Chapter Text
Burnham saunters back to her station in defeat. She tries to school her features, as different thoughts and emotions run through her. Michael definitely feels divided. On one hand she is elated that she doesn't have to hide the Emperor anymore. The presence of her former Captain gives her a strange sense of strength, even if it is a lie. And yes, she dreads the conversation Tilly will initiate when they'll find themselves alone. On the other hand, she cannot help but be suspicious of the plans of the Emperor after seeing a slight smirk on her face. It also unnerves her, how she just behaves with the crew. How is it possible that Starfleet trusts her to this amount? How could they give the Fleet's most advanced ship to someone who kills people without a blink and remorse? What could she want, and more importantly what she has to offer that they didn't even considered telling her that the Emperor will stay in disguise?
"Specialist Burnham, follow me to the ready room, I wish to discuss a part of your plan regarding our mission." the voice of the Captain - no, the Emperor's - breaks her musings.
"Yes. Captain." Answers Burnham hesitantly while giving Saru a questioning eyebrow. He can only give her a glance of uneasiness before the Emperor’s gaze snaps up to him in warning.
"Number one, you have the bridge." clips Georgiou to which Saru can only nod in acknowledgement.
As soon as both the former Emperor and Michael enter the ready room, the Emperor announces "Computer, privacy!" the door closes, the glass dims. Burnham stands ramrod straight, hands behind her back, trying to be prepared for anything. The Emperor saunters to her desk and leans against it hands on the desk.
"I believe you have questions Michael" leers Georgiou "but I'm afraid I cannot answer all of them."
"Why did you ask me here then?"
"I need your help to convince the crew of my identity, the Admiral wishes to keep up the appearance. There are some mannerisms that are quick to catch on and can be quick to fail under certain circumstances. Therefore, I need your input on how your Captain behaved usually. Admiral Cornwell assured me that you'll help without any hinderance."
Had she been without Vulcan guidance in her youth, a growl would have surely left Burnham’s mouth, but displeasure was still showing on her face, earning an amused smirk from the Emperor.
"She did not ask or order anything like that." says defiantly Burnham.
"Would you like me to call her here and tell her that you are threatening to expose me?"
"No."
"Good. I don't have many questions. Let's start, shall we?"
"Can I get some answers in return?" It cannot hurt to try, thinks Michael, she already knows I'm suspicious of her. It is infuriating how this woman can get under her skin under so little time. It is as if she knew her at least as well as her Philippa, with the added danger of being stabbed in the back. No. That's not true. She couldn't kill her. As much as the Emperor puts on an emotionless response, she knows - or at least dares to hope - that she is as disturbed by her late daughter’s presence as she is by her late Captain’s.
"After I'm finished, you can ask one question to which I will answer truthfully."
Michael looks at her, deep in her thought, one question. Does she wanted to know what she is up to? Hell yeah. Would she answer with a concrete answer? Hell no. Maybe she can opt for a more personal question? Or even coax out another answer if she asks way more than one?
Michael relaxes her stance a bit, braces for the questions and nods.
"What do you want to know?"
"How did Georgiou address her crew, you and the Kelpien?"
"She referred everyone by their rank and last name. Sometimes she called Saru" - emphasising his name - ", Mr. Saru. With me she was more familiar, it was not uncommon for her to call me Michael even when we were on the bridge on duty."
"Was she mingling in her downtime with the crew?"
"No."
"I don't believe that she secluded herself."
"No, she didn't, but I wouldn't call it mingling. She toured the ship, asked questions here and there, making small talk with the crew on duty, understanding the crew's needs instinctively, but never really sat down with any of them. I know she had been through a lot in her life, saw a lot of battles and lost people serving under and beside her. I understood both the need to be visible for them and the need not to get too attached to them."
"But you were an exception. Surely the two of you spent some time together outside the bridge." wondered the Emperor.
"After I became her first officer, the two of us had occasional breakfast together and at least a few times in a week dinner, but not with the crew present."
"I see." said Georgiou, slightly turning away from Burnham, with a pensive look on her face.
"How is it then, that you look at me like you look at your adoptive father?"
Michael swallowed. All this time she tried to keep it professional with the Emperor, showing a brave face, but this question threw her off. She began to mull over the answer while casting her eyes down. Somehow her boots seemed to be more helping. She remembered exhilarating arguments, command decisions, quiet conversations on life, humanity and all there is in the universe, the eyes that softened when she came up with an unexpected solution, and the deep gut wrenching pain she felt when she lost her.
"Well?" turning back, asked impatiently the Emperor, causing Michael to fall out of her reverie.
