough to make the ensign warrant rubbing his arm. “Just natives?”

“Eight children,”

Dr. Mccoys eyes widened, Nurse Chapel’s eyebrows shot into her head. His steady hands quaked as he said hoarsely, “You killed eight children,”

“More importantly, he had the audacity to disobey my orders, that’s one step away from trying to overthrow me!”

Jim felt sick, sick at the thought of eight innocent children dying for this horrific empire, this horrific universe. Felt sick as his alternate self barely batted an eye at the idea that someone under his authority killed eight youths.

“I won’t dispute your blatant lack of morality at the current time, Captain,” Spat the Doctor. “But what state do you want us to leave him in?”

“Leave him alive,” And with that the Captain left, his guards following him closely.

The crew were silent, speculating at what ‘Leave him alive,’ could mean. There had to be a reason why these two were allowed to act so much more freely than anyone else. Bones had hopefully thought it was because they were healers, medics, but Jim’s gut told him differently.

They’d arrived in this universe after beaming down during an ion storm. It had been a wild goose chase around the ship ever since they’d landed, this version of Jim seemed hell bent on finding himself and killing him with this own hands. There had been too many close calls, too little safety- until they found Dr. McCoy and Nurse Chapel. So far, the people in sickbay were the only people with a sense of moral duty and ethics in the entire ship- maybe the entire universe

He looked back at Dr. McCoy and Nurse Chapel, who were pulling Ensign Peters over to a chair and attaching him to it. Chapel picked up a lone hypo and stabbed his neck, saying only, “You won’t be falling unconscious any time soon ” as she grinned, a malicious glint in her eye.

Dr. McCoy circled the Ensign for a while. Every now and then he would stroke his face, pull his hair or flick his skull.

He stroked his chin and said, “Where did you shoot the first child? Hm?” While sitting down on the chair Nurse Chapel expertly placed under him. She handed him a short scalpel as he lifted Peters’ shirts. “Was it here?”

The scalpel sliced a tiny crack into his pale, sickly sweaty skin, the blood trickling down and dripping into the still hands of the doctor.

“No.”

Dr. McCoy raised an eyebrow and held his hand out for a larger blade, this one slightly glowing from the heat radiating off it. 

“Well, where did you shoot the first child?”

Ensign Peters went to speak, then made a gagging noise as his tongue was pulled out of his throat. Nurse Chapel snatched the knife from the doctor’s hand and in an instant the slab of muscle was lying on the stained floor.

A sizzle broke out as their Leonard gasped, stepping backwards as he mumbled over and over, “How could they do that,” rubbing his face as he did so. 

Jim looked back and saw that the viscous couple hadn’t gotten too much further in their charade, having sat back to listen to the gargled screams of the Ensign.

“We didn’t tell you to speak, did we?” Nurse Chapel spat and handed back the hot knife.

He asked again, “Where did you shoot the first child?” and grinned as the Ensign shakily pointed at the area of flesh where his achilles was. “That wasn’t too hard, was it?“ 

Their Leonard fell backwards into Spock, barely breathing as the Vulcan rubbed circles into his back, he turned into his shoulder, unable to watch any longer. It could almost be called cute, if the circumstances for this display of affection weren’t so horrifying.

Jim had to pull his attention away again, and let his ears chip back into the gargled screams of the Ensign, whose gut was still sizzling from where Dr. McCoy had stabbed him. 

Everything went so quickly from there.

Chapel handed McCoy a mallet which went crunching into his collarbone, next was a long slash with a dull knife in his neck, then they slowly carved away his cheek muscles. He couldn’t watch anymore, couldn’t stand and let them carve an Ensign, not innocent but still human, like a pumpkin for Halloween.

He stormed out, followed by Uhura and Sulu and yelled. "Stop!" 

Dr. McCoy looked up briefly, a Cheshire cat grin on his face as Nurse Chapel stroked a blood soaked chunk of hair out of his eye. He turned the handle of the grubby knife in his hand as he turned back and cut four thin slits into the Ensign’s chest. 

"I told you to stop!” Jim cried as he ran towards the Doctor and threw himself onto his back.

He managed to get his arm around his throat, groaning as he tightened more and more until Dr. McCoy was drawn backwards. The heavy sound of his panting filled the air. Eyes popping out of his head, he began to scratch his stubby fingernails against Jim’s tanned skin. 

Sweat beaded on Jim’s forehead, arms fatigued from tensing. His own pants were starting to drown out the Doctor’s as he drooped. One foot skimmed the ground. Doctor McCoy took his chance.

He bent forwards, clutching Jim’s arms and used Jim’s weakening grip to his advantage. In one swoop, he pulled the arms from his bruised neck and shot upwards. The Captain fell unconscious in the corner with a smack.

Uhura gasped, only giving Sulu a look before they ran in unison to continue the fight. 

She caught one, two, three, of the knives thrown at her, barely cutting her fingers. Sulu stopped a punch before it touched him. A smile crept up onto Dr.McCoy’s face as he turned, picked up the closest blade and stabbed it into his shoulder. 

