Chapter Text
Xichen is several hundred thousand lightyears away when news arrives. He’s tapping through his PADD before bed -- a habit that he’s trying to break -- when the alert comes up. Starfleet. Confidential. Personal . Thinking that perhaps Starfleet has clued into the fact that he is in a relationship with both his first and second officers, he opens it.
He doesn’t process the words the first time he reads them. He and Wangji had applied to Starfleet under different names, and are forever listed differently in the system. Xichen had given them a surname, therefore over the last twelve years, he has been Cadet Lan, Ensign Lan, Lieutenant Lan, and Captain Lan. His brother is simply, in the Vulcan style, Wangji.
The message reads that two ensigns from the FSS Rising Sun are missing, assumed dead. Ensign Wei Ying, a young man that Xichen has met on several occasions and liked. And Ensign Wangji. Just Wangji.
Xichen reads the message three times over. There is a copy and pasted message expressing sympathy, since he is related to the deceased. The deceased . A message will be sent to all of Starfleet within the day, but Xichen has been forewarned in case he needs to make personal arrangements.
He doesn’t realize he isn’t breathing until the door slides open, revealing A-Yao on the other side, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “What happened?” he demands, glancing around the room as if for an attacker. “I could feel your distress all the way from the upper deck, are you alright? Your shields have never slipped like this before.”
Xichen feels frozen. A-Yao strides across the room, apparently satisfied there is no physical danger, and plucks the PADD from Xichen’s hands. It’s insubordination, technically, to read a message marked private for the captain, but it’s just as well. Xichen isn’t going to be able to form the words.
A-Yao’s big eyes go even wider as he reads -- considerably more quickly than Xichen had. It is not a very long message. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Captain…”
Xichen forces in a shuddering breath, but his body doesn’t feel like his to control. Wangji is only twenty-five. The last time they spoke was only two days ago, a short call during which Xichen rambled about a particularly good tea blend he’d purchased on Risa and Wangji had said, “Mm,” as he usually did. It was a perfectly normal conversation. The last time they saw each other was six months ago, just after Wangji’s graduation. Too long ago.
He never should have allowed Wangji to be assigned to someone else’s ship. But he’d wanted to give Wangji space, and not stifle him with the double obligation to a big brother and captain. He’d wanted Wangji to have the same kind of adventures he did as a freshly graduated ensign with the entire known universe spread out before him.
He doesn’t realize he’s crying until A-Yao reaches out and wipes his tears off with a thumb on either cheek. His hands are cool and he is determinedly projecting calmness and stability. “Breathe,” he orders, and Xichen struggles to obey. Several moments pass in the muffled quiet of Xichen’s room, broken only by his ragged breaths.
“That Wen Chao is incompetent,” A-Yao mutters, pulling him closer. “Who takes a day and a half to file a death report?”
“Assumed death,” Xichen corrects roughly, and he knows A-Yao can sense the moment the idea occurs to him, because his arms tighten around him. “We should--”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” A-Yao says at once. Not gently, but not unkindly, either. He is an excellent first officer; a pragmatist to Xichen’s optimist and Mingjue’s realist.
Xichen shakes his head. “At the very least,” he says heavily. “I should recover his body.” The thought makes him nauseous.
“They said he was in a cave in,” A-Yao says, which means he read the message in more detail than Xichen did. “There’s no guarantee that--”
“I have to try,” Xichen interrupts. If he doesn’t, and he could have saved him, he would probably -- he doesn’t even know. Walk out of the airlock into space, probably.
For almost as long as he can remember, Wangji and Xichen have been the only ones looking out for each other. Uncle tried, but he never truly understood what it was to be them. To be not entirely Vulcan, but not entirely anything else. That has always belonged only to the two of them.
A-Yao sighs, but he doesn’t contradict him. Xichen is the captain. “I’ll go back up and give the order.”
“I’ll come with you--” Xichen begins, but A-Yao shakes his head firmly.
