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syredronningTitle: Free Fall (Draws XIII)
Author: syredronning aka Acidqueen
Series: Reboot aka ST:XI aka AOS — Draws Series
Codes: Pike/Dael/Kirk/McCoy, various OCs and other pairings in passing
Rating: NC-17; complex psychology; dark themes; violence; disability; mixed foursome; relationships with large age differences
Word count: Complete 20.000
Author's Note: This is the direct sequel to "Morning Sun", and heavily references characters and situations from "Morning Sun" and "Shadowplay" (Draws XI). See
Draws LJ Masterpost or Draws at AO3.
Thanks for her continuous support, wonderful beta, and helpful comments go toshagungu. All remaining flaws are solely mine.
Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek, I own my brain.
On DW: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3
On LJ: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3
On AO3: Free Fall
Summary: Chris comes home. But things are not as easy as they all had hoped for.
***
The living room is flooded with light as the sun slowly arcs from midday to afternoon position. The house is deadly silent, except for the rhythmic, soothing background noise coming from the sea and a light snoring from Leonard who's dozed off on the couch, sleep-slackened limbs sprawled in all directions. It can't be very comfortable.
Chris looks at the only clock in the house, the one he'd ignored for the longest time. About one hour until the suitcases that are lined up in the corridor are collected. Two hours until their departure. Everything packed, everything done.
Yesterday, he wanted to leave for home. He still wants to; he's just not sure he's ready for the challenge yet.
With measured steps, he walks through the house once more. In the bathroom, there's the faint sound of water dripping.
Plop.
Plop.
Plop.
He closes the faucet firmly.
He walks out onto the veranda, down onto the sand. Takes off his sandals, walks barefoot to the shore. Forces his hands to uncurl and hang loosely, straightens his shoulders out of their sudden tense hunch. Counts his steps, measures his breaths, takes in the smell, blinks at the sky. It's blue and tastes of metal. The rare flash of synesthesia passes as quickly as it comes, and as usual he's not sure whether he should miss that extra dimension of his senses or be glad that all is back to normal.
But what's normal anyway for the cyborg he's become...
He walks to the stone Dael often sat on, takes her place. Imagines her being here — he's not delusional anymore but he's still prone to intense day-dreaming, something the doc doesn't handle too well so he's been hiding it more lately. Wonders what she'd say to him if she saw him now, his hands sweating as he laces his fingers around his knees, curling into a fetal position with his eyes on the sea foam.
You could always have asked me to come back here, his day-dream says, her eyes dark, large, and unreadable.
He knows, but he wouldn't have done that, not again. It's now up to him to return to the world and live, with them, somehow. His mind blanks as it hits the wall of possibilities, intimidated and overwhelmed.
"You're okay?" The warm hand on his shoulder jerks Chris out of his funk, and he unlaces his hands, stretching into stand.
"Yes," he says as he straightens his trembling legs, but his lie shatters under Iro's knowing gaze. "Not really, but I'll manage," Chris concedes.
"I know you will," Iro says, gently nudging his arm before pulling away. They've become friends over the last weeks, but there's nothing physical or erotic between them, which feels almost strange to Chris who's gotten so used to the sexual undercurrent he has with many of his friends. "Got a call from George, Ashaire arrived safely at the farm."
Chris nods. "Harms sent me a note. He seems to have been a little irritated by George."
George, Iro's slave, obedient servant, housekeeper, master organizer and officially married better half, had insisted on accompanying Ashaire, probably to see the stallion leave Iro's life for good after having had a certain love-hate relationship with the animal. Usually dressed in deceptively shabby clothes, which are in stark contrast to the aura of wealth around him, it's no surprise that Harms didn't quite know what to make of that short-spoken man.
Iro smirks but doesn't comment any further. His eyes stray up to the house.
"Where's Leonard?"
"Dozed off. Didn't sleep a lot last night." Neither of them did, actually, as Chris' usual tendency to sleep seems to have been eaten away by the nervous anticipation that had filled him over the last day.
"I've got a meeting at the airport. I could drive you there."
Chris hesitates.
"I'd be happy to do that for you."
"Then — thanks, yes, that would be great."
They walk up to the house.
"I've sent you my private contact information," Iro says as Chris stops to pick up his sandals, brushing the sand off his feet with one hand before slipping into them. "If you ever feel like working for my company…" He leaves the statement open; he'd already made his offer yesterday. While the fact itself, the feeling of being wanted by the owner of IXOS for his knowledge and experience, fills Chris' stomach with warmth, he's not ready to make any decisions about his future.
"Thanks." He casts a last glance at the sea, then walks up the veranda, his steps sounding more determined than he feels. Inside, Leonard is still asleep. Chris offers Iro a cup of tea, and they sit down, waiting in silence.
There's the comfortable silence he has with Dael and the often intense silence he has with the doc; with Iro, there's that loud silence in which he can almost hear the other man thinking, all those little wheels that never stop turning round, round, round, looking for opportunities. And it's worse than usual because it's the first time Iro has ever entered their house, and his eyes wander through the room, examining every one of the few remaining items, weighing its meaning, worth and price.
"Nice paintings," he says with a nod to the three beach paintings that decorate the wall of the living room.
"They're Dael's." Chris looks at them in slight shock. How could he forget about them? Possibly because they fit so extraordinarily well into this house, seamless and perfect.
He gets up and takes them down. There's nothing left to wrap them in, so he places them against the door in the hope the baggage service will be able to secure them for transport.
"Could I have one?" Iro asks as he turns back to him.
"Why would you want it?" Chris asks back, confused.
"As a souvenir, maybe?"
"You never struck me as a sentimental man."
"Then an investment maybe. One day, her works might be expensive."
Chris looks at the paintings. They're special to him, because they're the first ones Dael ever freely offered, but that's personal. Without that bias, they are nothing but beach studies, normal and conventional. Good technique, but without a real soul. "They aren't mine, so it's not within my power to give them away," he says at last.
"Hmm, what?" Leonard grunts from the couch, forcing his eyes open with a large yawn, barely covered by one loose fist. He freezes as he sees Iro, then sits up in a sudden rush.
"All fine." Chris soothingly pats his lover's shoulder. It's almost funny how the doc never really got over his knee-jerk reaction to Iro, a mixture of instinctive defense and subdued jealousy, no matter that Iro and George turned out to be the most monogamous couple Chris has met in a long time. "He only wants to give us a ride to the airport."
"Okay." Leonard gets up from the couch. "Damn, I'm thirsty." His eyes trained on Iro, he picks up Chris' cup and drains it down, putting an awful lot of claim into that small gesture.
Chris wonders how it'll be back home, with Leonard and Dael within the same walls.
The doorbell rings, announcing the pickup service for their suitcases.
***
They could've beamed, the doc offered as much, but Chris had preferred to take the shuttle.
Now that they're up in the air, he sorely regrets it.
Voices in wild chaos, I'm hungry, mom, I hate flying, can I please have a sandwich, the sickening smell of luke-warm cheese, fasten your seatbelts, are you okay?
"Are you okay?" Leonard repeats.
Chris nods, despite the harsh, coppery taste on his tongue that doesn't go away over the sip of coffee he hastily takes.
Leonard's fingers drape over his wrist, for comfort and to check his state. On a small tricorder, there are lights blinking.
Sometimes Chris hates the doctor aspect, the never-ending examination that makes him feel like some lab rat.
A tiny hiss, and he feels his head clearing.
"Better?" Leonard asks quietly, stowing the hypo away.
"Yes, thanks." Chris leans against him, brushing his lips against his lover's cheek. He might hate those stealthy checkups, but he can still be grateful.
"Just another hour," Leonard says.
If suffering had units, time spent with that many people around Chris is the currency.
They really should've beamed.
"Tell me more about the implant." Chris raps at the back of his head with his forefinger.
"The implant? Of all the times you could've asked me, you do it here?" the doc grumbles.
Until now, Chris has pointedly pushed aside any further thoughts about that thing in his head, but now that they're on their way back, he'd like to be somewhat informed.
"Distract me. Occupy me."
Leonard shakes his head but pulls out a PADD anyway. He calls up images and schematics, then gives it over to Chris.
Looking at it like that, the implant is a filigree beauty, technology of the next century. Chris as its carrier is a precious specimen: only the third to receive one, he's a medical miracle and if he keeps losing track of what he does and where he is at times, it's an ignorable, tiny aberration.
There's awe in the doc's voice when he talks about the neural pathways the implant spans, the way it helps regulate brain chemistry to the picogram, such a delicate balance.
"And if it fails?" Chris asks.
"You know the deal," Leonard replies steadily, but avoids his eyes for a moment.
The deal is a hard, unyielding table on which he's tied down to be put into the neural stabilizer. If they're fast enough to get him there at all.
"Any idea how long it will work?" How long he might have in this next iteration of his existence. "How long, doc?"
"Not sure. The lead developers hope for at least five years before we might substitute for it a newer version that should last twice as long. So no need to think you'll die tomorrow."
"Five years is good," Chris says and gives back the PADD. Leonard opens his mouth to say something but he's lost interest. Five is a good number, he can work with that. "Going to the restroom, be right back." He gets up, sees Leonard's impulse to go with him. "I'm fine, thanks."
And he is, quite. He'd never be as mobile as in the past, but he can walk, imagines walking on sand, seeing the sun, Ashaire in the distance. For a second, he smells the beach, then the vision vanishes and is substituted by a crying child and its frustrated caretaker.
He spends ten of the last twenty minutes of the flight sitting on the closed toilet seat, staring holes into the locked door.
***
The ride in the lift has never felt so long. The trembling starts in his legs, then sneaks upwards and into his hands. He grabs a hold of the handrail, leveling his breathing.
"It'll be okay," Leonard says overly cheerfully. "They're looking forward to seeing us. We'll be fine." He takes Chris' other hand.
Chris nods mutely.
The lift comes to a strangely abrupt halt, and he tumbles against the wall. "I'm fine," he says roughly as the doc wants to steady him, pulling away from the supportive grip and walking out into the corridor instead.
RING.
RING.
Has the doorbell always been that loud?
The door opens. His legs are lead, unable to move.
Leonard walks forward, hugs Jim, waves back at him. That at last breaks the spell, compels him forward too into the arms of his younger lover, the man he'd caused so much trouble for. Sorrow and regret run into their embrace, his apologies accepted not so much in words, but in the strength of Jim's arms around him.
