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“Helm, get us out of here.” Pike took his seat as Discovery snapped into warp. Michael braced her feet against the deck of the bridge, against a sinking wave of fatigued relief, and felt Spock next to her doing the same.
“Spock,” said Pike from behind them, and his voice was soft but it carried a captain’s order. “I want Dr. Pollard to look you over in sickbay, and then I want you off your feet and resting. Same goes for you, Michael. Briefing in two hours, and you’re both relieved until then.” The siblings shared a brief glance, but said nothing, clearly reluctant to leave the bridge.
Pike sighed. This, he realized, is why Ambassador Sarek had such deep lines in his face for such a relatively young Vulcan.
Before he could repeat his order, Saru spoke up. “Lieutenant Spock, I have some business in sickbay myself. I would be happy to accompany you, and perhaps compare notes on our respective encounters with the Red Angel?” Pike could tell from Spock’s raised eyebrow that Saru had hit his mark.
“Very well,” said the young half-Vulcan, joining the Kelpian in the turbolift.
Michael gave Pike a pleading look, but Pike was unmoved. “I need my officers at their best, Burnham.”
“Sir, I’m fine.”
But the captain’s voice lowered even more, and he leaned towards her a little. “You’re really gonna make me do this? All right.” He straightened up. “Ensign Tilly!” The younger officer snapped to attention. “Please escort Commander Burnham to her quarters and ensure she gets at least 90 minutes of uninterrupted rest. That,” he said, making eye contact with both women in turn, “is an order.”
“Oh!” said Tilly. “Of course, sir! Yes, sir!” And to her credit, she only paused to look at Michael for a microsecond before preceding her to the turbolift.
* * *
“I’m not sure what I should do now,” said Tilly once they were inside their cabin. “I don’t think the captain actually expects me to make you take a nap.”
Michael, sitting down on her bunk, sighed as she unbuckled her boots. It sounded like it could have been a laugh if it had a little more energy behind it. “Tilly. I really am fine. I promise I’ll rest. You can go back to the bridge.”
“Nope! The captain ordered me to make sure you got at least 90 minutes of rest. Uninterrupted rest. So I have to stay here and make sure there are no… interruptions, I guess.” She bounced from foot to foot a little. “And to get you anything! If you need anything.”
Michael took off her tunic and placed it in the laundry receptacle, then stretched out on her bed in her undershirt and tights, too tired to undress any further. Tilly thought about sitting down at her desk with a PADD, or something besides standing in the doorway watching Michael try to sleep, but before she could move, she heard Michael’s voice.
“Tilly?”
“Yes, Michael?”
“Can I… ask a favour?”
“Anything! Especially if it helps you rest.”
“Can you… come here?”
Tilly froze. “H-here?”
Michael sighed again. “The bed. Can you…? Just for…?”
“Oh gosh, of course, Michael. Let me just—here—okay.” Tilly kicked off her own boots and tossed her uniform jacket over a chair, then crawled into the narrow bed behind Michael, wrapping her arms around the smaller woman. “Like this? Is this okay?”
But she didn’t really need to ask. Michael was already melting into her, slotting like a spoon into Tilly, who didn’t need touch telepathy to feel the tension running through her friend. She snuggled the other woman even closer and murmured in her ear, “Hey. I’m here. I’ve got you, okay?”
Michael’s hands were folded over her chest; she interlocked them with Tilly’s, all four hands over the rapid beating of her heart. She could feel a painful lump in her throat struggling to burst forth, and took a long ragged breath that somehow only made it worse.
“Spock,” she said, in the tiniest voice Tilly had ever heard. “He hates me. He hates me and I deserve it. I’ll never—I can never—”
“Oh, no. Okay. Come here, you. Come here,” Tilly cooed softly as she turned the science officer around in her arms. Michael buried her face in Tilly’s shoulder and began to sob. “There you go, I’ve got you. I’m right here.”
* * *
A little while later, Michael woke up and tried to get her bearings. She was on the wrong side of her own single bed somehow, and something—someone—who felt and smelled exactly like Tilly—was…
…oh. Right.
Tilly’s arms squeezed her in a gentle hug. “You waking up, sleepyhead?”
“Mmmmm. Did I oversleep?”
“Nope! Briefing’s in 20. How do you feel?”
Michael answered by squeezing Tilly back. “Thank you for… that.”
“Oh, for—Michael, listen to me. You are always there for me. Always. I am more than happy to return the favour. Any time you need a cuddle and a cry, I’m right here.”
Michael lay her head back down on Tilly’s chest and listened to the other woman’s heartbeat. After a minute, she said, “I’m not good at accepting help. But that doesn’t mean I don’t need it. Thanks for not giving up on me.”
“Never. Never ever, Michael. Not in a thousand years.”