“You’re in no state to appear in front of the crew,” he says. “More importantly, you need rest. I’ll send Mingjue down. If we’re going at Warp 8 the whole time, the likelihood of being attacked is low.” He hesitates before leaning down and folding Xichen into a brief, tight hug.
Going at Warp 8 will deplete a lot of their stored energy, but it will get them there within a day. Xichen hugs him back. “I’ll clean myself up,” he says, “and I’m coming to the bridge with you. I won’t be able to sleep or meditate anyway.”
They’re still touching skin to skin, so Xichen can tell just how much A-Yao dislikes that idea. But presumably, A-Yao can tell he’s telling the truth when he says he won’t be able to rest. Xichen releases a deep breath and then releases A-Yao. “Go on,” he says. “I’ll follow you up.”
.
After several hours of pacing around the bridge, Xichen does manage a three-hour nap from pure exhaustion. Mingjue wraps himself around his back like a hibernating bear, but he shakes himself awake after Xichen slips from his arms and begins straightening his uniform. The nap has served to decrease the chances that Xichen will fall asleep on his feet, but he still feels wired. His head hurts.
“Xichen,” Mingjue says groggily behind him.
“We’re not there yet,” Xichen says distractedly, although the planet should be coming into view soon. Eight years of interstellar travel have taught him to be wary of unexplored areas. He knows this planet is Class M and uninhabited by humanoid life, but it isn’t even named, and Captain Wen has remarkably few observations on record from the descent during which he lost Wangji a few days ago. Basic tricorder readings only, atmospheric makeup and a brief geology scan. The latter at least tells Xichen where on the planet they should be looking.
A-Yao is already instructing the technician where to beam them down to when Xichen arrives in the transporter room, Mingjue at his heels. “Commander Nie, with me,” Xichen says, forcing himself into captain mode. “Commander Meng, you’re in charge on the bridge.” It’s a longer shift than he’d usually like to give anyone, but A-Yao only nods, his jaw tight. “I want CMO Wen with us, and tell her to bring the nurse on duty.”
He can’t bring himself to take anyone else along. Two people were already lost on this planet, and he won’t be responsible for more. Doctor Wen arrives just in time to beam down, her nurse in tow. It takes Xichen a moment to realize, because the young man is a full two heads taller than her, but they share a resemblance, not to mention the Bajoran ridges at the tops of their noses. Nurse Wen, then. He vaguely remembers her having a brother.
“We’ve reached position,” says Ensign Nie on the comms. “Be careful, Da-ge!” No amount of coaching has dissuaded him from using the comms system for personal use.
The technician begins pulling the necessary levers, and they are about to fade away when someone barrels through the door. “Wait!” the young man cries. His yellow uniform marks him as an ensign as well, command track, although his clothes are a little out of order. He looks somewhat familiar, but there are nearly a thousand people on this ship and Xichen can’t keep track of them all. “I was on Beta shift, I just woke up, I just heard -- Wei Ying is my brother, I have to come with you.” He’s breathing hard, and his jaw clenches when he meets Xichen’s eyes. “I mean. Please. Captain.”
Xichen shouldn’t let him come. It’s a conflict of interest for Xichen to beam down, but he’s the captain and there’s very little anyone can do to stop him. But he’s looking into this young man’s desperate eyes, which hold the same fury and fear that he’s feeling too, despite the very best Vulcan training. It comes back to him now; he met Ensign Jiang when he was attending Wangji’s graduation. He had had his arm slung around his own brother’s shoulders and he was grinning. It’s a far cry from the desperation on his face now.
“Ensign Jiang,” Mingjue says behind him, tone neutral.
“Sir,” Ensign Jiang pants, turning his gaze to Mingjue. “Please, Commander, if it was Huaisang, you know you’d do anything -- please let me come with you.”
Mingjue lets out a sharp breath behind him. It’s bold, that’s for sure. Xichen doesn’t have time to waste. “Let’s go,” he says, gesturing Ensign Jiang up onto the platform. He exhales shakily and steps up at once, taking the fifth spot. “Beam us down.”
