best of starfleet

clearing his throat, he added, a twinkle in his eye as he gestured for them to take a turn about the room.

there is no place in her framework of the universe for magic or for deity, only the inexorable mystery of science, the laws they rewrite as they discover exceptions, as they place yet more elusive pieces in place.

the last line is thrown in with a laugh, the thought bubbling at the back of his head as he spoke. usually, he'd refrain from letting such a silly thing escape. push it down, and immediately forget it, the moral of a fairytale not something that occupies his mind. but, so far, nothing he's consciously spoke to her worked, and every unconscious utterance has had some sort of effect, so he leans back, and loosens the iron-clad grip he built as a starfleet officer.

she's been here before, a growing tally of instances now so long she could not consciously recall them all even if she wished to. having given up the ghost of asking permission nearly a decade past, una has become far too familiar with every variation of what the hell were you thinking? imaginable.

at least pike's is comparatively civil, though she bristles regardless. aside from a terseness in her voice, una refuses to let that bristling show. ❛ it remedied the situation before it could escalate. ❜ matter of fact, obvious. as though he should not even need to ask. what else would she have done?

was it too much to expect a straight answer?

or, at the very least, that she acknowledges that he has a point here, and really, really, thank her lucky stars that he is more intrigued than angry?

from the other side of the room, he could see rookie's ear perk up when the jar opened, but he still didn't budge. it was only when he padded back, treat in hand, that he abandoned his new favorite sight and followed after him, jumping on the couch and immediately offering his paw.

the look she casts at him, somewhere between a glare and something merely unamused, conveys the sentiment she does not put to words: it is unnecessary to state the obvious — especially in double negatives meant to obscure. the creature that has spent the past two hours staring up at her with what she assumes is meant to be a pleading expression is all the evidence she needs to draw her own conclusions. the only acknowledgment of it she makes aloud, however, is to remark, ❛ I left la'an specific instructions. ❜

and, admittedly, keep chris from adopting a dog was not on the list word for word, but surely it must fall under one of the clauses she had enumerated. perhaps the one regarding impulsive decisions, or perhaps the one on self-sacrificing action.

but no, the dog stayed in his quarters and was being spoilt rotten by the crew.

❛ though I must ask: what twist of perception makes falsehood more noble than truth? I am reliably informed that lying is often considered a sin. ❜ una tucks away in the back of her mind the many chiding voices in her memory that declare the question a far too weighty one for a ball.

her question is... well, he doesn't know what to make of it. it was the sort of thing that belonged in a classroom, spoken by someone much less interesting than her. like his old greek professor, who despaired over his interpretation of the classics.

the past few weeks have done much to counter the limbo of the preceding months — of a ship out of commission, of his temporary reassignment, of his prolonged near silence. a silence that she still does not know what to make of, yet chooses to let disappear unquestioned into the past. after all, they are both back on enterprise where they belong, and thus the world back on its axis.

— that is, until he follows a perfectly normal ( or so it seemed ) invitation to dinner with... that, preempting the easy agreement already upon her tongue.

una can't name the series of emotions that she knows write themselves across her features before she has a hope of wrangling them — along with her thoughts — into any semblance of her accustomed discipline. each is too fleeting for her to grasp, blending as a whole into vague disorientation.

they've crossed into some alternate reality ( unlikely ), or she's misheard him ( she knows she hasn't ), or... and it isn't that she's never thought — but all of that she's — and is this more out of place after the preceding months or after a decade... though, really, that's irrelevant because even if — but, no, it's not an if. she knows it to not be a joke, knows the humor he employs when he seeks to provoke her, and there's not a trace of it — she cannot begin to put to words, even in her own mind, all the ways in which...

no more long sleepless nights in montana with only his demons to keep him company. no more morning rides on horseback to watch the sun creep up over the mountains. it was time to return to the present, and pretend nothing had changed.

and, unsurprisingly, he had slipped back into the role of captain without much trouble. a part of this job was becoming comfortable with a mask, burying your emotions, your temper deep down into your subconscious to protect your crew, lead them in the fearless manner that required. so as captain, he was much the same man: christopher pike, starfleet's boy-scout, never a hair out of place, ready with a quip or a metaphor to break the tension.

