Reboot Fic: Fire Dancing 2/4 (Draws VIII)
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 9.500
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.
See here for Part 1
Two days later, Pike is back in his office, taking it easy in the first week back on duty. He's also finally giving in to Natasha' nudging and decides to buy Robert's apartment - a larger investment than he feels really comfortable with, but still too good to pass up. He's unwilling to give up his shoebox, as Nat calls it, but he can always rent it out, and this way, he's not pressed to move right away.
It's the largest credit transfer he's undertaken in ages, and seeing his funds suddenly depleted like this makes him nervous and wonder if he only doesn't care about the money because, for the longest time, he's had full banking accounts and very small expenses. Like with sex, it probably obeys the 80-20 rule - if you have it, it's twenty percent of your thoughts, and if you don't have it, it's eighty percent
Pike battles the eighty percent sex thoughts by hanging out with Farnham, striving to prove to his friend that despite his recent injury he won't break during sex, and battles the eighty percent money thought by transferring some of the club funds to his private accounts. There's still enough left for a future revamp of all playrooms, something that's been on his mind lately after a lengthy talk with the current operator. He still doesn't have much time and inclination to get actively involved into the current club developments, but he's keeping an eye on its long-time prospects. It's something to look forward to in retirement, whenever this would be.
Regarding his mentorship, he still sees Dael every other week. Their interaction shifted a little after the events on the Aurora, less because of her saving his life and more because his doubts into her abilities had been cleared by the way she'd overruled his orders. Being visited by the chief engineer while still in the hospital had given him the chance to assure himself of the soundness of her decision.
"Yes, the section had been restructured. There had been too many accidents with energy overload in the past years, so every engineering section in the 'fleet has been revamped to the new security standards," the woman had said. "But frankly, sir - if it had been me, I also would've made sure the cadets would be out of the way. It was the first run of the warp core after the overhaul, and my decade-old concerns about the radiation issues in that section would've been enough to make me strive for extra safety and double fallbacks. Your actions were fully justified. But I'm also glad that the Academy still produces cadets that can think for themselves."
While Pike had adamantly declined any decoration for himself, Dael had received a Starfleet Medal for Commendation for her courage in the next plenum, with Nogura himself giving the speech. She'd cringed in the thunderous applause that followed, but when he had congratulated her afterwards, he'd seen that special glow in her features. The cadet might not be easy to work with, but she proved that she is in the right place, to him and everyone else, instructors and students alike. It seemed to have taken off the edge of some of her insecurities, a large step into better integration into the Academy.
She still wears the make-up everywhere, which is a sensible decision regarding the possible uproar the tattoos would cause even in the most tolerant institution on Earth. He probably should be relieved about that, but it goes against his belief that everyone should be able to live one's life without the need to hide such important aspects. The thought solidifies over the next meeting, until Pike finally can't stand watching the mask for another second.
"Cadet - please follow me," he says out of the blue, right in the middle of her recounting her schedule, and with a curious frown she follows him to the small, hidden washroom in the corner of his office.
"I know you want to protect yourself, and also maybe protect me by wearing your cover, but within these walls, it will no longer be necessary."
He takes a cloth, wets it with water. Then he turns to her, supporting her head with one hand as he starts cleaning her face, removing the very resilient covering cream until the tattoos are sharp and black. When he's done, he puts the cloth away and reaches for a towel, drying her face.
She doesn't stop looking at him.
His fingers linger over her cheeks as he wipes the last dampness away, touching the lines of the tattoos. His chest still tightens whenever he sees them and he doubts that will stop anytime soon. He's possibly using her as a means to some personal therapy, now that he thinks of it, and feels a little guilty about it.
It's just that when he looks at her, forcing himself to see the patterns as just some beautiful art, everything seems to get a little easier. The tattoos become her, emphasizing the angles of her face, giving her features a different character. His fingertips draw down to her lips, sweeping over them. She leans a little forward. He mirrors the motion.
And then they kiss.
It's gentle, not too long, not too deep, but it's a kiss and Pike accepts that he just doesn't know a better way to show her how much he cares about her, how much he supports her fight and the way she works for her dreams.
When they part, her gaze is serious and intense. There's no smile to break the tension - the kiss hasn't been about lust but about acknowledgement, and he feels the same. He withdraws his hand. "Let's get back to work." She only nods and follows him back into the office. He sits down in his chair, she sits down in hers, and they resume their work as if nothing has changed, as if he doesn't see the dark patterns on her face whenever he looks at her now.
*
They don't ever mention the kiss. Pike expected nothing else. The cadet also doesn't stop using the makeup cover in public, and he accepts that as a measure of self-protection from overreacting parties such as he would have been - but she never wears it when coming to his office, and he's proud that at least she doesn't have to hide with him any longer.
At times he sees her sitting on the academy stairs with her roommate (and possibly girlfriend, though he's not completely sure about that) and some other cadets, no longer just solitary, and it makes him hope. The midterm break is coming closer, and he's already decided that she won't need his support in the next semester. His door will be open to her, but it's up to her to take up his offer and he somehow doubts she'd make use of it.
It makes him think of all the support he has been offered in his life, and never taken. The drawback of self-sufficiency -frustrating the people who are close enough to care about you.
Shrugging himself out of his thoughts, he crosses the Academy grounds to meet some associated members of his Borg task force for a business meal - time to focus on his real work.
*
From Cpt. Esteban of the Lexington, to Adm. Pike, SF HQ
Report #5
Included files:
* Updated map of Borg activity in Area VII/3/I
* Reports of Romulan sightings
* Analysis of Borg sighting reports on the planets of system 355 (from interviews)
* Analysis of Borg traces in system 367 (archeologist findings)
* Analysis of three Borg satellites (dated around 2150)
* Autopsy report on Borg specimen #MH2 (dated around 2160)
Current destination: Deep Space 4 for repairs before proceeding with the exploration, as per your orders. The body is in stasis and ready to be transferred to Earth.
Off the record, because you asked for my opinion:
Personally, I see them as a worse threat to the safety of the Federation than Romulans and Klingons combined, because of two factors:
a) Instant technology upgrade after assimilation of a new species, with increasing efficiency. Their technological advancement ratio could become exponential!
b) Driven solely by the desire for technological advancement, all members of the species are connected and work together much like a bee hive, and on a similar level of consciousness. They have no feelings, no concept of morality, mortality, family ties or pain of others. There's no way to bargain - or even to communicate - with them.
I hope our material is enough for your scientific advisors to come up with a theory as to why the Borg seem to have stopped their exploration of the Alpha Quadrant roughly a hundred years ago. Might be because of the Typhon Expanse - not worth passing through it. On the other hand, that doesn't explain their attempted strike on the Enterprise lately.
If we come into contact with them again, I think it's absolutely mandatory to stop them as early as possible in their expansion. I see two ways:
a) Aside from having assimilated persons of various species, the Borg are basically a technological monoculture. One virus might be enough to stop them.
b) It might be possible to restore individuality of assimilated persons, which would destroy the system from within.
If done well, Starfleet should be able to solve the problem without any military conflict.
~Esteban
*
From Adm. Pike, SFHQ to Cpt. Esteban of the Lexington
Also off the records:
I'm in complete agreement with your analysis. However, the implied solutions are unlikely to be implemented without major - and so far non-existing - support from within the Federation.
Good luck with the further exploration of the sector. I'm looking forward to your next report.
P.S. Congratulations on the birth of your daughter, Joe. Take care and Godspeed.
~CP
About to press the button for delivery, Pike stops and re-reads his message. Non-existing support - what a euphemism. Set aside the fact that the existence of the Borg is only known to selected circles at the moment, even those persons have not yet understood that the Borg are not just another sentient species with which to establish diplomatic contact. The Borg don't even have a concept of diplomacy. But the suggested solutions would be considered preemptive strikes by means outside of the Interstellar Convention of Space Warfare of 2244, and it is unlikely they'd get the necessary majority in the Federation council.
Unless… Pike flips through his messages. Ever since being promoted to admiral, he's received a multitude of invitations to receptions, balls and ceremonies. He picks one from the Tellarite embassy, reading the address "To Adm. Pike and Wife" with an ironic smile. It conjures an image of Kirk and McCoy in short dresses and high heels - nothing they'd ever played with, but both men have nice legs and maybe they should do it next time they're on Earth... well, in a year maybe.
Pike reads some more invitations, picking a few whose guests might be especially helpful in his potential future campaign for a preemptive strike against the Borg.
He almost can't believe that he's sitting here, planning a techno-biological warfare.
*
The alleys are dark when Pike walks out of the building late that night, the area in the usual shadows. It's good to take a few steps over the Academy grounds, the air fresh and clearing his mind. Debating of making a little detour to one of the small bars in the vicinity, he passes one of the statues when he hears an unusual sound and halts his steps to listen.
The first blow hits Pike out of the blue, something hard between his shoulder blades, and he tumbles from the impact. Then decades of training pay off and his body follows the flow of energy, making a dive roll forward and slightly to the side to bring him out of the danger zone. Something creaks suspiciously in his spine, but then he's on his feet again and turns to face his surprised attacker.
It's a young man, shorter and thinner than Pike, with long hair and dressed in fashionable but crumpled clothes. The large club in his hand would've been enough to seriously injure Pike, but from the instable position and the gaping mouth of the man, he instantly sees that there's little danger.
"Who are you?" Pike orders authoritatively, and the boy - yeah, really a boy, and obviously drunk - falters.
"I'm Roal."
"And you happen to be who?"
"I'm Dael's brother," the boy blurts out. "And I don't like what I hear about you, so keep away from her!"
"I didn't know she had a brother," Pike states surprised, chiding himself for not having gotten her full information unlocked like he'd planned. He'll do that first thing tomorrow - but right now he'd have to take care of this kid.
"I didn't know about you," Pike says, a little more gently but still firm, and makes one step forward.
The boy frowns. "She must have told you about me."
"She never said a word about you, and her family information is under privacy lock." Pike takes in the slightly desperate expression in the boy's face. "Why don't we have a drink together, you and I, and speak about the things you have in mind? Like civilized people tend to do."
"A drink…?" the boy shakily asks.
Pike takes the club out of the boy's hand. Now that he's closer, he can see the tell-tale layer of make-up on the young features. It makes sense that both siblings would have the same pattern, which apparently means so much to them that they'd rather stay visual outcasts than have it removed.
"A drink, Raol. I know a nice bar, not far away from here. Come with me." The boy follows him like a puppy, keeping on babbling in his slightly slurred voice. "She must have said something. I mean, I'm her brother. I'm the only one she's got. Besides Charlie, maybe."
"Charlene Rogers, her roommate."
"Her woman," the boy states, the expression vaguely between proud that Dael is seeing someone and hurt by the fact that his sister would be a lesbian. "Charlie doesn't like you. Doesn't like the way Dael hangs out with you all the time."
"And so she sent you over to me with a club?" Pike asks.
"No - no, of course not," the boy admits. "She's a cadet and you're an admiral. They'd all crawl in the dirt for you. But I won't! I'm not your subordinate. I don't have to be nice to you."