.
It takes several minutes of exploring to figure out where the entrance of the cave once must have been. The terrain is very rocky here, and Nurse Wen nearly sprains an ankle trying to climb down from a boulder. Mingjue scans the whole area with his PADD, searching for a cave system underground. Finally he grunts in affirmation, looking up at what looks to be another pile of rocks.
“There must have been a rockslide,” he says grimly. “This whole area has caverns underground, but this is the only area broad enough to have been an entrance recently.”
“Can we move the rocks?” Nurse Wen asks, tilting his head. He’s a strapping young man, but he curls his shoulders in as if he’s trying to hide that fact.
Mingjue places his hands on one speculatively. “Maybe,” he says. “But we’d risk another rockslide.”
Doctor Wen drums her fingers against one of the boulders. “Could they beam us further down?” she asks. “Just straight into the cave?”
Mingjue shakes his head. “The rocks aren’t one big slab,” he says. “It’s very difficult to get a reading on where the open areas underground are, especially with this mineral composition. They might beam us into a rock.”
Xichen’s body thrums with frustration. “There must be another way in,” he says.
“Do you hear that?” Ensign Jiang says, raising a hand for silence. He steps closer to where the entrance used to be. “Is that running water?”
“Commander Nie--” Xichen begins. Mingjue is already beginning another scan.
“It looks like there is an underground river of some kind,” he says. “Not sure how big or how long, but there is some moving water down there.”
“It has to be coming from somewhere, right?” Ensign Jiang says. “If the water is getting down there, maybe we can too.”
Xichen flips open his tricorder to call up to the ship. “Commander Meng,” he says. “Are there any visible rivers in our area?”
A moment later, A-Yao responds. “I believe so, yes,” he says, and proceeds to direct them a quarter mile east towards a small opening in the rock where a narrow creek flows down below the rock.
Xichen scans the opening himself. “It goes in the right direction,” he says. “We’ll back out at the first sign of tunnel instability, but I believe there is enough room to walk in a single file.” He glances over his collected crew. Ensign Jiang is gripping the strap of his tricorder so hard that his knuckles are white, Doctor Wen is already rolling up her pant legs to wade into the water, and Mingjue’s brows are drawn together in the way that means he’s worried about Xichen.
Xichen brushes that aside for now, along with the dread in his stomach. Either he is going to find his brother or his brother’s body, and nothing in the world could distract him from that.
“I’ll take point,” Xichen says, tone brooking no argument. “Commander Nie, you follow up at the end.”
“Captain,” Mingjue begins, but Xichen has already ducked down into the tunnel, feet sinking into the cold water. He doesn’t need to look behind him to know that Ensign Jiang has stepped in directly behind him.
It takes a half hour of walking through a narrow, twisty tunnel with only the light from their tricorders to get anywhere. At one point, the ceiling flattens so low that Xichen must bend nearly in half; at another, it becomes so narrow that Mingjue’s broad Klingon shoulders almost don’t fit through. Eventually, though, the tunnel widens, the water becoming deeper, and then it opens up entirely into a cavern.
The first thing Xichen sees, squinting into the low light, is the curved form of a huge beast. He stiffens immediately, gesturing for silence, and the others fall quiet behind him -- but only moments later, when he creeps forward, he can see the inelegant twist of its long neck, the blood marking the ground and spilling into the water. Sure enough, when he slowly draws out his tricorder, it confirms: the creature is carbon-based, heretofore unknown, and very dead.
Xichen pushes himself out of the narrow channel carved by the river, and his attempt at silence is immediately dashed. He can see two bodies lying on the far shore, unmistakably humanoid. Even at a distance, even with low lighting, he would know Wangji anywhere. He just can’t tell if he’s breathing or not. He wades towards him, skirting around the edge of the cave but not bothering to keep his movement quiet.
“Captain!” Mingjue hisses after him. “There could be more of those things--!”
