Reboot Fic: Fire Dancing 1/4 - Draws VIII [Pike/Kirk/McCoy and others, NC-17]

[syredronning]

Title: Fire Dancing (Draws VIII)
Author: Acidqueen
Series: Reboot aka ST:XI aka AOS - Draws Series
Codes: Pike/Kirk/McCoy and other pairings; several original characters of various genders
Rating: NC-17 for some hot scenes; warning: teacher/student relationship
Word count: complete 41.000, this part 11.000
Author's Note: This is the sequel to Maneuvers. See here for Draws masterpost.

Thanks for helpful comments goes to madelf. Thanks for the wonderful beta goes to orphica. All remaining flaws are solely mine.

Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek, I own my brain.

Summary: With Kirk and McCoy back in space, Pike's life is suddenly very busy. Juggling the things he has and the things he desires, he's not always sure that's a good thing.


***

It's the end of the day, the sun long gone, the sky clouded and starless above San Francisco. In the night, only the main pathways between the admiralty's buildings are illuminated, leaving most of them in the dark. Very few lit windows are sprinkled over the floors, a sign that even the busiest of Starfleet are home by now, spending time with their families or preparing for their night's rest.

On the seventh floor, Pike nudges a cup of coffee (he never counts, but it must be in the dozens again) from the machine in the corridor and then walks back to his office, the door automatically locking and securing behind him when he passes through. There had been a time when his work was of interest to a few - although reviews of quality documentation would reveal interesting breaches of security and protocols, but who cares about stealing and reading them? Now, six weeks into the Borg task force at his command, he gets the distinct feeling that his life is filled with secrets he never even wanted to know about in the first hand.

The liquid in the cup shakes dangerously as he takes his place in his chair, the uniform jacket long gone, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He could go home, but there's nothing and nobody waiting and the reward of the long day could be enjoyed just as well right here. In the low lights of the office, the console throws a ghostly light over his keyboard. On the screen, a star map displays one little triangle edging along its middle, the signature NCC-1701 beneath it. It's top-secret information, but his adept and creative assistant offered to install this feature and he couldn't resist. Knowing where they are brings a strange feeling of home with it, just as the waiting, work-safe recording does. He starts it and leans back, legs stretched out, hands folded in his lap.

Kirk's smile comes alive on the screen: "Hey Chris, this is our weekly news from star charting in the outer rim, the most boring mission ever. Seems we're still on Barnett's shit list. Since the outing's been all your fault, you could try to fix things a little. Not saying you've got to kiss any asses besides ours, but if that's what it needs, we're not above begging for it. It's nice to have some time for a sex life, but you know me, I like running on adrenaline, not on sleep." Kirk stops as McCoy comes into frame from somewhere behind, and they rearrange themselves in front of the cam.

"Hello, admiral," McCoy says with a smile, waving at the cam. "Don't listen to this hypocrite. Not only am I damn glad about being on a mission where I don't have to fix him up every day, he also just managed to out all of us."

"I didn't."

"You did."

"It doesn't count if people knew anyway," Kirk states. "I mean, this is Uhura, department chief of communications, and of course she's guessed for months because first we never send communications, and then we send stuff all the time? Back and forth with an admiral we don't report to?"

"There's a difference between guessing and knowing. We had this meeting four days ago and Jim was early and took a sneak preview at your recording, then totally cracked up over your story how you picked up your cadet in a bar at two in the morning…."

"Of course it cracked me up. Must have been total déjà vu for you, Chris. Though I never tried to stab anyone, as far as I can remember. I'm more into fists, but I guess that's not her style."

McCoy keeps talking without even batting an eye at Kirk's explanation. "So he cracked up and Uhura and Spock came in and he couldn't stop giggling. She asked what it was about, and he blurted out, 'Oh, Chris has to this amazing new protégée that keeps him on his toes. Wonder if he'd kill me if I asked her out for a night.' And she said that you're probably used to worse from us, and Jim just giggled and agreed."

"At which point you -" Kirk points at the doc - "blushed and felt the need to declare that while we are in open relationship, not everything is fair game and especially not cadets."

"Didn't want Uhura to think we're running around seducing kids, dammit."

"Which she thinks anyway."

"She doesn't. Not as long as I am involved, 'cause I got morals."

Pike leans back with a grin, wondering if and what they'd drunk before the recording because they both sound like teenagers, and if they were here now, he'd slap them. He doesn't really mind Uhura knowing about the three of them - Kirk's right, communication officers know such things anyway - but he definitely hopes his reputation will survive Kirk's inclinations to joke about sexual things. (Uhura once told Pike about the farm animal statement, and he'd never had the guts to actually ask Kirk if there was any truth to it, because he might not like the answer.)

"Anyway, now she and Spock know and of course she cracks a joke about it once in a while, like daily, and a lot of Vulcan eyebrow dance going on next to that."

"Which is still your fault, Bones."

McCoy shakes his head but gives up. Kirk grins, addressing the cam once again.

"All right. Regarding this new Borg information - thanks a lot for sharing them with us, which was probably against some protocols, but I like to be up-to-date with the development. It's a good idea to send the Lexington into the area where you found the latest trace of the Borg, because she's rather fast and well-equipped and Captain Esteban is really good at improvising, from all I've heard. But I also got the nagging feeling that you try to keep the Enterprise out of the ball game a little, because we would've been available, too. I wonder if the Borg's specific interest in the Enterprise, to which old Spock alluded, is noted in the files."

In front of the screen, Pike sighs a little; Kirk's got that damn good memory and Pike had never added that information to the files, although he's never quite sure why not. He'd have to deal with that particular information one day, one way or the other.

"Speaking of Spock, I'm a little concerned about him because I haven't heard from him since our last meeting."

McCoy's face next to Kirk visibly declares that the doc couldn't care less to hear from the old Vulcan.

"Maybe you could find out for me if anything's wrong with him or if he's just gone back into hiding."

A small, annoying beep suddenly chimes in, and Pike takes a moment to realize that it's an incoming call on his own console. Seeing the number, he stops the recording to accept the call.

"Hello, sweetheart," Farnham's voice comes in. "You're still in the office? You know it's past midnight on a Friday night?"

"Yes, I am. Yes, I do. What's up?"

"I'm standing with my car on the other side of the 'fleet plaza and waiting for you. Get your ass up and out. We're going to have a late dinner."

Pike rotates slightly in his chair. "You're running out of things to write in your intelligence reports? I could give you a revamp tomorrow morning."

"Does it ever occur to you that sometimes, it's just Chris the man I worry about? Who's currently trying to catch up in a few weeks all the things he missed in five years?"

