Ficlet: Out of the Ashes | STXI | Pike/Number One | PG-13 | 1/1
Title: Out of the Ashes
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Chris Pike/Number One
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 819
Summary: After the dust settles, One receives her marching orders, and Chris doesn't take the news as badly as she does.
Disclaimer: Paramount and CBS own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: I finally wrote Pike/Number One! :D It's a miracle! And yes, my muses appear to be on the mend. *dances* :p
Out of the Ashes
Turning his glass of scotch around in his hands idly, Chris watched his former XO finish off her own glass and set it down on the coffee table between them, watched the way her throat worked around the last swallow, slow and deliberate. Just like everything in her life, nothing was left to chance.
"I got my orders this morning," One said as she sat back in her chair, hands folded in her lap and her eyes fixed firmly back on Chris, leaving the PADD she'd brought with her on the table next to her glass.
Of course he'd known this was coming since she'd pressed the chime on his door over an hour ago; they didn't see much of each other these days--never enough to his liking--but when they did, it was important, with a capital 'I'. It had been plain that there was more to discuss than the restructuring of the fleet and the acceleration of construction plans for four new ships to begin replacing those lost at Vulcan, including the Excalibur, Kent, Reliant and Excelsior. The only question now was, how bad was the news? It certainly couldn't top his revelation a month ago that he'd be in a chair, behind a desk, for the foreseeable future.
"And?" he finally prompted her, feeling a slight itch of anticipation.
"And they want me on the Yorktown. In the center seat."
Chris noticed the way one corner of her mouth tightened with the statement. An untrained observer might think she was displeased with her assignment, but he knew better. It wasn't displeasure at all, not by a long shot.
"I'm happy for you," he nodded, choosing to let her concern for him go unremarked. "I understand the Yorktown will be spearheading the colonization efforts on New Vulcan with the Potemkin and the Obama, while the good old Saratoga and Endeavor get to finish off the remaining cleanup of Nero's rampage. That's quite an honor, considering."
One let out a small huff through her nostrils, a tiny furrow lining her brow for a brief moment. "You should be there."
At that, Chris could only laugh, before he took another swallow of his drink and set the glass down opposite hers and folded his own hands in his lap to mirror her posture. "I think the time for 'should be' is long over, don't you?"
He should have been captaining the Enterprise. Vulcan should still be hanging in orbit around 40 Eridani A. One should have come by her command without a disastrous battle having to wipe out half the fleet. But there was no point in harping over any of it anymore. It was all said and done, the smoke long cleared, and the only thing left to do was pick up the pieces and move forward, with One having emerged from the ashes an undeniable winner, along with Kirk and his brilliant crew.
"I suppose you're right," she conceded after a long, calculating look.
"Of course I'm right. That's why you love me."
A genuine snort of amusement escaped her in response, and he saw her shoulders shiver with an otherwise silent laugh for a split second. Just enough to break up the heavy pall of their conversation. "You're worse than your pet Cadet-Captain. Always have been."
Chris couldn't help a smile as he sat back in his chair and shifted to a more relaxed position. "All true. But I've got something Jim Kirk doesn't: over three decades of experience and a king-sized bed in spacious quarters," he finished with a suggestively-raised eyebrow.
"Oh, really? And what exactly do you intend to do with this tactical advantage?" she teased in turn. It was an old game with them, but one that had always led to interesting things.
"Hopefully show my former XO and the newest fleet Captain a good time before she has to ship out, maybe leave a lasting impression." And if there was a sizable grain of bitter truth in that statement, far be it for him to admit it out loud. One had certainly already read it all over him, anyway.
"Lucky for you, I don't have to report in until 1300 hours tomorrow to get my crew in order. It's bound to be a nonstop daily grind from then on." Her subtle emphasis on 'grind' didn't pass him by, of course. Deliberate, as always.
"Well, then, we'd better get started," he smirked. Wheeling himself around the table, he cupped her liquor-warmed cheek in his hand and leaned close to press an equally heated kiss to her lips. If all they had was the here and now, he planned to make it last, and to hell with what should have been. As much as Chris wanted her by his side for the rest of forever, had wanted her there almost as long as he'd known her, One belonged in her own center seat, with her own crew to command. He'd gladly take the consolation prize any day.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Chris Pike/Number One
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 819
Summary: After the dust settles, One receives her marching orders, and Chris doesn't take the news as badly as she does.