Xichen pays him no mind. The water climbs to his chest, and he gives up on wading and simply swims. Behind him, he can hear Ensign Jiang following him into the water. Xichen was late to swimming, having grown up on a desert planet, and he must look ridiculous, and he can taste the creature’s blood in the water -- and he doesn’t care. Ensign Jiang pulls himself out of the water on the other side and stumbles to his brother’s side, pulling him into his arms, Xichen close behind.
The two young men were curled towards each other, and Wangji’s hands lie limp on the ground, still stretched towards where Wei Ying was. Wangji is very pale, he notices at once, but he grabs him by the wrist and can at once feel the faintest, most sluggish traces of his thoughts. Distantly, Wangji is dreaming. The breath of relief tears painfully out of his throat. Just barely, his brother is alive.
“Wangji,” he says, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him as gently as he can. On Wangji’s other side, Ensign Jiang has climbed onto the shore of the underground lake and is checking his brother’s vitals with unsteady hands. “Wangji, thank goodness, can you hear me?” There is no visible response, but telepathically, he can feel Wangji respond. Disoriented and distant, yes, but he thinks, Brother?
Xichen almost collapses. “Yes,” he says, smoothing his brother’s hair from his face. “Yes, it’s me, I’m here, you’re going to be okay.”
“Wei Ying,” Ensign Jiang snaps, loud enough to echo in the cave. “Wei Ying, dammit , wake up!” Wei Ying’s head lolls over his brother’s arm. “Fuck, come on.”
Wen Qing clambers out of the water. “Put him down,” she demands. “I’ll take a look at him. A-Ning, check the captain’s brother.”
Wen Ning, despite his nervous demeanor, handles a medical tricorder with relative confidence, and he diagnoses Wangji stutteringly with a broken leg and the beginnings of starvation. “It’s s-strange,” he says, frowning. “The readings are consistent with a concussion, but I d-don’t see any head trauma.” He looks up to meet Xichen’s eyes. “He’s not in great shape, but if you’re communicating with him right now, that’s a v-very good sign.”
“Concussion here too,” Wen Qing says grimly. “Severe blood loss, internal bleeding, infection, dehydration -- we have to get him back to the ship as soon as possible, Captain.” The or else is implied. When Xichen spares a look for Wei Ying, he hardly recognizes the bright eyed young man he’s seen skipping along at Wangji’s side. He looks half dead, and Ensign Jiang, kneeling beside him, is shaking.
“I’ll carry him,” Mingjue tells Ensign Jiang, not unkindly. It’s true that Ensign Jiang could probably carry his brother on a good day, but right now Xichen wouldn’t trust him to carry a cup of tea without dropping it, and they’re about to squeeze back through a slippery tunnel. Ensign Jiang acquiesces, very reluctantly, and lets go of Wei Ying.
No one stops Xichen from carrying his own brother. One of the advantages of his Vulcan heritage is that Xichen is stronger than he looks. Considering that Wangji is less than two hundred pounds, and that Xichen still has adrenaline surging through him, it’s no problem to hoist Wangji onto his back with Nurse Wen’s help. Xichen wades back into the water, careful to keep Wangji’s chin propped against his shoulder so he doesn’t dip below the surface.
Despite carrying two extra unconscious bodies, the climb back seems so much quicker. The vice around Xichen’s heart has loosened; while he cannot be wholly joyful due to Wei Ying’s uncertain condition, injured is still so much better than dead. He can feel Wangji’s faint breath against his ear as he walks, and keeps a tight hold on his legs, trying not to jolt his injury.
At last, they emerge into sunlight, and Ensign Jiang retrieves his communicator at once, barking, “Seven to beam up, now ! Bring two stretchers to the transporter room.”
He doesn’t have the authority to make such an order, but Xichen can hardly chastise him, not when the captain and second officer’s hands are full, not when Ensign Jiang’s brother is hardly breathing.