"Yes, it does occur," Pike says. "It's one of the reasons I still hang out with you." He looks at the time display of the recording. "I need another ten minutes here. See you in fifteen."

"If you're not here in twenty, I'm going to call again."

"And I thought you'd come and pick me up," Pike teases him.

"Not all buildings are fair game, admiral. See you in fifteen." The line closes, Pike restarts the recording, and gets up to tidy up the office while listening to the last minutes.

Thirteen minutes later, Pike sits in Farnham's car, enjoys some fatty junk food at one-in-the-morning and ends in Farnham's bed at two, almost not thinking about all the things on his to-do lists.

*

"And then," Farnham's hands dance as he recounts the story of their morning shopping to Nat over lunch the next day, "right when we were shopping at Fernando's and Chris tried on these fantastic pants -"

"And your hands were all over my ass in public -" Pike states sourly.

"- he stumbles over his protégée. You should've seen him. I thought his eyes would fall off."

"I bet she heard how you wondered about the cams in the changing cubicles. I'd like to keep the remaining pieces of my authority intact, John, thank you very much."

"Ah, she'll survive," Natasha says and winks. "So you've seen her, John? Tell me about her. Chris doesn't want to share."

Farnham glances at Pike, but his glare doesn't stop him from replying, "She's damn young and so thin, you'd think she'd just survived some Holocaust. Looks rather androgynous, with spiked hair and the face full of make-up. I wonder what she's hiding."

Pike puts down fork and knife on his empty plate. "I never asked her, and I won't."

"She's transgender, don't you think?"

He shrugs. "I'm not sure. It's none of my concern either."

"At least she's doing her damndest not to look like a girl, from the way she dresses. And last thing she did was knife some other cadet in a bar so that Chris had to pick her up in the middle of the night."

"John!" Pike's snap finally shuts up his annoying friend.

"Really?" Nat asks curiously.

"First of all, it's neither the first nor the last cadet I picked up from some bar fight," Pike explains stiffly. "Did that often enough with Jim in his first year, and he managed just fine after that. Second, she stabbed the other cadet in self-defense. The cadet threatened and insulted her. The affair ended in a quiet compromise - she doesn't get reprimanded for violence, and he doesn't get reprimanded for xenophobia. I recommended her some martial arts courses, and she seems to do well."

"Well, she does look a little alien, don't you think? It's like a mask she's wearing." Farnham gets up, preparing three espressos.

"We've got many strange people at the academy and a lot of strange things out in space. Xenophobia has no place here."

"Humans still deal a lot better with the truly exotic than with that kind of divergence from the norm. She looks quite human but there's something unusual about her looks and her behavior, something that makes you wonder what's her agenda."

"Her agenda is the command track, and my agenda is to help her keep track." Pike carries away the plates. "I'm out, getting some fresh air." He leaves the kitchen, walking through the long corridor out to the roof garden. It's no comparison to his tiny balcony, just as the apartment - Robert's apartment, actually, but Nat will marry the guy in six weeks - is no comparison to his own small one. Once his annoyance about John's loose mouth has gone, it's substituted by envy for the space and view this apartment offers, and for once he starts thinking about moving, something that hadn't crossed his mind in ten years. Three bedrooms, each with an adjacent bathroom, a large kitchen and living room, and another smaller room for an office, this would mean not having to sit in each other's lap all the time when they are on Earth. Even if said sitting could be fun.

"I'm sorry for asking," Nat says as she draws close from behind, lacing one arm around his hip.

"Not your fault," Pike replies, taking her into a loose hug.

"You like the view?" she asks and nods towards the city below their feet.

"It's perfect."

"It could be yours."

He stares down at her. "You're kidding?"

"Robert and I prefer the country side, and since his children are grown-up and rarely here, the apartment is too large for us. Before I moved in, it's been uninhabited most of the time. And that will happen again after the marriage. So I thought of you and your shoe box, and I wondered if we couldn't swap the apartments."

"You're serious?" Pike shakes his head. "This apartment is worth at least four times the price of my own."

"Maybe, but the offer stands. Think about it, Chris. You'd have room to invite people - I know, I know," she says soothingly as he frowns. "You don't have to, but you could. Or someone could move in -"

"Unlikely." Pike stops her. "And don't even think that between John and me it's any different than during the academy."

"There are more people on Earth than just John," Nat replies quickly.

"I can't imagine that I'd be able to find someone who would fit to me as perfectly as they do."

"But they're not here, and won't be for some more months. I know you still feel lonely -"

"I feel fine, and we keep in pretty close contact." He pulls out of her arms, relieved when John brings the espressos out onto the terrace. Cups are handed, then the sugar passes between them. Somewhere a call sounds and Nat excuses herself to answer it.

Farnham eyes him over the edge of his coffee.

"You knew about the idea with the apartment?" Pike asks.

"Well - yes. It's one of the reasons I dragged you out here today."

Pike downs his coffee, harshly putting down the cup. "If you've already planned to move in, shove it."

"I haven't. I've got a nice apartment of my own, and I'm far beyond the age of cohabitation." Farnham shrugs. "But you know how it is when Nat's motherly instincts surface."

"I cannot fathom why Robert would propose such a deal. I barely know him - I've only seen him a couple of times. And to be frank, he behaved rather dumb when I last talked to him."

"It's because you're Admiral Christopher Pike, and he's got an inferiority complex about anything 'fleet. But you didn't hear that from me."

"Oh?"

Farnham leans against the handrail. "He wanted to join Star Fleet but wasn't fit for the service and had to go into the banking business instead. He still feels a little inadequate for having to give up his big goal, so he likes to follow the 'fleet activities as a kind of second-hand adventure in his life."

"He swims in money and his company's got subsidiaries on four different planets," Pike says incredulously. "His life should be a lot more exciting than mine."

"Doesn't really solve the underlying problem. We've been at the academy, so we easily forget that only one in a hundred make it that far, and only half of them ever graduate. Even the lowest of us is elite." He grins. "Even your punk is top."

"Punk?"

"Or a Goth, maybe. Yes, she could be a neo-Goth." Farnham laughs as Pike flounders. "I've got to drag you into the Catacombs tonight. Then you'll see what I mean."

"I thought Goths were long gone."

"They are - and yet, they never die. They call themselves the living dead for a reason."

Natasha is back, and Pike seizes the moment to bring up a topic that's been in his mind for the last two weeks. "Nat, John - I'd like to change my last will and testament, and since you've signed them in the past, I thought I'd ask if you would testify again."

"It's been ages since you wrote the last one, hasn't it?" Nat says.

