![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
syredronningStory Masterpost on DW - Story Masterpost on LJ
Jim wants him to sit down.
"Keep seated," Jim orders and walks around the table to take the chair on the other end.
Jim still has a black eye, and looks like…
Chris doesn't have a word for it.
The doc stands in the corner to his left, arms crossed.
"Frank." Jim clears his throat. "Frank was a drinker. And he was a psycho. For a long time I didn't understand that he was ill. And when I got it, it didn't really change a thing. He was ill and never got help, just acted out his rage and self-hate on anyone smaller than him. I still hate him more than I can pity him."
Jim's hand curl into fists. "That I even sit here, facing you, is hard for me. And you know there's a reason why Dael isn't here. Because she absolutely cannot deal with people having violent outbursts."
"It wasn't about her…"
"You came into the kitchen like a maniac. You shouted at me and managed to land a blow before I could stop you. You struggled and kept cussing at us until Bones could give you a tranquilizer."
"You spoke about Esteban," Chris sputters. "You worked together with Esteban against me." It feels strange to say it.
"Do you believe that? Do you really believe that?" Jim asks gravelly.
Chris curls his finger into his hair, pulling at it. Ponders what he knows, considers real in his mind, which feels slow-working but still strangely clear with the medication. "No."
"Good. Because the only thing I did was fly a maneuver with Esteban before the Enterprise arrived on Earth. That was all, and we were ordered to do it."
"A maneuver."
"Just that. Like there are hundreds each year."
"Esteban thought I'd sold Dael to you. Had forced her to have sex with you."
"I know."
"Thought I needed to be removed from the admiralty before I could corrupt morals any more, or could ruin the reputation of the 'fleet."
Jim reaches over, putting his palm on Chris' arm to calm him. "I know that he obviously thought the worst of you," Jim repeats, "but I tried to be professional and the maneuver worked just fine. No matter his opinions about you or any of us, he is a good captain."
"I know. That's why I wanted him once." Chris hangs his head. "What can I say? A part of me knew I was getting worse but another part was sure that this was because you were all working against me. Trying to get rid of me. Poisoning me like… you know."
He looks at them, hoping for understanding. They understand, but it's not enough. It doesn't really change a thing. "Where's Dael?"
"Currently with Arissa."
He nods. "Maybe you were right, doc. Put me away in some institution that can deal with me, because I don't think I can deal with it myself. And you can't either. Dael can't."
He expects the doc to resist his idea, but instead Leonard says flatly, defeated, "Maybe it would be the best solution after all. I thought you'd manage, but right now, it doesn't look like it."
Chris is tired. He wants to sleep forever, just zone out and die.
Suddenly, Jim gets to his feet, agitatedly walking back and forth. "Something's just wrong about all this," he states sharply, and it's a posture Chris could imagine on the bridge of the flagship, concentrated and determined. "Everything was fine while the two of you were on the beach, then you come here and everything goes downhill again."
"Guess it was too early," Chris mutters, and Leonard nods in agreement, guilt tangible in his expression. "Maybe we just wanted too much," Leonard says.
"Maybe, but maybe it was something completely different. Some external influence outside of the four of us." Jim paces up and down the kitchen. "Chris, when did you start to feel worse?"
"Practically from the first day here, so —"
"Your mood and concentration kept going downhill?"
Chris thinks back, wishing he could refute this, but finally he says with a fatalistic sigh, "They did."
"Bones, you didn't expect that, did you?"
Leonard shakes his head. "I expected some problems, but not the downfall Chris seems to have experienced — and hidden pretty well too," he adds with a frustrated gaze at Chris.
"Now, come on, you behaved a little strange too," Jim says. "The way you suddenly clashed with Dael, so jealous and possessive, always thinking the worst about her —"
"I don't think badly about her, I just still think she's not the right person for Chris," Leonard blurts out.
"That's old bullshit," Jim says coolly, "And you had gotten over that even before she nurtured Chris back from his isolation. You told me, your own words — we're so lucky to have her, she's the best thing that happened to Chris in a long time."
"So what, opinions can change," Leonard barks.
Chris curls on his chair, the feeling of being a traitor to both the doc and Dael intense and painful, even through the layers of drugs in his mind.
Jim shakes his head, then straightens, his command persona in full gear. "Bones, why don't you put Chris back to bed, he's really done, and I'll start a little investigation here."
The doc wants to say something, but a wave of Jim's hand makes him shut up. "Something stinks, and I ignored it for far too long enough because I was too busy and trusted in your professional opinion. I don't know what went wrong but I'm not just giving up on Chris, even if the two of you do."
"Fine, Captain," Leonard says stiffly and jerks one hand into an insulting half-salute, showing off his aggravation. "You coming, Chris?"
Chris starts thinking again when he's in bed, staring at the ceiling. "I should've done it, you know."
"What?" Leonard asks roughly while getting out of clothes — but not his underwear - and settling in bed a certain distance from Chris.
"Should've killed myself when I noticed it all getting worse."
There's a deep sigh coming from the man near to him. "Fuck no, Chris. Even if your state was caused by being with us, there's always a better solution."
"You said yourself, that I should kill myself rather than subject you to any more pain."
The mattress shifts as Leonard gets up on one elbow, leaning closer to him. "I never said something that terrible."
"You did, in the night when Mori was here."
"Mori?" Leonard looks at him with a disbelieving frown. "When was that supposed to be?"
Chris just shrugs and closes his eyes. He'd been stupid to mention suicide to the doc; now they'd take precautions that would make it much harder.
"If I ever said something like that, I'm sorry, Chris. So damn sorry." Leonard draws closer. "Part of me knows I've behaved like an asshole lately, and I don't know why. Maybe Jim's right and something is influencing us."
Chris turns his head away, unwilling to meet the doc's eyes. He's got enough of false hopes. He's done with that shit.
"Chris…" Leonard whispers and strokes his arm, giving up quickly when he doesn't react. They fall silent, and Chris soon drifts into sleep.
***
When Chris wakes up from his dreamless, drugged nap, it's to a voice outside — make that voices, he reconsiders while listening to the murmurs. The bed next to him is empty, and he's relieved that he doesn't have to face Leonard right away. He's an experiment gone wrong, weighing the others down by his sheer existence.
The door opens. "Hey." Leonard pokes his head in with a strange smile, "you better get dressed, we've got visitors and they need to get into the bedroom."
"Visitors?" Chris says confused, but Leonard has already shut the door, so he dresses into presentable jeans and a shirt, pulls on sneakers and leaves the room.
The corridor is empty except for one man in a brown, ugly, knitted sweater with his back to Chris, and for a second he can't place him — then he takes in the pointed ears and the neatest hair cut he's ever seen, and blurts out, "Spock!"