Pike shakes his head as he opens the old-fashioned door of the Casablanca bar to the boy. "You don't have to obey my orders, but I'd appreciate you'd stay away from beating up people who annoy you."
"Well - yeah," Raol mutters and slumps down behind a table in the corner. "But I don't like it either. All that talk about you..."
Pike waves the bartender and orders two cokes. He's not so sure anymore if the boy is actually drunk, but he seems to have taken something and Pike's not going to risk giving him real alcohol. Then he turns back to Raol. "Would it put your mind to rest if I told you that besides from not being sexually interested in cadets thirty years my juniors, I'm not interested in women?"
"Uh." The boy squints at him. "What is it with Starfleet, are you all queer or what?"
"The Academy tends to have a slightly higher rate than the normal Earth population, but it's not like we make it a mandatory quality." Pike leans back, one hand on the table. "Your sister became my protégée on the personal wish of Admiral Nogura, who happens to know the chairman of the IDIC Foundation. He thought I might be helpful in her overcoming some adaptation problems. We meet biweekly for talking about her courses and her plans for the next two weeks, and I'm a relay in case of any misunderstandings between her instructors and her. That's all of my role in her life."
"And that training course? Where you got hurt or something?"
"I was instructor there by chance, having stepped in as a last minute substitute. There was a technical malfunction. She came to rescue me against my explicit orders. She probably saved my life but surely my health by doing so."
"Hmm." The boy takes a sip from his freshly delivered coke. "That's why Charlie's so jealous?"
"I never talked to Charlie, and she never talked to me, so I don't know."
"Well, I do," the boy says brashly. "Dael doesn't speak a lot about you, but when she does, it's… I dunno. She admires you. She wants to make everything right for you. And not just because she's a cadet and you're an admiral. You say jump? She'd jump."
"If I ever say jump, I would do so in an official capacity on a mission, and then I definitely would expect her and anyone else under my command to do as I say," Pike states firmly.
The boy stares at him, then nods. "Okay. Okay." He downs the coke.
"Can you find your way back to wherever you're staying?" Pike asks, hoping it's not some asylum in the city - it would fit, judging by the ragged looks of the boy.
"Staying in her dorm right now. I should - eh, maybe…"
"I'll give her a call," Pike says, whipping his comm. out so quickly that the boy doesn't have a chance to say no.
"Cadet Dael? I happen to have a young man here who can't find his way back home. Maybe you should retrieve him - we're sitting in the Casablanca."
Ten minutes later spent with chit-chat, a visibly humiliated cadet stands in the door. "Sir - is everything all right?" Dael stares at Pike's uniform, where Pike knows there are some dark stains from his roll on the ground.
"Yes, cadet," Pike says and gets up, keeping the club out of her sight. "Your brother only wanted to make my acquaintance."
"I see," she says, and her glare at her brother tells him that she's angry, but not really surprised about his state.
"Please take him with you."
"Sir," she starts a little nervously, "regulations state that no visitors -"
"I called his sister to get him. I don't care where he stays," Pike says firmly, and slightly pulls her aside. "Take care of him. If you want to talk about him, you're welcome, but I won't ask."
Dael nods. "You ordered him a drink? Let me pay it."
Pike shakes his head. "The cokes go on me." The devil he'll take even half a credit from a poor student.
"Sir -"
"Dismissed, cadet," Pike clips.
"Yes, Sir," the girl relents and waves at her brother. "Come on, Raol. Let's go." With unsteady steps, the boy walks up to her. On their way out, Pike can hear her berating him in a language vaguely sounding like Romulan. He shakes his head, wondering once again what he's gotten himself in with this protégée.
*
Despite his determination to let the subject rest, having Dael on his visitor chair for their usual appointment ten days later changes Pike's mind. She's visibly exhausted and strangely hunched over in her seat, the PADD so close to her face that she couldn't possibly read the letters.
"Put the PADD down," Pike orders five minutes into their meeting. Her head jerks up, giving him an eyeful of a darker smudge on her right cheek. It could be some leftover cream, but from the way she turns away and tries to avoid his gaze, he knows better.
"I said, put down the PADD. Now, cadet."
With a quiet curse on her lips, she puts it into the table and stiffly sits up, clamping her hands around the arm rests and meeting his eyes with a defiant look.
"Who beat you? Cadet Rogers?" he asks.
"No."
"Then who?"
Tightening her lips, she gives him a cold stare but he only stares back.
"Raol," she says at last, deflating a little over the name. "But he only managed one blow before I got him under control."
"He's still staying with you?"
"Not any longer." Raising her chin, she states, "I threw him out. He stole all our money to pay his drugs, even sold a few of my things. Novae Dust is expensive." Her slightly shaking voice belays the emotionless way in which she delivers the statement.
Novae Dust. Pike has heard about that newest cocaine derivative, popular among young people.
"Did he ever try withdrawal therapy?"
"I'm not sure he ever tried," Dael replies bitterly. "They have tried on New Vulcan, but nothing changed anything. He's addicted to drugs since forever, and when it's not Novae Dust, it's Angel Hair or Brute Force or anything else he can get his hands on." Her fingers mechanically brush over the bruise in her face. "I always tried to be there for him. He's the only one I have left, and it's tearing me apart that I can't help him. But the Academy is my only chance to do something with my life and I can't let him take that away from me. I can't."
Noticing that she's bordering on some nervous breakdown, Pike intervenes by calmly stating, "First of all, there is no danger of you being removed from the academy, cadet, although you should see to it that there are no drugs left in your dorm room."
She nods.
"Then, one universal truth of humans is that nobody can be saved who does not want to be saved. It is always the inner motivation that makes the difference, and as long as your brother doesn't come around on his own, no therapy will have any effect."
She nods again with a little sigh.
"That being said, if he decides he wants to do more with his life than just getting high, tell him to contact me and I'll see if we can figure something out. It's not an offer I make for everyone, but he might be worth a try."
"I'll tell him when I speak to him the next time. He was rather impressed by you - maybe it would make him think."
"Maybe." Pike smiles a little. "He wouldn't be the first young offender who turned into a valuable officer later." He eyes her uniform that looks even more loosely fitting than normal. "I gather you haven't eaten much over the last days. See that you get something from the cafeteria after this meeting."
Seeing her hesitation, he suddenly remembers her statement about being robbed out of her few possessions. "Do you need some credits?"
"I don't want your money," she snaps, adding a belated "Sir" to ease the impact.
"No protégée of mine will sit in class with an empty stomach," Pike states firmly. "One hundred credits, and it's a loan you will pay back to me."
"I can't pay it back. The stipendium is barely enough to cover my costs. I can't save anything."
"How about getting a job?"
Her lips draw into a small, sad smile. "I tried, sir. But who gives a job to a freak that doesn't know anything useful." The words are bitter, full of self-contempt.
Pike can instantly think of many possibilities for her in Federation offices or the Vulcan embassy, but she needs not just a job, but an emotionally supportive environment and that will be harder to find. He could imagine her working behind the bar counter of his club but Nogura would have his balls if -
Hit by a sudden idea, he says, "I'll see what I can do for you," and leaves it at that, finishing off the meeting by going through her schedule with her, which calms and refocuses her.
When the cadet leaves, Pike moves to his console to make a call.
*
"Nice to see you, Chris," Arissa says, showing him into the back office of her still-closed club four weeks later. "You're looking good. Anything to drink?"
He accepts a coke and settles in a large, old armchair, crossing one leg above the other. Arissa sits down on the edge of the table. She hasn't changed much since he's last seen her a few years ago - still short and nicely curved, with a bunch of long black curly hair around her leather-clad body. He appreciates beauty when he sees it, though he'd always been more impressed by her intense and no-compromise way of living. She has a reputation of being trying, but he never had a problem with her. Her club Silver Barracuda is a little larger than his own and on the other end of the queer spectrum, the uncontested top location of the lesbian and associated genders scene of San Francisco for the last ten years.
"When you called me about her, I really wasn't sure how to react. I don't have to tell you how important it is to have the right people at the bar, and from your description, she didn't sound like the right girl, queer or not."
Pike nods, completely agreeing.
"But when she showed up here, I was... well, a little impressed. She showed me her tattoos and told me she badly needs a job, and I figured I'll give it a try."
"And?"
"In the first week, she barely opened her mouth, only kept in the back and learned how to mix drinks. Then a few of the girls managed to engage her in talk. By now, I guess half of my guests have developed a tattoo fetish." Arissa rolls her eyes. "She's damn hot in the right clothes."
"So you think it is an successful experiment?"
"From my side, yes. She's still rather reserved but when she smiles, it's like getting a glimpse behind her cover. She's intriguing. However, she also caused a bit of trouble because her girlfriend showed up one evening and made a scene. I threw her out - the girlfriend, I mean."
"Charlie."
Arissa shrugs. "Never got to know her name. The next day, Dee - that's what she uses as nick here - came to me and told me that her girlfriend wouldn't give me any more trouble. I figured they separated. I kept an eye on her to see if she picked up any of the guests, but she didn't." She gets a cup of coffee from the table behind her and takes a sip. "So, how's the experiment going on your side?"
"Very well," Pike replies. "Working here seems to have a very positive effect on her social behavior. She's more relaxed and self-confident. Charlie had been her roommate but moved out a week ago, claiming incompatibility. She's been assigned the room of a resigned student."
"Good thing Dee got rid of her. That girl seemed a little passive-aggressive in her behavior." Arissa scratches her scalp in thoughts, her mane of hair stirring from the movement. "Sometimes I'm really surprised what kind of people SFA accepts. Of course, most are okay, but others... I thought you thoroughly test the cadets."
"We do, but you know that tests are never enough to characterize someone. And I've got to admit that being fit for space isn't necessarily the same as being fit for a job on Earth. Starfleet members are often a little special; otherwise they wouldn't have a reason to go into space."
"You sound like you're talking from experience. What was your reason?" she asks curiously.
He only shakes his head, emptying his bottle.
"Ah, sorry for asking," Arissa says, waving it off. "In any case, she can keep the job if she wants to. She told me she's got a lot of tests soon and might have to reduce her workload in the club."
"That's true. But I hope she'll keep working here. It's a nice change to receive calls from her instructors because she's doing so well in class." Pike places the bottle aside. "I've got to go. If anything unusual happens, drop me a note."
"Sure." She shows him out the main door. The club is about to open, and the gathered crowd parts for him, the outsider. He recognizes a face or two from his own club, and one whip-carrying woman waves at him, although he can't remember who that might be. Then he's out in the night air, taking a deep breath and burying his hands in his pockets. The night is still young; he could hit his own club or someone else's, have some meaningless sex and a drink afterwards.
He starts to think like John, he realizes, a little disgusted. Although he's not a big fan of public transportation, he takes the magtrain. When it gathers speed, it's so fast that the sparkling city lights smudge into lines of light, looking surprisingly similar to warp patterns. It makes him stay in the train for two rounds around the city, thinking of the doc and Jim way out in space, before he finally descends and goes back to his office, working through the night.