Farnham snorts. "You want to include your officers? You know, it's much more likely you'll inherit from them than the other way 'round. And don't look at me like that, folks. Statistically, two ships vanish every year. They're usually just much smaller than your oh-so-important Kelvin."

"I thought about changing the splits, yes," Pike states. "A third to them, a third to Tom, the last third still to 'fleet charity."

"Considering your net worth even fifteen years ago, they'll all make a good deal," Farnham says snippily. "Give them the club shares. I'm sure Kirk would like that."

"Are you okay, Chris, or do we have to get concerned now?" Nat asks with an overly serious face.

"No, everything is fine," Pike replies lightly. "I just thought it's time to update it. So - would you sign?"

Nat nods. "Sure. Just say when."

Farnham waves a hand in agreement. "Maybe you'd have a few credits in it for me too, but yes, I'll sign."

"Good. I'll get back to you when I've talked it through with my lawyer." Pike doesn't say that his friends would inherit a share that is already settled for them since ages; it's protected and tied to their original 'fleet IDs. He'd rather not think about dying, especially since he feels as if he only really started to live again over the last months, but he's used to have his life (and potential demise) in order.

Their conversation quickly moves to Nat's wedding plans, which would take place on Robert's farm, not far away from Tom's and her own. Two hundred guests in an eclectic mix of farmers and 'fleet or former fleet - this is bound to be interesting.

When they leave her in the late afternoon, Nat holds him back in the door and whispers in his ear, "The offer with the apartment stands. Think about it if you want it, and then we can talk about the details."

Pike nods. "It's an attractive offer. I'll get back to you, Nat. Thanks for thinking of me."

"By the way," Farnham says casually when they sit in his car, "I'll be gone for four weeks, starting this Tuesday."

It's not as if Pike is entitled to John's spare time - or even would want to be - but he got used to his friend hanging around in his life lately, and thinking of four weeks without him suddenly sounds like an unpleasant prospect.

"Some secret mission?" he asks.

"Top secret," Farnham replies seriously, before adding, "I'll try to call you, but nothing promised."

"No problem," Pike says. They'd still have this weekend together, and he's used to being alone.

Everything would be fine.

*

"Sir - it's already after eight. Don't you think you should call it a night?"

Lifting his bleary eyes from the screen, Pike meets his assistant's concerned gaze. Got to do something with first names starting with N, he thinks at seeing the mother hen expression on Nicole's face that reminds him a lot of Nat.

"I've got another meeting scheduled. I'll go home after that."

She looks a little appeased. "Your cadet?"

"She isn't my cadet but yes, she should arrive in fifteen minutes. Enjoy your evening, Nicole."

Albeit her nod, she keeps lingering in the door. "It's Friday night," she says. "Don't you usually go out?"

He stares at her, wondering if this is some way of fishing for an invitation that would be pointless as well as inappropriate. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering if your friend -"

"He's away for a month," Pike replies coolly.

"Oh. That's why you're working so much."

He sighs. "Nicole, it's nice to know you care about my well-being, but your duties do not extend to my private life. So have a good evening and lock the outer office door, the cadet will call me when she's here."

Pike is relieved when she leaves. Rubbing his face, he admits to himself that he's tired but nothing that couldn't be fixed by yet another coffee. He's standing at the machine and waiting for the perfect brew to fill his cup when the cadet walks out of the turbolift.

"Good evening, sir," Dael greets him with a little salute.

Picking up his full cup, Pike shows her to his office.

"I only need a few minutes to close my files," he says and sinks into his chair. "Make yourself comfortable until then." Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees her sitting down on the couch of his little suite, her thin body folding like an accordion. He's especially informal with her in many regards. While most of the problematic young men strive with some kind of supportive but authoritative figure, her mixture of aggression and defense broadcasts her need for security so strongly that from the first talk on, he's done everything to make her feel safer and more comfortable in the presence of himself and other human beings. It is as if she works on the assumption that everyone around her is looking for a weakness to latch upon, and in this mind set, the wrong critic in the wrong moment brings out her metaphoric claws. It gets a little better with the martial arts lessons, but she's far from being an easy-going fellow.

Her aptitude tests, at which he'd only looked after he'd already decided he'd give her a chance, were all over the place; many brilliant, but others sub-par. Her psychological tests are a little inconsistent, too (although that's the case for many cadets), and he harbors the speculation that without the intervention of the IDIC Foundation, she wouldn't have been accepted into the Academy. Pike isn't used to having a protégée that doesn't perform in the top of the class, and he wonders if fate intervened a little before he got too snobbish about that. In any case, he had promised Nogura to be her mentor for this semester, and he'd see to his job being well-done.

With effort, he briefly concentrates on the latest audition reports. The Borg may be more fun than reading internal reviews, but he's still Auditor General and even with most of the daily work in the hand of his deputy Commander Okonkwo, there is still enough left for him. At last, he's done with signing forms and turns his concentration back to the cadet, only to find her fast asleep on the couch. Her head is sunk to one side, her spiky hairstyle a little for the worse. She looks pale like always, the strong make-up layered on her face. Pike agrees with Farnham that it looks like a mask, but he assumes that given the right incentive she'll get around to wearing less of it. There's nothing in her files to suggest a serious psychological problem, so he chalks her behavior up to her youth and some past events that hide in the locked area of her file, the one he didn't yet look into, unwilling to taint his view on her by what others might have written about her.

In his book, everyone has a chance for a clean, fresh start at the Academy.

Pike is torn out of his thoughts when Nogura is suddenly standing in the middle of his office. "Chris, just saw that you're still here - would you have a minute for me?"

"Quiet!" Pike hushes, pointing at the sleeping cadet. "Let's talk outside." He quickly gets up and moves into the outer office area with his colleague, closing the inner office door behind them.

"You've got a cadet sleeping on your couch?" Nogura asks sharply, and Pike shrugs. "We had a meeting scheduled, and I needed a few minutes to wrap my work. Considering that she looks permanently sleep-deprived, I consider it a good thing she gets some sleep somewhere."

"A meeting after eight in the evening?"

"Anything wrong with that?" Pike asks, challenging.

Nogura eyes him as if he's speaking Klingon. "You remember the Adams case?"

"The Adams case..." Pike needs a moment to recall the details. "An instructor that was accused of sexual harassment in 2248." He shakes his head, laughing a little. "Heihachiro, you can't possibly think that I've suddenly developed an interest in malnourished girls."

"I might not think so, but that doesn't mean that others wouldn't insinuate that. Or she might not."

"She's not the type," Pike says, although he's suddenly a little unsure - it's not as if he knows her that well yet. Seeing his doubts registering with Nogura, he nods. "You may be right. It's an unnecessary risk for everyone. I'll arrange earlier appointments in the future."