The man turns, and it's indeed his former — and now Jim's — first officer. "Admiral," Spock says and examines him intensely. "It is good to see you in improved health."
Chris shakes his head. "I might be walking but my mind is fucked up beyond repair," he says.
The Vulcan tilts his head and raises one brow, saying solemnly, "The human mind is a very interesting place. Its innate chaos is both the ground for high creativity as well as great disturbance, and it is easy to get lost in it."
"Nicely put, Spock." From the kitchen, Chris can hear two others voices discussing something. "What are you doing here? Where are the others?"
"I asked them to wait outside on the terrace while we commence with our search. Please, let me accompany you." In a strangely tender gesture, Spock offers him an arm to laces his hand through, and Chris accepts, too confused to resist.
"What are you looking for?"
"We do not know yet. But if there is anything that is not supposed to be in an Earth household, we will locate it." Spock delivers him into the hands of Jim, who almost giddily pulls him out onto the terrace and makes him sit down on a chair, offering him a cup of coffee. Chris ignores the doc's critical gaze, clamping his fingers around the hot mug. Coffee is still his elixir of life, and while it's a bit cool outside here, the brew warms him from inside out. The other two are speaking but he's not listening, only noticing their emotions — agitation and hope. Someone tucks a blanket around him, and he smiles in sleepy thanks, almost gone again when the voices from inside rise in level. A minute later Spock walks through the door, delivering the unbelievable.
"I believe we have found something."
***
In the whirl of people that start flooding the apartment Chris had always thought of as his very private retreat, he doesn't mind at all being taken away to a more silent place. He must be really quite out of it, thanks to yet another shot of whatever the doc has given him, as it takes him several minutes to recognize the apartment.
Mostly he recognizes the bed as he sinks onto the wide mattress.
"We'll take care of everything," John says, drawing the blanket over him and putting a kiss on his forehead. "Can't believe someone played your tribe like this. Fuck, this time someone's really gonna pay."
Chris closes his eyes. He tries to convince himself that Spock had really said those words, but there's hope and there's despair and the meds aren't good enough to bridge between those feelings.
After his sleep, Chris decides, everything will be good. Dael will be here, and the doc, and things will be explained to him and he'll be sure he's not dreaming.
***
"Our men found selective theta frequency electromagnetic wave generators in the walls and ceiling."
"The waves work like amplifiers to emotional regions of the brain, while reducing the frontal lobe's ability for rational thinking. In experiments, people have been known to lose contact with reality, exhibiting signs of schizophrenia.
"They might have been there for months, but obviously were triggered now. Intentionally or not, we don't know yet."
It's not exactly wonderland Chris had woken up to. Instead it's a private briefing for the five of them — his tribe and John — around the living room table in John's apartment.
Chris feels like he’s in a strange dream, the sentences like children playing games with him, allusions of explanations. The chair is hard, the cup of coffee warm. He's up but not quite — up. Dael sits on the other side of the table, distant and distanced from everyone, arms defensively folded in front of her leather jacket.
It's a weird number for this table, five, he thinks with a frown.
"Chris -" the doc says loudly, pulling him out of his straying thoughts. "Do you need something?" A shot, whatever.
"No, thanks," he manages. "Okay. So there was an outside influence?"
"Yes." The doc nods, his shoulders low in defeat. "How could I miss that… I really should've thought about something like that."
"Stop beating yourself up over it," Jim says. "When I first heard about that supposed conspiracy against Chris, I couldn't really believe it. Okay, there's political bullshit like in every other large organization, but I couldn't really imagine an actual, thought-through plan. This really shakes me up. Why the hell would anyone do it?"
Everyone looks at Chris. He shrugs helplessly. "I have no idea. Was this really targeted at us or just bad luck? What about the beach?"
"We’ve already ordered a team there," John says. "Considering that you were much better off there, I don't think they'll find anything."
Dael nods, for the first time opening her mouth. "I checked the house twice a day. No guarantees but I think it was clean. I definitely never felt anything like in the weeks here."
"And when Dael was gone, we infiltrated the beach crew with one of our men, who performed the same checks every morning," John says matter-of-factly.
The doc stares at John. "Why didn't you ask me, didn't you trust me?"
"You have been too busy with Chris." John smiles crookedly.
"So you've been working for John all the time?" Chris addresses Dael, surprised.
"Not really, but I gave her some backup and advice. Someone tried to get rid of you, least we could do was take some precautions. Just wish we had taken the same care here. I have little doubt that this was a targeted attack," John states, going ahead before Chris could ask for more information on Dael's tasks.
He accepts the diversion to the more pressing problem. "I still don't get it. Why now? I'm not important to Starfleet anymore."
"It might have started by chance. The generators may have been in the apartment for months, it's impossible to tell," the doc says.
"You had a very important position as the leader of the Borg task force," Jim says. "And despite your reluctance to fill that position, you were Nogura's crown prince."
"It's long over," Chris mutters. "Why should that give anyone a reason to…" Not kill him, no — the goal had been to ruin his mental health once again, this time for good. The realization sparks anger in the midst of his drugged, depressed mood. "To get me out of commission. Out of any productive future," he says more clearly. "Revenge for something?"
John looks unconvinced. "If this was a timed attack, whoever caused it was very interested in removing you from your position and making you appear unreliable and delusional. Maybe you know something important that isn't in the documentation of the project?"
Chris searches his memories. "Well, there were those weapon tests that I refused to sign off on, which Esteban cleared via Shaa's people in Nogura's office."
The group perks up. "Weapon tests?" Jim asks roughly.
"Some weapons and other features that I believed weren't ready for testing on Utopia Planitia yet, but Esteban pushed them past me. The first of them was the dredger torpedo."
Jim swears under his breath. "I got more complaints about it than about anything else. But whenever Scotty reported a problem, the engineers in headquarters made it look as if we were too stupid to handle their fine piece of high-end technology. However… " He faces Chris squarely. "It was so volatile that we pulled the original specification and testing description from Starfleet databanks. The signature in the sign-off was yours, Chris."
"That's impossible," Chris says automatically. "I didn't sign." He looks around, noticing everyone frowning in doubt, not sure whether his memory could be trusted. For a second, he gets nervous and reconsiders, but he's absolutely sure. And what's better — he's got someone who can confirm it.
"Ask Cho," he says. "Commander Caren Cho. She called me when the dredger torpedo was signed off, asking me what had happened. She can testify that I never signed that order."
Jim nods. "I'll call her. I’ve always wanted to meet her." He looks at the doc with a smirk, then resumes the discussion. "Okay, so let's assume that various weapons were pushed through although they weren't ready, and it was considered important enough to falsify the signature in the signoff. Who would profit from it?"
"The companies that produce them," John says. "It's not like Starfleet can do it all on their own, there are a lot of subcontractors working for them."
"Especially in the Borg project, as we were very short of internal resources," Chris adds.
