Work Text:
honesty
She can't work it out.
Maybe she shouldn't have gone to his quarters after they said goodbye to Airiam. Maybe that was a mistake. But he held her so tight and let her cry, he comforted her and made her feel... not better, exactly, but significantly less terrible than when she arrived. He was so sweet, so (she doesn't have a better word) loving.
She felt so cared for, so understood. Somehow, she knew he'd get it, knew it was safe to take her pain to him.
It's not as if she expected anything more. He's a friend, or at least friend-adjacent; she's not sure how he feels about it, but to Tilly, he's a friend. He cares about her. She never expected anything else; it's never been more than that between them.
Christopher Pike would never pursue an Ensign, even if he wanted to, and he can't want to. He's... Captain Pike. Obviously she's thought about it, she's only human, but it was just a fantasy, and she's always known that.
But they were friends, weren't they? She didn't imagine that? He sought out her friendship, he always seemed to enjoy her company, to like her, and she thought-
The thing is, he doesn't reprimand her, or suggest she's done anything wrong. He hasn't stopped defending her (although most people have realised by this point that they shouldn't interrupt her in front of Captain Pike unless it's a dire emergency) or smiling approvingly when she speaks up for herself.
If anything, he looks at her with more warmth, more fondness than ever, but it's as if he's a million lightyears away. Like a blazing sun too far away to feel its heat.
She cannot work it out.
Okay, they're busy; since Airiam, shit has hit the fan, it's not like there's time for long afternoons talking and playing games. She gets that, she does. She hoped they'd find some time, any time, to connect, that's all.
(And he seems so sad lately, which she hates. She's not always good at deciphering emotions, but she's looked at his face a lot, she knows what it looks like when he's happy and relaxed, and he's not. If she sees someone she cares about in pain, she can't walk away. It's not who she is. She wants to comfort him like he did for her.)
She just misses him, misses spending time with him; she's not sure whether it's okay for her to take the initiative, but eventually she misses him too much not to do something about it.
The lull after Essof IV is the real first downtime Tilly's had since Airiam died; she takes her courage in both hands and goes to his ready room.
He turns, and looks surprised to see her, but at least not angry or disappointed. After a moment of shock, his face melts into a small, soft smile. "Ensign."
"Hi," she manages.
His smile widens enough to make the dimple in his cheek pop up. "Hi."
Now she's here, she doesn't know where to start. She twists her hands together, and his eyes flick down to the movement, but she doesn't feel the urge to hide her nerves the way she once used to around him. He knows her. He understands. He can cope with unvarnished Tilly. More than that, he seems to like unvarnished Tilly.
(That's why she misses him so much.)
"I- I just wanted to check if you're all right?"
He blinks down at her.
"I, you seem, I don't know. You-" She makes a frustrated noise at herself. "You looked... you looked kind of sad, and I don't like it when you're sad and I- are you okay?"
That expression has reappeared on his face, the one that makes her want to hug him. Is she allowed to hug him? Besides huddling for warmth, which doesn't really count, the only time they've hugged was after Airiam, and that's when things got weird, so maybe she'd better not.
(God, she wants to hug him. If it weren't for the desk between them, she absolutely wouldn't be able to resist.)
"I'm fine, Ensign."
"You don't seem fine," she points out.
"Ensign-"
That's - that's exactly it. He hasn't called her 'Ensign' in ages, not when it's just them. She's Tilly, and she likes it that way. And she still wants to know why he's sad (he's lying to her, he's not fine, she's sure of it), but all the frustration and sadness just boils up in her and she can't smother it any longer.
"Why don't you want to be my friend anymore?"
A whole lot of emotions happen on his face then, and she can't begin to follow, but there it is again, he's sad.
Whatever else is going on, he's so sad, and she hates it.
"I- Tilly." He stops, face pinched. "Ensign."
"I'm sorry," she says, "I didn't mean for it to come out like that." She cringes. If this meant less to her, she'd run away. "I know we've all been busy, and I don't mean to assume, but I-" She gulps. "I miss you."
"Oh, Tilly." He doesn't correct himself this time, and she's glad of it.
"I don't know where I stand; I don't deal very well with uncertainty," she admits. "It seemed as if you enjoyed spending time with me. It seemed as if you liked me."
"Of course I like you," he says warmly, then stops and makes a face as if he just said something he shouldn't have. "I mean to say-" He winces. "Fuck."
She's never heard him swear before. "Captain?"
He stares at the desk for a long moment, then lifts his head and meets her gaze, and he's - he seems so - she doesn't get it.
There are all sorts of reactions she anticipated, but she never expected guilt. Why would he feel guilty? Is it really so bad for him to admit he enjoys her company? Is that so terrible?
"I don't understand," she says; it comes out small and helpless, and she hates that.
His face falls even further, till it lands on something she's tempted to call devastation. "Oh." He studies her expression for a second, then shakes his head and stares to one side, as if he can't quite manage to meet her eye. "Damn."
"I don't understand," she says again.
