#fugitcavea

Bitter wind whipped through the large boulders, cutting through the local garb they were clothed in. Pike’s shoulders hunched as the cold sent yet another shiver down his spine. The sky was nearly as gray as his hair, and it was only a matter of time before the storm hit full force.

“It’s a good thing we’re already looking for a cave,” he shouted over the sound of the wind at his First Officer. “At least Spock thinks whatever the hell it is, is in a cave, and we know Spock isn’t one to guess.” He’d make a logical decision based on data retrieved by scans of the planet and the few probes they’d been able to send out before they lost power and hit the ground like dead vultures. After they lost the first three, he’d ordered they stop sending them because of the risk of breaking the Prime Directive.

The planet’s inhabitants were humanoid, with little difference from Earth norms appearance wise, which was always nice when trying to avoid breaking General Order One. It should’ve been an easy high orbit, have a peek, and move-on mission, but then the Enterprise got caught in some high tech net the people on the planet couldn’t possibly have created. Spock found traces of over a dozen spaceship crash sites dating back over thousands of years, and unless he wanted his ship to be the first in centuries, they had to turn the net off.

“I’m a desert kid. You any good at spotting caves in mountain sides?”

It wasn’t often One let anyone lift her, even Pike wasn’t allowed to. Today was different. Today a glowing Number One was being lifted by her new husband.

One giggles softly like she hadn’t in many years and lays her forehead against his. “I love you Chris.”

“Love you too Em,” he says proudly, pleased to have gotten such a reaction out of her. And even though they would probably get a pass as newlyweds, he looked both ways up and down the hallway before pressing another kiss to her lips.

“And now you get to participate in one of the stranger human marriage rituals,” he tells her, though it’s a struggle to adjust her into what’s appropriately known as a bridal carry and takes a few seconds. (Had they gotten their shit together a decade ago, perhaps this would be easier, but....)

My muse is dead or dying. Tell me how yours is handling it.

She was crying. 

“I’ll be fine, please, you have to go--”

This wasn’t what she wanted, wasn’t the time, and she couldn’t even return their gentle touch, couldn’t push them to the escape pods. She’d been in Engineering when the attack began, and there had been no question of leaving when there was work to be done. 

This was her body, breaking. This was her tomb. It didn’t have to be theirs. 

But they were stubborn. Pris loved them for that. And that was what she focused on, as everything went fuzzy and she felt the core at the heart of her begin to fracture. Grabbing at the bond between the three of them and pushing loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou. 

“So, I’m going to be here on Earth for a few weeks on shore leave; what do you say on spending some time together?“

He looked at her in that way that she knew was meant ONLY for her. It was strong, with the hint of a smile that warmed her from the inside out. Uhura stood there, almost nervous, as she thought about her next move. Could she hug him? Would people deem that appropriate? Did he want to hug her? All good questions that she’d let [ [ h i m ] ] answer. Her hands remained folded behind her back while her fingertips fiddled with the scarlet fabric of her uniform.

“What would you describe it as then, Sir?”

“Come ‘ere M’Hari!” 

Chris punches Zane's shoulder because he can.

“This is what happens when ya don’t let shit go, little brother. Ya make fun of me fer blowin’ shit up, but it’s better than hittin’ people.” After mimicking an explosion, Zane kicked Chris in the shin. “Now that it’s outta my system, the hell’s wrong with ya?”

Grabbing his shin, the younger sibling glares. “Nothing. Why does something have to be wrong when I hit you? Can’t I just not like your face or something?”