"You said it went through Shaa's staff?" John asks.
"I think one of them signed off the dredger. It's possible that others from Nogura's staff signed the later tests that Esteban wanted to push through," Chris says, noticing that mentioning his adversary's name is a lot easier today than it's been for a long time.
"Do you think Esteban is behind all this?" the doc asks curiously.
A little wistful, Chris shakes his head. "No, I don't. He's been a pain in the ass but that was always about my private life. I don't have any reason to believe that he's working against the best interests of Starfleet."
"I agree," Dael says. "His concern for me was sincere, although misplaced." She meets Chris' eyes. "He talked to me after that terrible dinner and offered me his help if I wanted to leave my unfortunate situation. I tried to make him understand, but obviously not successfully." Her voice turns louder. "He was just another asshole who thought he knew me better than I know myself," she says sharply, and her dark eyes jerk to the doc who instantly lowers his head in quiet remorse.
There's uncomfortable silence for a moment, then Jim says, "The generator worked on us all, Dael. Bones has been really good with your existence for a long time, and you know that. The last weeks — that wasn't him. That wasn't us."
Dael shrugs, apparently disinclined to just move on.
"Let's tackle this with logic," John says into the tense silence that follows their exchange, readying his PADD. "When I researched McAllister and Alain, I tried to find out whether someone else was behind it but McAllister always seemed to be the core. His motivation seemed too weak but I concluded that he had become obsessed with taking over the Borg task force from you, Chris." John's gaze corners him. "The main problem for my research was that we never really learned what Alain told you. I think it's about damn time that you speak up so that we have a chance for investigating further."
Everyone looks at him, and Chris feels like a deer in the headlights, sinking against the back of his chair.
Leonard takes his hand. "You once asked me whether there was any truth in Alain's story, and I told that we can't answer that. So if you want to know — tell us. Please."
Maybe it would be easier for him to speak about Alain between the two of them, but laying his own stupidity out on the table in front of everyone is more than Chris can manage. His throat tight, he mutely shakes his head, withdrawing his hand from Leonard's touch.
"What was Alain's story, come on, Chris," John pushes. "And I'll try not to think about the fact that you let that asshole into your bed again. — So what? Chris knows I'm right," John adds coolly when the others look at him accusingly. "Manipulations or not, Alain has been Chris' weak spot for the last ten years, just as you are now. So if we can't get behind this, your relationship will probably fall apart and Chris will be stuck with that failure for the next ten."
"Alain told me that he was separated," Chris says tonelessly, desperate to stop the impeding escalation. "He said he tried to start a business and failed, so he turned towards criminal activities. He told me he had to hide from the Orion syndicate Oanai Sqail. I found him a lawyer, he supposedly talked to the guy, I can give you the address. I think the separation was true, he looked quite sad at times. He's got two sons, couldn't see them." He stares down on his hands, folded on the table. "Part of me knew it was stupid, but I was fucking lonely. I’d never felt that lonely before." Looking up again he meets Dael's serene gaze, and she holds it.
"Good," John says. "We know about the wife. Alain was indeed separated. I talked to her but she knew nothing about his activities of the last six months before his disappearance. The Orion connection is new, I'll see what I can find out about current activities of Oanai Sqail."
In thoughts, Chris rubs his forehead. There's a memory lingering, one he doesn't really want to stir up but he knows it's important, and so he cautiously allows his mind to return to the night of Alain's… intervention. He must've zoned out over it, because next thing he knows is the doc's touch on his arm, concerned gazes resting at him when he looks up.
"Do you remember something else, Chris?" John asks.
He shakes his head, the impulse to push the rising images back to the dark place where they belong sharp and overwhelming. Burying one hand in his hair, he struggles to find words.
"Chris…" The doc reaches out for him once more but Chris shakes his head.
"No thanks. I'll manage," he says roughly and sits up. "That night… Alain said he'd read my report." The memories unblur a little, enough to remember how he lay on the bed, how Alain crawled over him, his limbs sluggish and tied to the bench… no, bed…
If he really starts to think about it, he'll lose it.
No. Fucking. Way.
"About the Narada?" John asks, tearing him out of his inner struggle for control.
"Yes. I'm not completely sure, but I think Alain knew too much. Too many details, more than I put into my written report. Some of it could only be found in the interviews with the psychologists at SFM."
The doc frowns. "You mean Alain had read your confidential patient data?"
"Extracts of transcripts probably, which someone had put together for optimal effect."
Ten easy ways to drive Christopher Pike crazy.
"Considering that everything in this conspiracy points towards an insider job, I'm not surprised," John says and puts down more notes. "Guess that's a job for you, doc."
Leonard nods. "There aren't too many people with the right authorization and a good reason to access that data. I'll see whether I can find anything suspicious in the logs."
"How about your former doctor, Chris — Naaz Anumanchi?" John asks.
A little shocked, Chris replies, "I doubt that."
"No fucking way," the doc says sharply.
John notes the name down anyway. "We're looking for any people you interacted with that had access to sensitive information. I'll put anyone on the list again, now that we know that McAllister was a scapegoat as much as Alain."
Jim fiddles with his PADD. "I'll send Spock the information about the possible signature forgery. We'll throw some of the Enterprise resources at that one. Do you remember any other weapon where this might have happened?"
Chris helplessly raises his hands. "I'm sorry, I really can't remember. But the others should've taken place after the dredger."
"I checked Cho's timetable, she should be on Earth in a week. We could invite her to dinner, bet she'd love to see you again, Chris." Jim's gaze moves to Dael, but she stares at the table top, ignoring his attempt at making contact.
"The tech teams need to clean the apartment first," the doc says. "And all four of us need to get checked for after-effects in Starfleet General."
"You can stay here for the time being," John says. "Eric is currently off-planet, and I'll sleep in the office. You'll get the key code. Chris can show you where everything is, especially the bed. I'd rather get started now, while the trail is still fresh."
They accept the gracious offer and then everyone gets up, chatter filling the room, last details being discussed, time tables set.
In the end, it's Dael and Chris standing in the otherwise empty living room. They look at each other across the two meters they're apart, and he's the first to look away.
"I know that an apology isn't good enough," he says flatly. "My actions were unforgivable and I —"
"Stop it," Dael says, lacing her arms in front of her. "It's good enough and it isn't."
His stomach tenses into a painful ball. "Meaning what?"
"I understand what happened, and that it wasn't your fault. I still…" Now she looks away, eyes full of hurt. "I still can't have that another time. No matter why."
It's a bit unfair, but he understands. "I always said you should leave me if you can't live with me anymore," he says throatily.
"Do you want me to go?" she wonders, her eyes back on his face, searching his.
"Never," he says. "I don't know if I could go on living without you. But that shouldn't keep you here."