*
It's two weeks later that Dael arrives for a regularly scheduled meeting in his office with a large envelope in her hand.
"I've got something for you, sir," she says and gives it to him. "I know it's a little unusual, but -"
"Pictures?" he asks as he eyes inside, then pulls them out. "Erotic photographs," he says surprised when he sees the black-and-white shots, her tattooed stomach and head from various angles, half-turned towards the lens, everything else in darkness. It's a first that he receives something like that from a protégée and the professional part of his brain knows this is very inappropriate, but Pike has got to admit that all photographs are beautifully done. The play of lights and shadows over the curved pattern is tastefully erotic and not pornographic at all - whoever took them had perfectly captured her exotic beauty.
"The main photographer of the Magic Eye asked me if I wanted to pose for her, and I agreed."
"The famous fetish magazine? I'm impressed. Will they get published?"
"Yes, in the next volume." She blushes a little.
"Why do you want to give them to me?" Pike asks.
She hesitates. "I researched your back story after our first talk, and feared the day when you'd see the tattoos. But you simply acknowledged them, and never changed the way you treated me. And then you recommended me to the club and I met other people who accepted me. It changed a lot for me. These shots are a part of that change."
"They are truly a piece of art," he says seriously. "Thank you for showing them to me. But I cannot accept them, cadet." He puts them back into the envelope and gives it back to her over the table.
"I understand, sir." Dael puts it aside, then gets out her PADD. They delve into her assignments for the next two weeks and review her current grades before moving on to her plans for the next semester. She leaves after an hour, and it's only when the next visitor arrives that he notices that the envelope is still there.
Sly kid, Pike thinks amused as he picks it up and battles with himself as to whether to lock up the pictures in his office or to accept the gift after all and take it home.
When he drops the envelope into his briefcase, his internal debate - she's adult, it's simply art, and she's a woman, so there's no danger at all - leaves him with an almost clear conscience.
It's still time for some distraction, he decides, so he calls Farnham and makes a date for later tonight.
*
"Hello, my beautiful lovers. You might be surprised to receive a recording from me from this address, but I'm currently out in the wild and attending Nat's and Robert's wedding, and Nat graciously allowed me using her console for a moment. The white wine and beer are pleasantly cold, the buffet is a blast, the music is achingly old-fashioned and the guests are half farmers, half fleet and don't mix well at all. I'm glad you're not here because there are too many people who could tell you humiliating stories of my youth.
"On the other hand, with you here, the evening would be a lot more fun. I miss you a lot. But I'm also glad that you're finally back to meaningful missions, so I'm not complaining. Only a little, maybe.
"I'll have a drink to your health and success. Love and kisses and Godspeed, till next week - Chris.
Pike frowns as he stops the recording. He sounds a little too maudlin for his own taste, which comes from the alcohol and the frustration of watching happy newly-weds clinging too each other for far too long. And maybe from meeting too many old friends who mirror his own aging back at him painfully clearly. He eyes his face in the screen, running one finger over his increasingly wrinkled chin.
There's a brief knock on the door before Farnham peeks his head in. "You're done?"
"In a second." Pike encodes the message and sends it out.
"A message to them?" Farnham asks conversationally as they walk back to the main hall with the dance floor.
"Yes."
Farnham is about to lace his arm into Pike's when a middle-aged woman quickly approaches them from the side. "He's mine for this dance," she says and captures Pike's hand.
"He's mine tonight." Farnham challenging glares at her. Pike laughs. As if that would stop Commander Caren Cho, the top engineer of their year, a formidable force despite her tiny Asian figure, and now in charge of the newest Utopia Planitia terminal.
"I know, and I don't want to steal him. But I couldn't speak a word with Chris yet, and I'll have to leave in ten minutes. So do me a favor and flirt with someone else for a while. There's that bear type at the bar that looks lonely."
"I don't like bears," Farnham grumbles but looks anyway while Pike obediently follows Cho onto the dance floor.
"So, you and John…?"
"Not really." He shrugs.
"Good. Don't think it would really work. He's no comparison to the Enterprise men." She squints at him.
Pike sighs as he expertly circles her through the crowd. "Did you only want to ask me about some rumors, or are you going to talk about anything meaningful?"
"Sorry, Chris. I was just so curious." She lowers her voice a little. "I'm Renata Ochi's girlfriend."
"And that might be who?"
"Ochi. Doctor Ochi. She worked with Doctor McCoy on the Enterprise for a few weeks."
"Oh." He suddenly remembers the recording. "That doctor. And there I always thought Jim would be the one talking in bed."
"I fear men are all the same… get them off and they're putty in your hand." She twinkles at him.
"Words of wisdom." They fall into the rhythm of the dance floor, one moving mass. "Since when are you into women anyway?"
"I swing in every way that's fun," Cho replies. "It's the Academy's fault, really. I was a tame, straight girl before the housewarming party."
"The housewarming party?"
"Yeah. Don't you remember? When Sheila and what's-her-name decided to introduce everyone in the first semester to the secrets of Orion aphrodisiacs?" She frowns at him, before her gaze suddenly clears. "You were ill! I remember it. You were one of the few who weren't there because you'd been sick as a dog from a cold that night."
"I forgot all about it."
"Well, I didn't." She giggles, which makes her sound thirty years younger on the spot. "They were fabulous! It was a total mass orgy. They even could convert John into some heterosexual sexing, and I'd always thought he's one-hundred-fifty percent gay."
"John had sex with Orion girls?" Pike asks, a little disbelieving.
"Actually, I think he's still having some when he can get it. But you didn't hear that from me. We all swore to silence in the morning. Damn, even a few pictures of that night could kill illustrious careers today!"
"Well, not mine, as I wasn't there," Pike says, amused.
"Good or bad for you, depending on the view point." She smiles. "You know - if you ever reconsider your own sexual orientation, feel free to knock on my door."
"Unlikely, Caren," Pike replies, not insulted by yet another flirtatious attempt from his old friend - if anything, maybe a little flattered that she's still crushing on him after all those years. "I guess your cab is here," he says as he sees a man wildly waving at the edge of the dance floor. She sighs.
"Oh, damn. And there I thought we could speak a little longer. I heard you're in charge of a top-secret task force that's considering having a new ship class built on UP. If that's true, I want this construction on my terminal."
"If I hear anything, I'll give you a call," Pike promises as he leads her to the waving guy.
"Take care." Cho kisses his cheek and tousles his hair - which he hates - and then launches into the crowd. He combs through his hair with his fingers, trying to restore his look.
"My turn," Farnham says and pulls him back onto the dance floor.
"So - Orion girls?" Pike asks as they dance some permutation of the slow fox, hands on each other's hips, queer style, because none of them wants to yield the leading part.
His friend raises a brow. "Let me guess - Caren talked."
"Not enough."
Farnham shrugs as he gathers a little speed, pulling Pike closer. "They're my guilty pleasure, once in a while. Absolutely fabulous sex. Make you forget that they don't have a dick. You should try it one day - we could book a team."
Pike frowns in slight disgust. "I'm not into paid sex."
"Maybe they'll take you for free," Farnham states with a wink. "Orions like to introduce virgins of all kinds to the pleasure of creative sex."
"I don't think I'm missing anything," Pike says. "It's just funny that the old Spock alluded to my other self having a fetish for Orion girls. Guess my counterpart attended the housewarming party in its full glory."
The mention of Spock has a similar effect on Farnham that it has on McCoy. "I see," his friend states blankly and determinedly leads them through the moving crowd to the next bar.
"Danced enough?" Pike asks as they stop in front of it.
"Just need a drink."
*
It's two hours, six drinks and quite a few dances later, and they're almost the last couple in the room. It's got to be some kind of strange foreplay, Pike judges as they move left and right with eyes half-closed, foreheads and groins touching, hands tightly on each other's hips. He's achingly aroused, every shifting contact of their bodies electrifying him further.
"Let's go," Pike murmurs.
"Not yet," Farnham replies. His fingers dig into Pike's waistband, edging out the shirt and scratching over his skin.
"Not here," Pike mutters, reminded of Jim and wondering why he always seems to end up with exhibitionists. The fingers don't stop, of course, and he finally takes control and gets them off the dance floor and around the first corner that's out of sight of the other guests.
The energy spontaneously combusts in kissing, quickly escalating to an almost violent groping as they battle for superiority. It ends with Farnham tightly pressed against the wall, Pike ravishing his mouth.
"Fuck," Farnham groans as he releases him.
"Walk on. We've got a room." There are stops on the way as they use some more corners for more groping, legs laced into each other with the need for optimal contact, and Pike is more than relieved when they are finally in their room, hoping that nobody took a picture of them on the way upstairs. He shoves Farnham back onto the bed and crouches over him, using his knees to spread his friend's legs. Seconds later he's all but humping him, his blood-filled erection pressing against the other large bulge.
"Fuck me," Farnham mutters.
"You sure?" They have never done that, having always settled for the more equal options.
"Yeah. Come on."
They undress quickly, the expensive clothes carelessly ending up on the floor. There's lube on the night stand, and Pike leans over and fists his friend with one, then two fingers while tongue-fucking his mouth. He's not surprised that Farnham is rather tight; he's never assumed that John bottoms a lot.
"Come on," Farnham moans anyway after a few minutes. "Fuck me already." His hands are rubbing over Pike's chest and ass, groping everything they can latch upon. He pulls up his legs, making more room for Pike to maneuver.
Still damn tight, Pike thinks when he cautiously nudges his dick into John's ass, but his resolve to be careful is quickly eaten away by the way his friend pushes against him until he's buried to the hilt. He starts riding him, expertly rolling his hips for optimal stimulation, and is pleased to see John coming undone underneath him.
"Yeah, fuck, yeah... ah, love you, Chris. Love you."
It could be one of those statements that happen in the heat of things, but there's something in the way John clings to him, something in the ring of the words that causes a sudden epiphany in Pike - it's the missing piece to the question as to why his friend never really lost contact over all the years. It makes Pike's stride falter for a moment but then his body takes over, demanding completion. He comes first, then fists his friend to orgasm before slipping out and sagging to his side. Farnham sighs as he lowers his legs and stretches out on his back.
"Since when?" Pike asks after a while.
Farnham raises a brow in question.
"Since when are you in love with me?"
Farnham smiles sleepily, a little sardonically. "Since forever, I guess. With ups and downs in between."
There's silence between them before Pike asks, "Nat knows?"
"Nat knows since the Academy. Met me one evening in a bar when I was trying to drown my jealousy of that secret lover of yours." Farnham turns around to face him. "But it's not like I've been waiting for you. After the Academy, you went on assignments, and when you came back for Recruitment, I was seeing someone and you met Alain. And when you came back after the Narada, you weren't really back. You kept away from almost everyone. I tried a few times, then gave up. Took George's son to get you out of that damn shell. Strange leap of fate."
"It was more McCoy, really," Pike says, a little annoyed. "And while I challenged Jim to join Starfleet because he was George's son, it's got nothing to do with our relationship."
His friend shrugs. "If you say so."
"John… I like you, but I don't love you and never did."