And then there's Dael. The next minutes are a blur until he finds himself in his bed with Dael's face protectively hovering above him.
He drags her close, pressing his face against her neck. "I feared…"
"I did too."
"Missed you." He puts kisses on her throat.
"Missed you too." She sighs.
For a while, they're just caressing each other, enjoying the closeness they'd missed for the last weeks.
"You feel good," he says after a while. "Soft."
She chuckles about his wording.
"Has Jim been good to you?"
Dael shifts so that she can face him fully, and puts one spread palm on his cheek, her thumb drawing a line on his bottom lip. "Yes."
He brushes down her body, along her ribcage, over her hips. She feels softer, less bony. "Did you gain some weight?"
"A bit. But maybe I'm just relaxed." Her gaze travels along his eyebrows with a gentle smile. "I introduced him to Arissa's family. We've been out a lot."
"Oh." It's unexpected news, and Chris doesn't quite know what to do with it.
"We had a lot of fun." Dael's fingers suggestively glide over his pants. Almost automatically, he rolls his hips forward and pushes against her pelvis, and she readily answers his move. He curls, kissing down her tiny breasts.
"Did you have a good time with Leonard?" she asks after a few more minutes, her hands laced into his hair.
He scrambles for an answer. "Yes. He cared for me… sometimes too much. Always the doctor… but it was good." He sighs against her chest, unwilling to go into details that might be more than she'd like to know. "A strange kind of wonderland, that beach. Real and still…"
They stop talking again as she strips him, then gets rid of her own shirt and pants.
"Let me…" she whispers and crouches over him, one hand tightly around his half-hard erection. "At times I wondered whether I just couldn't turn you on anymore. But that's not true, is it?" She strokes him gently.
"Oh, no," Chris says impulsively, reaching out to touch her hand to underline his words. "Just didn't feel sexual at all for quite a while but that had nothing to do with you."
"Good." She smiles at him, then without ado lowers her head to take him in. There's no hesitation anymore, no need for some taste-changing lube, and he arches in aroused surprise.
"You don't have to…"
He shuts up as her grip on his hip tightens. There's a tiny bit of teeth in the mix, a playful bite that tells him to stop being silly and to enjoy the ride instead.
She'd been good at giving head in the past but she's fucking great now, going deep with her lips tight around his shaft. One hand cradles his balls, her tongue teasing his glans, and soon his sack tightens, drawing in as an early sign of his impeding orgasm. Quite a feast, considering that the doc and he had made the most of their last days together.
"Stop, please," he croaks out, nudging the back of her head. She slowly lets his cock slip out of her mouth, making him groan with a last lick. "Want to ride you. If that's okay."
Visibly excited by his suggestion, she eagerly jumps over him to the side, grabbing two bottles of Jim's special brand. "Cherry or almond?"
He gets up on one elbow. "What happened to vanilla?"
"Arissa got sick of it," she says matter-of-factly, but looks the other way anyway for a moment.
Her again. Chris isn't sure when exactly Arissa had become such an influence in his household, wonders if that happened at that first moment when he'd recommended Dael to her for the bar job, and then every event along the way, like organizing that joint party, had just been another piece to strengthen that base. Somehow, their four nodes have become the core of a network that gets more and more complicated, like a heart of transparent aluminum that glitters in the laser light, bright and beautiful.
"Christopher?" She gently touches him.
He shoves the images aside. "Almond it is, then." He sits up as she gives the bottle to him and positions herself on the bed on all fours.
"Missed that," he whispers as he kneels down behind her, reverently running his hands over her tattooed back and down her legs before lubing up his left hand and working it into her.
Her ass… she's not that tight anymore.
The thought takes a moment to settle, his mind unwilling to accept what his fingers report. His arm slows down, his fingers slipping out as gravity seems to double.
"Anything wrong?" She tilts her head back right in the second that realization hits her, and her eyes widen, a flash of guilt in them.
"Anything you'd like to tell me?" he asks numbly. It's stupid to feel so strongly about the idea that anyone else has her like that, fucks her boyish ass — she's not his property, after all. But Jim had asked, had positively pushed for some limit, and this had been the only thing Chris had ever wanted for himself. It makes him feel so insecure all of a sudden, wondering if he's really still wanted here.
She lowers her forehead onto her folded arms, a gesture of defeat.
"Jim?" He slowly pushes in with two fingers.
She nods mutely.
"Did he ask for it?"
"No." Dael shifts, looking back at him over her shoulder. "I wanted it." She sighs. "I only had sex once during my mission, and then I stayed with you and you know we never really… I would have wanted to have it with you but that didn't happen and Jim was there and…" She rises on her arms. "I'm sorry," she says flatly.
His hand on her hip keeps her from drawing away. "Stay," he says hastily. "Please. Dael. It's okay. Stay." He puts a kiss on her tailbone, repeating his words, his acceptance. Of course, they didn't have sex really which must've left her absolutely starved, and he'd be such a hypocrite to ask her to abstain from things he introduced her to, while he fucked around with the doc. "I'm sorry I asked."
"No, I should've told you," she mutters, her head down on her arms again.
His fingers explore the new freedom. "So… just Jim?"
"Only Jim and Arissa. Though she never fucks my ass with a dildo… just with her fingers… oh…"
A flicker of annoyance before it's washed away by the beautiful noises Dael makes. She's become more responsive, Chris thinks as he watches her melt into his touch. He's using his thumbs alternately, his preferred way to open up someone, and she whimpers and wiggles, asking for more.
"Do you like her fingers?"
She chuckles. "I like fingers that know what to do. Like yours too… oh…yes." Her hips gyrate back to him, and she suddenly arches, groaning in what sounds suspiciously like…
Stilling his fingers he laughs, surprised and exhilarated. "You can come on fingers in your ass?" Bending forward, he puts some more kisses on her back. "Oh wow, guess I missed something. You're fantastic. Love you, darling."
"Love you too," she says breathlessly. "Fuck me, Christopher. Like you did in the past."
He's not sure he's quite up to their old pacing, can imagine Jim being a lot more energetic than he could summon, but then he once again shoves his insecurity aside. She wants him, not just for this but also for this and he'll do his best. It's not as if the doc complained over the last weeks, either. Sex has turned out to be one of the few actions in which he's completely sure of what is real, that grounds and centers him amidst his so often jumbled thoughts, and there's no need to let doubt ruin this now, not when everything's looking up. Not when his beautiful boy-girl is waiting to get fucked by him, all ready and needy.
For a moment, he fists his erection, still one thumb in her ass, then gets up on his knees and pushes in.
***
Afterwards, exhaustion hits him like a solid wall, psychic, physical, he doesn't know, but he sinks into the mattress and Dael just keeps touching him gently and carefully. "I'll take care of you. You're safe. Just sleep."
He's in the comfortable twilight zone between dream and reality when the bed moves and a kiss meets his lips.
"Just going for a shower," the words flow, but then the steps leave the room out into the corridor instead. He stops wondering, goes back to sleep until the sound of the water shower indeed reaches his ears. It's soothing, calming. It's also motivating him to leave the bed at last, slightly unsteady legs finding strength when his naked feet meet the ground. He pads into the bathroom just as she stops the water and pulls away the curtain to reach for a towel. He gives it to her.
She smiles at him.
She really smiles a lot more than in the past, the thought solidifies. Suddenly unbelievably needy for her, he reaches out and caresses her face. Bowing into his touch like a willow, Dael closes her eyes.
"Get out," he whispers, and with a curious gaze she steps onto the floor, a trail of drops in her wake. He takes the towel from her fingers, then moves her against the wall. The floor is hard under his knees, but her body is soft and humid, her hips curving against his lips that search her sweet spot. She tastes of shower gel and nothing else, and that he even thinks of that tells him that he hasn't come much farther to adjusting to her female scent, but that doesn't matter right now. His tongue runs down her slightly spread folds, teasingly nudging along their length, and she laughs breathlessly, her hands stroking through his hair.
She comes quickly and so hard that she sinks down next to him, flat on her back with knees folded, one arm over her eyes, one hand finding his. He dries his face on her towel.
"Thank you," she mutters. "That was great."
He can't keep his hands from her, running his fingers along her tattooed chest, her white arms and thighs. For a while there's just comfortable silence, until she sits up and curls her arm around her knees, looking at him serenely.
"What do you see in me? Why do you still want me?"
Why didn't you stay with Leonard?
A good question, one he'd turned over in his head at various times during the last weeks.
His fingers find hers once more, in a gentle hold. "I don't know if I can really explain it. I love you. That's the bottom of it. I want you, for company, for sex, for everything you want to give me." Chris smiles at her.
It's been a good start, judging from the way her features brighten a bit, but obviously not enough to dispel her wondering. "But there have to be things you don't find with others. Something special."
"True." And she should know those, but it seems she needs to hear them put into words. "With you, I found a common base. I'm not sure why that is, but with you I have a place to… just be. Rest my weary head, a poet might say. You don't question me all the time, you don't push me for answers. You take me as I am."
"And he doesn't?"
Chris knows exactly who she means. "No. Not like that. And I need him for that, for the challenge, the pushing, the critical gaze. The way he makes me rethink decisions, forces me to face truths I'd rather not see."
"And where does Jim fit in?"
Chris can't suppress a sigh. "I don't know. What we once had… it changed, more than with anyone else, and I don't know yet how we fit again. I think he put me on a pedestal way back and then found that I haven't just feet of clay, but mostly am clay, including the potential to ruin the one relationship he can't do without."
"They'll be fine," Dael says soothingly, caressing his fingers. "Like you, Jim had lost his center for a while, but he found it again."
"Thanks to you?" Chris inquires, running his hand down her shoulder.
"I mostly offered him the secure space to explore himself. To feel more alive." She smiles, her gaze drifting off in memories.
"I'm glad you were here for him."
Her smile deepens. "It wasn’t a sacrifice. He's such a beautiful person. So much energy and love for life. Constantly exploring and learning." Shifting her solemn gaze back at Chris, she tightens her grip on his hand. "But as you said… you and me, we've got a common base, a place of rest, of just being able to be. Without them, we might stagnate, but without each other, we wouldn't be able to bear their strength, their way of challenging us to go outside of our comfort zone."