"Maybe one day, you wouldn't want to be with me anymore anyway."
"Can't imagine it ever happening."
"Sometimes it feels as if… there's something inside of me, something dark, and when it wakes up, it will be horrible. I will be horrible." Gnawing her bottom lip, her eyes drift along the walls before getting back to him, her shoulder line showing her tension.
"You know that this isn't really you, it's the effects of the generators. We haven't been ourselves for the last weeks, none of us."
She shrugs once more, her arms still like a shield around herself, not really buying his line.
He sighs. "I wouldn't be surprised if your therapy on Vulcan had dampened some memories, but I don't think there's anything monstrous hiding in you."
Stating his trust in her that plainly seems to do the trick; she relaxes a little, her body swaying forward like wanting to move and not yet ready to.
Chris opens his arms. "Come here, darling. Please." It's a wager, and for the fraction of a second he thinks he's lost it — lost her — but then she hesitatingly puts one foot in front of the other until she's between his stretched-out arms. Only when she places her own arms around his waist does he close the embrace and pull her tight, pressing kisses all over her forehead and down to her lips at last. They kiss for a long time, as if they're unwilling to part ever again.
"I love you so much," he mutters against her spiky hair when they finally end it. "So very much."
She leans her face against his shoulder, tightening her hold on him. "I love you too. I want to give you strength and support — all the help that I got, I want to give to you, but I'm not as strong as they are, I'm only human and when you hit Jim, I just ran without thinking."
"I'm so sorry," he mutters and kisses her forehead again, right on the tattoos. How crazy that she apologizes for anything when she's been his guardian angel for so long. A shame he didn't make the best of the ground she'd prepared and the doc had built upon.
A decision rises, unfolding powerfully. Unlacing from her, he looks into her eyes. "I need your help. I need you to contact someone."
A momentary frown shifts into deep relief as Dael understands what he's asking for.
***
It's unbelievable how Chris' state improves, almost as if the knowledge alone that this hadn't been his personal weakness but yet another external influence could heal him. Things are sharp and in focus, almost as good as during the last days on the beach, and he feels he is coming alive again. The medical checkup is only half as bad as feared, and he comes out with a relatively clean bill of health (well, as clean as he'd ever get).
He's still very sensitive regarding other persons and their opinion about him, prone to fear others would work against him. It has its base in reality, obviously, but for his upcoming quest, he needs to be able to judge reality from suppositions very soon.
T'Sol, the Vulcan healer Dael connects him with at the Vulcan embassy, is young, otherworldly beautiful, and tells him outright that she'd never considered working with a male human as they can't control their sexual impulses, but she's making an exception for him. Leaving her with an appointment for the first, intense five day start of his therapy, Chris shakes an inward fist at the people who thought they could knock him out of the game. He'd be back faster than they'd ever supposed.
***
"So instead of keep seeing Ralph Kouchuroun, you'd rather get some strange therapy from some random Vulcan quack who's got no official licensing on Earth for any of the things she does?" Leonard says accusingly when he tells his lover of his plans. "Way to go, Chris."
At last back into their own apartment after two days of comfortable but still taxing exile in John's apartment, Chris sits on his favorite couch with one knee pulled up to his chest, arms laced around it, taking the criticisms that ramble on and letting them run through him.
"You done?" he asks coolly when the doc needs to take a breath, and unfolds to get up. "You wanted me to find a therapist. And I don't want another long, exhausting attempt at something that has been shown not to work in the past. I've got a job to do, and I've got to do it soon, before the Enterprise is away and any possible suspicious weapon deals much harder to follow." He picks up his comm. "Here, give her a call."
The doc hesitates. Of course, Chris thinks with a flash of anger. All barking, little biting. "Take it and call her, meet for a coffee or whatever. I prefer you to be okay with her because you're both my lover and my trusted physician, but in the end, it's me who's got to work with her."
The doc takes the communicator and vanishes. He reappears more than an hour later, when Chris is standing in the kitchen, watching Jim and Dael joking around while preparing salad. Sometimes, they're such kids.
"That's yours," Leonard mutters and shoves the comm at him.
"And, what's the verdict?" Chris asks quietly as he puts it away.
"Looks like she's got some experience," the doc admits grudgingly. "Probably can't do much damage."
"Considering what a hopeless case I am…"
"Bullshit," the doc says, and pulls him close. "Sorry if I ever gave you that impression. In my book, nobody's a hopeless case."
"So sweet," Chris mutters, then shuts up his lover by kissing him firmly, his hands slipping around Leonard's ass. Answering hands skim under his shirt, caressing his skin. Their groins draw together, sweet pressure building as they get lost in the moment. When they resurface, they're alone in the kitchen, a large bowl of salad ready on the table.
"Seems we scared them away," Chris says.
Leonard smiles. "I don't mind." He laces his hand around Chris' neck, pulling him into another long kiss. "Sorry for pushing you so hard."
"It's okay. I need it." Chris sighs. "Not quite that hard at times, maybe, but without you it would have taken me a lot longer to get away from the beach."
"Would you even have left at all?" Leonard's fingers nudge along his shoulder muscles. "You could have had a comfortable life with Dael."
"It wouldn't have been good for her," Chris states, and finds that right now he'd rather not talk about Dael. Running his fingers up the zipper of his lover's jeans, he opens it blindly to edge out the half-erect member.
"Oh…" Leonard chokes as he fists the length.
Chris gets down on his knees and wets his lips before getting to serious business.
***
They deliver him to the embassy the next morning, which is so grey it might be interpreted as bad omen if Chris registered it, but he's giddy and excited and fucking determined that this therapy will work, goddammit.
Of course the doc can't stop playing devil's advocate, pulling him aside on their short way from the parking lot to the tall gates.
"I did some research about T'Sol last night. She belongs to the school of Sh'stolon — a group that's got a reputation for using some questionable methods to achieve their goals."
"The goals of their patients, you mean," Chris corrects him. "Considering my record of questionable things in my life, this sound fitting." He smiles.
"I just…" Leonard's voice breaks for a second, before he's able to carry on, "I just don't want to lose you again, not when you've come so far."
"I know." Taking the doc into an embrace, Chris hugs him tightly. "I'm doing the right thing. Trust me, please." He knows that Leonard doesn't like this Vulcan voodoo, not for Chris and not as a part of Dael's past, but being a good man, the doc swallows down any more concerns and pulls himself together. Jim claps him on the shoulder, hiding his own concerns behind an optimistic smile and his trademark statement about there being no no-win situations in life. Dael… she seems to be both the least concerned and the most agitated, curling into his final embrace with a burning intensity and whispering, "May they be able to do for you what they did for me".
He nods, throat suddenly too tight to say anything, then turns around and a little too hastily walks through the opening gate, T'Sol already awaiting him on the path to the gardens.