"I know, and I don't expect anything from you. Handled it fine so far. But you know how humans are; some feelings are hard to switch off."
"I know. Like… I still can't really trust you anymore."
"Good choice. You shouldn't." Farnham grins. "But believe me - if need be, I'm ready to cover your back and ass."
"Not sure that's a calming thought."
"You might think differently when you need it."
Pike shakes his head a little. "Think I'll see if I find another room for tonight," he says and gets up to dress.
"Come on, Chris - " Farnham says tensely. "Nothing's changed."
"It's changed for me, and I've got to think about it." He dislikes relationships in which the people involved are not on the same page about what they want from each other, and the realization that he's been completely blind to John's feelings for so long rattles him in his core.
Farnham snorts, and, as if reading his mind, says, "You didn't consider my feelings for ages, and now you've got a bad conscience? Way to go, Christopher."
"Never too late to start having one, I guess."
"You know what your problem is?" Farnham snaps. "Did you ever think about why you mostly had short assignments? Your crews might have admired you, flourished under you. Traumatized crews work better with a professional, cool, detached guy in the center seat. But they never loved you, because you never loved any of them. That's your problem. You never really loved in your whole damn life. And that's got nothing to do with Alain, and all with yourself. Even now you're all latching onto people who are away most of the time. You do everything to keep everyone an arm's length away."
It's not like Pike doesn't know about these aspects. He's read one or two of his psyche profiles, thank you very much, but getting them slapped into his face like this is making him surprisingly angry, a hot white anger that makes him ball his fists. With effort, he goes back to dressing.
"Thanks for your frank opinion, John," he states flatly and starts walking to the door. He's not surprised when Farnham comes after him, catching him.
"You're such a blind idiot," his friend snarls at him, hands buried in his crumpled shirt. "Sometimes I wish I'd never have met you. You still think I'm writing reports about our conversations? I stopped doing that. Nothing we speak of ever leaves the room."
"What a relief, John. Get your hands off me."
"Damn, Chris -" Lips are pressed on his, hot and intense, and a tongue tries to sweep into his mouth. Pike doesn't want to give in but there's something in the touch that catches him by surprise, a sincerity and despair he's never connected to Farnham. The answering, strange mix of feelings warring inside of him, anger and sympathy and too much attraction, weakens his resolve. His tense lips yield at last, allowing Farnham to deepen the kiss. His hands automatically reach around his friend's waistline, pulling them closer together.
When they part, they're both breathing hard.
"Don't leave, Chris. Please."
The heartfelt plea makes Pike's skin crawl - the best reminder why he really, really should leave, because he can't be what John wants. Unlacing his hands, he says, "I need to think. I'll be back later."
He turns and walks out.
*
The breaking morning finds Pike sitting on the fence, literally and figuratively, curling his hands in his lap. It's cool and he's tired and his ass hurts, but he doesn't want to go inside yet, because he's rarely felt less ready to face something head on.
"Hey, old man," someone calls him, and he turns his head, willing his tired eyes open to meet the gaze of his as-good-as-nephew. Like always, Tom looks achingly energetic and awake, his tall, muscular body moving in a grace that's unusual for most farmers.
Pike cares a lot about the boy, and while they don't talk often these days, he's always at ease with him. "Tom. Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"Could ask you the same." Tom draws close, eying the fence. "Is that seat free?" He points to Pike's left.
"Sure."
Pike watches Tom climb up. The mystery of why he appeared gets solved when Tom pulls out a package and rolls a cigarette. "Don't tell my wife," Tom says as he lights it. "Want one too?"
"I hate that stuff," Pike says. "But I could use one anyway." Tobacco is illegal but still common, and when Tom offers the lit butt, he takes a deep puff which promptly ends in a coughing fit.
"It's been a while," Pike explains when he can speak again.
"I usually smoke one in the morning and one in the afternoon," Tom admits. "Always take care that the family doesn't see it." He glances at Pike. "You look unhappy. Trouble with John?"
"Trouble's possibly the wrong word," Pike says slowly, taking another pull.
"I would never pretend to understand you," Tom starts, taking Pike a little by surprise. "You were the strange uncle out in space, sending strange things and telling strange stories when you were on Earth, which was rare enough. But I always thought that you do exactly what you want to do, even if that meant missing some things. Like... having a family." He sheds another glance at Pike.
"Your point...?"
"I don't see a reason why you should allow anyone to interfere with your choices now. You've got to be satisfied, not them. It's your life."
Pike shakes his head in thought. "On the one hand, you're right. On the other hand... they are practically my family."
"And families always think they can interfere."
"Yes."
They smoke in silence for a moment.
"It was interesting to get to know them," Tom says out of the blue. "Kirk and McCoy."
Hearing their names is like pouring oil into the flames of Pike's smoldering reflections on what he really wants and how much of a compromise he could and should live with, but his detached voice doesn't reveal any of his tension. "Glad to hear that. They didn't tell me a lot about their stay at your farm."
"Mom did most of the talking. Kirk was playing silly games with the kids. McCoy was amicable and managed to evade all of mom's inquisitive questions about your relationship. Told her some adventure stories instead, made her feel like still being a part of Starfleet. She loves that." Tom takes a puff. "For maybe a minute, I wondered if I should've gone to space after all, but I don't think I would've been good enough."
"Don't sell yourself short, Tom. I'm sure you would've managed just fine."
"Thanks for thinking that of me. I know you would've supported me if I had wanted to attend the Academy. It means a lot to me." Tom's gaze drifts out to the desert. "If I had joined Starfleet, I would've tried to be as good as my father - and you, and I would've failed. It speaks for Kirk that he managed to live with that burden."
"Jim is a very special man," Pike says, and this time, he's unable to keep the longing out of his voice. For the fraction of a second, an image crosses his mind, Jim and him sitting on the fence and watching the sunrise together. It's sweet and romantic and absolutely pointless because Pike would never have met Jim the farm boy - and if he had, he wouldn't have been interested in him. With a sharp twist of his head, Pike returns to reality.
"See, that's what I meant. I -" Tom stops, and Pike looks up to see a figure drawing close.
"It's John," Tom says unnecessarily. "Guess I better leave. Good luck, old man." He jumps down and walks away with a friendly nod to Farnham.
Pike rubs his face with one hand, stifling a yawn. When he opens his bleary eyes again, Farnham is right in front of him.
"Chris - come back to bed."
With a sigh, Pike puts his arms left and right on John's shoulders, pulling him a little closer. "I used you, John, and I didn't reflect on it one bit."
Farnham grins. "I used you and I knew it."
"Not sure what's worse." Their foreheads touch, and Pike can feel gentle hands caress down his sides. His body has a very definite opinion on the matter - bed, sleep, sex in the morning - while his mind is more than torn. He's longing for something he cannot have at the moment, and unsure whether settling for a suboptimal option that has the potential to destroy one of the oldest friendships in his life is a good idea. But right now, he's too tired to fight.
"Come on." Fingers invitingly stroke his neck just below the hairline.
"Nothing promised," Pike murmurs.
"I never asked for a promise." Farnham pulls him into a kiss, wet and hot. "I'm a greedy bugger who takes everything he can get. And a bit more." The hands move down to stroke over the inner sides of Pike's legs.
Pike sighs as a hot flush rushes through him. Damn his traitorous body. "I changed. I didn't know how to handle love in the past but I know love now. At times I wish I didn't."
"I know. I'm sorry for what I said. But you shouldn't let love get in the way of good sex." Farnham captures Pike's lower lip with his teeth, gently sucking it while his fingers cause havoc between Pike's legs.
"Bastard," Pike mutters when his lips are free again, his bulge straining against the cool fabric of his elegant pants.
"Yes."
Farnham's arms capture him as he slips down the fence, his legs stiff and unsteady. They walk back to the house together and end face to face on the bed, exchanging sloppy, tongue-fucking kisses while jerking each other off. They come together, hot and messy all over their hands, just having energy left enough for a brief cleansing before they fall asleep.
*
"Heard you had an interesting weekend, Pike."
It's definitely not a good moment for being talked to, given that Pike is on his back and lifting a barbell on the limit of his strength. With a groan, he returns it onto the pins, already regretting that he's chosen to workout in the admiralty's gym today because he didn't have time to go anywhere else. He sits up on the bench, briefly pulling his already wet shirt up to his forehead to dry his sweat before facing his colleague.
"Barnett - any important reason to disrupt my routing?" Pike asks. They'd been on first name terms since forever, but since the thing with the Borg tapes, Barnett's reportedly rather condescending statement in front of half the admiralty, and the way Barnett had angered Pike enough to push him into an unplanned outing, the atmosphere between them is rather arctic.
"Got yourself a new lover, I've heard. Didn't last long with Kirk, eh?" Leaning with one hand against another machine, Barnett looks exactly like the unfit, overweight, old man that Pike never wants to become, the sweat pants too loose and the shirt too tight over a flabby stomach. All vague regrets Pike might have had about his public display of affection with John at the wedding are instantly dispelled by a strong, rekindled annoyance with the man. The gym isn't empty, but if Barnett thinks that would stop Pike from replying accordingly, he's dead wrong.
"Kirk and McCoy know exactly what I do and with whom." Pike gets up from the bench and stands eye to eye with his colleague. "What's your real problem, Barnett? You not getting any?"
"Well, seems you're getting enough for everyone," Barnett states coldly. "You're a fabulous example for our young officers, flaunting your promiscuity at public events."
"It was a private wedding, and the man's been my lover on and off for thirty years." Hands curling into loose fists, Pike straightens a little further. "After our argument about the material, I thought it was just about my actions. But that's not the point, is it? You're one of those people who claim that homosexuality is perfectly all right - as long as they don't have to face it. You actually got a problem with gays, right?"
It's the way Barnett lifts his chin and clenches his jaw that Pike knows he's hit the point.
"Tell you something, Barnett - just as xenophobia is a knock-out criterion for Starfleet, homophobia is too. So if I find out that you're not just harassing me, but also other people who deal with the subject in a way you think is inappropriate, I'll get your ass kicked."
"You're threatening me?" Barnett says, moving a little away from him.
There's a warning voice in the back of Pike's head - Barnett is still the man Kirk has to report to, and he shouldn't completely ruin that working relationship. But on the other hand, Barnett is on the way to becoming a major pain in the ass and that's more than Pike's willing to swallow.
"I'm just stating that I won't accept any more of your not-so-subtle insults, and that I'll keep an eye on you because the way you're talking to me indicates a prejudice regarding sexual preferences, and that's unacceptable."
"You're not the judge of this," Barnett blusters, his face a little whiter than before.
"I'll kindly let an internal commission be the judge of that, if need be," Pike states coldly. "See you around. I've got a few bench presses left to do." He sits down and sinks onto his back, closing his hands around the cool metal rod. From the corner of his eyes, he watches Barnett's leave, taking a deep breath when the man's gone.
"Well-done, sir," a man two benches to his left says, giving him a little salute. Pike nods in acknowledgement, torn between feeling satisfied about having given Barnett a piece of his mind and regretful for making a strained relationship even more strained.