He nods mutely. She'd said it perfectly, nothing left to add.
"I'm so glad you're here," she says and takes him into an embrace.
***
It's a good thing they're careful when opening the door to the kitchen a while later, dressed in beach clothes they'd picked out of the already delivered suitcases, bright colors and the smell of salt water dancing around them. Their men are inside, kissing like there's no tomorrow, and when they part, it's only for Jim to open his jeans and bend over the table, clean dishes getting shoved aside while Leonard pulls down his own zipper, his expression between hungry and awestruck.
Chris and Dael quietly move away.
"I'm so glad," he mutters, not an ounce of jealousy in his mind, only immense relief that the couple is doing fine. "I was so concerned about them." He follows Dael's lead that brings them to her room.
"I want to show you something." With a wide gesture, she opens the door.
"Impressive," he barely manages, then falls silent. What had once been such a bleak and lifeless room has turned into an explosion of earth colors and soft lines. Like a hiding place — like a strange kind of womb. And so very, very female.
"Come in." She nudges him, and he carefully makes a step inside, as if his entry might desecrate something.
"Your doing?" he asks and vaguely waves his hand. It's not an intelligent question, but this is so different from anything she's ever shown to him, he needs a moment to wrap his mind around it.
"Yes, mostly mine, with some suggestions by Jim. Come, sit down."
He hesitantly sits down on the bed, crossing his legs, then uncrossing them again and neatly sitting down with his feet on the floor, hands loosely on his thighs. If this room mirrors the changes in Dael, he's got to do quite some catching up.
She picks something from the desk, then joins him.
"T.A. sent me a picture."
He looks at her in confusion. "Who?"
"T'Anihl - T'Anihl ch'Retrrln, the Romulan boy I grew up with on Khal'kohachi."
"Oh. I thought you weren't in contact," Chris wonders as he takes it.
Dael shrugs. "Yes and no. Despite his distrust, he keeps exchanging memories of the past with me, and then he sent this."
It's a shot of a painting. There are cornflowers under a strange sky, but unlike the variations on this theme that he's familiar with, this painting is full of life. Broad strokes and delicate details form something larger than a two-dimensional canvas, make the flowers leap from the painting in an explosion of spring.
This painting has all the soul that her new ones are missing, and it hurts him more than his own losses to see hers in such clarity.
"It's gorgeous," he says, throat dry.
"It was my last on Khol. They took it with them when they escaped, as a memory of me." She takes the photograph in her hand, her focus drawing inwards. "I often painted in Al'Retrrln's studio. It was large, with high ceilings and full of light. He was such a kind man and a great teacher. He treated me as if I were his own daughter. Dad used to joke about it, but… ah well." She sighs. "He was a good artist, but Al'Retrrln was the master." Her mood, so carefree only minutes ago, tangibly shifts. "And I never even tried to find out if they had survived."
"It's not your fault," Chris says as she gets up, picture in hand. "You had other things to deal with."
"Other things, oh yes." With a sad smile, she puts the photograph away.
"Sweetheart…" He reaches out, relieved when she turns back to him and takes his hand. Taking him by surprise, she sinks down on her knees in front of him, barely giving him the time to spread his legs to make room for her. She takes both his hands in a reverent hold.
"I lost my family. Then I threw away what could have been my second family, wrapped up in my pain and… chaos." She pulls his hands up to her forehead, moving back and forth like in a strange prayer. "You are my new family. With you, I feel at home. I can only hope to be worthy of this for a long, long time to come."
He shakes his head, out of words. Here he is, thanking daily the strange fate that had brought her along, and there she is, thinking that she's the one who is blessed by having to deal with his troubles, their joint package of emotional entanglement. "Crazy girl," he finally says, his voice unsteady. "Crazy, wonderful girl. I'm not complete without you." He wants to say more, that he's sorry for trying to push her away again and again, presuming she'd be better off with someone else. That might still be true in the future but not today, not for awhile to come. Not for the next five years, if he's lucky.
"I'm yours," he says and lifts her face with his fingers. Her eyes are bright and beautiful, and he bathes in them while he takes both of them by surprise with his next words. "I'm yours, and I want to tell that to the whole damn world. You and I. Let's make it official. Vows and papers and all."
"Oh," she says and then nothing else for a long moment, before asking, "What about Leonard and Jim?"
"I don't want to change the parameters of our foursome," Chris hastens to say, his arguments as much for her as for himself. "This is about the two of us. They already had their party. Getting married didn't stop them from going after me, and being officially partnered won't stop us from being with them, or other people. But I want to make it known what we mean to each other."
"Yes." She curls over their laced hands. "Yes, Christopher. Yes."
He slides down from the bed to get on one level with her, because in this they are together as equals. They melt into each other's arms, the world momentarily forgotten.
***
When they cautiously open the door to the kitchen a while later, their men are seated almost chastely apart with the lasagna and an open bottle of white wine between them, talking about the Enterprise. When Chris and Dael walk in, their discussion dies and their men's gazes change, curiosity and concern an inseparable mix.
"We've just made a decision," Chris says giddily, lifting Dael's and his laced hands. "Know, by chance, any captain who could partner us off?"
"Oh whoa!" Jim gets up from his seat with a bright smile. "You're lucky, I know someone with a ship that's ready for a test drive out of the solar system in just six weeks!" He embraces Dael, hugging and kissing her before moving on to Chris. "Congratulations to you. I'm so happy for you. That's great."
Leonard doesn't look as happy, rather has a wistful expression on his face for a moment before he pushes it aside. "Congratulations." he says and gives them both a brief hug, then sits down only to get up a heartbeat later, mumbling something about the restroom. Chris picks up Jim's and Dael's concerned gazes, nodding. He couldn't have held back with the news, not when he feels like his whole world had just gained more colors, but he should've realized it would be a shock for Leonard.
There's always someone hurting, sometimes, he thinks, his stomach flipping a little. "I'll be right back," he says, leaving Jim and Dael in the kitchen. They'd manage.
He finds the doc in the Jim&Bones room, perched on the edge of the bed with his face in his palms. Chris sits down next to him, not quite touching. "Sorry for coming out with it without any warning. I just… I feel so happy. I'm sorry."
"Stop being silly," Leonard mutters and drags off his hands to frown at Chris. "Don't you ever apologize for being happy. That's what I want for you, even if it's not with me."
"Now you stop being silly," Chris says, slightly irritated. "We had wonderful weeks to ourselves. You mean so much to me. I'm not any less happy about having you in my life, just because we're making this official."
"I know. And I know it's good for Deal, will stop people from thinking she's just the sidekick of a man with a midlife crisis. It just took me by surprise."
"It surprised me too, that I would want that, but it feels - right." Chris pulls him close. "You've got Jim. I've got Dael. And we’ve all got each other. This isn't less of a commitment — it's more. To everything we are to each other."
"Yes, I know." Leonard sighs again, hanging his head. "Sorry for acting so stupid."
"At your partnership party, I was happy for you but I still wanted to get into your pants so fucking much. That never changed. You and Jim gave me such a great gift by letting me in. I wouldn't be here today without you."
He can see Leonard swallowing down a remark, probably something along the line of you wouldn't have had such a clusterfuck without us either, but Chris is glad he doesn't say it. No use crying about the past. It's all right, and it is good to look forward from it to a brighter future.
"I love you and I love Dael, and would do anything to make her happy, give her the life she deserves. That's not a contradiction, you know."
"I know. I feel the same about Jim. Love you too, Chris, so much. Goddamn bastard that changed my life," Leonard says choked-up and pulls him into an embrace, kissing him almost harshly before resting his head against Chris' shoulder.
"One day, we'll all be together," Chris whispers into his lover's ear.
"Oh, don't you bring up that farm idea," Leonard mutters. "Harebrained, silly fantasy…"
"Ashaire was just the beginning. We'll make that silly fantasy come true, I promise."
Leonard shrugs and pulls away, getting up. "Be careful what you wish for, Chris. Right now, Jim's deeply involved in the Enterprise refit. He's hungry for space and new missions. I don't want to see him tied down on Earth anytime soon."
"I don't want to tie anyone down," Chris says with a frown, rising to his feet too. Was this the same man who during his last stay on Earth had stated his need to get planetside because he couldn't bear Jim being in danger again and again? Seems the doc's opinion has changed quite a bit.
"But if in some years, it's still what he wants — what we want?" Chris adds questioningly, suddenly wondering if it's ever been Leonard's dream at all and not getting a clear answer from shaded brown eyes — "There will be a place for you to go."
The mouth of his lover curves into a slightly forced smile. "Nothing wrong about the general idea," he says vaguely. "Well, so… how about going back to the kitchen?"
"Yes, sure," Chris says flatly, his overflowing happiness of only minutes ago drained from the discussion and the concerns that raised their ugly heads, the old feelings of helplessness. He feels out of breath, his chest tight and sweat breaking on the back of his neck as he follows the doc into the corridor, his legs sluggish and almost fighting him. Heavily leaning against the wall, he tries to shake off the growing danger of drowning.
"Hey, hey, all fine." Arms fold around him, pulling him into a close embrace. Calming hands run down his back in soothing strokes. "All fine, Chris. Got you." More hands join in, bodies covering his. "We got you. All fine," the chorus repeats, and carries him into safety. When he feels the ground again, he opens his eyes and, strangely, meets Jim's open, unguarded gaze first.
"We got you," Jim says. "And we won't let you fall."
***
They're four at the kitchen table, and he's flanked by Dael and the doc.
It's so different from the last time they'd all been together, when it had looked like they'd be able to make the foursome work for them all, on everybody's terms. Now they're back to figuring out how the pattern looks, shifting pieces on a table top, exchanging pointless words like tennis balls.
Jim's eyes are even bluer than Chris could remember. "I'm sorry, Jim," he says, because it's been on his mind for so long and because he can't stand the false sense of comfort everyone's trying to create. "So sorry. I never wanted to ruin your life and career, and I almost did."
"It's okay, Chris. I know you didn't exactly plan it," Jim says in a soothing tone.
"I know Leonard is yours. It was never a question. Not really."
"We figured that one out. Don't worry." Jim smiles, taking the hand of his husband.