"And leave the security cams on," Nogura admonishes him. "You should be used to them, considering that bridge activities are recorded since the first days of spaceflight."

"I never liked that," Pike admits. "But you're right." Feeling unusually reprimanded, he tugs at the collar of his uniform. "So, why did you come to see me?" he asks, hoping for a turn in their discussion.

"It was nothing important," Nogura says coolly. "See you on Monday." He turns and leaves.

Holy crap. Pike has rarely seen Nogura so angry, and it's enough to make him hurry back into his office, switch on the cam and wake up the cadet. She looks confused, profoundly apologizing for having fallen asleep.

"That's no problem at all," Pike says swiftly. "But there's an emergency I need to deal with. We'll move the appointment to -" he eyes his calendar -"0730 on next Tuesday. Does that work for you?"

"Uh - yes," Dael agrees after a look at her PADD. "I'm really very sorry, Sir."

He shakes his head, smiling encouragingly at her. "I know how full your schedule currently is. Go home and have a good night's sleep and a relaxing weekend."

Pike hopes she will, because his weekend looks currently like shit squared. He's annoyed about Nogura by now - it's a tell-tale attitude that sees women as a natural, ready target while the young men Pike had usually been mentoring had never been seen as particularly vulnerable and worth protecting. He knows that this mostly mirrors the way the ominous construct called society looks at these situations and has little to do with Pike himself, but it rankles him that Nogura instantly leapt onto this cliché. Pike leaves the building shortly after, resorting to a few drinks in a nearby gay bar to let off some steam. There are some guys that could interest him, but in the end it's all too much hassle for him in his still foul mood, and he goes home alone.

*

When Pike gets home half an hour later, the apartment is dark and cool - no surprises there - but at least there's a signal blinking on his console, the pattern announcing a recording with the private tag on it. He's curious but not ready for listening right away, so he eats something first and then takes a shower before starting it. It's from the doc, which is rare. It's the doc lying on his bed, which is even rarer - obviously naked, one arm folded under his head, the other stretched out on his side, vanishing off the screen towards his hips.

"Hey, beautiful lover. I know I don't send recordings often enough. Can't help feeling a little strange whenever I make one, especially one of these. But tonight, I miss you like hell, and I can't help sharing that. It's not nice, I know, but I hope you can enjoy it a little anyway."

Hearing McCoy's intro, Pike quickly stops and relocates from the office to his bedroom. Since the vacation, the private recordings have changed in tone; they are frequently full cam recordings, with the lens capturing the men in private settings like the bed or the shower. They feel more intimate and intense, so Pike has installed a second screen in the bedroom. It's the screen on which McCoy's face and upper body appear now, and Pike lies down on his own bed, matching his lover's position.

The doc's eyes are half-closed as he resumes speaking. "Have been thinking about you all day, wondering how you're doing. Been thinking back to our vacation, many wonderful moments. Remembered how you looked on your knees, sucking my dick. But getting even harder over thinking of you fucking me. I miss your hands on me, Chris. I miss your kiss and you bossing me around and the way you look when you come undone. I miss spooning you in the night and watching you sleep."

The doc moves his free arm. "I've got my hand on my dick and pretending it's you who's doing it. Strong fingers moving all over it, palming the shaft, drawing a thumb over the glans." His head tilts back, eyes fluttering. "Slipping further down and cupping my balls, gently rolling them. Move on to my ass, rubbing over my hole. Then returning to my dick, fisting it."

A whimper is caught in the air between them as Pike's own free hand draws to his straining erection, tightening around it as he imagines the doc being the one to do it. Joined in low moans they share the moment until McCoy clears his throat.

"I've got a dildo here, it's large and slick with that hot cream of yours. I'm going to push it into my ass now and fuck myself, thinking it's you. Imaging it's your dick filling me up, riding me."

The doc briefly shows an impressive dildo, then reaches around himself and angles to insert it, one leg raised high in the air. It must be an uncomfortable position but that doesn't stop him. McCoy gasps as the dildo is fully inside, then sways back and forth as he fucks himself with it. Quiet at first, McCoy turns louder with every minute. He changes position, going on all fours and turning the cam in a way that leaves only his ass and a bodiless hand moving a dildo on Pike's screen. Whimpers and moans reverberate in the mike, the breaths turning into wheezes as the doc's getting closer to orgasm.

Pike is already close when McCoy changes position once more, leaning back on his knees so that the dildo is held inside by the heels of his feet and his hands are free to rub his erection, magnified fingers gliding up and down the pulsing member and filling the screen. Tell-tale jerks signal the immediately following orgasm, and then the white liquid splashes all over his hands, a voluptuous amount that dribbles down as the last drops are milked out of a dark red slit.

With a long, drawn-out cry, Pike comes, thrashing into his own hand. He sighs as he rides out his orgasm, his fingers slick, his dick hot and sensitive, a whimper escaping his throat. And then it hits him like a baseball bat in his guts, brutal and unexpected, and it breaks the damn around what he's contained so carefully over the last weeks, a flash flood of needdesireloneliness making him curl and half-sob into his cushion. Damn, damn, damn the doc for doing this to him, killing his reserve and letting out the beasts.

The words from the recording faintly echo through his pain, "Love you, Chris. Miss you. Take care. We'll talk to you soon." When it stops, he opens his eyes to white noise. The doc's tense face and his subdued smile are frozen on the screen, and from the looks of it, McCoy's yearning hadn't been eased any better by this recording than Pike's has.

With another heartfelt curse on his lips, Pike gets up from the bed with one sperm-filled hand close to his groin, the other one balled to a fist (how much he wants to hit something now, hard). He hurries back into the shower, the water as hot as he can stand it, and tries to wash away his come and his bone-deep frustration, only succeeding with one of them.

On the next morning, he tries to formulate an answer. "I wish you didn't send me such a recording. It fucking hurts," is the first thing he deletes, because they've agreed on not limiting the subjects of their recordings. "It was hot and it broke my heart," is the second try that goes down the drain, because he'll definitely not send anything that sappy to the doc.

It's a simple "Miss you too" Pike finally settles on before fleeing into a weekend of horse-back riding in the desert, feeling stupid for answering such an intimate, rare recording with such a platitude. He's not surprised that the next recordings are made by Jim alone, and he's ashamed for being a little relieved about it.

*

Two more weeks go by, each day filled with as much work as he can possibly fit in, the weekends always spent out in the desert, which is at least the one place where he can't fuck up much, knowing his horse and the desert too well.