Onto part 3
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 9.500
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.
See here for Part 1
Two days later, Pike is back in his office, taking it easy in the first week back on duty. He's also finally giving in to Natasha' nudging and decides to buy Robert's apartment - a larger investment than he feels really comfortable with, but still too good to pass up. He's unwilling to give up his shoebox, as Nat calls it, but he can always rent it out, and this way, he's not pressed to move right away.
It's the largest credit transfer he's undertaken in ages, and seeing his funds suddenly depleted like this makes him nervous and wonder if he only doesn't care about the money because, for the longest time, he's had full banking accounts and very small expenses. Like with sex, it probably obeys the 80-20 rule - if you have it, it's twenty percent of your thoughts, and if you don't have it, it's eighty percent
Pike battles the eighty percent sex thoughts by hanging out with Farnham, striving to prove to his friend that despite his recent injury he won't break during sex, and battles the eighty percent money thought by transferring some of the club funds to his private accounts. There's still enough left for a future revamp of all playrooms, something that's been on his mind lately after a lengthy talk with the current operator. He still doesn't have much time and inclination to get actively involved into the current club developments, but he's keeping an eye on its long-time prospects. It's something to look forward to in retirement, whenever this would be.
Regarding his mentorship, he still sees Dael every other week. Their interaction shifted a little after the events on the Aurora, less because of her saving his life and more because his doubts into her abilities had been cleared by the way she'd overruled his orders. Being visited by the chief engineer while still in the hospital had given him the chance to assure himself of the soundness of her decision.
"Yes, the section had been restructured. There had been too many accidents with energy overload in the past years, so every engineering section in the 'fleet has been revamped to the new security standards," the woman had said. "But frankly, sir - if it had been me, I also would've made sure the cadets would be out of the way. It was the first run of the warp core after the overhaul, and my decade-old concerns about the radiation issues in that section would've been enough to make me strive for extra safety and double fallbacks. Your actions were fully justified. But I'm also glad that the Academy still produces cadets that can think for themselves."
While Pike had adamantly declined any decoration for himself, Dael had received a Starfleet Medal for Commendation for her courage in the next plenum, with Nogura himself giving the speech. She'd cringed in the thunderous applause that followed, but when he had congratulated her afterwards, he'd seen that special glow in her features. The cadet might not be easy to work with, but she proved that she is in the right place, to him and everyone else, instructors and students alike. It seemed to have taken off the edge of some of her insecurities, a large step into better integration into the Academy.
She still wears the make-up everywhere, which is a sensible decision regarding the possible uproar the tattoos would cause even in the most tolerant institution on Earth. He probably should be relieved about that, but it goes against his belief that everyone should be able to live one's life without the need to hide such important aspects. The thought solidifies over the next meeting, until Pike finally can't stand watching the mask for another second.
"Cadet - please follow me," he says out of the blue, right in the middle of her recounting her schedule, and with a curious frown she follows him to the small, hidden washroom in the corner of his office.
"I know you want to protect yourself, and also maybe protect me by wearing your cover, but within these walls, it will no longer be necessary."
He takes a cloth, wets it with water. Then he turns to her, supporting her head with one hand as he starts cleaning her face, removing the very resilient covering cream until the tattoos are sharp and black. When he's done, he puts the cloth away and reaches for a towel, drying her face.
She doesn't stop looking at him.
His fingers linger over her cheeks as he wipes the last dampness away, touching the lines of the tattoos. His chest still tightens whenever he sees them and he doubts that will stop anytime soon. He's possibly using her as a means to some personal therapy, now that he thinks of it, and feels a little guilty about it.
It's just that when he looks at her, forcing himself to see the patterns as just some beautiful art, everything seems to get a little easier. The tattoos become her, emphasizing the angles of her face, giving her features a different character. His fingertips draw down to her lips, sweeping over them. She leans a little forward. He mirrors the motion.
And then they kiss.
It's gentle, not too long, not too deep, but it's a kiss and Pike accepts that he just doesn't know a better way to show her how much he cares about her, how much he supports her fight and the way she works for her dreams.
When they part, her gaze is serious and intense. There's no smile to break the tension - the kiss hasn't been about lust but about acknowledgement, and he feels the same. He withdraws his hand. "Let's get back to work." She only nods and follows him back into the office. He sits down in his chair, she sits down in hers, and they resume their work as if nothing has changed, as if he doesn't see the dark patterns on her face whenever he looks at her now.
*
They don't ever mention the kiss. Pike expected nothing else. The cadet also doesn't stop using the makeup cover in public, and he accepts that as a measure of self-protection from overreacting parties such as he would have been - but she never wears it when coming to his office, and he's proud that at least she doesn't have to hide with him any longer.
At times he sees her sitting on the academy stairs with her roommate (and possibly girlfriend, though he's not completely sure about that) and some other cadets, no longer just solitary, and it makes him hope. The midterm break is coming closer, and he's already decided that she won't need his support in the next semester. His door will be open to her, but it's up to her to take up his offer and he somehow doubts she'd make use of it.
It makes him think of all the support he has been offered in his life, and never taken. The drawback of self-sufficiency -frustrating the people who are close enough to care about you.
Shrugging himself out of his thoughts, he crosses the Academy grounds to meet some associated members of his Borg task force for a business meal - time to focus on his real work.
*
From Cpt. Esteban of the Lexington, to Adm. Pike, SF HQ
Report #5
Included files:
* Updated map of Borg activity in Area VII/3/I
* Reports of Romulan sightings
* Analysis of Borg sighting reports on the planets of system 355 (from interviews)
* Analysis of Borg traces in system 367 (archeologist findings)
* Analysis of three Borg satellites (dated around 2150)
* Autopsy report on Borg specimen #MH2 (dated around 2160)
Current destination: Deep Space 4 for repairs before proceeding with the exploration, as per your orders. The body is in stasis and ready to be transferred to Earth.
Off the record, because you asked for my opinion:
Personally, I see them as a worse threat to the safety of the Federation than Romulans and Klingons combined, because of two factors:
a) Instant technology upgrade after assimilation of a new species, with increasing efficiency. Their technological advancement ratio could become exponential!
b) Driven solely by the desire for technological advancement, all members of the species are connected and work together much like a bee hive, and on a similar level of consciousness. They have no feelings, no concept of morality, mortality, family ties or pain of others. There's no way to bargain - or even to communicate - with them.
I hope our material is enough for your scientific advisors to come up with a theory as to why the Borg seem to have stopped their exploration of the Alpha Quadrant roughly a hundred years ago. Might be because of the Typhon Expanse - not worth passing through it. On the other hand, that doesn't explain their attempted strike on the Enterprise lately.
If we come into contact with them again, I think it's absolutely mandatory to stop them as early as possible in their expansion. I see two ways:
a) Aside from having assimilated persons of various species, the Borg are basically a technological monoculture. One virus might be enough to stop them.
b) It might be possible to restore individuality of assimilated persons, which would destroy the system from within.
If done well, Starfleet should be able to solve the problem without any military conflict.
~Esteban
*
From Adm. Pike, SFHQ to Cpt. Esteban of the Lexington
Also off the records:
I'm in complete agreement with your analysis. However, the implied solutions are unlikely to be implemented without major - and so far non-existing - support from within the Federation.
Good luck with the further exploration of the sector. I'm looking forward to your next report.
P.S. Congratulations on the birth of your daughter, Joe. Take care and Godspeed.
~CP
About to press the button for delivery, Pike stops and re-reads his message. Non-existing support - what a euphemism. Set aside the fact that the existence of the Borg is only known to selected circles at the moment, even those persons have not yet understood that the Borg are not just another sentient species with which to establish diplomatic contact. The Borg don't even have a concept of diplomacy. But the suggested solutions would be considered preemptive strikes by means outside of the Interstellar Convention of Space Warfare of 2244, and it is unlikely they'd get the necessary majority in the Federation council.
Unless… Pike flips through his messages. Ever since being promoted to admiral, he's received a multitude of invitations to receptions, balls and ceremonies. He picks one from the Tellarite embassy, reading the address "To Adm. Pike and Wife" with an ironic smile. It conjures an image of Kirk and McCoy in short dresses and high heels - nothing they'd ever played with, but both men have nice legs and maybe they should do it next time they're on Earth... well, in a year maybe.
Pike reads some more invitations, picking a few whose guests might be especially helpful in his potential future campaign for a preemptive strike against the Borg.
He almost can't believe that he's sitting here, planning a techno-biological warfare.
*
The alleys are dark when Pike walks out of the building late that night, the area in the usual shadows. It's good to take a few steps over the Academy grounds, the air fresh and clearing his mind. Debating of making a little detour to one of the small bars in the vicinity, he passes one of the statues when he hears an unusual sound and halts his steps to listen.
The first blow hits Pike out of the blue, something hard between his shoulder blades, and he tumbles from the impact. Then decades of training pay off and his body follows the flow of energy, making a dive roll forward and slightly to the side to bring him out of the danger zone. Something creaks suspiciously in his spine, but then he's on his feet again and turns to face his surprised attacker.
It's a young man, shorter and thinner than Pike, with long hair and dressed in fashionable but crumpled clothes. The large club in his hand would've been enough to seriously injure Pike, but from the instable position and the gaping mouth of the man, he instantly sees that there's little danger.
"Who are you?" Pike orders authoritatively, and the boy - yeah, really a boy, and obviously drunk - falters.
"I'm Roal."
"And you happen to be who?"
"I'm Dael's brother," the boy blurts out. "And I don't like what I hear about you, so keep away from her!"
"I didn't know she had a brother," Pike states surprised, chiding himself for not having gotten her full information unlocked like he'd planned. He'll do that first thing tomorrow - but right now he'd have to take care of this kid.
"I didn't know about you," Pike says, a little more gently but still firm, and makes one step forward.
The boy frowns. "She must have told you about me."
"She never said a word about you, and her family information is under privacy lock." Pike takes in the slightly desperate expression in the boy's face. "Why don't we have a drink together, you and I, and speak about the things you have in mind? Like civilized people tend to do."
"A drink…?" the boy shakily asks.
Pike takes the club out of the boy's hand. Now that he's closer, he can see the tell-tale layer of make-up on the young features. It makes sense that both siblings would have the same pattern, which apparently means so much to them that they'd rather stay visual outcasts than have it removed.
"A drink, Raol. I know a nice bar, not far away from here. Come with me." The boy follows him like a puppy, keeping on babbling in his slightly slurred voice. "She must have said something. I mean, I'm her brother. I'm the only one she's got. Besides Charlie, maybe."
"Charlene Rogers, her roommate."
"Her woman," the boy states, the expression vaguely between proud that Dael is seeing someone and hurt by the fact that his sister would be a lesbian. "Charlie doesn't like you. Doesn't like the way Dael hangs out with you all the time."
"And so she sent you over to me with a club?" Pike asks.
"No - no, of course not," the boy admits. "She's a cadet and you're an admiral. They'd all crawl in the dirt for you. But I won't! I'm not your subordinate. I don't have to be nice to you."