The rest of the crew thundered out of the hiding room, Chekov joined Sulu, giving him a quick once over before kicking his knee upwards into the Doctor’s chest. Spock watched Uhura wipe a thin layer of sweat off her forehead and nod at him, letting him pinch Nurse Chapel’s neck. 

Bones ran towards the Captain, hands steady, breath quivering. He turned his face gently in his hands, feeling his skull as he hissed at the sticky blood oozing from an invisible crack. Light scratches, also speckled with blood, littered his arms as he got to work cleaning and mending the visible wounds.

Uhura ran from the uncomfortable form of Chapel and kicked both communicators towards herself with one swish of her leg as she slid next to the Captain. 

“What do you need?” She asked, quickly disabling the communicators.

“I need a sickbay or a hospital, I don’t have the equipment to check for any internal injuries here,” They lay him out carefully, holding their breath as Leonard wrapped a thick, solid neck support around Jim’s neck. “But, since they’ll find out about what we’ve done to their head torturers, we should probably get back to our sickbay,”

“Agreed,” She said, jumping as Dr. McCoy fell to the floor with a thud. Spock had evidently used his Vulcan Neck Pinch again.

The crew regrouped at the wall where the unconscious Jim was lying. Bones made quick work of Sulu’s stab wound and the various other knicks and scratches they’d all accumulated. 

Spock lifted the Captain into his arms, making sure to support his neck. Everyone took one more glance at the unconscious couple before rushing out the door and to the Transporter Room, where they beamed off, hoping and praying that they landed in their universe.

[robinsgirlwonder]

Star Trek: Age of Wonder by RobinsGirlWonder

A Romulan warbird scrapples with the Enterprise during a routine survey of a mysteriously untraceable planet. When the captain leads an away team to the surface and is shot down, he finds himself face to face with no less than an angel. An angel who knows his face, but not his name.

Read the Teaser to Episode One: The Champion of Themyscira

On AO3 HERE (will eventually go to M)

On FF.net HERE (T rated chapters only) 

Please reblog! 

Cover art by @wife-shaped-husband​

And also included in the CUT BELOW

The Champion of Themyscira: Teaser

 Captain’s Log: Stardate 2264.16

Here we are again. Back in the saddle, as the old cowboys would say. Much to my chief medical officer’s chagrin, we have resumed our five-year mission of exploration. The Enterprise-A might be a spiritual successor to the original, but in every way, she gleams and thrives in this new space as much as we have.

The crew is in good spirits, eager to find new planets to explore beyond the nebula. I had to turn down three separate xenobiology and archeology positions on our day before leaving spacedock, simply because we’re already stocked as full as we can be. And, I have to admit, I’ve never been much for digging up dusty old bones. But, maybe it’s been the time stuck station-side that reminded me why I’m out here. Why I fly. I’m as excited as the young crewmen are. Everyone has been at their peak performance.

Which is why we’ve reached our newest destination ahead of schedule. We’ve come upon a system in a unique part of the star’s life cycle. It’s been in the process of transitioning from a yellow star like our sun to a red star. Spock actually seems… almost excited… at the opportunity to survey the system and more importantly, the star’s progress. Seeing his Vulcan equivalent of eagerness might make the trip completely worth it. Me? I’m hoping we might find something of interest on the class M planet in the 4-planet system...

“Captain, we’re coming up on the Eos system now.” Sulu’s voice cut through the hustle and bustle of the bridge like a knife. 

“Onscreen, Mister Sulu.” Captain James T. Kirk sat up in his chair as his helmsman brought the full array of the Enterprise’s sensors onto the star Eos. The orb swam with plasma in varying shades of orange and red, occasionally arcing out towards the open space around it, as if a bird kicking its way out of its egg. Kirk found his mind drifting back to his Greek mythology. Eos… the goddess of the dawn. What a red dawn that would be on the planets in orbit... 

“Oh, she is somesing else, isn’t she, Ceyptin?” Chekov’s awe was present in everything from his revered voice to the way his hands were reaching for the screen. He still had his stylus between his fingers. “A yellow star in ze midst of transition to a red star! No vone in all of Starfleet has seen zis!”

Jim chuckled, unable to hide his amusement as his young ensign’s giddy scientific curiosity. “Easy, Mister Chekov. You might shake right out of that seat at this rate.” His fingers moved across the console on his armrest, bringing up the various sensor readings. “Anything else of interest in the system, or are we just gonna stargaze all week?” 

It was Spock who grabbed Jim’s attention next from his console. “There are 4 planets in this system, one of which is class-M. Sensors are unable to penetrate interference from the atmosphere at this distance.” 

Jim turned to face him. “So we can go closer.”

“I recommend that we wait to do so after our initial survey of the star. Otherwise, the new sensor array may not collect the full breadth of data available.” The minor annoyance in his voice - at least Jim perceived it that way - made the captain grin.

“You don’t want me to steal power from your shiny new toys, Spock, you could just say so.” The eyebrow arched in response to Jim’s needling, and thus the mission had truly started in earnest. “It’s fine. We’ll check it out after we complete the survey.”