Then, on a Thursday afternoon, he finds himself in a place he hadn't really expected himself to be in anytime soon, and he's not sure it's a bright idea when he stands in front of the wall-high mirror in the restroom on his office floor, nudging the instructor's greys into form. Still looking good in it, he thinks with a little vanity.

"Just this one time, Pike," the current Academy head Komack had said when he'd called him two days ago. "Four of our usual instructors have come down with Andorian shingles and we need to replace them with experienced officers for this training course. I know you're busy like hell, but maybe four days might be manageable for you? Please think about it for an hour - I'd owe you one."

A realistic training course onboard the teaching vessel Aurora with the first year students, and there were so many good reasons to say no, not the least his currently insane workload, but the idea of being on a ship in space overruled all other concerns. It also would have the additional merit of being able to see his protégée in action, something he's extremely curious about. He had called Komack ten minutes later and agreed to the position before even checking with his assistant. It had left her to deal with the resulting chaos and she'd been giving him a cold shoulder ever since. Poor girl. He'd have to make it up to her somehow - after the course.

He leaves the restroom and briefly returns to his office to grab his small bag.

"Enjoy your trip," Nicole says, apparently on speaking terms with him again, and he smiles at her. "Thanks. A training course with over a hundred cadets should be fun." Pike tries to sound sarcastic, but damn if he doesn't look forward to being on a ship again. Feeling surprisingly rejuvenated, he steps onto the beam point. It might not be a walk in the park - he's a bit apprehensive about going back to the job after almost six years away from a bridge - but he's sure it'll be a great experience for everyone.

It takes four beam stations to reach the shuttle of the training bridge crew, and five hours to reach the ship, filled with amicable discussions of the course plan with his colleagues. His heart skips a beat as he walks out of the shuttle, inhaling the typical stale air of a hangar bay.

"Welcome onboard, admiral," a young officer says and salutes. Pike nods in reply. "My pleasure, lieutenant," he says and absolutely means it.

*

It doesn't take long for Pike to find out that his protégée is as much of an outsider in her year as he feared her to be. Besides one female cadet who clings to Dael's side and turns out to be her roommate Charlene Rogers, most cadets keep away from the girl. The two girls end in the engineering group under a colleague's command, and Pike is relieved about this as he wants to avoid the semblance of favoritism. He's not beyond pulling a few strings to get Dael an interesting position in the simulation, though, in which she holds her own surprisingly well over the course of the next hours.

"It's always the quiet cadets that are the best," the chief engineer says in the wrap-up round when she marks Dael down with an A for the first day. "I thought about giving her the night shift, together with the Tellarite guy and the three Deltans. Gives the team the chance for some additional points when they calibrate the maladjusted grit sensors."

Pike agrees and makes a note to show up in the night shift; nothing wrong with checking on cadets and satisfying his natural curiosity.

*

Breaking News ETCV - your voice of the morning - Ossi O'Neil.

Almost-disaster on a training cruiser in orbit around the Moon.
What should only be four days of Starfleet cadet training on the space ship 'Aurora' turned into a nightmare when barely escaping a warp core breach. Of the one-hundred-and-ten first year cadets and ten officers that manned the ship during the training run, two people had to be taken to the hospital, one still in critical condition. The training was immediately stopped and the cadets are on their way back to Earth, while specialists will now have to find the cause of the potentially fatal technical failure.

An official press conference is scheduled by Starfleet for 0700 Western Standard. Stay tuned for more information.

*
From a call recorded on Natasha Solway's console at 0620 SFA local time:

Nat -

For all I know you're also on Chris' emergency contact list, but in case you're not or they didn't reach you yet, I just got a call from Starfleet and he's one of the people who got injured on the Aurora this morning. Seems he got in the way of an energy overload. He's in surgery in Lunar One MedCenter and it's serious but I've got no doubt he'll make it.

I thought about flying over but I really can't leave Earth right now. Maybe you could…? I'm in contact with the hospital and the 'fleet spokesman on the Moon. Please call me back when you get this message.

All will be well -

John

*

It's that peculiar feeling of floating Pike has experienced much too often that tells him that he's not dead. But it's the vision of pitch-black, angry patterns on a body bending over him that tells him he's still in a freaking nightmare. He reaches out for consciousness, forcing his eyes open against the lure of the sedation. All is white and bright and he winces as it blinds him.

But at least, nothing black.

Taking inventory of his state, he finds he's full with painkillers and there's a vague burning across his chest. Sluggishly lifting a hand, he wants to feel the damage when a distant alert sounds, and people start to fill the room.

"I'm Doctor Soral," someone says. "You've gone through an emergency surgery. You may not remember the events, but we will explain everything after your checkup. Give us eight minutes."

They fiddle around with controls, the monitors above his head rapidly switching between differently colored charts. They touch his hands and look into his eyes and check whatever it is on his chest. Pike's zoning out a little because he hates getting manhandled like some brain-dead piece of meat but when he does that, the memories of the patterns flicker up again.

Curled in a corner, hand pressed against his uniform, everything wet and warm, view fogged from pain, eyes from under black tattoos staring...

"Sir, please stay with us," someone says and there's a light slap to his face, encouraging him to substitute the memories with reality. He's not opposed to the coolness of the voice, a welcoming grounding when every floating memory is suddenly leaping onto the shock that's reverberating in his body, reliving the moment.

Red on white fabric, dark patterns leaking through, shouted words he doesn't understand, hands pulling him aside, every movement agony...

"Sir!" The voices drift, his vision blurs - the face changes into another man with pointed ears, give me the codes, black on white, he's bleeding, he's in engineering and needs to get the kids out before Nero can get them, he'll be a dead man, fucking cold, so -

*

It's like a button being pushed in his brain, and this time Pike is not floating. He's suddenly wide awake, and when he sees the hypo in the hand of a woman, he's instantly oriented. He's in a hospital room, though smaller and less well equipped as the ones he's used to. The woman wears a uniform unlike the one in SFM General, and his chest hurts.

It's good to feel the pain, because it tells him this is real.

"Where am I?" he wants to ask, but his voice fails, his throat dry and slightly burning. After a few sips of water, he's ready to ask again.

"You're on the Moon, at Lunar One MedCenter. You've been brought here after an accident on the Aurora." The woman searches his face. "Do you remember the events?"

"Barely." He tries to think about it and every train of thought ends with black on white patterns and it gives him chills. "I... I've been in engineering, and there was a malfunction. Something severe. I had to get the kids out because..." He brushes over his face, the mingled memories unwilling to solidify into a full picture.

"Because...?"

Something clicks. "Because there was only the choice between a warp core breach or a manual energy rerouting with the risk of system overload. Which...happened." He glances down on his chest. "Something hit me. The containment fields went up to secure the section. The chem-showers started to flood the room to neutralize the radiation. I... by all rights, I should be dead."