"I ..." thoughts were running wild in Burnham’s head.
"It took time. Time spent knowing each other. She was always nurturing, always looked for ways to broaden my horizons, to challenge my preconceptions." Her vision suddenly became obscured by unshed tears. "From the first moment her presence compelled me to respect her, and I admired her spirit. With time, I began to trust her implicitly, something that up until that time only my adoptive parents earned."
The Emperor stood wary, looking at Michael intently, her heart clenching with a familiar ache. She was also orphaned just as her daughter. When Michael tried to get rid of her tears, she turned away again hiding the pain and compassion from her, and herself.
"I understand, but that doesn't explain her attitude towards you." said Georgiou quietly.
Michael straightened herself out, then began.
"I wanted to visit you later today to show this." She dug into her pocket and presented a small object.
"What is this?"
"Her last will to me. Maybe it will give an answer to this question. I wanted you to understand why I was so desperate to decide to bring you here." looking into her hand she took a deep breath and extended the small holographic projector towards the Emperor. Pursing her lips together thinking, "I just ... ", but then she changed her mind, shaking her head "... never mind." looking up to the Emperor eyes steeling herself for a similar berate she got earlier on her weakness.
Georgiou slowly took the device from her, fumbling it in her hands. Then, against her better judgment she decides to give in. Putting the device on the table, she touches the button. As the familiar yet unknown face appears, she steps back. She listens intently to every word. When the late Captain addresses finally Michael - "Know that I'm as proud of you as if you were my own daughter", she smiles faintly. After the recording has finished she turns to Michael standing close to her, who seemed to be engrossed in the words of her former Captain, mentor, surrogate mother.
"I am sorry. But at least in the end you know she loved you." taking a deep breath "I cannot say the same thing about my daughter."
Michael watches her face, only a foot away from her, now that it was unguarded, sadness shadowing her features. In the next instant she saw the walls coming up again, the Emperor masking up the human side of her.
"From what I've seen now, and what I've read from her personal logs ..." begins the Emperor slightly changing the topic.
"You've read what?" cried out Burnham. "How do you have access to her personal logs? Those are only available to the family..."
"your captain was not a person to hold a grudge - I believe she forgave you the moment she sent you to the brig if it gives you any consolation." continued the Emperor as if nothing had happened. "I think showing any animosity toward you would be uncharacteristic of her. Do you agree?"
Michael stared at the Emperor incredulously, noses flaring, then took a deep breath. Exhale and inhale, said Michael to herself. Still she couldn't stop her raging heart, so she steps away from Georgiou and begin to pace in the office. "How could you say like it is a fictional role to play, as if it is a tale to be told? Who gave you access to her files?"
The Emperor huffs and gets a hold of Michael's arm stopping her pace. "The Admiral, of course. If I am to play convincingly a deceased captain, how else would I know her?"
"And she gave you those files?"
A smile formed on the Emperors face, "I demanded for access. It was an interesting experience. There are even a lot of similarities between our histories."
Michael furrows her brows, still not able to think clearly.
"So, what is your answer?"
Burnham stares at her as if she'd grown another head. She just registers that the Emperor's hand is still holding onto her arm.
"Animosity, yes or no?" changing her tone from guarded to playful.
"Yes, I mean, no" babbled Michael. "She never held a grudge." then she steps out of the hold if Georgiou.
"All right. I think, for the moment, that's all what I need now. We need to get back." stated Georgiou and started towards the door.
"Wait!"
"What?" snapping at Michael.
"I still have my question to ask." challenges Michael. The Emperor squints her eyes, tilts her head slightly, looking at her with a semblance of malice, which would have made another person quiver.
"What do you think about when you look at me? Because I think your outburst earlier about my weakness towards my Philippa was as much for yourself as for me."
The Emperor jaw clenches, and begins to saunter back to Michael, her gaze never faltering. Oh, if looks could kill, she would be dead by now.
"Every time I see you, I hear your voice, I have to say a mantra that YOU are not my daughter." says the Emperor angrily through closed teeth.
"Why can't you see this as a second chance?" blurts out Michael.
"What second chance? You're not the Michael that I held when nightmares disturbed her, not the Michael I read bedtime stories for, not the Michael who battled victoriously by my side, nor the Michael who called me mother in the last 20 years." lashes out the Emperor. "You bear her face, and against all odds you are so not unlike her. You have the same stance, defiance, same exploring and ever curious spirit, same passionate heart, you even look at me the same way." she stops, tries to calm down, shaking her head "But no, you are not her." Michael hears her tearful whisper.