Ensign Jiang’s haste turns out to be imperative. No sooner have they rematerialized on the ship and lowered Wangji and Wei Ying into their respective stretchers than Doctor Wen curses loudly at Wei Ying’s side and scrambles for a hypospray out of her pocket.
“Bring him right to the operation room,” she demands, jabbing Wei Ying inside the elbow. “That’ll stop his heart from giving out in the next five minutes, but we have to work fast.” The two nurses carrying Wei Ying’s stretcher maneuver him out the door into the hallway, with Ensign Jiang rushing after them.
“That’s so strange,” Nurse Wen murmurs, bending over Wangji’s prone body with his scanner in hand.
Xichen’s breath catches in his throat. “Is something else wrong with him?” he demands.
Nurse Wen shakes his head, although his eyebrows are still drawn together. “He’s going to be alright, Captain, I think the scanner made a mistake. His vital signs jumped momentarily, but I can’t f-find anything else wrong with him.” He reaches out as if to pat Xichen’s arm, and then remembers himself. “Oh -- sorry, Captain. We’ll get him to medbay, fix his leg, and get a nutrient drip in his arm. He’ll be just fine.”
Xichen’s heart settles. He follows Nurse Wen towards the medbay -- the same direction they had rushed Wei Ying off, but at a much more sedate pace. “Will it disturb your work if I remain?” he asks. He’s not afraid to use the privileges of his rank, not for this.
But Nurse Wen just shakes his head. “Not at all,” he says. “As long as you sit, and let us work around you.”
The other nurses settle Wangji into a hospital bed; one of them begins to cut away his tattered pant leg. Xichen’s hands twitch with the urge to help -- Wangji would not like strangers touching him -- but he remembers himself and tucks his hands beneath his legs as he sits.
Wangji’s chest rises and falls slowly, but steadily. Occasionally, his fingers twitch. His hair is tangled, his bun unraveling. Perhaps Wangji will let Xichen fix it for him when he wakes up. For now, Xichen lets the fact that his brother is safe, and will be alright sink into him, and sits back to let the medical professionals do their work.
.
Wen Qing had barred Jiang Cheng from the operation room the second he tried to follow her in. “Absolutely not,” she snapped, jabbing him in the chest with a finger. “You don’t want to see this.”
“Wen Qing--” he began. She glowered at him, and he corrected himself, “ Doctor Wen, I’m his brother--”
“And you’ll be a distraction,” she said. “I’ll ping you personally when we’re done here.” Then she shut the door in his face.
Jiang Cheng was left standing there, breathing hard, in the hallway. When he reached numbly for his tricorder, he realized his palms had four crescent fingernail lines each, from clenching his fists too hard. She’d said when we’re done , not when he’s better. Fucking Wei Ying, always getting into trouble. When he was assigned to a different ship as Jiang Cheng, he’d pinched Jiang Cheng’s cheek and said, “Aw, don’t pout, you’ll get wrinkles. Why are you upset, anyway? Lan Zhan’s brother will be a billion times better as a captain than stupid Wen Chao.”
It was because Jiang Cheng didn’t like the idea of him so far away. Galaxies away. They’d never even been on different planets since his father brought Wei Ying home. But he couldn’t say that, so he’d jerked his face away and said, “I don’t care. Go have a terrible time with boring Wangji.” At least Huaisang was assigned to the Nebula too, he’d thought at the time. Huaisang didn’t even pretend that it wasn’t because his older brother was third-in-command, but he was good company, and one of Jiang Cheng’s only friends who wouldn’t be disappointed to be assigned alongside him rather than Wei Ying.
So they’d said goodbye with little fanfare, because they were supposed to see each other in a year. Wei Ying hugged him and rocked him a little back and forth like he was squeezing a teddy bear, then pressed a wet kiss to Jiang Cheng’s forehead so that Jiang Cheng could say, “ Ew ,” and rub it off.
He had never expected -- well, how could Jiang Cheng expect this, in anything but his worst nightmares? Wei Ying as pale as a sheet and completely limp, curled up like a corpse next to dumb Wangji.
