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Robby frowned and looked at Jack. "Is it me or are you now off Monday through Thursday?"
"Yeah, I figure we can drive out Tuesday morning and come back in time for my shift Friday night."
Robby's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Did someone invite you to the cabin I rented?" Jack tilted his head and just looked at Robby, silent and expectant. After a long moment, Robby huffed a resigned laugh, like he wondered why he even bothered protesting. "Jack, would you like to come hiking with me?"
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When Robby ambled in a little early for his shift, central was a hive of activity, Walsh calling back to Jack as she accompanied a gurney out of Trauma 2: "Learn from the master, soldier boy."
"When you find one, be sure to let me know, princess," he shot right back, but the note of fondness in his tone made Robby freeze. That wasn't their usual back-and-forth. That held warmth to it. An undercurrent of knowing. A joke shared between two people who'd seen each other naked. More than once.
Robby clocked Jack watching Walsh go—what the fuck—and then he went back into Trauma 2, debriefing with the team. It was the tiniest moment, nothing—
And yet Robby's whole understanding had just realigned. Jack and Walsh. What the fuck.
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After Jack and Robby finally got serious, it came as a surprise.
When a patient's sister returned in the morning—bearing donuts and a smile that was half-chagrined, half-determined, her thank you note including a phone number—Jack was flattered. He was still charting, long past when he should have gone home, but he was glad he stayed. Not because of the phone number, though that was always a nice ego boost. But because of Robby. The way Robby's eyes went flinty when he realized why the woman was there. His smile tight. Shoulders tense. On the surface, perfectly polite. In reality, a storm.
Jack never expected Robby to be possessive.
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When his phone rang loud in the stillness, waking Jack from the sleep of the dead he'd perfected in war zones half a world away, he sat straight up in bed and knew: something was wrong.
His phone announced it was Dana—and it was 0721—which shot a little thrum of worry through him as he answered. "What happened?" he asked, no preamble. She wouldn't wake him if shit hadn't gone sideways.
"Robby hasn't come in yet and he's not answering his phone," she said, voice grim. "He's never missed a shift without calling." She spoke quietly, probably standing in the middle of the ED, trying to keep up a brave face for everyone else. As much as she could, anyway. People tended to notice when the fucking chief attending didn't show up to work.
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Collins shot him a cool look. "My attending told me to either erase my measurements and use yours or to make sure any new measurements came in under 11 weeks."
Shit. Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose. "This is why I did the fucking measurements myself," he muttered. Because if they had just used his numbers, there would be no problem; he'd documented everything that needed to be documented and if anyone made an issue of it, then it'd fall on him. No one else.
"So sorry for being thorough," Collins said, pointed.
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Jack had just stepped back onto the main floor when he clocked movement at the ambulance entrance, two guys hurrying in, the smaller one helping a guy with a sweatshirt covered in blood. But something was wrong, some unnamable instinct rising within Jack at the way they moved. It was too fluid, too controlled. Jack knew what the walking wounded looked like, had seen it for years, from war zones to bar fights. This wasn't the injured seeking help; this was men hunting.
Time slowed, Jack's heart rate spiking, the adrenaline dump casting everything in sharp relief—the full ED floor, patients plus shift change meaning twice the usual personnel were here.
Robby was here.
That thought got him moving, Jack approaching laterally. He got there right as the guns came out.
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"I want to be alone, Jack," Robby said, short and sharp and pissy.
Fucking great. Apparently in the 45 minutes since Jack had last seen him, Robby had gone from devastation to anger. This would be fun.
"It's nice to want things," he drawled, deliberately light. "I wanted to walk out of Iraq on my own two feet, but hey. No plan survives contact with the enemy and all that."
Robby turned then, looking at him over the top of the couch, face drawn, eyes dark in the low lights. "Yeah? You my enemy?"
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Dana was already explaining: "Mohan was asking if this guy's single," she said, hooking a thumb Jack's way.
Robby lit up like he'd just gotten a gift, turning bemused eyes his way. "Oh, was she," he drawled, enjoying this.
Dana made an indulgent noise. "Apparently she's very taken with our dear Dr. Abbot and wondered if the feeling is mutual." They both looked to Jack then, Dana long-suffering, Robby delighted.