"You probably would be if not for one of your cadets," the woman says and smiles.

*

It's John and the 'fleet representative that share the duty to inform him over a split view screen, filling the chronological details of the time frame which his memory doesn't deliver. How he's made sure that all cadets would be out of the immediate danger area before he rerouted the energy. That after a piece of baffle plate had pierced his chest and left him severely injured and unable to proceed with his original plan, a single cadet - namely his own protégée - rescued him by moving him into one of Jeffrey tubes.

"You scare me," Farnham says when the representative has signed off. "First you speak about changing your will, and now this. Is that second sight or something?" But Farnham doesn't give Pike a chance for a reply, only roughly says good-bye before signing off in an obvious hurry.

Their call leaves him restless and vaguely irritated. He doesn't care about being called a hero for doing his duty like every officer would have done, and their story doesn't answer his most burning question.

He's got to wait a full day until Dael is out of isolation, having taken a larger brunt of the chem-shower. When the nurse finally announces her arrival, he's relieved and incredibly nervous at the same time.

She limps a little as she walks into the room, clad in a too wide hospital gown, white slippers on her feet. But the only feature that really registers with him is her face, the dark Romulan tattoos curving over her chin, decorating her forehead. He stares at the pattern, curling in his bed a little just to prove his subconscious that he can, that this isn't some past shit. These patterns are like the culmination of everything that happened back then, and to see them again, here, on her, makes his mind reel.

She just keeps looking back at him, tense and quiet.

There would be a lot of good things to say, like thanking her for saving his life, but he's got to know which of his memories are real, and which aren't.

"May I see your chest?" he asks tensely. Way to get a reprimand for sexual harassment, he thinks, but she only nods and opens the gown. She's wearing slacks underneath, but her upper body is bare, and she proceeds to remove the gown completely, then stands there, offering herself to his gaze. The pattern goes all the way down her lanky body, front and back, vanishing in the pants. They're unlike Nero's and still much too similar.

"Give me the frequencies, Christopher," Nero asked. Pike was shivering in the cold room, but Nero had opened his coat a while ago, and when he leaned over him, the pattern was carving its way into Pike's mind, the constant bombardment of dark curved lines like accents to every word of the Romulan.

"The frequencies," Nero said, closing his right hand around Pike's jaw, forcing him to look at him, eyes of a madman framed by what might have been just beautiful art at another place and time... and then the numbers started to roll over Pike's tongue, one by one.

He roughly shakes himself out of the memories, taking a deep breath.

"Thank you, cadet," Pike says firmly, although he can feel sweat pooling on his upper lip and from her gaze, he's rather sure she can notice it, too. "It is always good to face one's inner demons," he adds.

There's a light curve on her lips, a shadow of a smile as she dresses again. "Very true, sir."

He beckons her closer, and she sits down next to the bed, arms protectively laced in front of her.

"Thank you for saving my life. Without you, I would have gotten roasted in there," he says gently. "Though I wonder if you have any excuse for not following my orders, cadet."

She blinks. "Sir?"

"I gave the evacuation order for a reason. Disobeying orders isn't some trivial offense. Orders are the foundation of Starfleet."

Dael shifts in the chair, belligerence rising in her gaze. "I disobeyed your orders because I had information you did not seem privy to, admiral. That part of engineering had been redesigned over the last year. Even in the worst case, the radiation level would not have been lethal. The Jeffrey tubes have been equipped with extra shielding and air inlets from other levels, so that they could protect four persons over a time of two hours from any radiation leaks in the main engineering bay. It would have been more logical for you to select someone as your helper and then retreat into these tubes - sir."

Slightly speechless, Pike stares at her. He hadn't known about these changes in design, given that he had been neither involved with nor really interested in ship development over the last few years. He would research the matter, but she sounds very sure.

"If that is the truth," he says slowly, almost unwillingly, "then your reasoning was sound and your decision is accepted. Well-done, cadet." He feels more than a little stupid, but the feeling will go - he's used to make decisions on the information available to him in the blink of the moment, and while it's good to analyze 'wrong' decisions afterwards, there's no use in crying over spilled milk. He would've died for the kids and wouldn't have regretted it a single second.

They are interrupted by the opening door, and Pike expects some doctor coming to reign him in; but instead, a nurse switches on the small screen at the end of his bed. "You've got an urgent call patched through, sir," she says and vanishes again. For a second, there's the long-distance intercom sign for real-time transmission, and then two well-known faces appear on the screen.

"Chris, damn! You're unbelievable. Getting yourself on a ship just to get almost blown to pieces." McCoy blurts out without any introduction. Pike feels a blush rising. "Doc, could you please hold on for a second, I've got a visitor."

Dael was frozen in her chair, but now hastily moves to stand.

"Ah - that's your cadet? How about a little introduction?"

"Cadet Dael - this is Lieutenant Commander Dr. McCoy of the Enterprise, and next to him is Captain Kirk. My friends - this is cadet Dael." The parties eye each other over the cams with curious gazes.

"Nice meeting you," Kirk says with a smile. "It seems we've got to thank you for saving the admiral's life."

Dael nods, her face unusually red. "Captain, doctor - I only did my duty." Then she stiffly addresses Pike, "Permission to retreat, sir?"

"Permission granted," Pike says and waits until she's out of the door before concentrating back on the screen with his lovers.

"Whoa, the patterns on her face - they look like Nero's," Kirk states, letting his surprise off the rein. "What's her story?"

"I don't know yet - I only learned about her tattoos during the emergency."

"Keep us posted. I'm really curious." Kirk takes a deep breath. "You really scared us, Chris. Could you please try not to get killed on simple training courses? We're supposed to have the dangerous missions, not you."

"Jim's right," McCoy states. "Since you noted me as one of your personal physicians, I took the freedom to read your medical files and it's been a damn close call."

Pike waves a hand in a gesture of shrugging. "It was necessary for saving those kids, and I'd do it again any time." Not completely the truth, but truth enough for them.

"You seem to have a tendency for heroic showdowns," McCoy states, a deep frown stapled on his forehead.

"Comes with the trade," Pike says unapologetically, thankful that McCoy doesn't launch into his potential martyr complex, which his latest psychologist had loved to discuss. "And speaking of trade, I thought you were out of range for real-time transmissions?"

"Nogura ordered us around to the closest outpost, which had been two days away. Given that you've been out of it for three…" Kirk grins. "We're supposed to render technical help here."

Pike shares the smile. "A rather flimsy excuse."

"Guess the outing has some good sides too. Didn't realize before how much Nogura favors you."