Disclaimer: Paramount and CBS own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: I finally wrote Pike/Number One! :D It's a miracle! And yes, my muses appear to be on the mend. *dances* :p
Out of the Ashes
Turning his glass of scotch around in his hands idly, Chris watched his former XO finish off her own glass and set it down on the coffee table between them, watched the way her throat worked around the last swallow, slow and deliberate. Just like everything in her life, nothing was left to chance.
"I got my orders this morning," One said as she sat back in her chair, hands folded in her lap and her eyes fixed firmly back on Chris, leaving the PADD she'd brought with her on the table next to her glass.
Of course he'd known this was coming since she'd pressed the chime on his door over an hour ago; they didn't see much of each other these days--never enough to his liking--but when they did, it was important, with a capital 'I'. It had been plain that there was more to discuss than the restructuring of the fleet and the acceleration of construction plans for four new ships to begin replacing those lost at Vulcan, including the Excalibur, Kent, Reliant and Excelsior. The only question now was, how bad was the news? It certainly couldn't top his revelation a month ago that he'd be in a chair, behind a desk, for the foreseeable future.
"And?" he finally prompted her, feeling a slight itch of anticipation.
"And they want me on the Yorktown. In the center seat."
Chris noticed the way one corner of her mouth tightened with the statement. An untrained observer might think she was displeased with her assignment, but he knew better. It wasn't displeasure at all, not by a long shot.
"I'm happy for you," he nodded, choosing to let her concern for him go unremarked. "I understand the Yorktown will be spearheading the colonization efforts on New Vulcan with the Potemkin and the Obama, while the good old Saratoga and Endeavor get to finish off the remaining cleanup of Nero's rampage. That's quite an honor, considering."
One let out a small huff through her nostrils, a tiny furrow lining her brow for a brief moment. "You should be there."
At that, Chris could only laugh, before he took another swallow of his drink and set the glass down opposite hers and folded his own hands in his lap to mirror her posture. "I think the time for 'should be' is long over, don't you?"
He should have been captaining the Enterprise. Vulcan should still be hanging in orbit around 40 Eridani A. One should have come by her command without a disastrous battle having to wipe out half the fleet. But there was no point in harping over any of it anymore. It was all said and done, the smoke long cleared, and the only thing left to do was pick up the pieces and move forward, with One having emerged from the ashes an undeniable winner, along with Kirk and his brilliant crew.
"I suppose you're right," she conceded after a long, calculating look.
"Of course I'm right. That's why you love me."
A genuine snort of amusement escaped her in response, and he saw her shoulders shiver with an otherwise silent laugh for a split second. Just enough to break up the heavy pall of their conversation. "You're worse than your pet Cadet-Captain. Always have been."
Chris couldn't help a smile as he sat back in his chair and shifted to a more relaxed position. "All true. But I've got something Jim Kirk doesn't: over three decades of experience and a king-sized bed in spacious quarters," he finished with a suggestively-raised eyebrow.
"Oh, really? And what exactly do you intend to do with this tactical advantage?" she teased in turn. It was an old game with them, but one that had always led to interesting things.
"Hopefully show my former XO and the newest fleet Captain a good time before she has to ship out, maybe leave a lasting impression." And if there was a sizable grain of bitter truth in that statement, far be it for him to admit it out loud. One had certainly already read it all over him, anyway.
"Lucky for you, I don't have to report in until 1300 hours tomorrow to get my crew in order. It's bound to be a nonstop daily grind from then on." Her subtle emphasis on 'grind' didn't pass him by, of course. Deliberate, as always.
"Well, then, we'd better get started," he smirked. Wheeling himself around the table, he cupped her liquor-warmed cheek in his hand and leaned close to press an equally heated kiss to her lips. If all they had was the here and now, he planned to make it last, and to hell with what should have been. As much as Chris wanted her by his side for the rest of forever, had wanted her there almost as long as he'd known her, One belonged in her own center seat, with her own crew to command. He'd gladly take the consolation prize any day.
~*~*~*~