"I'll make it up to you," Chris says, and looks around. "To all of you. Not that I could ever repay it, really, but I swear I'll make the best of this… new life I've been given by you. I do. I have to." His voice trembles as like a cold breeze, the ghostly fear of past failures runs through him, memories of his incommunicado self, locked away by his own choice and staring out of windows into empty skies.
"Christopher," Dael says, her slim hand on his forearm, and he breaks out of the momentary terror, takes a deep breath, clears his throat, noticing all too well how they all look at him with various degrees of concern. "Sorry." he says, again, and it's so pointless it makes him want to get up and run away from the table. But there isn't a beach or Ashaire for a ride, it's his apartment and it feels so small right now.
Going forward means staying here, sitting at the table and behaving like a normal human being.
He nods at the others and forces a smile on his face before he picks up the fork, resuming his meal.
***
His bedroom looks so full, with three people sitting on the bed.
"Come on in," Jim says, waving his hand.
Chris freezes on the doorstep.
"You get first pick," Jim adds, not really helpful. "It's your bed, after all."
His bed, his lovers. Three. There's no good choice, he can't pick anything, left, right, middle, if he chooses right it'll be wrong, and the middle has two middles, no good position, he doesn't know, three is such a wrong number, copper taste on his tongue, he can't decide…
"Told you it's he's not good at choosing between options," Chris can hear Leonard's voice through the loop he's in, but only Dael's touch can break through it.
The couples sleep separately.
***
The city is almost too bright in the sunlight the next morning, and full of people who swarm around him like insects, their strange noises a loose fabric of sentences. He swims in it until a single strand hits him, delivering insults.
He stares after a passing, middle-aged couple. "Were they talking about us?"
On his side, Jim frowns. "Hmm?"
"I thought they said something about me and you," Chris says. "You know… bad things." He regrets his words the second they're out, because the doc stops abruptly and turns his head. Concern doesn't even begin to cover what he sees in his lover's eyes.
"Do you often feel like people say bad things about you behind your back?"
"No," Chris says. Not since my breakdown.
"Well, there’s a good chance he's right," Dael says matter-of-factly, her uncovered tattoos sharp on her face on this crystal-clear morning.
Leonard looks annoyed. "Just because it happens to you doesn't mean it happens to Chris," he says, but already a little unsure.
"I guess I misheard," Chris says.
"A little paranoia is probably to be expected, considering what happened," Jim says rationally. "Come on, let's go someplace quieter."
"You're not helping things," he can hear the doc mutter to Jim when they move forward. He only starts breathing again when they're in an almost empty shop.
And as he squarely ignores a staring man who he vaguely remembers from the Admiralty, he decides that any whispers he might overhear are just in his imagination.
***
Home is the place where the silence feels peaceful, and he retreats to the bedroom the second they're back from their outing.
There's a PADD with a list of therapists on the bed, assembled by Leonard. He scrolls through them, but nobody resonates right away. He'd gone through enough therapy after the Narada to have grown wary of it all, because looking back, it hadn't really helped a lot. Chris never mentions Alain aloud but he sometimes wishes someone would offer him some serious intervention now, would take his broken part out. Sometimes, it is necessary to sacrifice something to protect the rest.
He shakes his head about himself. As if his head was a machine… though with the implant, maybe…
For an hour, he unpacks his baggage, touching everything reverently, bathing in the images and feelings that everything evokes, of blue skies and warm sand, of the beach, a place that already starts to feel like Paradise Lost, a parallel world which he should maybe never have left. He ends up cross-legged on the bed with one of her books in his hands.
Once again, the signs don't speak to him, quiet lines of alien script that will forever withhold their secrets from him. He's starting to resign himself to the fact that his breakdown had cost him all of the Romulan he'd worked so hard for, but that's better than when his subconscious had played tricks with him, making him think he was able to read these poems.
With a sigh, he puts the two books on his nightstand, as a symbol of his complete acceptance of Dael and everything she cares about.
"I can always read them to you," she whispers in his ear when he drifts into slumber, and her recitation lulls him like a fairy song.
***
On the next day, the tribe decides to visit the notorious Astaire. Chris is well aware that it's meant as a gift, considering that none of the others care a lot about horses, and he doesn't actually feel like leaving for such a long, probably tiring trip. Not wanting to discourage the others, though, he slips onto the backseat of his car. Dael sits next to him on the left with her right knee comfortably pressing against his, holding his hand.
Leonard's shoulders are tense in front of him.
I'm sorry.
Don't be stupid. I wanted you to be happy, even if it's without me.
The truth of how Dael's answer — despite all promises — had changed so much between them is out in the daylight of this bright morning, and it's like metal scratching over glass in the back of his head.
Leonard is a possessive, jealous guy. It's one of the things Chris likes about his lover. It's also one of the things he doesn't know how to deal with when facing it head-on. They can't have their cake and eat it, not really, and why the hell can't Leonard adjust to that and let them all have the best possible life together, in the way they can?
Dael's hold on his hand tightens, a gentle reminder to breathe and look somewhere else, like in her eyes.
Jim drives fast. Behind her, out of the window, the world moves.
The world in his head suddenly moves faster.
"Stop," he says.
"What?" Jim asks, looking at him through the back mirror.
"Stop. Let me out. Stop!" He jerks at the door but the security mechanism won't release until they stop. Then he tumbles out, bending over the nearby strip of grass with his hands on his knees, his half-digested breakfast painting white strips on the green.
One light hand touches his shoulder, just enough to let him know he's not alone. Another hand joins in, heavier.
They never fight over him. Not openly.
"Breathe evenly, in, out, in, out… that's it. You're doing good."
They debate, then turn the car around.
He can't speak until they're back home, sitting around the kitchen table. "I'm sorry. That never happened before." His hands are still shaking.
"You were on a quiet beach," Leonard says. "You'll get used to being here again." The doc's seated on the other side of the table, next to Jim. Apart.
"We could beam."
"It's not that easy right now, Chris," Jim says, making it sound as if they'd already spoken about it. He can't remember. "You don't have an active 'fleet account and ours are getting low."
"Okay," he says because there's nothing good to say, then gets up and sits out on the balcony, arms laced around his bent knees, watching the sky.
He'd wanted to be home. He'd been hopeful he'd manage. Now he already feels himself drawing inwards, shutting down.
Thin arms lace around his shoulders from behind.
"I'm broken," he declares solemnly. "Like that cup I once smashed. Too many pieces to ever fix again." Saying it feels good. The doc always pretends he's not.
"I know how you feel," Dael says quietly, covering his body with her own in a strangely protective gesture. She's gotten so strong; in a way, he doesn't know her at all.
Human voices dance in the air, alien and meaningless. He feels like he's losing his language again.
"But there's always a way, Christopher. We'll find a way." She cradles him in an embrace, her hands covering his chest. "Trust me."
***
Thanks to a shot of tranquilizers and assorted other drugs in his blood Chris sleeps for a few hours, waking up refreshed and awake. The doc is there to scan him when he walks out of the shower, and he playfully throws the towel at his lover, reminiscent of their beach vacation.
"So, how am I?" he asks while getting dressed.
"Your blood values are okay. But you know you need to go to SFM for a full checkup."
"Next week, okay?" He knows he can't evade the feared visit for all eternity but he wants to push it back for as long as possible. He'd like to be emotionally more stable for it and despite how their day had gone, he's still hopeful that being at home with his cloverleaf would have a positive influence on his development. Once he's settled in.
When he comes out of the bedroom, the atmosphere between the others is a little strained, though. Something's out of tune, and for once it doesn't seem to have to do with him and his volatile state. He manages to keep quiet all through dinner and for another quarter of an hour after they've moved to the living room with cups of coffee, Jim in an armchair, Leonard on his stomach on the cushioned floor, Dael on his side on the couch.
Then he finally breaks the silence. "What's the matter?"
Three sets of eyes rise from whatever they read on all those damn PADDs. "Dael?"
She unfolds next to him. "Jim and I have an invitation for tonight, for one of Arissa's parties. We said we wouldn't be able to come because of our trip to the countryside but now we're here and we could go."
"And that's a problem?" Chris asks. "I wouldn't mind you attending."
She shrugs. I guessed so, it spells out.
"If you want to go, then go. And give my best wishes to Arissa and tell her I'll definitely stock vanilla lube again," he adds lightly. He's not totally relaxed when it comes to that woman but he trusts that Dael would always choose him, strange as the thought is. "Out with you, hush, hush!" He waves at Jim. A smile tugs at Dael's lips, and she leaves, going to get dressed.
It's the look in Leonard's eyes that tells Chris what — and who — the problem is. But when Jim gets up to follow her, the doc stays quiet.
"What's the matter?" Chris pushes when Jim is outside.
"I don't feel comfortable letting them go," Leonard says grudgingly, sitting up. "It just doesn't feel right at the moment. Yeah, tell me I'm silly."
"Why don't you go with them?"
"We're not going to leave you alone," Leonard says firmly. "I won't leave you alone."
Chris sighs. "This is my apartment. I'll survive a few hours without you all."
There's a tiny shake of Leonard's head, telling him enough. He's not to be trusted to look after himself, not yet, not after today. It rankles more than it should, considering that they're trying to protect him — but he's not some helpless toddler.
"If you want to go with them, do it for god's sake. Though you realize that they'll act nothing like they would without you, right?"
"I just want to know where they're going… what the place looks like. I wouldn't actually want to watch them anyway," Leonard admits, eyes averted.
"Then move, man, and come back when your curiosity is satiated," he orders. "I'll keep the couch warm for you." He makes a suggestive gesture, running one hand down his groin. They had been great together at the beach. They could surely be here too, if the doc gets his act together.
"You would?" Leonard's face lightens up.
"Of course. An evening just to ourselves. They have fun the way they prefer, we have fun old-men-style."
"Old men, tsk," the doc grouches but gets up on his feet. "Fine. I'll deliver the kids, take a look, and come back." He leans over for a kiss. "Shouldn't take longer than an hour, max."
"I should be able to survive that."
"Unproven," the doc murmurs and kisses him again with some tongue, slipping one warm hand around his neck to caress his hairline. It's hot enough to get his dick perking up in interest.
"But maybe you can come back a little faster, just to make sure," he whispers, capturing the doc's hand to put it on his groin.
Leonard chuckles, patting his hardening erection. "I'll do my best."
Thirty minutes later, his tribe is out of the door.