Coming soon: Draws 14, where things will look a lot brighter.
Jim wants him to sit down.
"Keep seated," Jim orders and walks around the table to take the chair on the other end.
Jim still has a black eye, and looks like…
Chris doesn't have a word for it.
The doc stands in the corner to his left, arms crossed.
"Frank." Jim clears his throat. "Frank was a drinker. And he was a psycho. For a long time I didn't understand that he was ill. And when I got it, it didn't really change a thing. He was ill and never got help, just acted out his rage and self-hate on anyone smaller than him. I still hate him more than I can pity him."
Jim's hand curl into fists. "That I even sit here, facing you, is hard for me. And you know there's a reason why Dael isn't here. Because she absolutely cannot deal with people having violent outbursts."
"It wasn't about her…"
"You came into the kitchen like a maniac. You shouted at me and managed to land a blow before I could stop you. You struggled and kept cussing at us until Bones could give you a tranquilizer."
"You spoke about Esteban," Chris sputters. "You worked together with Esteban against me." It feels strange to say it.
"Do you believe that? Do you really believe that?" Jim asks gravelly.
Chris curls his finger into his hair, pulling at it. Ponders what he knows, considers real in his mind, which feels slow-working but still strangely clear with the medication. "No."
"Good. Because the only thing I did was fly a maneuver with Esteban before the Enterprise arrived on Earth. That was all, and we were ordered to do it."
"A maneuver."
"Just that. Like there are hundreds each year."
"Esteban thought I'd sold Dael to you. Had forced her to have sex with you."
"I know."
"Thought I needed to be removed from the admiralty before I could corrupt morals any more, or could ruin the reputation of the 'fleet."
Jim reaches over, putting his palm on Chris' arm to calm him. "I know that he obviously thought the worst of you," Jim repeats, "but I tried to be professional and the maneuver worked just fine. No matter his opinions about you or any of us, he is a good captain."
"I know. That's why I wanted him once." Chris hangs his head. "What can I say? A part of me knew I was getting worse but another part was sure that this was because you were all working against me. Trying to get rid of me. Poisoning me like… you know."
He looks at them, hoping for understanding. They understand, but it's not enough. It doesn't really change a thing. "Where's Dael?"
"Currently with Arissa."
He nods. "Maybe you were right, doc. Put me away in some institution that can deal with me, because I don't think I can deal with it myself. And you can't either. Dael can't."
He expects the doc to resist his idea, but instead Leonard says flatly, defeated, "Maybe it would be the best solution after all. I thought you'd manage, but right now, it doesn't look like it."
Chris is tired. He wants to sleep forever, just zone out and die.
Suddenly, Jim gets to his feet, agitatedly walking back and forth. "Something's just wrong about all this," he states sharply, and it's a posture Chris could imagine on the bridge of the flagship, concentrated and determined. "Everything was fine while the two of you were on the beach, then you come here and everything goes downhill again."
"Guess it was too early," Chris mutters, and Leonard nods in agreement, guilt tangible in his expression. "Maybe we just wanted too much," Leonard says.
"Maybe, but maybe it was something completely different. Some external influence outside of the four of us." Jim paces up and down the kitchen. "Chris, when did you start to feel worse?"
"Practically from the first day here, so —"
"Your mood and concentration kept going downhill?"
Chris thinks back, wishing he could refute this, but finally he says with a fatalistic sigh, "They did."
"Bones, you didn't expect that, did you?"
Leonard shakes his head. "I expected some problems, but not the downfall Chris seems to have experienced — and hidden pretty well too," he adds with a frustrated gaze at Chris.
"Now, come on, you behaved a little strange too," Jim says. "The way you suddenly clashed with Dael, so jealous and possessive, always thinking the worst about her —"
"I don't think badly about her, I just still think she's not the right person for Chris," Leonard blurts out.
"That's old bullshit," Jim says coolly, "And you had gotten over that even before she nurtured Chris back from his isolation. You told me, your own words — we're so lucky to have her, she's the best thing that happened to Chris in a long time."
"So what, opinions can change," Leonard barks.
Chris curls on his chair, the feeling of being a traitor to both the doc and Dael intense and painful, even through the layers of drugs in his mind.
Jim shakes his head, then straightens, his command persona in full gear. "Bones, why don't you put Chris back to bed, he's really done, and I'll start a little investigation here."
The doc wants to say something, but a wave of Jim's hand makes him shut up. "Something stinks, and I ignored it for far too long enough because I was too busy and trusted in your professional opinion. I don't know what went wrong but I'm not just giving up on Chris, even if the two of you do."
"Fine, Captain," Leonard says stiffly and jerks one hand into an insulting half-salute, showing off his aggravation. "You coming, Chris?"
Chris starts thinking again when he's in bed, staring at the ceiling. "I should've done it, you know."
"What?" Leonard asks roughly while getting out of clothes — but not his underwear - and settling in bed a certain distance from Chris.
"Should've killed myself when I noticed it all getting worse."
There's a deep sigh coming from the man near to him. "Fuck no, Chris. Even if your state was caused by being with us, there's always a better solution."
"You said yourself, that I should kill myself rather than subject you to any more pain."
The mattress shifts as Leonard gets up on one elbow, leaning closer to him. "I never said something that terrible."
"You did, in the night when Mori was here."
"Mori?" Leonard looks at him with a disbelieving frown. "When was that supposed to be?"
Chris just shrugs and closes his eyes. He'd been stupid to mention suicide to the doc; now they'd take precautions that would make it much harder.
"If I ever said something like that, I'm sorry, Chris. So damn sorry." Leonard draws closer. "Part of me knows I've behaved like an asshole lately, and I don't know why. Maybe Jim's right and something is influencing us."
Chris turns his head away, unwilling to meet the doc's eyes. He's got enough of false hopes. He's done with that shit.
"Chris…" Leonard whispers and strokes his arm, giving up quickly when he doesn't react. They fall silent, and Chris soon drifts into sleep.
***
When Chris wakes up from his dreamless, drugged nap, it's to a voice outside — make that voices, he reconsiders while listening to the murmurs. The bed next to him is empty, and he's relieved that he doesn't have to face Leonard right away. He's an experiment gone wrong, weighing the others down by his sheer existence.
The door opens. "Hey." Leonard pokes his head in with a strange smile, "you better get dressed, we've got visitors and they need to get into the bedroom."
"Visitors?" Chris says confused, but Leonard has already shut the door, so he dresses into presentable jeans and a shirt, pulls on sneakers and leaves the room.
The corridor is empty except for one man in a brown, ugly, knitted sweater with his back to Chris, and for a second he can't place him — then he takes in the pointed ears and the neatest hair cut he's ever seen, and blurts out, "Spock!"
The man turns, and it's indeed his former — and now Jim's — first officer. "Admiral," Spock says and examines him intensely. "It is good to see you in improved health."