“I’m not sure we want to wait that long, Captain.” When Uhura piped up, a hand still deftly on her earpiece, Jim stood and made his way over to her. “I’m picking up… something from the surface.”

Jim rested a hand on the bulkhead above her console, watching her work. “Can you enhance the signal? Get us a bit more than a ‘something?’”

His communications officer knew what she was doing, and she was clearly in the middle of doing just that when she flipped one last switch and stilled. “I think I’m hearing…. Subspace communications from the surface.”

“Subspace?” His expression shifted to thoughtful, a bit confused. “What, like warp technology?”

“You need to have a moderate understanding of warp theory to implement subspace communications, so it would be logical that the civilization could potentially be warp-capable.” Spock had a point. There could be someone on that planet.

“How come we didn’t detect any lifesigns? We’re not that far out.”

“The planet’s atmosphere is deflecting our sensor readings.” Spock bent over to review his findings before turning back to Jim. “From this range, there is no definitive way to study the planet’s atmosphere and determine the cause.”

No sooner than the words had left the Vulcan’s mouth, Jim’s expression was proof that he should have thought better of it. “Then I guess we’ll have to take a closer look.” He smiled, tapping the bulkhead a bit before pushing off and making his way towards the turbolift. “Mister Sulu, I need a pilot. Chekov, you wanna check out the planet? I promise you can come back and trade notes with Mister Spock when we get back.”

“Yes, sir!” Chekov scrambled to grab his padd and stylus as Sulu handed the conn off to an ensign in waiting.

“Captain, I would be remiss if I did not remind you that while Starfleet regulations do not explicitly forbid a captain from going on the away mission - “

Jim had already swept into the turbolift. “Oh, stop worrying, Spock. Let me have this one. You get your science, I want to seek out new life and new civilizations today. You have the bridge.” The turbolift doors whooshed shut as Sulu and Chekov stepped inside.  “What could possibly go wrong?”

 As it turned out an hour later… a lot. A lot could go wrong.

“Shields down to 15 percent and dropping! Ceptyin, ve cannot sustain zis kind of damage for much longer!” Jim knew Chekov was just doing his job, but he really hated no-win scenarios. This was starting to feel a lot like one.

“Get us out of here, Sulu!” Jim shouted as they banked hard. The shuttle barrel-rolled out of the way of an ion blast, only for another arc of lightning to strike the port nacelle.

“I’m trying, but the atmosphere flooded the nacelles. I can’t even get power to the thrusters.” Sulu’s hands shook on the controls. The Galileo didn’t want to pull up.

They hadn’t seen exactly what had strafed across their bow, but the phaser blast had knocked out propulsion and caught them in the atmosphere of the planet. Jim had barely given the order to start scanning before they were now in the middle of it. Every red alert klaxon blared and the ship groaned as it barely held together.

The navigation console erupted in sparks and Sulu went tumbling out of his seat. On his feet in an instant, Jim rolled his helmsman over to find his face and shoulder covered in burns. Frantically, he felt for a pulse. One small blessing - Sulu was alive, but might not be if they couldn’t land this bucket.

“Shields are down!” Chekov cried, hands frantically working to reroute power. “Ve are losing life support, communications, and ze engines are off-line! I cannot get us thrusters! Ve must abandon ze shuttle!”

Jim swallowed, thinking quick. “Can you get power to the transporters?” He grabbed Sulu and tugged him over towards the new, one-person transporter pad.

“Yes, Ceptyin! I can reroute ze power - “

“Good! Can we beam Sulu back to the Enterprise? Are their shields up?”

Chekov was shaking his head feverishly, trying to make sense of the readings in front of him. “I don’t sink so, but I can’t be sure.”

“If the transport fails, how many patterns can this thing store in its buffer?” Kirk finished propping the prone Sulu fully onto the pad, then started to punch in the coordinates for the Enterprise’s sickbay.

“Definitely one! Two, at most!”

Well… that settled that. Jim’s expression steeled, and he quickly engaged the transporter. Sulu dematerialized, but that was no guarantee he’d reached the Enterprise. “Mister Chekov, get on the transporter pad. When you get back to the Enterprise, give them all the sensor data you collected since we started scanning, and you find a way to get through that atmospheric barrier!”

“But, vat about you?” Chekov asked as he struggled to stay upright in the pitching shuttle. He gripped the bulkhead until he was white-knuckled, but he genuinely seemed more worried for Jim than himself.

“That’s why you need to get through the barrier. I’m gonna land this thing, and I’ll need a pick up.”

“But, I can help - “ Chekov never got to finish the statement before Jim grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the transporter pad. He repeated the sequence to beam the stunned ensign off the shuttle.

Jim turned and made his way back to the front of the shuttle.

He wasn’t a huge fan of gods or higher powers. But, he’d never wished he’d had a guardian angel more than right now.

The shuttle careened downward, punching through the atmosphere towards a sea so vibrantly blue, he thought for a moment, Look at that. You found paradise, Jim.

The shuttle Galileo plunged into the sea.