***
Part 2/3 on DW or Part 2/3 on LJ
Author: syredronning aka Acidqueen
Series: Reboot aka ST:XI aka AOS — Draws Series
Codes: Pike/Dael/Kirk/McCoy, various OCs and other pairings in passing
Rating: NC-17; complex psychology; dark themes; violence; disability; mixed foursome; relationships with large age differences
Word count: Complete 20.000
Author's Note: This is the direct sequel to "Morning Sun", and heavily references characters and situations from "Morning Sun" and "Shadowplay" (Draws XI). See
Draws LJ Masterpost or Draws at AO3.
Thanks for her continuous support, wonderful beta, and helpful comments go to
shagungu. All remaining flaws are solely mine. Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek, I own my brain.
On DW: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3
On LJ: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3
On AO3: Free Fall
Summary: Chris comes home. But things are not as easy as they all had hoped for.
***
The living room is flooded with light as the sun slowly arcs from midday to afternoon position. The house is deadly silent, except for the rhythmic, soothing background noise coming from the sea and a light snoring from Leonard who's dozed off on the couch, sleep-slackened limbs sprawled in all directions. It can't be very comfortable.
Chris looks at the only clock in the house, the one he'd ignored for the longest time. About one hour until the suitcases that are lined up in the corridor are collected. Two hours until their departure. Everything packed, everything done.
Yesterday, he wanted to leave for home. He still wants to; he's just not sure he's ready for the challenge yet.
With measured steps, he walks through the house once more. In the bathroom, there's the faint sound of water dripping.
Plop.
Plop.
Plop.
He closes the faucet firmly.
He walks out onto the veranda, down onto the sand. Takes off his sandals, walks barefoot to the shore. Forces his hands to uncurl and hang loosely, straightens his shoulders out of their sudden tense hunch. Counts his steps, measures his breaths, takes in the smell, blinks at the sky. It's blue and tastes of metal. The rare flash of synesthesia passes as quickly as it comes, and as usual he's not sure whether he should miss that extra dimension of his senses or be glad that all is back to normal.
But what's normal anyway for the cyborg he's become...
He walks to the stone Dael often sat on, takes her place. Imagines her being here — he's not delusional anymore but he's still prone to intense day-dreaming, something the doc doesn't handle too well so he's been hiding it more lately. Wonders what she'd say to him if she saw him now, his hands sweating as he laces his fingers around his knees, curling into a fetal position with his eyes on the sea foam.
You could always have asked me to come back here, his day-dream says, her eyes dark, large, and unreadable.
He knows, but he wouldn't have done that, not again. It's now up to him to return to the world and live, with them, somehow. His mind blanks as it hits the wall of possibilities, intimidated and overwhelmed.
"You're okay?" The warm hand on his shoulder jerks Chris out of his funk, and he unlaces his hands, stretching into stand.
"Yes," he says as he straightens his trembling legs, but his lie shatters under Iro's knowing gaze. "Not really, but I'll manage," Chris concedes.
"I know you will," Iro says, gently nudging his arm before pulling away. They've become friends over the last weeks, but there's nothing physical or erotic between them, which feels almost strange to Chris who's gotten so used to the sexual undercurrent he has with many of his friends. "Got a call from George, Ashaire arrived safely at the farm."
Chris nods. "Harms sent me a note. He seems to have been a little irritated by George."
George, Iro's slave, obedient servant, housekeeper, master organizer and officially married better half, had insisted on accompanying Ashaire, probably to see the stallion leave Iro's life for good after having had a certain love-hate relationship with the animal. Usually dressed in deceptively shabby clothes, which are in stark contrast to the aura of wealth around him, it's no surprise that Harms didn't quite know what to make of that short-spoken man.
Iro smirks but doesn't comment any further. His eyes stray up to the house.
"Where's Leonard?"
"Dozed off. Didn't sleep a lot last night." Neither of them did, actually, as Chris' usual tendency to sleep seems to have been eaten away by the nervous anticipation that had filled him over the last day.
"I've got a meeting at the airport. I could drive you there."
Chris hesitates.
"I'd be happy to do that for you."
"Then — thanks, yes, that would be great."
They walk up to the house.
"I've sent you my private contact information," Iro says as Chris stops to pick up his sandals, brushing the sand off his feet with one hand before slipping into them. "If you ever feel like working for my company…" He leaves the statement open; he'd already made his offer yesterday. While the fact itself, the feeling of being wanted by the owner of IXOS for his knowledge and experience, fills Chris' stomach with warmth, he's not ready to make any decisions about his future.
"Thanks." He casts a last glance at the sea, then walks up the veranda, his steps sounding more determined than he feels. Inside, Leonard is still asleep. Chris offers Iro a cup of tea, and they sit down, waiting in silence.
There's the comfortable silence he has with Dael and the often intense silence he has with the doc; with Iro, there's that loud silence in which he can almost hear the other man thinking, all those little wheels that never stop turning round, round, round, looking for opportunities. And it's worse than usual because it's the first time Iro has ever entered their house, and his eyes wander through the room, examining every one of the few remaining items, weighing its meaning, worth and price.
"Nice paintings," he says with a nod to the three beach paintings that decorate the wall of the living room.
"They're Dael's." Chris looks at them in slight shock. How could he forget about them? Possibly because they fit so extraordinarily well into this house, seamless and perfect.
He gets up and takes them down. There's nothing left to wrap them in, so he places them against the door in the hope the baggage service will be able to secure them for transport.
"Could I have one?" Iro asks as he turns back to him.
"Why would you want it?" Chris asks back, confused.
"As a souvenir, maybe?"
"You never struck me as a sentimental man."
"Then an investment maybe. One day, her works might be expensive."
Chris looks at the paintings. They're special to him, because they're the first ones Dael ever freely offered, but that's personal. Without that bias, they are nothing but beach studies, normal and conventional. Good technique, but without a real soul. "They aren't mine, so it's not within my power to give them away," he says at last.
"Hmm, what?" Leonard grunts from the couch, forcing his eyes open with a large yawn, barely covered by one loose fist. He freezes as he sees Iro, then sits up in a sudden rush.
"All fine." Chris soothingly pats his lover's shoulder. It's almost funny how the doc never really got over his knee-jerk reaction to Iro, a mixture of instinctive defense and subdued jealousy, no matter that Iro and George turned out to be the most monogamous couple Chris has met in a long time. "He only wants to give us a ride to the airport."
"Okay." Leonard gets up from the couch. "Damn, I'm thirsty." His eyes trained on Iro, he picks up Chris' cup and drains it down, putting an awful lot of claim into that small gesture.
Chris wonders how it'll be back home, with Leonard and Dael within the same walls.
The doorbell rings, announcing the pickup service for their suitcases.
***
They could've beamed, the doc offered as much, but Chris had preferred to take the shuttle.
Now that they're up in the air, he sorely regrets it.
Voices in wild chaos, I'm hungry, mom, I hate flying, can I please have a sandwich, the sickening smell of luke-warm cheese, fasten your seatbelts, are you okay?
"Are you okay?" Leonard repeats.
Chris nods, despite the harsh, coppery taste on his tongue that doesn't go away over the sip of coffee he hastily takes.
Leonard's fingers drape over his wrist, for comfort and to check his state. On a small tricorder, there are lights blinking.
Sometimes Chris hates the doctor aspect, the never-ending examination that makes him feel like some lab rat.
A tiny hiss, and he feels his head clearing.
"Better?" Leonard asks quietly, stowing the hypo away.
"Yes, thanks." Chris leans against him, brushing his lips against his lover's cheek. He might hate those stealthy checkups, but he can still be grateful.
"Just another hour," Leonard says.
If suffering had units, time spent with that many people around Chris is the currency.
They really should've beamed.
"Tell me more about the implant." Chris raps at the back of his head with his forefinger.
"The implant? Of all the times you could've asked me, you do it here?" the doc grumbles.
Until now, Chris has pointedly pushed aside any further thoughts about that thing in his head, but now that they're on their way back, he'd like to be somewhat informed.
"Distract me. Occupy me."
Leonard shakes his head but pulls out a PADD anyway. He calls up images and schematics, then gives it over to Chris.
Looking at it like that, the implant is a filigree beauty, technology of the next century. Chris as its carrier is a precious specimen: only the third to receive one, he's a medical miracle and if he keeps losing track of what he does and where he is at times, it's an ignorable, tiny aberration.
There's awe in the doc's voice when he talks about the neural pathways the implant spans, the way it helps regulate brain chemistry to the picogram, such a delicate balance.
"And if it fails?" Chris asks.
"You know the deal," Leonard replies steadily, but avoids his eyes for a moment.
The deal is a hard, unyielding table on which he's tied down to be put into the neural stabilizer. If they're fast enough to get him there at all.
"Any idea how long it will work?" How long he might have in this next iteration of his existence. "How long, doc?"
"Not sure. The lead developers hope for at least five years before we might substitute for it a newer version that should last twice as long. So no need to think you'll die tomorrow."
"Five years is good," Chris says and gives back the PADD. Leonard opens his mouth to say something but he's lost interest. Five is a good number, he can work with that. "Going to the restroom, be right back." He gets up, sees Leonard's impulse to go with him. "I'm fine, thanks."
And he is, quite. He'd never be as mobile as in the past, but he can walk, imagines walking on sand, seeing the sun, Ashaire in the distance. For a second, he smells the beach, then the vision vanishes and is substituted by a crying child and its frustrated caretaker.
He spends ten of the last twenty minutes of the flight sitting on the closed toilet seat, staring holes into the locked door.
***
The ride in the lift has never felt so long. The trembling starts in his legs, then sneaks upwards and into his hands. He grabs a hold of the handrail, leveling his breathing.
"It'll be okay," Leonard says overly cheerfully. "They're looking forward to seeing us. We'll be fine." He takes Chris' other hand.
Chris nods mutely.
The lift comes to a strangely abrupt halt, and he tumbles against the wall. "I'm fine," he says roughly as the doc wants to steady him, pulling away from the supportive grip and walking out into the corridor instead.
RING.
RING.
Has the doorbell always been that loud?
The door opens. His legs are lead, unable to move.
Leonard walks forward, hugs Jim, waves back at him. That at last breaks the spell, compels him forward too into the arms of his younger lover, the man he'd caused so much trouble for. Sorrow and regret run into their embrace, his apologies accepted not so much in words, but in the strength of Jim's arms around him.