Chris shakes his head. "I might be walking but my mind is fucked up beyond repair," he says.
The Vulcan tilts his head and raises one brow, saying solemnly, "The human mind is a very interesting place. Its innate chaos is both the ground for high creativity as well as great disturbance, and it is easy to get lost in it."
"Nicely put, Spock." From the kitchen, Chris can hear two others voices discussing something. "What are you doing here? Where are the others?"
"I asked them to wait outside on the terrace while we commence with our search. Please, let me accompany you." In a strangely tender gesture, Spock offers him an arm to laces his hand through, and Chris accepts, too confused to resist.
"What are you looking for?"
"We do not know yet. But if there is anything that is not supposed to be in an Earth household, we will locate it." Spock delivers him into the hands of Jim, who almost giddily pulls him out onto the terrace and makes him sit down on a chair, offering him a cup of coffee. Chris ignores the doc's critical gaze, clamping his fingers around the hot mug. Coffee is still his elixir of life, and while it's a bit cool outside here, the brew warms him from inside out. The other two are speaking but he's not listening, only noticing their emotions — agitation and hope. Someone tucks a blanket around him, and he smiles in sleepy thanks, almost gone again when the voices from inside rise in level. A minute later Spock walks through the door, delivering the unbelievable.
"I believe we have found something."
***
In the whirl of people that start flooding the apartment Chris had always thought of as his very private retreat, he doesn't mind at all being taken away to a more silent place. He must be really quite out of it, thanks to yet another shot of whatever the doc has given him, as it takes him several minutes to recognize the apartment.
Mostly he recognizes the bed as he sinks onto the wide mattress.
"We'll take care of everything," John says, drawing the blanket over him and putting a kiss on his forehead. "Can't believe someone played your tribe like this. Fuck, this time someone's really gonna pay."
Chris closes his eyes. He tries to convince himself that Spock had really said those words, but there's hope and there's despair and the meds aren't good enough to bridge between those feelings.
After his sleep, Chris decides, everything will be good. Dael will be here, and the doc, and things will be explained to him and he'll be sure he's not dreaming.
***
"Our men found selective theta frequency electromagnetic wave generators in the walls and ceiling."
"The waves work like amplifiers to emotional regions of the brain, while reducing the frontal lobe's ability for rational thinking. In experiments, people have been known to lose contact with reality, exhibiting signs of schizophrenia.
"They might have been there for months, but obviously were triggered now. Intentionally or not, we don't know yet."
It's not exactly wonderland Chris had woken up to. Instead it's a private briefing for the five of them — his tribe and John — around the living room table in John's apartment.
Chris feels like he’s in a strange dream, the sentences like children playing games with him, allusions of explanations. The chair is hard, the cup of coffee warm. He's up but not quite — up. Dael sits on the other side of the table, distant and distanced from everyone, arms defensively folded in front of her leather jacket.
It's a weird number for this table, five, he thinks with a frown.
"Chris -" the doc says loudly, pulling him out of his straying thoughts. "Do you need something?" A shot, whatever.
"No, thanks," he manages. "Okay. So there was an outside influence?"
"Yes." The doc nods, his shoulders low in defeat. "How could I miss that… I really should've thought about something like that."
"Stop beating yourself up over it," Jim says. "When I first heard about that supposed conspiracy against Chris, I couldn't really believe it. Okay, there's political bullshit like in every other large organization, but I couldn't really imagine an actual, thought-through plan. This really shakes me up. Why the hell would anyone do it?"
Everyone looks at Chris. He shrugs helplessly. "I have no idea. Was this really targeted at us or just bad luck? What about the beach?"
"We’ve already ordered a team there," John says. "Considering that you were much better off there, I don't think they'll find anything."
Dael nods, for the first time opening her mouth. "I checked the house twice a day. No guarantees but I think it was clean. I definitely never felt anything like in the weeks here."
"And when Dael was gone, we infiltrated the beach crew with one of our men, who performed the same checks every morning," John says matter-of-factly.
The doc stares at John. "Why didn't you ask me, didn't you trust me?"
"You have been too busy with Chris." John smiles crookedly.
"So you've been working for John all the time?" Chris addresses Dael, surprised.
"Not really, but I gave her some backup and advice. Someone tried to get rid of you, least we could do was take some precautions. Just wish we had taken the same care here. I have little doubt that this was a targeted attack," John states, going ahead before Chris could ask for more information on Dael's tasks.
He accepts the diversion to the more pressing problem. "I still don't get it. Why now? I'm not important to Starfleet anymore."
"It might have started by chance. The generators may have been in the apartment for months, it's impossible to tell," the doc says.
"You had a very important position as the leader of the Borg task force," Jim says. "And despite your reluctance to fill that position, you were Nogura's crown prince."
"It's long over," Chris mutters. "Why should that give anyone a reason to…" Not kill him, no — the goal had been to ruin his mental health once again, this time for good. The realization sparks anger in the midst of his drugged, depressed mood. "To get me out of commission. Out of any productive future," he says more clearly. "Revenge for something?"
John looks unconvinced. "If this was a timed attack, whoever caused it was very interested in removing you from your position and making you appear unreliable and delusional. Maybe you know something important that isn't in the documentation of the project?"
Chris searches his memories. "Well, there were those weapon tests that I refused to sign off on, which Esteban cleared via Shaa's people in Nogura's office."
The group perks up. "Weapon tests?" Jim asks roughly.
"Some weapons and other features that I believed weren't ready for testing on Utopia Planitia yet, but Esteban pushed them past me. The first of them was the dredger torpedo."
Jim swears under his breath. "I got more complaints about it than about anything else. But whenever Scotty reported a problem, the engineers in headquarters made it look as if we were too stupid to handle their fine piece of high-end technology. However… " He faces Chris squarely. "It was so volatile that we pulled the original specification and testing description from Starfleet databanks. The signature in the sign-off was yours, Chris."
"That's impossible," Chris says automatically. "I didn't sign." He looks around, noticing everyone frowning in doubt, not sure whether his memory could be trusted. For a second, he gets nervous and reconsiders, but he's absolutely sure. And what's better — he's got someone who can confirm it.
"Ask Cho," he says. "Commander Caren Cho. She called me when the dredger torpedo was signed off, asking me what had happened. She can testify that I never signed that order."
Jim nods. "I'll call her. I’ve always wanted to meet her." He looks at the doc with a smirk, then resumes the discussion. "Okay, so let's assume that various weapons were pushed through although they weren't ready, and it was considered important enough to falsify the signature in the signoff. Who would profit from it?"
"The companies that produce them," John says. "It's not like Starfleet can do it all on their own, there are a lot of subcontractors working for them."
"Especially in the Borg project, as we were very short of internal resources," Chris adds.