Pike shakes his head as he opens the old-fashioned door of the Casablanca bar to the boy. "You don't have to obey my orders, but I'd appreciate you'd stay away from beating up people who annoy you."
"Well - yeah," Raol mutters and slumps down behind a table in the corner. "But I don't like it either. All that talk about you..."
Pike waves the bartender and orders two cokes. He's not so sure anymore if the boy is actually drunk, but he seems to have taken something and Pike's not going to risk giving him real alcohol. Then he turns back to Raol. "Would it put your mind to rest if I told you that besides from not being sexually interested in cadets thirty years my juniors, I'm not interested in women?"
"Uh." The boy squints at him. "What is it with Starfleet, are you all queer or what?"
"The Academy tends to have a slightly higher rate than the normal Earth population, but it's not like we make it a mandatory quality." Pike leans back, one hand on the table. "Your sister became my protégée on the personal wish of Admiral Nogura, who happens to know the chairman of the IDIC Foundation. He thought I might be helpful in her overcoming some adaptation problems. We meet biweekly for talking about her courses and her plans for the next two weeks, and I'm a relay in case of any misunderstandings between her instructors and her. That's all of my role in her life."
"And that training course? Where you got hurt or something?"
"I was instructor there by chance, having stepped in as a last minute substitute. There was a technical malfunction. She came to rescue me against my explicit orders. She probably saved my life but surely my health by doing so."
"Hmm." The boy takes a sip from his freshly delivered coke. "That's why Charlie's so jealous?"
"I never talked to Charlie, and she never talked to me, so I don't know."
"Well, I do," the boy says brashly. "Dael doesn't speak a lot about you, but when she does, it's… I dunno. She admires you. She wants to make everything right for you. And not just because she's a cadet and you're an admiral. You say jump? She'd jump."
"If I ever say jump, I would do so in an official capacity on a mission, and then I definitely would expect her and anyone else under my command to do as I say," Pike states firmly.
The boy stares at him, then nods. "Okay. Okay." He downs the coke.
"Can you find your way back to wherever you're staying?" Pike asks, hoping it's not some asylum in the city - it would fit, judging by the ragged looks of the boy.
"Staying in her dorm right now. I should - eh, maybe…"
"I'll give her a call," Pike says, whipping his comm. out so quickly that the boy doesn't have a chance to say no.
"Cadet Dael? I happen to have a young man here who can't find his way back home. Maybe you should retrieve him - we're sitting in the Casablanca."
Ten minutes later spent with chit-chat, a visibly humiliated cadet stands in the door. "Sir - is everything all right?" Dael stares at Pike's uniform, where Pike knows there are some dark stains from his roll on the ground.
"Yes, cadet," Pike says and gets up, keeping the club out of her sight. "Your brother only wanted to make my acquaintance."
"I see," she says, and her glare at her brother tells him that she's angry, but not really surprised about his state.
"Please take him with you."
"Sir," she starts a little nervously, "regulations state that no visitors -"
"I called his sister to get him. I don't care where he stays," Pike says firmly, and slightly pulls her aside. "Take care of him. If you want to talk about him, you're welcome, but I won't ask."
Dael nods. "You ordered him a drink? Let me pay it."
Pike shakes his head. "The cokes go on me." The devil he'll take even half a credit from a poor student.
"Sir -"
"Dismissed, cadet," Pike clips.
"Yes, Sir," the girl relents and waves at her brother. "Come on, Raol. Let's go." With unsteady steps, the boy walks up to her. On their way out, Pike can hear her berating him in a language vaguely sounding like Romulan. He shakes his head, wondering once again what he's gotten himself in with this protégée.
*
Despite his determination to let the subject rest, having Dael on his visitor chair for their usual appointment ten days later changes Pike's mind. She's visibly exhausted and strangely hunched over in her seat, the PADD so close to her face that she couldn't possibly read the letters.
"Put the PADD down," Pike orders five minutes into their meeting. Her head jerks up, giving him an eyeful of a darker smudge on her right cheek. It could be some leftover cream, but from the way she turns away and tries to avoid his gaze, he knows better.
"I said, put down the PADD. Now, cadet."
With a quiet curse on her lips, she puts it into the table and stiffly sits up, clamping her hands around the arm rests and meeting his eyes with a defiant look.
"Who beat you? Cadet Rogers?" he asks.
"No."
"Then who?"
Tightening her lips, she gives him a cold stare but he only stares back.
"Raol," she says at last, deflating a little over the name. "But he only managed one blow before I got him under control."
"He's still staying with you?"
"Not any longer." Raising her chin, she states, "I threw him out. He stole all our money to pay his drugs, even sold a few of my things. Novae Dust is expensive." Her slightly shaking voice belays the emotionless way in which she delivers the statement.
Novae Dust. Pike has heard about that newest cocaine derivative, popular among young people.
"Did he ever try withdrawal therapy?"
"I'm not sure he ever tried," Dael replies bitterly. "They have tried on New Vulcan, but nothing changed anything. He's addicted to drugs since forever, and when it's not Novae Dust, it's Angel Hair or Brute Force or anything else he can get his hands on." Her fingers mechanically brush over the bruise in her face. "I always tried to be there for him. He's the only one I have left, and it's tearing me apart that I can't help him. But the Academy is my only chance to do something with my life and I can't let him take that away from me. I can't."
Noticing that she's bordering on some nervous breakdown, Pike intervenes by calmly stating, "First of all, there is no danger of you being removed from the academy, cadet, although you should see to it that there are no drugs left in your dorm room."
She nods.
"Then, one universal truth of humans is that nobody can be saved who does not want to be saved. It is always the inner motivation that makes the difference, and as long as your brother doesn't come around on his own, no therapy will have any effect."
She nods again with a little sigh.
"That being said, if he decides he wants to do more with his life than just getting high, tell him to contact me and I'll see if we can figure something out. It's not an offer I make for everyone, but he might be worth a try."
"I'll tell him when I speak to him the next time. He was rather impressed by you - maybe it would make him think."
"Maybe." Pike smiles a little. "He wouldn't be the first young offender who turned into a valuable officer later." He eyes her uniform that looks even more loosely fitting than normal. "I gather you haven't eaten much over the last days. See that you get something from the cafeteria after this meeting."
Seeing her hesitation, he suddenly remembers her statement about being robbed out of her few possessions. "Do you need some credits?"
"I don't want your money," she snaps, adding a belated "Sir" to ease the impact.
"No protégée of mine will sit in class with an empty stomach," Pike states firmly. "One hundred credits, and it's a loan you will pay back to me."
"I can't pay it back. The stipendium is barely enough to cover my costs. I can't save anything."
"How about getting a job?"
Her lips draw into a small, sad smile. "I tried, sir. But who gives a job to a freak that doesn't know anything useful." The words are bitter, full of self-contempt.
Pike can instantly think of many possibilities for her in Federation offices or the Vulcan embassy, but she needs not just a job, but an emotionally supportive environment and that will be harder to find. He could imagine her working behind the bar counter of his club but Nogura would have his balls if -
Hit by a sudden idea, he says, "I'll see what I can do for you," and leaves it at that, finishing off the meeting by going through her schedule with her, which calms and refocuses her.
When the cadet leaves, Pike moves to his console to make a call.
*
"Nice to see you, Chris," Arissa says, showing him into the back office of her still-closed club four weeks later. "You're looking good. Anything to drink?"
He accepts a coke and settles in a large, old armchair, crossing one leg above the other. Arissa sits down on the edge of the table. She hasn't changed much since he's last seen her a few years ago - still short and nicely curved, with a bunch of long black curly hair around her leather-clad body. He appreciates beauty when he sees it, though he'd always been more impressed by her intense and no-compromise way of living. She has a reputation of being trying, but he never had a problem with her. Her club Silver Barracuda is a little larger than his own and on the other end of the queer spectrum, the uncontested top location of the lesbian and associated genders scene of San Francisco for the last ten years.
"When you called me about her, I really wasn't sure how to react. I don't have to tell you how important it is to have the right people at the bar, and from your description, she didn't sound like the right girl, queer or not."
Pike nods, completely agreeing.
"But when she showed up here, I was... well, a little impressed. She showed me her tattoos and told me she badly needs a job, and I figured I'll give it a try."
"And?"
"In the first week, she barely opened her mouth, only kept in the back and learned how to mix drinks. Then a few of the girls managed to engage her in talk. By now, I guess half of my guests have developed a tattoo fetish." Arissa rolls her eyes. "She's damn hot in the right clothes."
"So you think it is an successful experiment?"
"From my side, yes. She's still rather reserved but when she smiles, it's like getting a glimpse behind her cover. She's intriguing. However, she also caused a bit of trouble because her girlfriend showed up one evening and made a scene. I threw her out - the girlfriend, I mean."
"Charlie."
Arissa shrugs. "Never got to know her name. The next day, Dee - that's what she uses as nick here - came to me and told me that her girlfriend wouldn't give me any more trouble. I figured they separated. I kept an eye on her to see if she picked up any of the guests, but she didn't." She gets a cup of coffee from the table behind her and takes a sip. "So, how's the experiment going on your side?"
"Very well," Pike replies. "Working here seems to have a very positive effect on her social behavior. She's more relaxed and self-confident. Charlie had been her roommate but moved out a week ago, claiming incompatibility. She's been assigned the room of a resigned student."
"Good thing Dee got rid of her. That girl seemed a little passive-aggressive in her behavior." Arissa scratches her scalp in thoughts, her mane of hair stirring from the movement. "Sometimes I'm really surprised what kind of people SFA accepts. Of course, most are okay, but others... I thought you thoroughly test the cadets."
"We do, but you know that tests are never enough to characterize someone. And I've got to admit that being fit for space isn't necessarily the same as being fit for a job on Earth. Starfleet members are often a little special; otherwise they wouldn't have a reason to go into space."
"You sound like you're talking from experience. What was your reason?" she asks curiously.
He only shakes his head, emptying his bottle.
"Ah, sorry for asking," Arissa says, waving it off. "In any case, she can keep the job if she wants to. She told me she's got a lot of tests soon and might have to reduce her workload in the club."
"That's true. But I hope she'll keep working here. It's a nice change to receive calls from her instructors because she's doing so well in class." Pike places the bottle aside. "I've got to go. If anything unusual happens, drop me a note."
"Sure." She shows him out the main door. The club is about to open, and the gathered crowd parts for him, the outsider. He recognizes a face or two from his own club, and one whip-carrying woman waves at him, although he can't remember who that might be. Then he's out in the night air, taking a deep breath and burying his hands in his pockets. The night is still young; he could hit his own club or someone else's, have some meaningless sex and a drink afterwards.
He starts to think like John, he realizes, a little disgusted. Although he's not a big fan of public transportation, he takes the magtrain. When it gathers speed, it's so fast that the sparkling city lights smudge into lines of light, looking surprisingly similar to warp patterns. It makes him stay in the train for two rounds around the city, thinking of the doc and Jim way out in space, before he finally descends and goes back to his office, working through the night.