It takes just over two hours for Wen Qing to send him a message. Enough time for Jiang Cheng to reconsider whether or not to call A-Jie ten separate times, and keep chickening out, pacing circles in his room. It would be unfair, he thinks, to make her sit through this agonizing wait, and then he thinks, but wouldn’t I want to know as soon as possible?
Just when Jiang Cheng makes up his mind to call, his PADD dings, and he almost trips on his laundry hamper crossing the room to get to it.
CMO Wen: We’ve stabilized him for now. He’ll be in the medbay, you have access to see him.
Jiang Cheng sinks down to sit on the bed and allows himself exactly ten seconds of ragged breathing. Then he scrubs hard at his eyes and takes off for medbay.
.
Xichen doesn’t realize that he’s dozed off until he jerks awake at the sound of the door sliding open. For a moment, leftover fear frizzles through him -- then his gaze fixes on Wangji, soundly asleep in the bed beside him, steadily healing.
A-Yao steps through the doorway. Xichen straightens. “A-Yao,” he says blearily. “Don’t tell me you’re still on duty. What time is it?”
“0700,” A-Yao informs him, pulling up a chair to sit beside him, their knees nudging together. “Mingjue is manning the helm.” Normally he’s very strict about professionalism, but this morning he reaches over to squeeze the back of Xichen’s neck. The medbay is partitioned with curtains, offering at least the illusion of privacy. “Who let you sleep in this chair? I’ll have them demoted.”
Xichen huffs a laugh. “For what?”
“For sabotaging the captain’s shoulder tendons,” A-Yao says primly. “I’m about to go back to my quarters and pass out, but I’ve got a scathing report on Captain Wen’s behavior ready for you to submit. I assumed you would want to wait to get the full story from the ensigns, but I think we could call for his resignation. I already sent it to your PADD.”
A-Yao generally dislikes public displays of affection, but he doesn’t stop Xichen from sliding their fingers together in his lap. Xichen has always found A-Yao’s empathic abilities somewhat comforting; there is no need to refrain from touching him when A-Yao already knows what he is feeling. A-Yao strokes his fingers over the back of Xichen’s hand. He is feeling tired, but relieved, and looking forward to Wen Chao’s potential demotion.
“He could have killed them,” Xichen murmurs, looking back at Wangji. “He almost did.”
“Abhorrent,” A-Yao says. He’s relatively outraged for Xichen’s sake, but he’s also never forgiven Wen Chao for tripping him on the stairs at graduation.
“Thank you for trusting me,” Xichen says seriously. “You probably could have had me declared emotionally incapacitated. But instead you let me bring us to the other side of the galaxy.”
A-Yao shrugs, which means he considered it. “What good would it do?” he asks. “You didn’t hurt anyone.” He glances over at Xichen out of the corner of his eye. “Besides, you have good instincts. Even when emotionally incapacitated. Wen Chao’s report was objectively suspicious.”
“Still,” Xichen says, squeezing his hand before he lets go. “I appreciate it. You acted well under pressure.”
A-Yao offers him a tired, but genuine smile. “When don’t I?” he points out.
He’s teasing, but it’s true. A-Yao is the best first officer that Xichen could ask for, which is why when the time comes, Xichen will send him off to a captaincy with a strong recommendation and no regrets. But for now, the two of them and Mingjue run the Nebula together, and Xichen will cherish it.
At his side, A-Yao yawns, raising a hand to hide it.
“Go sleep,” Xichen tells him firmly. “Take tomorrow off as a rest day too.”
A-Yao dimples at his tone as he stands, tugging the wrinkles from his uniform shirt. “Is that an order, Captain?”
“If it has to be,” Xichen says, shooing him away. A-Yao can work for a frighteningly long time uninterrupted. “Sleep well.”
It is not strange for Xichen to be up so early, but his eyes are gummy from his fitful sleep. Still, he does not wish to leave Wangji’s side. Because of the curtains lining medbay, Xichen doesn’t even realize that he isn’t alone until he stands and crosses the room to get tea from the replicator and someone to his left says, “Captain.”