"I fucked up," he murmurs. "I'm sorry." He chuckles, but there's no humour in it. "Double fucked up."
"What's wrong?"
"I don't suppose I can convince you to leave this alone and pretend it never happened?" he pleads.
She studies him for a minute. He clearly wants her to let it go, and maybe she should, but the look on his face is still so pained.
She doesn't want him to feel that way. She really doesn't want to be the cause of it. "I don't know if I can."
He nods, pressing his mouth into a smile that's kind and sad and somehow... resigned. "Of course you can't," he says, gently and free of recrimination.
"You seem upset. I want to understand. I can't just walk away and pretend everything's all right."
He shakes his head. "Yeah, I figured. That's one of the things I like about you, Tilly. You care so much, even when you shouldn't." He sinks into a chair and rubs at his face. "I do like you," he adds, quiet and matter of fact, then sighs. "That's the problem."
Something about the inflection of it hits her differently this time. As if she's been studying the same data for weeks before she finds the key to analysing it, and it suddenly starts to make sense.
She did adore you, he said of Airiam. Common affliction on this ship.
She thought about that, wondered about it, but dismissed it, because, well. He didn't mean that. He can't possibly have meant that. Even if he meant it, he didn't mean it... like that.
But he's sitting there with that expression on his face, sad and guilty. Devastated. Like he's done something terrible.
Memories keep rearranging themselves in her brain.
The times his gaze has lingered on her mouth a moment too long, or she bit her lip and he mirrored it, but she was sure, so sure she was imagining things, or that it was just the human tendency for mimicry.
Oh, God. The way he got hard with her in his lap, the little noise he made, that she told herself was just a generic response to an almost naked woman, and she at least hadn't completely bored him to death with her rambling.
(Was that... did he really, honestly get turned on by her talking science? Could he please stop being the perfect fucking man? She wants to hear that noise again. She wants to make him make that noise on purpose.)
She knew, she knew when he had her explaining the mycelial network that it had to be an excuse to spend time with her. And kadis-kot! That was transparent. But...
"I thought you wanted to be my friend."
He winces. "I did! I did, I do. God, Tilly, I want that so much. You're a delight, if I could- none of this is on you. None of it." He laughs like it hurts him, looks up for a moment and catches her eye as he adds, "I've been so lucky to have your friendship. I have treasured every single moment. I never wanted to jeopardise it."
"Oh." She has a horrible feeling she might be about to burst into tears, and she's almost grateful when he turns away again.
"I thought I could be your friend and just ignore the rest. Ignore what I felt. I wanted- I really wanted that. But my admiration for you has become-" He shakes his head. "It was never supposed to be your problem," he says, hushed, a little broken. "I never intended for you to find out. I'm so very sorry." He sighs. "I've been a fool."
Something is aching behind her sternum, hollow, like a black hole, as if her chest could cave in at any second. This can't be it. This can't ruin everything. It's not fair. "What if I want it to be my problem?"
He presses his lips together and swallows hard. "It can't be," he says quietly, achingly, "you know that." He's still not looking at her. "Ensign-" He shakes his head again.
He doesn't need to say more than that, though. Of course it can't be. Of course they can't have anything more.
She's an ensign. He's her captain. Even if Starfleet allowed for this, Captain Christopher Pike? Would not. No matter how he feels or how she feels. It's one of the things she's always liked so much about him, that sense of honour, and she still does, even as she hates it a little.
(She wants to hate him a little, but she doesn't. Can't. Can't hate him for the things she loves about him. The things she's maybe in love with, no matter how much she's tried to tell herself otherwise.)
She can't make this more difficult for him. Not now, with everything that's going on. Her heart cracking in two is nothing when they're trying to save all sentient life.
(It's not fair.)
All she can do is her best. Be the person she wants most to be, live up to the ideals she's committed to.
She reaches across the desk and takes his hand. He glances up. She squeezes; he hesitates for a second before squeezing back, and it's a perfect, painful moment of complete understanding. He rubs his thumb over her knuckles, so soft and gentle, and she can hardly breathe for wanting.
She won't push and he won't pull, and she can't see how things will ever go back to normal between them, but at least he knows she cares.
(At least she knows he cares.)
Suddenly, it's too much. She lets go and strides away before she crumbles.
"Tilly," he says, as she reaches the turbo-lift.
She doesn't want to look back, but she can't help herself. Can't refuse the plea in his voice. Orpheus has to turn to see Eurydice one last time. That's how the story goes.
His expression hurts. "I'm sorry," he says once more, voice cracking. "The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you, Tilly."
She tries to smile, but her face isn't listening. Oh, this sucks. Why did she push? She needed to know, it's who she is, she can't help it, but-
She can't say it's okay, she's okay; she's not. She can't bring herself to lie, and he'd know, she's certain of it. And he's not okay, either. It's all so fucking unfair.
She closes her eyes and nods. "I know," she whispers. "Me too."
Then she makes herself leave.
~ fin ~