"You said it went through Shaa's staff?" John asks.
"I think one of them signed off the dredger. It's possible that others from Nogura's staff signed the later tests that Esteban wanted to push through," Chris says, noticing that mentioning his adversary's name is a lot easier today than it's been for a long time.
"Do you think Esteban is behind all this?" the doc asks curiously.
A little wistful, Chris shakes his head. "No, I don't. He's been a pain in the ass but that was always about my private life. I don't have any reason to believe that he's working against the best interests of Starfleet."
"I agree," Dael says. "His concern for me was sincere, although misplaced." She meets Chris' eyes. "He talked to me after that terrible dinner and offered me his help if I wanted to leave my unfortunate situation. I tried to make him understand, but obviously not successfully." Her voice turns louder. "He was just another asshole who thought he knew me better than I know myself," she says sharply, and her dark eyes jerk to the doc who instantly lowers his head in quiet remorse.
There's uncomfortable silence for a moment, then Jim says, "The generator worked on us all, Dael. Bones has been really good with your existence for a long time, and you know that. The last weeks — that wasn't him. That wasn't us."
Dael shrugs, apparently disinclined to just move on.
"Let's tackle this with logic," John says into the tense silence that follows their exchange, readying his PADD. "When I researched McAllister and Alain, I tried to find out whether someone else was behind it but McAllister always seemed to be the core. His motivation seemed too weak but I concluded that he had become obsessed with taking over the Borg task force from you, Chris." John's gaze corners him. "The main problem for my research was that we never really learned what Alain told you. I think it's about damn time that you speak up so that we have a chance for investigating further."
Everyone looks at him, and Chris feels like a deer in the headlights, sinking against the back of his chair.
Leonard takes his hand. "You once asked me whether there was any truth in Alain's story, and I told that we can't answer that. So if you want to know — tell us. Please."
Maybe it would be easier for him to speak about Alain between the two of them, but laying his own stupidity out on the table in front of everyone is more than Chris can manage. His throat tight, he mutely shakes his head, withdrawing his hand from Leonard's touch.
"What was Alain's story, come on, Chris," John pushes. "And I'll try not to think about the fact that you let that asshole into your bed again. — So what? Chris knows I'm right," John adds coolly when the others look at him accusingly. "Manipulations or not, Alain has been Chris' weak spot for the last ten years, just as you are now. So if we can't get behind this, your relationship will probably fall apart and Chris will be stuck with that failure for the next ten."
"Alain told me that he was separated," Chris says tonelessly, desperate to stop the impeding escalation. "He said he tried to start a business and failed, so he turned towards criminal activities. He told me he had to hide from the Orion syndicate Oanai Sqail. I found him a lawyer, he supposedly talked to the guy, I can give you the address. I think the separation was true, he looked quite sad at times. He's got two sons, couldn't see them." He stares down on his hands, folded on the table. "Part of me knew it was stupid, but I was fucking lonely. I’d never felt that lonely before." Looking up again he meets Dael's serene gaze, and she holds it.
"Good," John says. "We know about the wife. Alain was indeed separated. I talked to her but she knew nothing about his activities of the last six months before his disappearance. The Orion connection is new, I'll see what I can find out about current activities of Oanai Sqail."
In thoughts, Chris rubs his forehead. There's a memory lingering, one he doesn't really want to stir up but he knows it's important, and so he cautiously allows his mind to return to the night of Alain's… intervention. He must've zoned out over it, because next thing he knows is the doc's touch on his arm, concerned gazes resting at him when he looks up.
"Do you remember something else, Chris?" John asks.
He shakes his head, the impulse to push the rising images back to the dark place where they belong sharp and overwhelming. Burying one hand in his hair, he struggles to find words.
"Chris…" The doc reaches out for him once more but Chris shakes his head.
"No thanks. I'll manage," he says roughly and sits up. "That night… Alain said he'd read my report." The memories unblur a little, enough to remember how he lay on the bed, how Alain crawled over him, his limbs sluggish and tied to the bench… no, bed…
If he really starts to think about it, he'll lose it.
No. Fucking. Way.
"About the Narada?" John asks, tearing him out of his inner struggle for control.
"Yes. I'm not completely sure, but I think Alain knew too much. Too many details, more than I put into my written report. Some of it could only be found in the interviews with the psychologists at SFM."
The doc frowns. "You mean Alain had read your confidential patient data?"
"Extracts of transcripts probably, which someone had put together for optimal effect."
Ten easy ways to drive Christopher Pike crazy.
"Considering that everything in this conspiracy points towards an insider job, I'm not surprised," John says and puts down more notes. "Guess that's a job for you, doc."
Leonard nods. "There aren't too many people with the right authorization and a good reason to access that data. I'll see whether I can find anything suspicious in the logs."
"How about your former doctor, Chris — Naaz Anumanchi?" John asks.
A little shocked, Chris replies, "I doubt that."
"No fucking way," the doc says sharply.
John notes the name down anyway. "We're looking for any people you interacted with that had access to sensitive information. I'll put anyone on the list again, now that we know that McAllister was a scapegoat as much as Alain."
Jim fiddles with his PADD. "I'll send Spock the information about the possible signature forgery. We'll throw some of the Enterprise resources at that one. Do you remember any other weapon where this might have happened?"
Chris helplessly raises his hands. "I'm sorry, I really can't remember. But the others should've taken place after the dredger."
"I checked Cho's timetable, she should be on Earth in a week. We could invite her to dinner, bet she'd love to see you again, Chris." Jim's gaze moves to Dael, but she stares at the table top, ignoring his attempt at making contact.
"The tech teams need to clean the apartment first," the doc says. "And all four of us need to get checked for after-effects in Starfleet General."
"You can stay here for the time being," John says. "Eric is currently off-planet, and I'll sleep in the office. You'll get the key code. Chris can show you where everything is, especially the bed. I'd rather get started now, while the trail is still fresh."
They accept the gracious offer and then everyone gets up, chatter filling the room, last details being discussed, time tables set.
In the end, it's Dael and Chris standing in the otherwise empty living room. They look at each other across the two meters they're apart, and he's the first to look away.
"I know that an apology isn't good enough," he says flatly. "My actions were unforgivable and I —"
"Stop it," Dael says, lacing her arms in front of her. "It's good enough and it isn't."
His stomach tenses into a painful ball. "Meaning what?"
"I understand what happened, and that it wasn't your fault. I still…" Now she looks away, eyes full of hurt. "I still can't have that another time. No matter why."
It's a bit unfair, but he understands. "I always said you should leave me if you can't live with me anymore," he says throatily.
"Do you want me to go?" she wonders, her eyes back on his face, searching his.
"Never," he says. "I don't know if I could go on living without you. But that shouldn't keep you here."
"Maybe one day, you wouldn't want to be with me anymore anyway."