Xichen pretends not to be startled as he turns. Ensign Jiang has poked his head out from the partition beside Wangji, looking almost contrite. “Ensign,” Xichen says, taking a much-needed sip from his mug. “Is your brother alright?” He feels slightly guilty about having not spared a single thought for Wei Ying since they returned to the Nebula, since Wangji seems quite attached to the man.
Ensign Jiang tilts his head in a so-so motion. “He’s getting better,” he says, subdued. “Wen Qing said he might take a little while to wake up. She’s still treating his infection. But--” He takes a deep breath. “He’s going to be fine.”
“Good,” Xichen says, meaning it. “I am glad to hear it.”
“I wanted to -- apologize,” Ensign Jiang says awkwardly. “I wasn’t trying to undermine your authority, I was just--”
“Worried,” Xichen finishes. “I understand completely.” Ensign Jiang’s shoulders relax. “That said, if you invite yourself on a mission again, I will have to write you up for insubordination.”
Ensign Jiang’s mouth twitches in an almost-smile. “Of course,” he says. “Thank you, Captain.” He steps back. Behind him, Xichen catches a glimpse of Wei Ying’s bandaged chest as the curtain closes, and has to hold back a shudder. That could have been Wangji.
Xichen has long finished his tea by the time Wangji stirs around 0900. He sets aside his PADD at once -- his draft of a report for this mission can wait. “Wangji,” he says, sitting forward and resting a hand on Wangji’s sleeved wrist so as not to overwhelm him. “You’re safe.”
Wangji’s eyes crack open, wary of the bright lights of medbay. He has to wet his lips before he speaks, and Xichen reaches over at once to fetch him water. “Xiongzhang?”
“Here, drink,” Xichen says, and tilts the cup for him. Wangji drinks obediently, although his brows are drawn together in confusion. “You’re on the Nebula. We came to find you.”
“Wei Ying?” Wangji croaks. A droplet of water rolls down his chin, and he wipes it away with a shaking hand.
“He is recovering too,” Xichen promises. Wangji closes his eyes in obvious relief, head sinking back against the pillow. Xichen has rarely seen him so expressive.
“I dreamed that…” he murmurs, brow furrowing again. “Wei Ying was dangling off a cliff, and I--” His hand flexes. “I thought that--”
“His prognosis is good,” Xichen promises. “You dreamed?” Wangji dreams so rarely that he might as well never do so at all. Xichen can count on one hand all of the nightmares that Wangji recounted to him in their childhood, and almost all of them happened in the months following their mother’s death.
“Mm,” Wangji says, and, distraught, “Where is he?”
Xichen stands and draws open the curtain dividing their beds. “Ensign Jiang, do you mind?”
Ensign Jiang shakes his head. “If anything, it’ll do him good,” he says, gesturing at his brother. “It would figure if he woke up for Wangji and not for me.”
“Wei Ying,” Wangji repeats, trying to push himself up onto an elbow to get a better look. Xichen gently pushes him back down to the bed. Wangji doesn’t fight him, but he does stare up at Xichen balefully. “How did you find us?”
Xichen swallows. “Wen Chao’s report had so few details that I thought perhaps -- I hoped…” He trails off. “Wangji, do you have any reason to believe he may have abandoned the two of you on purpose?” When he’s spoken to Wangji about his ensign assignment on the Rising Sun, Wangji was hardly enthusiastic, but he never indicated he was in danger.
But now, Wangji nods. “I do not believe they caused the rockfall,” he says, his voice still slightly hoarse. Xichen presses the cup of water into his hands. “But they did not attempt to contact us as per regulation guidelines, and they left rapidly.” He sips his water and adds, “Captain Wen has a particular vendetta against Wei Ying.”
Xichen sinks down to his chair again. “Do you know why?”
