Ella's Oneshots

[Ella]

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery
Summary: Captain Lorca and Lieutenant Tyler have a conversation. Post-1x05 oneshot.
Words: 938

We (Don't) Choose Our Pain

Gabriel Lorca placed both of his palms against the cold metal ridge of the window as his eyes rested on the stars, the universe spread out in front of him. It took less than two minutes before the pain became too unbearable, and he had to blink, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing at the temple of his nose. The Klingon captain had spoken of a universe filled with light, and she hadn’t been wrong. Even the stars were now to bright to his damaged irises.
He hadn’t been cleared for active command yet, and he wondered how long Cornwell wanted to hold him up. She called herself his friend, but if she knew him even a little, she would know that it felt as if she was pestering him. As if she didn’t fully trust him to be in command in the first place. She wouldn’t have been the first to doubt. After what happened on the Buran, many Starfleet commanders had looked for him to step down. But he wasn’t about to stop fighting the bastards that made him kill his crew in the first place, and who would murder so many others in their wake. He had had enough support back then, even when the wound was still fresh, perhaps because they had seen what he could do. What lengths he was willing to go to. And she had been on his side then. He smiled. Perhaps she had even pitied him a little.
It felt strange, walking through his ship without having the slightest thing to do. Recover, was the magic word. He didn’t need more time. He had lost so much of it already. Lieutenant Saru had proven to be capable in a time of crisis, and he trusted the Kelpien’s judgement, but it was his fucking ship. He wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t an invalid. If anything, he longed for the normalcy of the control buttons under his fingers, of pacing on the bridge. The abduction only brought him more determination.
A flash of light made him grown and he almost staggered. He was fine. He was fine.
“Sorry, sir.” Lieutenant Ash Tyler had appeared in the doorway, looking better than he had the day before.
Lorca waved his apology away, quickly regaining his composure. “I hope you are settling in well enough, Lieutenant?” he asked, smiling at the man who was standing in front of him, slightly uncomfortable at having startled the Captain.
Tyler nodded. “Snug as a bug in a rug, sir.”
“That’s good to hear. Have you been to see Culber?”
“I have. Nothing that’ll last.” A pained smile, and a raised eyebrow. “Have you?”
Lorca didn’t answer. He hadn’t. Not that he thought Culber would lose a night’s sleep over that. The man always said that the only patient more difficult than the captain was the doctor’s husband, and still he was a strong competitor. “Don’t you get on my back as well. I’m not having the operation.”
The younger man stepped closer, hesitating. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”
The Captain snorted. “I’m not even on active command. And even if I were, you could say whatever the hell you like, Lieutenant. I’m not afraid of other people’s opinions, as long as I’m allowed to disagree.”
“It’s been months, sir,” Tyler started. “That battle is over, but the war isn’t. Wouldn’t you be able to fight it better if you had your full eyesight?”
“Are you calling me an incapable Captain, Lieutenant Tyler?” Lorca asked. His voice was sharper than he had meant it to be. He had heard this particular phrase from Cornwell too many times.
“I’ve seen what you can do, Captain Lorca. And I trust you.” Tyler locked eyes with the other man. “I just wish you would stop punishing yourself.”
Lorca sighed. The man could become the Admiral’s apprentice. He rubbed his temples and looked out of the window for a minute, as if the answers could be found in the stars.
“It’s what [i]they[/i] made us do, choosing our pain. What they made me do, for [i]seven months[/i]. We don’t have to choose any pain if we can avoid it.”
How could Lorca explain to the lad that he couldn’t avoid it? He had done what he had done, and now he got to live with it. He stood by his decision, and he didn’t regret it – his crew would never have made it out alive if they have been captured by the enemy, and he [i]knew [/i]that he had spared them the months of misery that the young Lieutenant had to go through. And yet, in the end he was the one who pushed the button, and he could not forget that. If he forgot that, it was the first step to forgetting his crew. Forgetting his purpose. And that was the one thing he couldn’t do.
“We’re not like them, are we?” There was a desperation to Tyler’s voice that made Lorca wonder what exactly the man had gone through during the past months. He hadn’t asked, not in detail. He had assumed, and it was only now that he realised that perhaps he shouldn’t have. He hoped Culber would have picked up his slack.
“No,” Lorca said. But am I, when I slaughtered my own exactly as they do? When I lust for their blood?[i] [/i]“We aren’t.”
Lieutenant Tyler placed his hand on the Captain’s shoulder briefly, an unfamiliar sensation. “Go see Culber. He can help.”
Lorca smiled grimly, and turned himself towards the window again, facing the stars that were part of him. “Perhaps when the war is over.”