but as christopher, it was impossible to be who he was.

and that meant a change in perception. things slotted into place, others he realized were weighing him down, and he left it somewhere back on earth, ready to let go. and some, he realized much too late, he needed to hold on to tighter.

ultimately, una is not certain that the object of the ( supposedly ) injudicious remark she had made the previous evening fully comprehended the half of what her words conveyed. still, he had possessed enough awareness to recognize that there was something subtle in her carefully worded remark at which he ought to take offense.

he could be counted on to invite even the overlooked wallflowers for a dance. but tonight, he was the wallflower, lingering by miss evers side.

well, preserving what? one's soul, una supposes, whatever a soul is. whatever would ensure that a person could still be that same person in the form of a frog.

the individual is trivial, merely one more variable to the experiment. a different person, same conditions, a slightly different result. fundamentally, however, nothing when placed side by side with the physics and biology. even, she will allow, that very question of essence, of what would remain of the original in its new form.

❛⠀⠀⠀in the 20th century, arthur c. clarke said: any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. the law was debated by scientists and theologians, and later reinterpreted to say, "any sufficiently advanced extraterrestrial intelligence is indistinguishable from god." ⠀ ❜

it is possible what the grimm brothers imagined was based on magic. or an alien, or, even an act of god. there are more things in this universe than there are answers, and he learned, from a very young age, as his father invariably changed the dinner conversation to philosophy and religion, that a lack of an answer, does not make the discussion any less interesting.

or, perhaps, he would merely have shut her out.

regardless, una does not wish to remind him of his unusual success, does not want to encourage him to keep such secrets in the future, nor to imply that he should have kept this to himself longer now. there's an irony there, one that causes her breath to catch in her throat. she holds ever a double standard.

he presses responsibility into her hands, he presses his life into her hands, so confident in the decision that he does not think to discuss it with her first. and with what does she repay him? secrets and half truths and careful evasions that barely skirt the edge of lies. ( it's a lie, even if no words of falsehood have left her lips, save once. )

the would-be joke about reviving him in order to give him a piece of her mind would, under any other circumstances, earn him a raised eyebrow and arch comment. here and now, it proves too on the nose, and her stomach churns at the mere effort of thinking of a response. una is not sure she could get one past her lips, and so she lets it sit instead in silence.

and maybe, just maybe, she needs that silence, needs to sit for a moment with what he has said, with what she has had to take in stride. it's without protest that she abides by his gentle urging to go sit down. having done so, however, she fusses with straightening the tableware before her with a quiet restlessness that belies her usual stillness.

or better yet, why did he wait so long?

it was always a question of when he was going to tell her, keeping the truth to himself was only a lie to protect the crystalized version of events he needed to come true.

there is only so long he can glare at his freezer before his fingers burn from the ice. closing it off, he breathes deeply, and when he turns to face her, he is smiling again; something small, warm, not exactly a mask, but merely a more pleasant quirk of his present state. a certain desolate air still hangs about him, and his eyes weigh heavy on his face, deep-creased lines showing his age, but for her, he musters up something warmer.

they have their own logic, a unique way in which reality bends around them for interpretation. to ignore that would be illogical.

❛ as I understand it, my predecessor is exactly where he belongs. even if I did have to get his ship in working order. I do try not to hold it against him. ❜

and though, he believes that the former first officer of the ship, wherever he is, might have something or two to say in defense of his work-ethic and organization procedures, they are much better left unsaid.

he should not be able to catch her off guard as he does — that uncharacteristic consideration, the sudden freedom of her hand, and the caress of fingers upon her neck all evidence to piece together. but when he kisses her, her mind is strikingly quiet, calculation forsaken for awareness of this moment alone, the feeling of his lips on hers, fabric beneath her palms on his chest, weight of his hands, flush of her cheeks.

pleased scarcely began to describe the emotions embroiling his heart. even he struggled to decipher them. it was equal parts happiness and fear, an emotion he did not usually associate with kissing, but it was there, nestled between each rapid heartbeat, — a subtle undercurrent of unease. here he is, nearing the wrong side of forty, kissing someone he couldn't bear to lose.