Wangji presses his lips together. “Truthfully,” he says, “Wei Ying makes him look less intelligent by comparison. And unlike the rest of the crew, he is unwilling to downplay his own intelligence for the sake of the captain.”
It is not unlike Wangji to speak bluntly, but Xichen has to blink at the open vitriol in his voice. “And you?” he asks.
Wangji avoids his eyes. “Captain Wen has certain preconceptions about the Vulcan people,” he says crisply. “You have encountered the type before, Xiongzhang. He is very -- loud about them.”
Regretfully, Xichen has, but never from a direct superior. The thought of Wangji enduring such treatment makes genuine rage surge in Xichen’s chest. “I will add it to the report,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me, Wangji. If I have anything to say about it, he will be suspended from his position at least.”
In the other bed, Wei Ying groans and brings a hand up to cover his eyes. “Jiejie ah, I’m getting up,” he whines. “Turn off the light.”
“Wei Ying!” Ensign Jiang snaps, and pries his arm back down. “Lie still . You almost died, don’t thrash around and ruin Wen Qing’s stitches.”
“Wei Ying,” Wangji breathes.
“Jiang Cheng?” Wei Ying screws up his face, squinting dumbly up at his brother, and then turns his face to gape at Wangji, then Xichen, then Wangji again. “Ah?” he says. “Lan Zhan, did we live?” It never fails to amuse Xichen to hear him address Wangji by his milk name.
“Mm,” Wangji says, as warmly as Xichen has ever heard him speak.
“Tch, ignore me, that’s fine,” Ensign Jiang says. “Do you know how scared A-Jie was?” He fusses with his brother’s blankets, smoothing them over his chest. “Stop moving. You’re still healing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time I get trapped in an alien cave and left for dead,” Wei Ying says. He scrubs a hand over his face. “I was having such a weird dream. Does it mean anything if you dream about falling to your death? What happened? What day is it?”
Xichen recounts the rescue to him as best he can, while Wangji continues to look over at him, eyes soft. Xichen half thinks that if the beds were any closer, Wangji would be trying to hold his hand. “And currently, we are trying to ensure that Captain Wen faces disciplinary action,” he finishes.
“It wasn’t just him,” Wei Ying says, almost apologetically. “Wang Lingjiao was in on it too. She let Lan Zhan fall, and I would bet that it was on purpose.”
Wangji inclines his head, drinks some more water, and looks back over at Wei Ying. “Wei Ying is right,” he says, almost reluctantly, “Commander Zhao Zhuliu may be no better as a captain. He was not actively cruel, but he went along with Captain Wen at every turn.”
“Wangji,” Xichen says, clasping a careful hand to his shoulder, “allow me to transfer you here.”
Wangji’s gaze returns to his, surprised. “Xiongzhang?”
“Only if you wish to,” Xichen reassures him. It is quite common for family members to be assigned to the same ship upon request. “Your year as an ensign is nearly up, and we could use a xenobiologist on the Nebula. Another engineer too, if your Ensign Wei would like to join. Please do not feel obliged to accept, but I would like to have you here.”
Wangji flushes slightly green at your Ensign Wei . “I would like to,” he says quietly. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, Captain Lan,” Wei Ying echoes earnestly. He glances over at his brother, smiling. “You hear that, Jiang Cheng? Get ready to have me as a roommate again.”
“No way,” Ensign Jiang says immediately. “Nie Huaisang is a mess, but at least he doesn’t snore.” His tone belies the gentleness with which he reaches out and straightens the collar of Wei Ying’s shirt.
Xichen tunes out their bickering in favor of refilling Wangji’s cup of water.
Wangji watches him, although his eyes are already starting to slide shut. “Thank you,” he says. His voice is so low; Xichen still finds himself surprised by it sometimes. He was already offworld at the Academy when Wangji’s voice dropped, and part of him still expects Wangji to be a child. “For coming to find us.”
Xichen swallows. “Always,” he promises, and then for good measure, he presses his fingertips against his brother’s so Wangji will know just how much he means it.