#rillham

“Remind me why we didn’t take our badges, again?” Laira’s thin blouse is so completely soaked with rain, it’s almost see-through.

Michael does her best not to look. “Because you wanted to play hooky from your security team.”

“I’m not playing hooky, Captain Burnham,” Laira shivers, “I just wanted to take a walk without being surrounded on all sides.”

“So you brought me instead?”

It’s a good thing Michael is walking out ahead of her, because Laira can feel a slight warmth blossoming in her cheeks.

When she doesn’t reply, Michael continues, “Suppose you couldn’t have warned me you were planning to take your walk on top of a mountain in the middle of a thunderstorm, huh?”

“The storm wasn’t a part of the plan.” Neither was Michael looking this good in rain-soaked clothes.

The rain is coming down harder now; a solid wall of water unhindered by the sparse tree canopy above. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Michael glances back to look at Laira. She’s quickly following the path Michael’s setting down the mountain. “Just a little farther. I scanned the area before we beamed down, and there should be some kind of shelter just past this ridge.”

Laira nods determinedly, but Michael can see her visibly shaking; her Cardassian side makes her more sensitive to the cold.

They scramble down the rocky slope, and they’ve almost reached the bottom when Michael hears a sharp inhale and the sound of sliding rocks behind her.

Laira is lying on the ground violently shaking, her left ankle turned at an odd angle. “Stepped in a hole, then slipped on the rocks,” she says as Michael sprints over to her.

One look at the ankle causes Michael to wince, “Well, we’re not going anywhere now. You can’t walk on that.”

“I have Cardassian bones, they don’t break that easily.”

“Well Madam President,” Michael gives a tiny smile, “somehow you’ve managed to do just that.”

Laira is suddenly very aware of how close Michael’s face is to hers.

“Madam President doesn’t break bones, Captain.” The pounding in Laira’s ears is definitely the drumming of the rain and has absolutely nothing to do with the way Michael’s hands are lightly ghosting over her, checking for other injuries.

“Oh, of course, my apologies,” Michael slowly and gently brushes her thumb over Laira’s brow ridges to keep the water dripping from her hair out of her eyes. “Madam President doesn’t break bones, only Laira the mountain-walker does that.”

“Yes,” Laira’s voice is a mere whisper as her teeth chatter in the wind. “Now you’ve got it.”

Michael is looking at Laira’s lips to make sure they haven’t turned blue.

“Captain —”

Michael raises her gaze to meet Laira’s eyes, “Is this Madam President talking, or Laira the mountain-walker?”

“Laira,” she smiles faintly.

“Ah, well then, she should call me Michael, don’t you think?” Michael winks, trying to keep lighthearted. “Just so I know who I’m talking to.”

“Michael?” Laira’s eyes are still bright, even if she is shaking like a leaf. “I’m cold.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Michael takes a deep breath, “I’m going to lie on top of you; my body heat will help keep you a little warmer and it’ll protect you from some of the rain without disturbing your ankle.”

Laira’s eyes grow fractionally larger.

Michael gently lays down over Laira’s shivering form, wrapping her arms around Laira’s head and neck and laying her own head down on Laira’s chest. Laira turns her head so that her cheek rests against Michael’s wrist and inhales deeply.

“Michael?”

“Yes?” Michael breathes against Laira’s collarbone.

“How much longer until the time we told Saru to beam us back up?”