*
It's two weeks later that Dael arrives for a regularly scheduled meeting in his office with a large envelope in her hand.
"I've got something for you, sir," she says and gives it to him. "I know it's a little unusual, but -"
"Pictures?" he asks as he eyes inside, then pulls them out. "Erotic photographs," he says surprised when he sees the black-and-white shots, her tattooed stomach and head from various angles, half-turned towards the lens, everything else in darkness. It's a first that he receives something like that from a protégée and the professional part of his brain knows this is very inappropriate, but Pike has got to admit that all photographs are beautifully done. The play of lights and shadows over the curved pattern is tastefully erotic and not pornographic at all - whoever took them had perfectly captured her exotic beauty.
"The main photographer of the Magic Eye asked me if I wanted to pose for her, and I agreed."
"The famous fetish magazine? I'm impressed. Will they get published?"
"Yes, in the next volume." She blushes a little.
"Why do you want to give them to me?" Pike asks.
She hesitates. "I researched your back story after our first talk, and feared the day when you'd see the tattoos. But you simply acknowledged them, and never changed the way you treated me. And then you recommended me to the club and I met other people who accepted me. It changed a lot for me. These shots are a part of that change."
"They are truly a piece of art," he says seriously. "Thank you for showing them to me. But I cannot accept them, cadet." He puts them back into the envelope and gives it back to her over the table.
"I understand, sir." Dael puts it aside, then gets out her PADD. They delve into her assignments for the next two weeks and review her current grades before moving on to her plans for the next semester. She leaves after an hour, and it's only when the next visitor arrives that he notices that the envelope is still there.
Sly kid, Pike thinks amused as he picks it up and battles with himself as to whether to lock up the pictures in his office or to accept the gift after all and take it home.
When he drops the envelope into his briefcase, his internal debate - she's adult, it's simply art, and she's a woman, so there's no danger at all - leaves him with an almost clear conscience.
It's still time for some distraction, he decides, so he calls Farnham and makes a date for later tonight.
*
"Hello, my beautiful lovers. You might be surprised to receive a recording from me from this address, but I'm currently out in the wild and attending Nat's and Robert's wedding, and Nat graciously allowed me using her console for a moment. The white wine and beer are pleasantly cold, the buffet is a blast, the music is achingly old-fashioned and the guests are half farmers, half fleet and don't mix well at all. I'm glad you're not here because there are too many people who could tell you humiliating stories of my youth.
"On the other hand, with you here, the evening would be a lot more fun. I miss you a lot. But I'm also glad that you're finally back to meaningful missions, so I'm not complaining. Only a little, maybe.
"I'll have a drink to your health and success. Love and kisses and Godspeed, till next week - Chris.
Pike frowns as he stops the recording. He sounds a little too maudlin for his own taste, which comes from the alcohol and the frustration of watching happy newly-weds clinging too each other for far too long. And maybe from meeting too many old friends who mirror his own aging back at him painfully clearly. He eyes his face in the screen, running one finger over his increasingly wrinkled chin.
There's a brief knock on the door before Farnham peeks his head in. "You're done?"
"In a second." Pike encodes the message and sends it out.
"A message to them?" Farnham asks conversationally as they walk back to the main hall with the dance floor.
"Yes."
Farnham is about to lace his arm into Pike's when a middle-aged woman quickly approaches them from the side. "He's mine for this dance," she says and captures Pike's hand.
"He's mine tonight." Farnham challenging glares at her. Pike laughs. As if that would stop Commander Caren Cho, the top engineer of their year, a formidable force despite her tiny Asian figure, and now in charge of the newest Utopia Planitia terminal.
"I know, and I don't want to steal him. But I couldn't speak a word with Chris yet, and I'll have to leave in ten minutes. So do me a favor and flirt with someone else for a while. There's that bear type at the bar that looks lonely."
"I don't like bears," Farnham grumbles but looks anyway while Pike obediently follows Cho onto the dance floor.
"So, you and John…?"
"Not really." He shrugs.
"Good. Don't think it would really work. He's no comparison to the Enterprise men." She squints at him.
Pike sighs as he expertly circles her through the crowd. "Did you only want to ask me about some rumors, or are you going to talk about anything meaningful?"
"Sorry, Chris. I was just so curious." She lowers her voice a little. "I'm Renata Ochi's girlfriend."
"And that might be who?"
"Ochi. Doctor Ochi. She worked with Doctor McCoy on the Enterprise for a few weeks."
"Oh." He suddenly remembers the recording. "That doctor. And there I always thought Jim would be the one talking in bed."
"I fear men are all the same… get them off and they're putty in your hand." She twinkles at him.
"Words of wisdom." They fall into the rhythm of the dance floor, one moving mass. "Since when are you into women anyway?"
"I swing in every way that's fun," Cho replies. "It's the Academy's fault, really. I was a tame, straight girl before the housewarming party."
"The housewarming party?"
"Yeah. Don't you remember? When Sheila and what's-her-name decided to introduce everyone in the first semester to the secrets of Orion aphrodisiacs?" She frowns at him, before her gaze suddenly clears. "You were ill! I remember it. You were one of the few who weren't there because you'd been sick as a dog from a cold that night."
"I forgot all about it."
"Well, I didn't." She giggles, which makes her sound thirty years younger on the spot. "They were fabulous! It was a total mass orgy. They even could convert John into some heterosexual sexing, and I'd always thought he's one-hundred-fifty percent gay."
"John had sex with Orion girls?" Pike asks, a little disbelieving.
"Actually, I think he's still having some when he can get it. But you didn't hear that from me. We all swore to silence in the morning. Damn, even a few pictures of that night could kill illustrious careers today!"
"Well, not mine, as I wasn't there," Pike says, amused.
"Good or bad for you, depending on the view point." She smiles. "You know - if you ever reconsider your own sexual orientation, feel free to knock on my door."
"Unlikely, Caren," Pike replies, not insulted by yet another flirtatious attempt from his old friend - if anything, maybe a little flattered that she's still crushing on him after all those years. "I guess your cab is here," he says as he sees a man wildly waving at the edge of the dance floor. She sighs.
"Oh, damn. And there I thought we could speak a little longer. I heard you're in charge of a top-secret task force that's considering having a new ship class built on UP. If that's true, I want this construction on my terminal."
"If I hear anything, I'll give you a call," Pike promises as he leads her to the waving guy.
"Take care." Cho kisses his cheek and tousles his hair - which he hates - and then launches into the crowd. He combs through his hair with his fingers, trying to restore his look.
"My turn," Farnham says and pulls him back onto the dance floor.
"So - Orion girls?" Pike asks as they dance some permutation of the slow fox, hands on each other's hips, queer style, because none of them wants to yield the leading part.
His friend raises a brow. "Let me guess - Caren talked."
"Not enough."
Farnham shrugs as he gathers a little speed, pulling Pike closer. "They're my guilty pleasure, once in a while. Absolutely fabulous sex. Make you forget that they don't have a dick. You should try it one day - we could book a team."
Pike frowns in slight disgust. "I'm not into paid sex."
"Maybe they'll take you for free," Farnham states with a wink. "Orions like to introduce virgins of all kinds to the pleasure of creative sex."
"I don't think I'm missing anything," Pike says. "It's just funny that the old Spock alluded to my other self having a fetish for Orion girls. Guess my counterpart attended the housewarming party in its full glory."
The mention of Spock has a similar effect on Farnham that it has on McCoy. "I see," his friend states blankly and determinedly leads them through the moving crowd to the next bar.
"Danced enough?" Pike asks as they stop in front of it.
"Just need a drink."
*
It's two hours, six drinks and quite a few dances later, and they're almost the last couple in the room. It's got to be some kind of strange foreplay, Pike judges as they move left and right with eyes half-closed, foreheads and groins touching, hands tightly on each other's hips. He's achingly aroused, every shifting contact of their bodies electrifying him further.
"Let's go," Pike murmurs.
"Not yet," Farnham replies. His fingers dig into Pike's waistband, edging out the shirt and scratching over his skin.
"Not here," Pike mutters, reminded of Jim and wondering why he always seems to end up with exhibitionists. The fingers don't stop, of course, and he finally takes control and gets them off the dance floor and around the first corner that's out of sight of the other guests.
The energy spontaneously combusts in kissing, quickly escalating to an almost violent groping as they battle for superiority. It ends with Farnham tightly pressed against the wall, Pike ravishing his mouth.
"Fuck," Farnham groans as he releases him.
"Walk on. We've got a room." There are stops on the way as they use some more corners for more groping, legs laced into each other with the need for optimal contact, and Pike is more than relieved when they are finally in their room, hoping that nobody took a picture of them on the way upstairs. He shoves Farnham back onto the bed and crouches over him, using his knees to spread his friend's legs. Seconds later he's all but humping him, his blood-filled erection pressing against the other large bulge.
"Fuck me," Farnham mutters.
"You sure?" They have never done that, having always settled for the more equal options.
"Yeah. Come on."
They undress quickly, the expensive clothes carelessly ending up on the floor. There's lube on the night stand, and Pike leans over and fists his friend with one, then two fingers while tongue-fucking his mouth. He's not surprised that Farnham is rather tight; he's never assumed that John bottoms a lot.
"Come on," Farnham moans anyway after a few minutes. "Fuck me already." His hands are rubbing over Pike's chest and ass, groping everything they can latch upon. He pulls up his legs, making more room for Pike to maneuver.
Still damn tight, Pike thinks when he cautiously nudges his dick into John's ass, but his resolve to be careful is quickly eaten away by the way his friend pushes against him until he's buried to the hilt. He starts riding him, expertly rolling his hips for optimal stimulation, and is pleased to see John coming undone underneath him.
"Yeah, fuck, yeah... ah, love you, Chris. Love you."
It could be one of those statements that happen in the heat of things, but there's something in the way John clings to him, something in the ring of the words that causes a sudden epiphany in Pike - it's the missing piece to the question as to why his friend never really lost contact over all the years. It makes Pike's stride falter for a moment but then his body takes over, demanding completion. He comes first, then fists his friend to orgasm before slipping out and sagging to his side. Farnham sighs as he lowers his legs and stretches out on his back.
"Since when?" Pike asks after a while.
Farnham raises a brow in question.
"Since when are you in love with me?"
Farnham smiles sleepily, a little sardonically. "Since forever, I guess. With ups and downs in between."
There's silence between them before Pike asks, "Nat knows?"
"Nat knows since the Academy. Met me one evening in a bar when I was trying to drown my jealousy of that secret lover of yours." Farnham turns around to face him. "But it's not like I've been waiting for you. After the Academy, you went on assignments, and when you came back for Recruitment, I was seeing someone and you met Alain. And when you came back after the Narada, you weren't really back. You kept away from almost everyone. I tried a few times, then gave up. Took George's son to get you out of that damn shell. Strange leap of fate."
"It was more McCoy, really," Pike says, a little annoyed. "And while I challenged Jim to join Starfleet because he was George's son, it's got nothing to do with our relationship."
His friend shrugs. "If you say so."
"John… I like you, but I don't love you and never did."