"As you are not my Philippa. Yet, your presence makes me stronger. Despite all that has happened, even after seeing all those things you are capable of doing, you still reach me." admits Michael in response, tears welling up again in her eyes.
The Emperor looks at Michael. She is trying to determine how much of this conversation is calculated, if she is only trying to stab her in the back. But she can only find honesty in her not daughters' eyes. She slowly lifts her right hand to Michael's face, touching it as she had done in the throne room, stroking it gently. Michael cannot help herself and leans into her hand. She knows it's irrational, that this person is not her Philippa, but it feels like the weight crushing her chest for almost a year had been lifted, leaving only a dull ache behind. She didn't not allow herself this luxury before, not knowing where the Terran Burnham stood with the Emperor. Now, she submerges herself in this lie. It doesn't help that their bond is so strong, that this mother-daughter relationship carries over between universes, and she lets a few teardrops to escape.
"What do you want?" comes a defeated question from Georgiou. She feels herself emotionally drained, which she only felt after learning about the death of her daughter. Seeing her daughter’s face again, then learning her true identity, losing her reign, killing Lorca, pulled into another universe without her consent, a universe where humans were on a brink of annihilation was a shuttle travel through an ion storm without inertial dampeners.
"Truce." whispers Michael. "To have ourselves a peace of mind. To not let it end like it ended before."
Stepping away from Burnham "I'm not her." states Georgiou.
"I know."
"Then why are you pursuing this nonsense?"
"Because this conversation is not becoming of a Terran Emperor. You seem comfortable here, with me."
At this the Emperor frowns, knowing this weakness of hers must be tampered down if she wants to succeed later on.
"Enough. We go back, now."
"Don't doubt her love for you." Michael blurts out before Georgiou could open the door.
"How can you say that? You don't know her!" growled the Emperor turning back again to Michael.
"You said yourself, we are, were, so much alike. If you had been at least half the mother my captain was to me, she surely loved you and never wanted to hurt you."
"She attempted a coup with Lorca!" almost shouted the Emperor.
"She assisted the coup of Lorca." grounded Burnham. "I think she did it to save you. She must have known that Lorca had plans to kill you anyway, whether she helped him or not, so she decided to play along. She either pleaded for your life before or thought that he would spare your life had she asked and surely even had a backup plan if all these were to fail."
"What makes you think that?"
"I've turned against my Philippa because I believed that saving her is more important than the Starfleet's principles. Principles that I've lived by up until that moment. It was even against my Vulcan upbringing that I religiously try to maintain even today. I also knew it would disappoint my father whose approval I've always sought and never got until recently. And yet when it was about her survival, nothing mattered."
The Emperor shuts her eyes, exhaling slowly, willing every emotion to disappear. So far, every new information on this universe’s Michael showed that the two of them were more identical than twins. Both were extremely smart, intelligent, always wanting to prove themselves in the worst possible scenarios and succeeding, they were also too headstrong, and behind their schooled expressions a loving heart resided. Perhaps she is right, she could make peace with her heart, bury her daughter once and for all and treat this Burnham as a stranger. That's the only way, if she wants her plans to come to fruition.
"All right." comes a soft answer.
"Thank you." says Burnham.
"What will you win from this charade?" asks unexpectedly Michael.
"Freedom" comes a fast and direct answer.
"Then what?"
"I've already answered more than one question. You are too curious for your own good." sneers the Emperor and finally leaves the room. Well, at least she confirmed that she has an ulterior motive. Damn. Surak, help us.
As Burnham heads back to her station on the bridge, she glances over to Saru, who looks back at her. All you all right? Comes the wordless question. Her "I'm okay" expression calms the Kelpien down. Stay alert, and Burnham purposefully indicates toward the Emperor, now residing in the captain’s chair.
Surak said that there is Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. Well, right now, it seems farfetched. There must be some universal constants to result in this scenario, to be practically adopted by the same person in two fundamentally different universes, to have this unbreakable bond. Maybe they are to have this bond, to overcome whatever the universe is throwing at them. Or someone has a bad sense of humour.
But right now, the Emperor looks pensive, calculating, and Michael cannot even comprehend what goes in her mind. Not that she wants to know it exactly, but she will be paying attention to every little detail from now on to prevent whatever malicious scheme she is concocting. And she hopes that it will be enough, hopes that it will not result in a second, more deadly mutiny, because she doesn't think she can walk away from it unscathed and sane. Hopes that this unlikely bond between them will be enough to stop a war and start anew, in peace.