"Can't imagine it ever happening."
"Sometimes it feels as if… there's something inside of me, something dark, and when it wakes up, it will be horrible. I will be horrible." Gnawing her bottom lip, her eyes drift along the walls before getting back to him, her shoulder line showing her tension.
"You know that this isn't really you, it's the effects of the generators. We haven't been ourselves for the last weeks, none of us."
She shrugs once more, her arms still like a shield around herself, not really buying his line.
He sighs. "I wouldn't be surprised if your therapy on Vulcan had dampened some memories, but I don't think there's anything monstrous hiding in you."
Stating his trust in her that plainly seems to do the trick; she relaxes a little, her body swaying forward like wanting to move and not yet ready to.
Chris opens his arms. "Come here, darling. Please." It's a wager, and for the fraction of a second he thinks he's lost it — lost her — but then she hesitatingly puts one foot in front of the other until she's between his stretched-out arms. Only when she places her own arms around his waist does he close the embrace and pull her tight, pressing kisses all over her forehead and down to her lips at last. They kiss for a long time, as if they're unwilling to part ever again.
"I love you so much," he mutters against her spiky hair when they finally end it. "So very much."
She leans her face against his shoulder, tightening her hold on him. "I love you too. I want to give you strength and support — all the help that I got, I want to give to you, but I'm not as strong as they are, I'm only human and when you hit Jim, I just ran without thinking."
"I'm so sorry," he mutters and kisses her forehead again, right on the tattoos. How crazy that she apologizes for anything when she's been his guardian angel for so long. A shame he didn't make the best of the ground she'd prepared and the doc had built upon.
A decision rises, unfolding powerfully. Unlacing from her, he looks into her eyes. "I need your help. I need you to contact someone."
A momentary frown shifts into deep relief as Dael understands what he's asking for.
***
It's unbelievable how Chris' state improves, almost as if the knowledge alone that this hadn't been his personal weakness but yet another external influence could heal him. Things are sharp and in focus, almost as good as during the last days on the beach, and he feels he is coming alive again. The medical checkup is only half as bad as feared, and he comes out with a relatively clean bill of health (well, as clean as he'd ever get).
He's still very sensitive regarding other persons and their opinion about him, prone to fear others would work against him. It has its base in reality, obviously, but for his upcoming quest, he needs to be able to judge reality from suppositions very soon.
T'Sol, the Vulcan healer Dael connects him with at the Vulcan embassy, is young, otherworldly beautiful, and tells him outright that she'd never considered working with a male human as they can't control their sexual impulses, but she's making an exception for him. Leaving her with an appointment for the first, intense five day start of his therapy, Chris shakes an inward fist at the people who thought they could knock him out of the game. He'd be back faster than they'd ever supposed.
***
"So instead of keep seeing Ralph Kouchuroun, you'd rather get some strange therapy from some random Vulcan quack who's got no official licensing on Earth for any of the things she does?" Leonard says accusingly when he tells his lover of his plans. "Way to go, Chris."
At last back into their own apartment after two days of comfortable but still taxing exile in John's apartment, Chris sits on his favorite couch with one knee pulled up to his chest, arms laced around it, taking the criticisms that ramble on and letting them run through him.
"You done?" he asks coolly when the doc needs to take a breath, and unfolds to get up. "You wanted me to find a therapist. And I don't want another long, exhausting attempt at something that has been shown not to work in the past. I've got a job to do, and I've got to do it soon, before the Enterprise is away and any possible suspicious weapon deals much harder to follow." He picks up his comm. "Here, give her a call."
The doc hesitates. Of course, Chris thinks with a flash of anger. All barking, little biting. "Take it and call her, meet for a coffee or whatever. I prefer you to be okay with her because you're both my lover and my trusted physician, but in the end, it's me who's got to work with her."
The doc takes the communicator and vanishes. He reappears more than an hour later, when Chris is standing in the kitchen, watching Jim and Dael joking around while preparing salad. Sometimes, they're such kids.
"That's yours," Leonard mutters and shoves the comm at him.
"And, what's the verdict?" Chris asks quietly as he puts it away.
"Looks like she's got some experience," the doc admits grudgingly. "Probably can't do much damage."
"Considering what a hopeless case I am…"
"Bullshit," the doc says, and pulls him close. "Sorry if I ever gave you that impression. In my book, nobody's a hopeless case."
"So sweet," Chris mutters, then shuts up his lover by kissing him firmly, his hands slipping around Leonard's ass. Answering hands skim under his shirt, caressing his skin. Their groins draw together, sweet pressure building as they get lost in the moment. When they resurface, they're alone in the kitchen, a large bowl of salad ready on the table.
"Seems we scared them away," Chris says.
Leonard smiles. "I don't mind." He laces his hand around Chris' neck, pulling him into another long kiss. "Sorry for pushing you so hard."
"It's okay. I need it." Chris sighs. "Not quite that hard at times, maybe, but without you it would have taken me a lot longer to get away from the beach."
"Would you even have left at all?" Leonard's fingers nudge along his shoulder muscles. "You could have had a comfortable life with Dael."
"It wouldn't have been good for her," Chris states, and finds that right now he'd rather not talk about Dael. Running his fingers up the zipper of his lover's jeans, he opens it blindly to edge out the half-erect member.
"Oh…" Leonard chokes as he fists the length.
Chris gets down on his knees and wets his lips before getting to serious business.
***
They deliver him to the embassy the next morning, which is so grey it might be interpreted as bad omen if Chris registered it, but he's giddy and excited and fucking determined that this therapy will work, goddammit.
Of course the doc can't stop playing devil's advocate, pulling him aside on their short way from the parking lot to the tall gates.
"I did some research about T'Sol last night. She belongs to the school of Sh'stolon — a group that's got a reputation for using some questionable methods to achieve their goals."
"The goals of their patients, you mean," Chris corrects him. "Considering my record of questionable things in my life, this sound fitting." He smiles.
"I just…" Leonard's voice breaks for a second, before he's able to carry on, "I just don't want to lose you again, not when you've come so far."
"I know." Taking the doc into an embrace, Chris hugs him tightly. "I'm doing the right thing. Trust me, please." He knows that Leonard doesn't like this Vulcan voodoo, not for Chris and not as a part of Dael's past, but being a good man, the doc swallows down any more concerns and pulls himself together. Jim claps him on the shoulder, hiding his own concerns behind an optimistic smile and his trademark statement about there being no no-win situations in life. Dael… she seems to be both the least concerned and the most agitated, curling into his final embrace with a burning intensity and whispering, "May they be able to do for you what they did for me".
He nods, throat suddenly too tight to say anything, then turns around and a little too hastily walks through the opening gate, T'Sol already awaiting him on the path to the gardens.
Coming soon: Draws 14, where things will look a lot brighter.