And then there's Dael. The next minutes are a blur until he finds himself in his bed with Dael's face protectively hovering above him.
He drags her close, pressing his face against her neck. "I feared…"
"I did too."
"Missed you." He puts kisses on her throat.
"Missed you too." She sighs.
For a while, they're just caressing each other, enjoying the closeness they'd missed for the last weeks.
"You feel good," he says after a while. "Soft."
She chuckles about his wording.
"Has Jim been good to you?"
Dael shifts so that she can face him fully, and puts one spread palm on his cheek, her thumb drawing a line on his bottom lip. "Yes."
He brushes down her body, along her ribcage, over her hips. She feels softer, less bony. "Did you gain some weight?"
"A bit. But maybe I'm just relaxed." Her gaze travels along his eyebrows with a gentle smile. "I introduced him to Arissa's family. We've been out a lot."
"Oh." It's unexpected news, and Chris doesn't quite know what to do with it.
"We had a lot of fun." Dael's fingers suggestively glide over his pants. Almost automatically, he rolls his hips forward and pushes against her pelvis, and she readily answers his move. He curls, kissing down her tiny breasts.
"Did you have a good time with Leonard?" she asks after a few more minutes, her hands laced into his hair.
He scrambles for an answer. "Yes. He cared for me… sometimes too much. Always the doctor… but it was good." He sighs against her chest, unwilling to go into details that might be more than she'd like to know. "A strange kind of wonderland, that beach. Real and still…"
They stop talking again as she strips him, then gets rid of her own shirt and pants.
"Let me…" she whispers and crouches over him, one hand tightly around his half-hard erection. "At times I wondered whether I just couldn't turn you on anymore. But that's not true, is it?" She strokes him gently.
"Oh, no," Chris says impulsively, reaching out to touch her hand to underline his words. "Just didn't feel sexual at all for quite a while but that had nothing to do with you."
"Good." She smiles at him, then without ado lowers her head to take him in. There's no hesitation anymore, no need for some taste-changing lube, and he arches in aroused surprise.
"You don't have to…"
He shuts up as her grip on his hip tightens. There's a tiny bit of teeth in the mix, a playful bite that tells him to stop being silly and to enjoy the ride instead.
She'd been good at giving head in the past but she's fucking great now, going deep with her lips tight around his shaft. One hand cradles his balls, her tongue teasing his glans, and soon his sack tightens, drawing in as an early sign of his impeding orgasm. Quite a feast, considering that the doc and he had made the most of their last days together.
"Stop, please," he croaks out, nudging the back of her head. She slowly lets his cock slip out of her mouth, making him groan with a last lick. "Want to ride you. If that's okay."
Visibly excited by his suggestion, she eagerly jumps over him to the side, grabbing two bottles of Jim's special brand. "Cherry or almond?"
He gets up on one elbow. "What happened to vanilla?"
"Arissa got sick of it," she says matter-of-factly, but looks the other way anyway for a moment.
Her again. Chris isn't sure when exactly Arissa had become such an influence in his household, wonders if that happened at that first moment when he'd recommended Dael to her for the bar job, and then every event along the way, like organizing that joint party, had just been another piece to strengthen that base. Somehow, their four nodes have become the core of a network that gets more and more complicated, like a heart of transparent aluminum that glitters in the laser light, bright and beautiful.
"Christopher?" She gently touches him.
He shoves the images aside. "Almond it is, then." He sits up as she gives the bottle to him and positions herself on the bed on all fours.
"Missed that," he whispers as he kneels down behind her, reverently running his hands over her tattooed back and down her legs before lubing up his left hand and working it into her.
Her ass… she's not that tight anymore.
The thought takes a moment to settle, his mind unwilling to accept what his fingers report. His arm slows down, his fingers slipping out as gravity seems to double.
"Anything wrong?" She tilts her head back right in the second that realization hits her, and her eyes widen, a flash of guilt in them.
"Anything you'd like to tell me?" he asks numbly. It's stupid to feel so strongly about the idea that anyone else has her like that, fucks her boyish ass — she's not his property, after all. But Jim had asked, had positively pushed for some limit, and this had been the only thing Chris had ever wanted for himself. It makes him feel so insecure all of a sudden, wondering if he's really still wanted here.
She lowers her forehead onto her folded arms, a gesture of defeat.
"Jim?" He slowly pushes in with two fingers.
She nods mutely.
"Did he ask for it?"
"No." Dael shifts, looking back at him over her shoulder. "I wanted it." She sighs. "I only had sex once during my mission, and then I stayed with you and you know we never really… I would have wanted to have it with you but that didn't happen and Jim was there and…" She rises on her arms. "I'm sorry," she says flatly.
His hand on her hip keeps her from drawing away. "Stay," he says hastily. "Please. Dael. It's okay. Stay." He puts a kiss on her tailbone, repeating his words, his acceptance. Of course, they didn't have sex really which must've left her absolutely starved, and he'd be such a hypocrite to ask her to abstain from things he introduced her to, while he fucked around with the doc. "I'm sorry I asked."
"No, I should've told you," she mutters, her head down on her arms again.
His fingers explore the new freedom. "So… just Jim?"
"Only Jim and Arissa. Though she never fucks my ass with a dildo… just with her fingers… oh…"
A flicker of annoyance before it's washed away by the beautiful noises Dael makes. She's become more responsive, Chris thinks as he watches her melt into his touch. He's using his thumbs alternately, his preferred way to open up someone, and she whimpers and wiggles, asking for more.
"Do you like her fingers?"
She chuckles. "I like fingers that know what to do. Like yours too… oh…yes." Her hips gyrate back to him, and she suddenly arches, groaning in what sounds suspiciously like…
Stilling his fingers he laughs, surprised and exhilarated. "You can come on fingers in your ass?" Bending forward, he puts some more kisses on her back. "Oh wow, guess I missed something. You're fantastic. Love you, darling."
"Love you too," she says breathlessly. "Fuck me, Christopher. Like you did in the past."
He's not sure he's quite up to their old pacing, can imagine Jim being a lot more energetic than he could summon, but then he once again shoves his insecurity aside. She wants him, not just for this but also for this and he'll do his best. It's not as if the doc complained over the last weeks, either. Sex has turned out to be one of the few actions in which he's completely sure of what is real, that grounds and centers him amidst his so often jumbled thoughts, and there's no need to let doubt ruin this now, not when everything's looking up. Not when his beautiful boy-girl is waiting to get fucked by him, all ready and needy.
For a moment, he fists his erection, still one thumb in her ass, then gets up on his knees and pushes in.
***
Afterwards, exhaustion hits him like a solid wall, psychic, physical, he doesn't know, but he sinks into the mattress and Dael just keeps touching him gently and carefully. "I'll take care of you. You're safe. Just sleep."
He's in the comfortable twilight zone between dream and reality when the bed moves and a kiss meets his lips.
"Just going for a shower," the words flow, but then the steps leave the room out into the corridor instead. He stops wondering, goes back to sleep until the sound of the water shower indeed reaches his ears. It's soothing, calming. It's also motivating him to leave the bed at last, slightly unsteady legs finding strength when his naked feet meet the ground. He pads into the bathroom just as she stops the water and pulls away the curtain to reach for a towel. He gives it to her.
She smiles at him.
She really smiles a lot more than in the past, the thought solidifies. Suddenly unbelievably needy for her, he reaches out and caresses her face. Bowing into his touch like a willow, Dael closes her eyes.
"Get out," he whispers, and with a curious gaze she steps onto the floor, a trail of drops in her wake. He takes the towel from her fingers, then moves her against the wall. The floor is hard under his knees, but her body is soft and humid, her hips curving against his lips that search her sweet spot. She tastes of shower gel and nothing else, and that he even thinks of that tells him that he hasn't come much farther to adjusting to her female scent, but that doesn't matter right now. His tongue runs down her slightly spread folds, teasingly nudging along their length, and she laughs breathlessly, her hands stroking through his hair.
She comes quickly and so hard that she sinks down next to him, flat on her back with knees folded, one arm over her eyes, one hand finding his. He dries his face on her towel.
"Thank you," she mutters. "That was great."
He can't keep his hands from her, running his fingers along her tattooed chest, her white arms and thighs. For a while there's just comfortable silence, until she sits up and curls her arm around her knees, looking at him serenely.
"What do you see in me? Why do you still want me?"
Why didn't you stay with Leonard?
A good question, one he'd turned over in his head at various times during the last weeks.
His fingers find hers once more, in a gentle hold. "I don't know if I can really explain it. I love you. That's the bottom of it. I want you, for company, for sex, for everything you want to give me." Chris smiles at her.
It's been a good start, judging from the way her features brighten a bit, but obviously not enough to dispel her wondering. "But there have to be things you don't find with others. Something special."
"True." And she should know those, but it seems she needs to hear them put into words. "With you, I found a common base. I'm not sure why that is, but with you I have a place to… just be. Rest my weary head, a poet might say. You don't question me all the time, you don't push me for answers. You take me as I am."
"And he doesn't?"
Chris knows exactly who she means. "No. Not like that. And I need him for that, for the challenge, the pushing, the critical gaze. The way he makes me rethink decisions, forces me to face truths I'd rather not see."
"And where does Jim fit in?"
Chris can't suppress a sigh. "I don't know. What we once had… it changed, more than with anyone else, and I don't know yet how we fit again. I think he put me on a pedestal way back and then found that I haven't just feet of clay, but mostly am clay, including the potential to ruin the one relationship he can't do without."
"They'll be fine," Dael says soothingly, caressing his fingers. "Like you, Jim had lost his center for a while, but he found it again."
"Thanks to you?" Chris inquires, running his hand down her shoulder.
"I mostly offered him the secure space to explore himself. To feel more alive." She smiles, her gaze drifting off in memories.
"I'm glad you were here for him."
Her smile deepens. "It wasn’t a sacrifice. He's such a beautiful person. So much energy and love for life. Constantly exploring and learning." Shifting her solemn gaze back at Chris, she tightens her grip on his hand. "But as you said… you and me, we've got a common base, a place of rest, of just being able to be. Without them, we might stagnate, but without each other, we wouldn't be able to bear their strength, their way of challenging us to go outside of our comfort zone."