"I know, and I don't expect anything from you. Handled it fine so far. But you know how humans are; some feelings are hard to switch off."
"I know. Like… I still can't really trust you anymore."
"Good choice. You shouldn't." Farnham grins. "But believe me - if need be, I'm ready to cover your back and ass."
"Not sure that's a calming thought."
"You might think differently when you need it."
Pike shakes his head a little. "Think I'll see if I find another room for tonight," he says and gets up to dress.
"Come on, Chris - " Farnham says tensely. "Nothing's changed."
"It's changed for me, and I've got to think about it." He dislikes relationships in which the people involved are not on the same page about what they want from each other, and the realization that he's been completely blind to John's feelings for so long rattles him in his core.
Farnham snorts, and, as if reading his mind, says, "You didn't consider my feelings for ages, and now you've got a bad conscience? Way to go, Christopher."
"Never too late to start having one, I guess."
"You know what your problem is?" Farnham snaps. "Did you ever think about why you mostly had short assignments? Your crews might have admired you, flourished under you. Traumatized crews work better with a professional, cool, detached guy in the center seat. But they never loved you, because you never loved any of them. That's your problem. You never really loved in your whole damn life. And that's got nothing to do with Alain, and all with yourself. Even now you're all latching onto people who are away most of the time. You do everything to keep everyone an arm's length away."
It's not like Pike doesn't know about these aspects. He's read one or two of his psyche profiles, thank you very much, but getting them slapped into his face like this is making him surprisingly angry, a hot white anger that makes him ball his fists. With effort, he goes back to dressing.
"Thanks for your frank opinion, John," he states flatly and starts walking to the door. He's not surprised when Farnham comes after him, catching him.
"You're such a blind idiot," his friend snarls at him, hands buried in his crumpled shirt. "Sometimes I wish I'd never have met you. You still think I'm writing reports about our conversations? I stopped doing that. Nothing we speak of ever leaves the room."
"What a relief, John. Get your hands off me."
"Damn, Chris -" Lips are pressed on his, hot and intense, and a tongue tries to sweep into his mouth. Pike doesn't want to give in but there's something in the touch that catches him by surprise, a sincerity and despair he's never connected to Farnham. The answering, strange mix of feelings warring inside of him, anger and sympathy and too much attraction, weakens his resolve. His tense lips yield at last, allowing Farnham to deepen the kiss. His hands automatically reach around his friend's waistline, pulling them closer together.
When they part, they're both breathing hard.
"Don't leave, Chris. Please."
The heartfelt plea makes Pike's skin crawl - the best reminder why he really, really should leave, because he can't be what John wants. Unlacing his hands, he says, "I need to think. I'll be back later."
He turns and walks out.
*
The breaking morning finds Pike sitting on the fence, literally and figuratively, curling his hands in his lap. It's cool and he's tired and his ass hurts, but he doesn't want to go inside yet, because he's rarely felt less ready to face something head on.
"Hey, old man," someone calls him, and he turns his head, willing his tired eyes open to meet the gaze of his as-good-as-nephew. Like always, Tom looks achingly energetic and awake, his tall, muscular body moving in a grace that's unusual for most farmers.
Pike cares a lot about the boy, and while they don't talk often these days, he's always at ease with him. "Tom. Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"Could ask you the same." Tom draws close, eying the fence. "Is that seat free?" He points to Pike's left.
"Sure."
Pike watches Tom climb up. The mystery of why he appeared gets solved when Tom pulls out a package and rolls a cigarette. "Don't tell my wife," Tom says as he lights it. "Want one too?"
"I hate that stuff," Pike says. "But I could use one anyway." Tobacco is illegal but still common, and when Tom offers the lit butt, he takes a deep puff which promptly ends in a coughing fit.
"It's been a while," Pike explains when he can speak again.
"I usually smoke one in the morning and one in the afternoon," Tom admits. "Always take care that the family doesn't see it." He glances at Pike. "You look unhappy. Trouble with John?"
"Trouble's possibly the wrong word," Pike says slowly, taking another pull.
"I would never pretend to understand you," Tom starts, taking Pike a little by surprise. "You were the strange uncle out in space, sending strange things and telling strange stories when you were on Earth, which was rare enough. But I always thought that you do exactly what you want to do, even if that meant missing some things. Like... having a family." He sheds another glance at Pike.
"Your point...?"
"I don't see a reason why you should allow anyone to interfere with your choices now. You've got to be satisfied, not them. It's your life."
Pike shakes his head in thought. "On the one hand, you're right. On the other hand... they are practically my family."
"And families always think they can interfere."
"Yes."
They smoke in silence for a moment.
"It was interesting to get to know them," Tom says out of the blue. "Kirk and McCoy."
Hearing their names is like pouring oil into the flames of Pike's smoldering reflections on what he really wants and how much of a compromise he could and should live with, but his detached voice doesn't reveal any of his tension. "Glad to hear that. They didn't tell me a lot about their stay at your farm."
"Mom did most of the talking. Kirk was playing silly games with the kids. McCoy was amicable and managed to evade all of mom's inquisitive questions about your relationship. Told her some adventure stories instead, made her feel like still being a part of Starfleet. She loves that." Tom takes a puff. "For maybe a minute, I wondered if I should've gone to space after all, but I don't think I would've been good enough."
"Don't sell yourself short, Tom. I'm sure you would've managed just fine."
"Thanks for thinking that of me. I know you would've supported me if I had wanted to attend the Academy. It means a lot to me." Tom's gaze drifts out to the desert. "If I had joined Starfleet, I would've tried to be as good as my father - and you, and I would've failed. It speaks for Kirk that he managed to live with that burden."
"Jim is a very special man," Pike says, and this time, he's unable to keep the longing out of his voice. For the fraction of a second, an image crosses his mind, Jim and him sitting on the fence and watching the sunrise together. It's sweet and romantic and absolutely pointless because Pike would never have met Jim the farm boy - and if he had, he wouldn't have been interested in him. With a sharp twist of his head, Pike returns to reality.
"See, that's what I meant. I -" Tom stops, and Pike looks up to see a figure drawing close.
"It's John," Tom says unnecessarily. "Guess I better leave. Good luck, old man." He jumps down and walks away with a friendly nod to Farnham.
Pike rubs his face with one hand, stifling a yawn. When he opens his bleary eyes again, Farnham is right in front of him.
"Chris - come back to bed."
With a sigh, Pike puts his arms left and right on John's shoulders, pulling him a little closer. "I used you, John, and I didn't reflect on it one bit."
Farnham grins. "I used you and I knew it."
"Not sure what's worse." Their foreheads touch, and Pike can feel gentle hands caress down his sides. His body has a very definite opinion on the matter - bed, sleep, sex in the morning - while his mind is more than torn. He's longing for something he cannot have at the moment, and unsure whether settling for a suboptimal option that has the potential to destroy one of the oldest friendships in his life is a good idea. But right now, he's too tired to fight.
"Come on." Fingers invitingly stroke his neck just below the hairline.
"Nothing promised," Pike murmurs.
"I never asked for a promise." Farnham pulls him into a kiss, wet and hot. "I'm a greedy bugger who takes everything he can get. And a bit more." The hands move down to stroke over the inner sides of Pike's legs.
Pike sighs as a hot flush rushes through him. Damn his traitorous body. "I changed. I didn't know how to handle love in the past but I know love now. At times I wish I didn't."
"I know. I'm sorry for what I said. But you shouldn't let love get in the way of good sex." Farnham captures Pike's lower lip with his teeth, gently sucking it while his fingers cause havoc between Pike's legs.
"Bastard," Pike mutters when his lips are free again, his bulge straining against the cool fabric of his elegant pants.
"Yes."
Farnham's arms capture him as he slips down the fence, his legs stiff and unsteady. They walk back to the house together and end face to face on the bed, exchanging sloppy, tongue-fucking kisses while jerking each other off. They come together, hot and messy all over their hands, just having energy left enough for a brief cleansing before they fall asleep.
*
"Heard you had an interesting weekend, Pike."
It's definitely not a good moment for being talked to, given that Pike is on his back and lifting a barbell on the limit of his strength. With a groan, he returns it onto the pins, already regretting that he's chosen to workout in the admiralty's gym today because he didn't have time to go anywhere else. He sits up on the bench, briefly pulling his already wet shirt up to his forehead to dry his sweat before facing his colleague.
"Barnett - any important reason to disrupt my routing?" Pike asks. They'd been on first name terms since forever, but since the thing with the Borg tapes, Barnett's reportedly rather condescending statement in front of half the admiralty, and the way Barnett had angered Pike enough to push him into an unplanned outing, the atmosphere between them is rather arctic.
"Got yourself a new lover, I've heard. Didn't last long with Kirk, eh?" Leaning with one hand against another machine, Barnett looks exactly like the unfit, overweight, old man that Pike never wants to become, the sweat pants too loose and the shirt too tight over a flabby stomach. All vague regrets Pike might have had about his public display of affection with John at the wedding are instantly dispelled by a strong, rekindled annoyance with the man. The gym isn't empty, but if Barnett thinks that would stop Pike from replying accordingly, he's dead wrong.
"Kirk and McCoy know exactly what I do and with whom." Pike gets up from the bench and stands eye to eye with his colleague. "What's your real problem, Barnett? You not getting any?"
"Well, seems you're getting enough for everyone," Barnett states coldly. "You're a fabulous example for our young officers, flaunting your promiscuity at public events."
"It was a private wedding, and the man's been my lover on and off for thirty years." Hands curling into loose fists, Pike straightens a little further. "After our argument about the material, I thought it was just about my actions. But that's not the point, is it? You're one of those people who claim that homosexuality is perfectly all right - as long as they don't have to face it. You actually got a problem with gays, right?"
It's the way Barnett lifts his chin and clenches his jaw that Pike knows he's hit the point.
"Tell you something, Barnett - just as xenophobia is a knock-out criterion for Starfleet, homophobia is too. So if I find out that you're not just harassing me, but also other people who deal with the subject in a way you think is inappropriate, I'll get your ass kicked."
"You're threatening me?" Barnett says, moving a little away from him.
There's a warning voice in the back of Pike's head - Barnett is still the man Kirk has to report to, and he shouldn't completely ruin that working relationship. But on the other hand, Barnett is on the way to becoming a major pain in the ass and that's more than Pike's willing to swallow.
"I'm just stating that I won't accept any more of your not-so-subtle insults, and that I'll keep an eye on you because the way you're talking to me indicates a prejudice regarding sexual preferences, and that's unacceptable."
"You're not the judge of this," Barnett blusters, his face a little whiter than before.
"I'll kindly let an internal commission be the judge of that, if need be," Pike states coldly. "See you around. I've got a few bench presses left to do." He sits down and sinks onto his back, closing his hands around the cool metal rod. From the corner of his eyes, he watches Barnett's leave, taking a deep breath when the man's gone.
"Well-done, sir," a man two benches to his left says, giving him a little salute. Pike nods in acknowledgement, torn between feeling satisfied about having given Barnett a piece of his mind and regretful for making a strained relationship even more strained.
Onto part 3