"We've got to sign off. Love you, Chris. Please, try to stay alive and follow your doctor's orders," McCoy says roughly.

"What Bones says," Kirk agrees. "Take care, and I hope we can call once more before dragging back to the star charting fun. Or maybe you could drop a hint to your friend Nogura regarding our assignment."

"I'll see what I can do," Pike says softly. "Take care too, and all my love."

The men nod, then the connection is cut and the placeholder image appears. With a sigh, Pike relaxes in his cushions, suddenly extremely tired. He's barely awake when the nurse comes back to give him another hypo for whatever, then drifts into sleep.

*

The next morning, the old man himself comes to visit him. Dael is sitting in the visitor's chair, waiting for her discharge and trip back to Earth, going through her next week's schedule with Pike who sits half-up with a regen unit on his chest. Nogura exchanges a few kind words with Dael, congratulating her on her actions and predicting a more official reaction of the Academy. Then he claims that he needs to speak with her mentor alone and shows her out.

"Hello, Heihachiro," Pike says as they shake hands. "You knew, didn't you?"

"Of course," Nogura answers without hesitation and pulls the chair closer to sit down next to the bed.

"Why me?" Pike asks. "If I'd known this before, I probably wouldn't even have spoken to her."

"There are quite a few people who criticize your obvious fascination with potential. And I agree, you have that preference and that can make it hard for those who don't meet your standards. The flip side of it is that you care very little about everything else. Or do you think another recruiter would've taken Jim Kirk on board after a glance of his dossier? You only looked at his aptitude tests - so I was fairly sure you'd also only look at her tests, and wouldn't ask to unlock her background information. So you were the right person for her, Chris. And she proved it."

Pike nods. "So - what is in her locked files?"

"Why don't you find out by yourself?"

"A hint, please."

"Khal'kohachi."

"Never heard before. What is it?"

"Was it. A small colony near the Romulan border." Nogura smiles, an enigmatic, white-teethed smile that never reveals anything. "For everything else, get her confidential information unlocked… or even better, ask herself. Because I doubt that the files are complete."

"You're accepting cadets with incomplete files into the Academy?" Pike asks with a twinkle.

"Too many. But to get back to business -" Nogura pulls out a PADD. "I've been informed that you'll be kept here for another week. Do you have any plans regarding your task force?"

"My assistant is ready to take over all organizational duties. There's nothing big on the task list for this week, as the specialists are still analyzing the reports last sent in from the Lexington. The results are supposed to be delivered in ten days."

"Fine. I heard that you are a little under-equipped." Nogura quickly puts the PADD into Pike's hand. "For you. Better keep it away from your doctors."

Pike sighs in relief and stashes it away. "Definitely, thank you. I think they want to kill me with boredom."

Boredom, Pike finds out after Nogura's leaves, is not on his agenda that morning, as both Nat and John and then his lovers call in, followed by yet another round of doctors' visits.

The regen units and their accompanying medicine take their toll, and he spends most of the next hours asleep. When he wakes up in the late afternoon, his gaze involuntarily drifts to the visitor's chair. He gapes as he recognizes the man that sits there.

"Spock!" Pike exclaims and searches for the button to lift the upper side of the bed. He finds it and the mattress shifts, making him groan a little.

"There's no need for you to exert yourself, admiral," Spock replies with his dark voice, and moves over to take his hand in a firm but gentle grip.

"What brings you here, Spock? Everything all right with Jim?" Pike asks in sudden concern.

"The captain and the doctor have had to resume their mission and are out of real time transmission range now. But they promise a recording soon." Spock takes a surprisingly deep breath. "I've come for you, admiral. When I heard about the accident, I could not help myself - I need to apologize."

"Apologize?"

"Yes. If I had known you would fill in the instructor position again, I might have been able to warn you. It might have made a difference." There's pain and regret around the man like an aura, and Pike briefly closes his eyes and rubs his face, trying to dispel the last traces of sleep.

"Warn me? If this is going where I think it going, you better take a seat, Spock," he says. The old Vulcan nods and draws the chair closer to his bed, then sits down, hands tightly folded in front of him.

"Can I offer you anything? Water? Tea?"

"Nothing, thank you."

Pike leans back. "Care to tell me what really happened to me in your timeline?" he asks. "Because I didn't really buy your answer the last time around, and hearing your words now doesn't make it any better."

"While serving as instructor, you participated in a training course when a baffle plate broke. You rescued many cadets but were gravely wounded by delta rays in the process," Spock explains without ado.

"Gravely as in ...?"

"You had to be put on permanent life support, unable to move, unable to communicate with your surrounding besides a simple yes or no."

Pike would grant Spock this - he doesn't weasel around the brutal truth once he decides to be open. "So I guess I've had the better draw this time around," he states, forcing out a little smile. "But why did you lie to me?"

"Some months after the accident, you were permanently moved to an alien planet whose species was able to offer a fantasy world to you. You spent the rest of your life living in health and beauty and with the companionship of a similarly incapacitated female." Spock gives him an annoyingly gentle look. "It is not within the original definition of 'long and prosper', but considering the alternatives you have lived well."

"Well -" Pike echoes. "Not my idea of well, but you might be the better judge of this. You didn't have anything to do with that particular solution, did you?"

"I was slightly involved," Spock says, holding Pike's gaze.

There's a knock on the door, the nurse coming in for his afternoon checkup. "I fear you've got to leave for today," she says to his visitor.

"May I return tomorrow, admiral?" Spock addresses Pike.

Pike nods. "You're welcome. Maybe a little earlier; I've got a tight schedule here."

Spock takes it as standing invitation.

*

With everyone either away on Earth or out in space, Spock's daily visits markedly improve Pike's mood. He'd been more than critical of Spock's behavior the first time they met, and he is still critical about the way the man deals with his immense knowledge, but the fact that the Vulcan has shared the truth about Pike's self in the other timeline had done much to appease him. Trying to needle the man out of his stubborn position of holding back most of his information is the best counter-agent against intellectual boredom, although Pike never reaches his goal - or at least not in the way he expects.

"Do you sometimes feel like God?" Pike asks on the second day.

"God?" Spock lifts a brow.

"Omniscient. Able to predict the future."

"If I could do this, I might feel like a higher being. Unfortunately, nobody can predict the future."

"There's got to be other situations where you do know what happens, even if my accident didn't exactly take place like in your universe. Illnesses you have the cure for. Viruses you know the antidotes. Planets you know we shouldn't put our feet on."

"Not as much as I would prefer," Spock says, a shadow flickering over his features. "Even my memory does not contain everything I have come across."