He nods mutely. She'd said it perfectly, nothing left to add.
"I'm so glad you're here," she says and takes him into an embrace.
***
It's a good thing they're careful when opening the door to the kitchen a while later, dressed in beach clothes they'd picked out of the already delivered suitcases, bright colors and the smell of salt water dancing around them. Their men are inside, kissing like there's no tomorrow, and when they part, it's only for Jim to open his jeans and bend over the table, clean dishes getting shoved aside while Leonard pulls down his own zipper, his expression between hungry and awestruck.
Chris and Dael quietly move away.
"I'm so glad," he mutters, not an ounce of jealousy in his mind, only immense relief that the couple is doing fine. "I was so concerned about them." He follows Dael's lead that brings them to her room.
"I want to show you something." With a wide gesture, she opens the door.
"Impressive," he barely manages, then falls silent. What had once been such a bleak and lifeless room has turned into an explosion of earth colors and soft lines. Like a hiding place — like a strange kind of womb. And so very, very female.
"Come in." She nudges him, and he carefully makes a step inside, as if his entry might desecrate something.
"Your doing?" he asks and vaguely waves his hand. It's not an intelligent question, but this is so different from anything she's ever shown to him, he needs a moment to wrap his mind around it.
"Yes, mostly mine, with some suggestions by Jim. Come, sit down."
He hesitantly sits down on the bed, crossing his legs, then uncrossing them again and neatly sitting down with his feet on the floor, hands loosely on his thighs. If this room mirrors the changes in Dael, he's got to do quite some catching up.
She picks something from the desk, then joins him.
"T.A. sent me a picture."
He looks at her in confusion. "Who?"
"T'Anihl - T'Anihl ch'Retrrln, the Romulan boy I grew up with on Khal'kohachi."
"Oh. I thought you weren't in contact," Chris wonders as he takes it.
Dael shrugs. "Yes and no. Despite his distrust, he keeps exchanging memories of the past with me, and then he sent this."
It's a shot of a painting. There are cornflowers under a strange sky, but unlike the variations on this theme that he's familiar with, this painting is full of life. Broad strokes and delicate details form something larger than a two-dimensional canvas, make the flowers leap from the painting in an explosion of spring.
This painting has all the soul that her new ones are missing, and it hurts him more than his own losses to see hers in such clarity.
"It's gorgeous," he says, throat dry.
"It was my last on Khol. They took it with them when they escaped, as a memory of me." She takes the photograph in her hand, her focus drawing inwards. "I often painted in Al'Retrrln's studio. It was large, with high ceilings and full of light. He was such a kind man and a great teacher. He treated me as if I were his own daughter. Dad used to joke about it, but… ah well." She sighs. "He was a good artist, but Al'Retrrln was the master." Her mood, so carefree only minutes ago, tangibly shifts. "And I never even tried to find out if they had survived."
"It's not your fault," Chris says as she gets up, picture in hand. "You had other things to deal with."
"Other things, oh yes." With a sad smile, she puts the photograph away.
"Sweetheart…" He reaches out, relieved when she turns back to him and takes his hand. Taking him by surprise, she sinks down on her knees in front of him, barely giving him the time to spread his legs to make room for her. She takes both his hands in a reverent hold.
"I lost my family. Then I threw away what could have been my second family, wrapped up in my pain and… chaos." She pulls his hands up to her forehead, moving back and forth like in a strange prayer. "You are my new family. With you, I feel at home. I can only hope to be worthy of this for a long, long time to come."
He shakes his head, out of words. Here he is, thanking daily the strange fate that had brought her along, and there she is, thinking that she's the one who is blessed by having to deal with his troubles, their joint package of emotional entanglement. "Crazy girl," he finally says, his voice unsteady. "Crazy, wonderful girl. I'm not complete without you." He wants to say more, that he's sorry for trying to push her away again and again, presuming she'd be better off with someone else. That might still be true in the future but not today, not for awhile to come. Not for the next five years, if he's lucky.
"I'm yours," he says and lifts her face with his fingers. Her eyes are bright and beautiful, and he bathes in them while he takes both of them by surprise with his next words. "I'm yours, and I want to tell that to the whole damn world. You and I. Let's make it official. Vows and papers and all."
"Oh," she says and then nothing else for a long moment, before asking, "What about Leonard and Jim?"
"I don't want to change the parameters of our foursome," Chris hastens to say, his arguments as much for her as for himself. "This is about the two of us. They already had their party. Getting married didn't stop them from going after me, and being officially partnered won't stop us from being with them, or other people. But I want to make it known what we mean to each other."
"Yes." She curls over their laced hands. "Yes, Christopher. Yes."
He slides down from the bed to get on one level with her, because in this they are together as equals. They melt into each other's arms, the world momentarily forgotten.
***
When they cautiously open the door to the kitchen a while later, their men are seated almost chastely apart with the lasagna and an open bottle of white wine between them, talking about the Enterprise. When Chris and Dael walk in, their discussion dies and their men's gazes change, curiosity and concern an inseparable mix.
"We've just made a decision," Chris says giddily, lifting Dael's and his laced hands. "Know, by chance, any captain who could partner us off?"
"Oh whoa!" Jim gets up from his seat with a bright smile. "You're lucky, I know someone with a ship that's ready for a test drive out of the solar system in just six weeks!" He embraces Dael, hugging and kissing her before moving on to Chris. "Congratulations to you. I'm so happy for you. That's great."
Leonard doesn't look as happy, rather has a wistful expression on his face for a moment before he pushes it aside. "Congratulations." he says and gives them both a brief hug, then sits down only to get up a heartbeat later, mumbling something about the restroom. Chris picks up Jim's and Dael's concerned gazes, nodding. He couldn't have held back with the news, not when he feels like his whole world had just gained more colors, but he should've realized it would be a shock for Leonard.
There's always someone hurting, sometimes, he thinks, his stomach flipping a little. "I'll be right back," he says, leaving Jim and Dael in the kitchen. They'd manage.
He finds the doc in the Jim&Bones room, perched on the edge of the bed with his face in his palms. Chris sits down next to him, not quite touching. "Sorry for coming out with it without any warning. I just… I feel so happy. I'm sorry."
"Stop being silly," Leonard mutters and drags off his hands to frown at Chris. "Don't you ever apologize for being happy. That's what I want for you, even if it's not with me."
"Now you stop being silly," Chris says, slightly irritated. "We had wonderful weeks to ourselves. You mean so much to me. I'm not any less happy about having you in my life, just because we're making this official."
"I know. And I know it's good for Deal, will stop people from thinking she's just the sidekick of a man with a midlife crisis. It just took me by surprise."
"It surprised me too, that I would want that, but it feels - right." Chris pulls him close. "You've got Jim. I've got Dael. And we’ve all got each other. This isn't less of a commitment — it's more. To everything we are to each other."
"Yes, I know." Leonard sighs again, hanging his head. "Sorry for acting so stupid."
"At your partnership party, I was happy for you but I still wanted to get into your pants so fucking much. That never changed. You and Jim gave me such a great gift by letting me in. I wouldn't be here today without you."
He can see Leonard swallowing down a remark, probably something along the line of you wouldn't have had such a clusterfuck without us either, but Chris is glad he doesn't say it. No use crying about the past. It's all right, and it is good to look forward from it to a brighter future.
"I love you and I love Dael, and would do anything to make her happy, give her the life she deserves. That's not a contradiction, you know."
"I know. I feel the same about Jim. Love you too, Chris, so much. Goddamn bastard that changed my life," Leonard says choked-up and pulls him into an embrace, kissing him almost harshly before resting his head against Chris' shoulder.
"One day, we'll all be together," Chris whispers into his lover's ear.
"Oh, don't you bring up that farm idea," Leonard mutters. "Harebrained, silly fantasy…"
"Ashaire was just the beginning. We'll make that silly fantasy come true, I promise."
Leonard shrugs and pulls away, getting up. "Be careful what you wish for, Chris. Right now, Jim's deeply involved in the Enterprise refit. He's hungry for space and new missions. I don't want to see him tied down on Earth anytime soon."
"I don't want to tie anyone down," Chris says with a frown, rising to his feet too. Was this the same man who during his last stay on Earth had stated his need to get planetside because he couldn't bear Jim being in danger again and again? Seems the doc's opinion has changed quite a bit.
"But if in some years, it's still what he wants — what we want?" Chris adds questioningly, suddenly wondering if it's ever been Leonard's dream at all and not getting a clear answer from shaded brown eyes — "There will be a place for you to go."
The mouth of his lover curves into a slightly forced smile. "Nothing wrong about the general idea," he says vaguely. "Well, so… how about going back to the kitchen?"
"Yes, sure," Chris says flatly, his overflowing happiness of only minutes ago drained from the discussion and the concerns that raised their ugly heads, the old feelings of helplessness. He feels out of breath, his chest tight and sweat breaking on the back of his neck as he follows the doc into the corridor, his legs sluggish and almost fighting him. Heavily leaning against the wall, he tries to shake off the growing danger of drowning.
"Hey, hey, all fine." Arms fold around him, pulling him into a close embrace. Calming hands run down his back in soothing strokes. "All fine, Chris. Got you." More hands join in, bodies covering his. "We got you. All fine," the chorus repeats, and carries him into safety. When he feels the ground again, he opens his eyes and, strangely, meets Jim's open, unguarded gaze first.
"We got you," Jim says. "And we won't let you fall."
***
They're four at the kitchen table, and he's flanked by Dael and the doc.
It's so different from the last time they'd all been together, when it had looked like they'd be able to make the foursome work for them all, on everybody's terms. Now they're back to figuring out how the pattern looks, shifting pieces on a table top, exchanging pointless words like tennis balls.
Jim's eyes are even bluer than Chris could remember. "I'm sorry, Jim," he says, because it's been on his mind for so long and because he can't stand the false sense of comfort everyone's trying to create. "So sorry. I never wanted to ruin your life and career, and I almost did."
"It's okay, Chris. I know you didn't exactly plan it," Jim says in a soothing tone.
"I know Leonard is yours. It was never a question. Not really."
"We figured that one out. Don't worry." Jim smiles, taking the hand of his husband.
"I'll make it up to you," Chris says, and looks around. "To all of you. Not that I could ever repay it, really, but I swear I'll make the best of this… new life I've been given by you. I do. I have to." His voice trembles as like a cold breeze, the ghostly fear of past failures runs through him, memories of his incommunicado self, locked away by his own choice and staring out of windows into empty skies.