Fuck Jack's life, honestly.
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Kate looked again and blinked. Buffer had just walked in, tall and tan and exactly as she remembered him, dressed in a dark purple collared shirt and jeans, his night-out look. She hadn't seen him since he posted off for the Kingston, almost a year ago. And he walked into this bar, here, now?
What were the odds of that?
or
One man leaves Kate's life; another returns.
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A Fine Distinction by Alethia
Fandoms: Star Trek: Strange New Worlds (TV), Star Trek: Discovery
09 Aug 2023
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Tilly gestured to the picture, like it was obvious. "Look at how he's looking at you."
Michael took it in again, but no, the image hadn't changed. It was still Chris being Chris. "That's how he looks," she said slowly, lost.
Tilly blinked. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Then took a breath. "Are you telling me he looks at you like that all the time?"
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A Higher Duty by Alethia
Fandoms: Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: Strange New Worlds (TV)
05 Jun 2022
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Michael swallowed as Chris emerged from the bathroom, clad in nothing but a white towel, his skin still a little shiny from the shower, hair damp but combed into place. He absently headed for the closet, nothing special about it, just a man in the midst of his morning routine.
And she was riveted.
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"Shot in the dark," he said, something dry in his voice. "Specialist Wells figured out my training schedule and has been spreading it around the lower decks."
Michael startled. "Sir?"
The corners of Pike's lips quirked. "There's been a rotating parade of the lower enlisted who have been wandering through during my weightlifting sessions. I figured I could tap some of that Vulcan honesty to verify my theory."
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Chris appreciated it, but still. "Well, now Kat's decided she needs to hear from the entirety of the Discovery, too. What'd she ask you?"
Number One eyed him steadily. "She wanted an assessment of your command. Asked if there was anything she should know. It seemed like a generic check-in. Naturally, I told her about your drunken bouts of ennui and that you need to get laid. She was not surprised."
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As the Discovery flew toward its rendezvous with the Enterprise, Michael headed to Pike's ready room. He had acted with such certainty, agreeing that they needed to destroy the ship, but underneath it there was a hollowness to him. It made Michael wonder what had happened on Boreth. Everyone knew they had a time crystal. No one knew any more than that.
Michael wanted to.
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"All right, everyone, Teach Michael How to Human is back in session." She turned to Michael. "New Year's Eve parties are an Earth tradition to celebrate the dawn of the new year. Lots of champagne and fireworks and celebrating with friends. One tradition is planting a big ol' kiss on someone at the stroke of midnight."
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Chris found it a little odd that as soon as Michael stepped into his quarters, she unzipped her jacket and stripped it off. It was only when she started lifting her undershirt that he protested, a startled, "Whoa, hey," that snapped her head around, confused eyes meeting his.
Michael frowned at him, puzzled. "You asked me here for a drink. Is that not human colloquial shorthand for inviting someone to bed?"
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It wasn't often Chris got propositioned for a threesome mid-breakfast, but the Discovery was turning out to be special like that.
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The ambassador turned his gaze to Pike. "Captain, I wondered if Commander Burnham might join me in my bedchamber tonight."
Something in Michael pulsed as Pike blinked at Tenaii in surprise, taking a beat to formulate a response. "How the hell did I get involved in this?"
"As her superior, you, of course, have final say."
Pike stared at him for a blank moment. Then he shook himself. "Right. That may be true in your culture, but here personal liaisons are nobody else's business. Wanna field this one, Burnham?" he asked, turning to look at Michael, straight-faced, but his eyes sparkled.
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"Yeah, you should hit that," Tilly agreed.
Michael stared at her. "And how would you like me to go about doing that?" she asked, faint. Mystified. He was the captain. He was her commanding officer. Even if she wanted to open herself up to...something, it was wildly inappropriate.
"Oh, is this a process question? Because I can totally be your wing-woman. Seriously, give me the green light and I'll—"
"Absolutely not."
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"Ship approaching, Captain," Detmer said, scanning her station. Michael looked back to her, catching how her expression flickered, suddenly going knowing. "It's the Enterprise." Detmer smirked at Michael like that meant something.
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Terran Pike comes to visit the newly-resurrected Captain Burnham on the Shenzhou.
Series
- Part 1 of Respite