"It's not enough to feed us bits and pieces like you do so far." Pike pushes his point. "One day, you're gone, and then what?"

Spock bows his head and for a second Pike thinks he's reached him - but then he realizes that the Vulcan is just dangerously close to a smile and wants to hide it.

"What's so funny about it?"

"Do you not think I have considered the alternatives, admiral? Do you not think that many intelligent men, not the least my own father in this timeline, have logically argued with me?"

"And Jim."

"No, he never argued." Spock looks up. "Not over this decision."

"You accept him like he wants to be. He accepts you like you decide to be."

"Exactly."

Slightly surprised about his own brilliant statement, Pike closes his mouth, trying to keep its gist for future consideration. It lingers in the night, long after Spock left.

On the fourth visit, their discussion turns to the complex interaction between the old Spock and McCoy, and Pike is siding a little with McCoy as he challenges Spock into admitting that he interferes with the couple's life because of personal interests. Basically, because he wants Jim to himself, like in the other timeline.

He doesn't expect to see one of Spock's tiny, sad smiles that flicker up once in a while. Whoever thought Vulcans were emotionless should be beaten with a stick.

"The doctor is in error about my motives," Spock says at last.

Pike looks at him, long and hard, and suddenly the penny drops. "You weren't in a relationship with just Jim - you were in a relationship with both."

"Correct, although this took place several years after the original mission. When we first met, I wasn't able to accept emotions, neither my own nor theirs. It needed a long separation and my death before we could come together at last."

Pike frowns about what has to be an exaggeration but doesn't ask because he wants to follow his train of thoughts. "And the reason you stay away from the doc is that you don't want to get close to him again. But why do you still seek out Jim…?"

"I keep away from them both, as much as I can. But sometimes I crave a moment of companionship. I try to keep them rare and brief."

How much sadness could there be in such few words, Pike wonders and looks away.

"I am pleased to see that the relationship between the captain and the doctor flourishes," Spock says, gaze staring into the distance. "I was surprised to find you a participant. It appears that a threesome constellation is a stable state for them."

"You hid your surprise well."

"I am Vulcan." There's silence between them for a moment, before Spock says, "May I ask you a personal question?"

"Try," Pike says.

"You appear to be solely interested in men. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Your counterpart had a strong interest in Orion women."

"An interest?"

"You might call it a fetish."

"I'm not interested in women, no matter their color," Pike states.

"Fascinating. I wonder where this difference comes from. Your early past should not have been influenced by the Kelvin."

"Frankly, after having read up a little on time travel theories and considered a few statements by Jim, I doubt that we are in a time line with only the Kelvin as a difference," Pike says slowly. "It appears the split happened earlier."

"I agree," Spock says easily.

Pike shakes his head. "This is in contradiction to the current pet theory of the Federation's temporal physicists. Maybe you should write a paper about it."

Spock folds his hands. "Maybe you should."

"I'm only an admiral who scanned a few papers in his spare time but not masochistic enough to return to multidimensional quantum mathematics."

"You sell yourself short."

Pike waves him off. "The only person who could definitely compare the timelines is you, and you adamantly insist you won't do it."

"Definitely. Imagine if more people realized that by traveling through time, they could change the flow of history - make their beloved ones return, ends wars, or start wars… There is no limit to the possibilities."

"I agree. But still..." Pike is being egoistic - or maybe not really egoistic because he thinks more of Jim and the doc who might be at risk by something that could easily be resolved with the right information, and it's driving him a little nuts to have the keeper of this knowledge so close and yet so unrelenting. At the end of all discussion, he resigns to the hope that Spock would do a lot to protect the men they both care about so deeply.

*

When Pike is discharged, he's not surprised when Spock is the one bringing him to the shuttle with a rented flyer. The Vulcan helps him put his bag into the trunk (which makes Pike feel like an old man) before he slips onto the seat next to Spock.

"Courtesy of New Vulcan?"

"Courtesy of an old Vulcan," Spock replies with an almost invisible twinkle in his eyes.

They ride in silence until Spock stops close to the airport, but not yet at the gate. Pike takes in the sudden, strange tension in the cabin. There's an option in the air, dangerously inviting and yet so unattainable.

"You know I can't do that," Pike says quietly, meeting the gaze of Spock's dark eyes. "I can't participate in a mind meld."

Speaking about keeping things to oneself...

"Because of them?"

"Yes."

"Maybe they wouldn't mind."

"McCoy would." Pike looks away. "And I mind that a lot." He sighs. "We can talk."

"We already talked enough, don't you think?" Spock draws a little closer, and for a moment Pike wonders whether he'd stand much of a chance if Spock tried to take what he wants, the words non-negotiated mind meld suddenly coming back to him. He can only hope that the Vulcan's ethics haven't been completely corrupted over the last years.

"You are lonely. You crave companionship - not just the sexual release you gain with your friend John."

It's a little intimidating to receive such a fitting diagnosis when Pike hadn't even spoken one word about his part-time lover to Spock. "Can't deny it. But this won't solve anything."

"It would alleviate the pain for a while. I have memories of a lifetime with them. Why suffer when we could ease the pain by sharing?"

"You're a stubborn old man, Spock. I said no." Pike knows exactly what Spock is craving, but nothing he could offer would make it any easier for a man who's lost both his universe and his partners, and nothing Spock could offer would make his current situation any better either.

"It's intended as an offer, not an assault," Spock says but keeps drawing closer, rising one hand.

"Spock - stop." Pike inhales sharply as one wrinkled forefinger draws along his cheek. There's a tingle, a sudden lurching of images and visions before he manages to slap the hand away. It brings Spock back to his senses.

"I apologize," the Vulcan says roughly and starts the engine to deliver Pike to his terminal. A few awkward moments later they face each other in front of the flyer. Spock offers the Vulcan greeting, his voice level and emotionlessly. "Thank you for our discussions, admiral. It was a unique pleasure to speak about the things that touch us both. Live long and prosper."

"Thank you, too. It would be a lie to say I enjoyed them all, but it was certainly interesting and enlightening. May you also live long and prosper." Pike's fingers have no problem forming the Ta'al, and so they part.

When his shuttle leaves and Pike sees a tiny, regal figure standing near the main gate, he's suddenly drowning in the eerie feeling that he won't see the old Vulcan again. A part of him sorely regrets that he had to deny the mind meld; it would surely have been the experience of a lifetime. But it also would have felt like betraying the doc's trust, and that is an absolute no-go for Pike. He splays his hand over the cool shuttle window, thinking of his lovers out in space, probably anxiously waiting for a message from him that he didn't feel up to recording yet.

"Wish you were here," he whispers.

Onto part 2/4