"Christopher," Dael says, her slim hand on his forearm, and he breaks out of the momentary terror, takes a deep breath, clears his throat, noticing all too well how they all look at him with various degrees of concern. "Sorry." he says, again, and it's so pointless it makes him want to get up and run away from the table. But there isn't a beach or Ashaire for a ride, it's his apartment and it feels so small right now.
Going forward means staying here, sitting at the table and behaving like a normal human being.
He nods at the others and forces a smile on his face before he picks up the fork, resuming his meal.
***
His bedroom looks so full, with three people sitting on the bed.
"Come on in," Jim says, waving his hand.
Chris freezes on the doorstep.
"You get first pick," Jim adds, not really helpful. "It's your bed, after all."
His bed, his lovers. Three. There's no good choice, he can't pick anything, left, right, middle, if he chooses right it'll be wrong, and the middle has two middles, no good position, he doesn't know, three is such a wrong number, copper taste on his tongue, he can't decide…
"Told you it's he's not good at choosing between options," Chris can hear Leonard's voice through the loop he's in, but only Dael's touch can break through it.
The couples sleep separately.
***
The city is almost too bright in the sunlight the next morning, and full of people who swarm around him like insects, their strange noises a loose fabric of sentences. He swims in it until a single strand hits him, delivering insults.
He stares after a passing, middle-aged couple. "Were they talking about us?"
On his side, Jim frowns. "Hmm?"
"I thought they said something about me and you," Chris says. "You know… bad things." He regrets his words the second they're out, because the doc stops abruptly and turns his head. Concern doesn't even begin to cover what he sees in his lover's eyes.
"Do you often feel like people say bad things about you behind your back?"
"No," Chris says. Not since my breakdown.
"Well, there’s a good chance he's right," Dael says matter-of-factly, her uncovered tattoos sharp on her face on this crystal-clear morning.
Leonard looks annoyed. "Just because it happens to you doesn't mean it happens to Chris," he says, but already a little unsure.
"I guess I misheard," Chris says.
"A little paranoia is probably to be expected, considering what happened," Jim says rationally. "Come on, let's go someplace quieter."
"You're not helping things," he can hear the doc mutter to Jim when they move forward. He only starts breathing again when they're in an almost empty shop.
And as he squarely ignores a staring man who he vaguely remembers from the Admiralty, he decides that any whispers he might overhear are just in his imagination.
***
Home is the place where the silence feels peaceful, and he retreats to the bedroom the second they're back from their outing.
There's a PADD with a list of therapists on the bed, assembled by Leonard. He scrolls through them, but nobody resonates right away. He'd gone through enough therapy after the Narada to have grown wary of it all, because looking back, it hadn't really helped a lot. Chris never mentions Alain aloud but he sometimes wishes someone would offer him some serious intervention now, would take his broken part out. Sometimes, it is necessary to sacrifice something to protect the rest.
He shakes his head about himself. As if his head was a machine… though with the implant, maybe…
For an hour, he unpacks his baggage, touching everything reverently, bathing in the images and feelings that everything evokes, of blue skies and warm sand, of the beach, a place that already starts to feel like Paradise Lost, a parallel world which he should maybe never have left. He ends up cross-legged on the bed with one of her books in his hands.
Once again, the signs don't speak to him, quiet lines of alien script that will forever withhold their secrets from him. He's starting to resign himself to the fact that his breakdown had cost him all of the Romulan he'd worked so hard for, but that's better than when his subconscious had played tricks with him, making him think he was able to read these poems.
With a sigh, he puts the two books on his nightstand, as a symbol of his complete acceptance of Dael and everything she cares about.
"I can always read them to you," she whispers in his ear when he drifts into slumber, and her recitation lulls him like a fairy song.
***
On the next day, the tribe decides to visit the notorious Astaire. Chris is well aware that it's meant as a gift, considering that none of the others care a lot about horses, and he doesn't actually feel like leaving for such a long, probably tiring trip. Not wanting to discourage the others, though, he slips onto the backseat of his car. Dael sits next to him on the left with her right knee comfortably pressing against his, holding his hand.
Leonard's shoulders are tense in front of him.
I'm sorry.
Don't be stupid. I wanted you to be happy, even if it's without me.
The truth of how Dael's answer — despite all promises — had changed so much between them is out in the daylight of this bright morning, and it's like metal scratching over glass in the back of his head.
Leonard is a possessive, jealous guy. It's one of the things Chris likes about his lover. It's also one of the things he doesn't know how to deal with when facing it head-on. They can't have their cake and eat it, not really, and why the hell can't Leonard adjust to that and let them all have the best possible life together, in the way they can?
Dael's hold on his hand tightens, a gentle reminder to breathe and look somewhere else, like in her eyes.
Jim drives fast. Behind her, out of the window, the world moves.
The world in his head suddenly moves faster.
"Stop," he says.
"What?" Jim asks, looking at him through the back mirror.
"Stop. Let me out. Stop!" He jerks at the door but the security mechanism won't release until they stop. Then he tumbles out, bending over the nearby strip of grass with his hands on his knees, his half-digested breakfast painting white strips on the green.
One light hand touches his shoulder, just enough to let him know he's not alone. Another hand joins in, heavier.
They never fight over him. Not openly.
"Breathe evenly, in, out, in, out… that's it. You're doing good."
They debate, then turn the car around.
He can't speak until they're back home, sitting around the kitchen table. "I'm sorry. That never happened before." His hands are still shaking.
"You were on a quiet beach," Leonard says. "You'll get used to being here again." The doc's seated on the other side of the table, next to Jim. Apart.
"We could beam."
"It's not that easy right now, Chris," Jim says, making it sound as if they'd already spoken about it. He can't remember. "You don't have an active 'fleet account and ours are getting low."
"Okay," he says because there's nothing good to say, then gets up and sits out on the balcony, arms laced around his bent knees, watching the sky.
He'd wanted to be home. He'd been hopeful he'd manage. Now he already feels himself drawing inwards, shutting down.
Thin arms lace around his shoulders from behind.
"I'm broken," he declares solemnly. "Like that cup I once smashed. Too many pieces to ever fix again." Saying it feels good. The doc always pretends he's not.
"I know how you feel," Dael says quietly, covering his body with her own in a strangely protective gesture. She's gotten so strong; in a way, he doesn't know her at all.
Human voices dance in the air, alien and meaningless. He feels like he's losing his language again.
"But there's always a way, Christopher. We'll find a way." She cradles him in an embrace, her hands covering his chest. "Trust me."
***
Thanks to a shot of tranquilizers and assorted other drugs in his blood Chris sleeps for a few hours, waking up refreshed and awake. The doc is there to scan him when he walks out of the shower, and he playfully throws the towel at his lover, reminiscent of their beach vacation.
"So, how am I?" he asks while getting dressed.
"Your blood values are okay. But you know you need to go to SFM for a full checkup."
"Next week, okay?" He knows he can't evade the feared visit for all eternity but he wants to push it back for as long as possible. He'd like to be emotionally more stable for it and despite how their day had gone, he's still hopeful that being at home with his cloverleaf would have a positive influence on his development. Once he's settled in.
When he comes out of the bedroom, the atmosphere between the others is a little strained, though. Something's out of tune, and for once it doesn't seem to have to do with him and his volatile state. He manages to keep quiet all through dinner and for another quarter of an hour after they've moved to the living room with cups of coffee, Jim in an armchair, Leonard on his stomach on the cushioned floor, Dael on his side on the couch.
Then he finally breaks the silence. "What's the matter?"
Three sets of eyes rise from whatever they read on all those damn PADDs. "Dael?"
She unfolds next to him. "Jim and I have an invitation for tonight, for one of Arissa's parties. We said we wouldn't be able to come because of our trip to the countryside but now we're here and we could go."
"And that's a problem?" Chris asks. "I wouldn't mind you attending."
She shrugs. I guessed so, it spells out.
"If you want to go, then go. And give my best wishes to Arissa and tell her I'll definitely stock vanilla lube again," he adds lightly. He's not totally relaxed when it comes to that woman but he trusts that Dael would always choose him, strange as the thought is. "Out with you, hush, hush!" He waves at Jim. A smile tugs at Dael's lips, and she leaves, going to get dressed.
It's the look in Leonard's eyes that tells Chris what — and who — the problem is. But when Jim gets up to follow her, the doc stays quiet.
"What's the matter?" Chris pushes when Jim is outside.
"I don't feel comfortable letting them go," Leonard says grudgingly, sitting up. "It just doesn't feel right at the moment. Yeah, tell me I'm silly."
"Why don't you go with them?"
"We're not going to leave you alone," Leonard says firmly. "I won't leave you alone."
Chris sighs. "This is my apartment. I'll survive a few hours without you all."
There's a tiny shake of Leonard's head, telling him enough. He's not to be trusted to look after himself, not yet, not after today. It rankles more than it should, considering that they're trying to protect him — but he's not some helpless toddler.
"If you want to go with them, do it for god's sake. Though you realize that they'll act nothing like they would without you, right?"
"I just want to know where they're going… what the place looks like. I wouldn't actually want to watch them anyway," Leonard admits, eyes averted.
"Then move, man, and come back when your curiosity is satiated," he orders. "I'll keep the couch warm for you." He makes a suggestive gesture, running one hand down his groin. They had been great together at the beach. They could surely be here too, if the doc gets his act together.
"You would?" Leonard's face lightens up.
"Of course. An evening just to ourselves. They have fun the way they prefer, we have fun old-men-style."
"Old men, tsk," the doc grouches but gets up on his feet. "Fine. I'll deliver the kids, take a look, and come back." He leans over for a kiss. "Shouldn't take longer than an hour, max."
"I should be able to survive that."
"Unproven," the doc murmurs and kisses him again with some tongue, slipping one warm hand around his neck to caress his hairline. It's hot enough to get his dick perking up in interest.
"But maybe you can come back a little faster, just to make sure," he whispers, capturing the doc's hand to put it on his groin.
Leonard chuckles, patting his hardening erection. "I'll do my best."
Thirty minutes later, his tribe is out of the door.
***
Part 2/3 on DW or Part 2/3 on LJ
