Ella's Oneshots

[Ella]

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery
Summary: Lorca finds out that though all's fair in love and war, nothing is ever easy. One-shot inspired by 1x05.
Words: 703

All's Fair in Love and War

He hardly remembered what had happened since the explosion. It felt as if his eyes were burning into his skull, slowly perforating his brain until there was nothing left of him but smoke and ashes. There was only burning and fire, and the image of his dying crew etched into his memories. He swore he could still hear the screams, even though they had been way too far off for him to hear. They were there nevertheless, haunting him with every troubled step he took.
“Take it easy, sir.”
Lorca wasn’t able to identify the voice, but a weight fell off him. Another ship must have picked him up, and the escape pod hadn’t been captured by the enemy. He felt how they tilted his body, placing him on some cold metal surface. What were they doing to him? When he made the decision to push that button, he had considered the possibility that he would end up in some cold, bleak prison cell. He wondered if that was where he would spend the rest of his days. He couldn’t see, but perhaps it was better like that. Perhaps it was better to remember. Someone was still screaming.
There was a sting, and suddenly the pain lessened. The burning was gone now, and he needed to inform the other captains of what had happened. The ambush, his actions on the battlefield. He was sure he would face the consequences for his actions, but surely he would be given the chance to explain himself. All’s fair in love and war. Even Cornwell had once spoken those wretched words. It was something else when it wasn’t just words, but actions. There would have been so much suffering, so much pain.
He tried to move up, and he thought he could open his eyes now. He was wrong. A bright light was focused on his face, and he saw nothing but fire.
“Off,” he said, his voice cracking under the strain. He hated how incredibly weak he sounded. He was a Starfleet officer, and he hated being out of control.
“You’re safe here.”
The voice didn’t understand. As long as the war was going on, [i]nowhere [/i]was safe. And as long as he was here, there was nothing he could do to stop it if he didn’t act. The fire in his eyes would serve as a reminder.
Let me go, he wanted to say. There’s so much I have to do, you wouldn’t understand.
“You’re in the med bay of the U.S.S. Caitlain, sir. We’ll fix you up.”
Cornwell’s ship. Doctors.
He didn’t want any doctors touching his eyes.
“No,” was all that came out.
The voice was talking, but he stopped listening. Instead he drowned in a sea of fire, going under against the current and losing breath with every passing second. He didn’t mind the pain anymore. He had done what he had done, and he was the one who had to deal with the consequences. That was nobody else’s business except his own. His eyes, his memories, his crew. His [i]war[/i].
There were hands on his body, leaving tingling sensations on his skin. He tried to swat them away, but he found that he didn’t have the strength. He felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness, the waves taking over. He was sinking to the bottom, and there was no rope as the pain grew heavier. No hand. A sudden panic seized him, and with all his might he pushed the voice away from him. He wanted to drown, but he didn’t want to die.
“Relax, sir,” the voice said, and Lorca was pushed down again, needles in his skin until the fire was nothing more than a smouldering red, and he felt completely numb. “Go to sleep.”  
Lorca wanted to protest, to scream, but he couldn’t find the words, couldn’t find his voice. His fingers wouldn’t move, and his legs lay useless on the metal slab. Even the fire wasn’t there to guide him, only his scattered mind, moving in circles and circles, willing the unknown voice to pull him back from the deep, to understand.
“Go to sleep, sir. You need rest.”
But there is no time.

[Ella]

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery
Summary: Lorca wakes up on the U.S.S. Caitlain after what with the U.S.S. Buran, and has a discussion about his future with Admiral Cornwell.
Words: 1061

Daniel Comes to Judgement

The pain in his head wasn’t searing anymore when he woke up. He must have slept, however much he had willed himself to stay awake. Even Lorca knew that the human body had its limitations.
He didn’t dare to open his eyes.
It wasn’t the pain. His eyes felt numb compared to the stabbing in his brain, and he knew they must have drugged him up pretty bad. He was afraid of what he would see. To find himself back on the his ship, to find himself staring into the eyes of his dead lieutenants, however impossible that was. He knew where he was, and yet he wasn’t completely able to believe it.
It was because of this awareness that he was simultaneously afraid to find out what they had done. He knew it was irrational – they weren’t even allowed to do anything major without his explicit permission – but he was afraid of what they had done while he was asleep. What if he had woken up with a set of completely new eyes?
A hand touching his, fleetingly. Not a doctor then. He tried to find his voice, but he was still drowsy. How long had he been out?
“Three days.”
How could he still feel this exhausted after three days? The other hand didn’t hesitate now, and slowly squeezed his. It was a pleasant feeling, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he deserved it at this point.
“You can open your eyes, Gabriel. I’m not sure if it will hurt – it probably will – but the lights are dimmed.
Lorca slowly opened his eyes. She was right. It did hurt, but the sting was not as sharp as it had been before, and he was somehow able to find comfort in it. It told him that he was alive, that he had survived, and of the cost at which he had done so. The woman sitting next to his bed nothing more than a fuzzy blob of human. “Katrina.” His voice croaked, and he wished it wouldn’t.
She was still holding his hand, stroking it softly. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” He tried to smile, but ended up grimacing. Even this light was almost too much for his eyes, and he slowly felt the pain creep back into his head, as if his skull was under the pressure of cracking.
Katrina pressed a button to her left, and Lorca immediately felt some of the pain ebb away. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You’ve had quite a shock, literally and figuratively speaking.”
“It had to be done,” he said curtly. He knew he’d have to defend his actions, but he’d hoped she would understand. Katrina Cornwell was the closest he had to a friend, and even when she hadn’t been his friend, she had always been his ally. And he had done the right thing, hadn’t he? He believed that. He must believe that. He had to trust his own judgement, even over hers. Then the realisation hit him. “Admiral.”
She snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lorca. I don’t blame you for your actions.”
“Some people will,” he murmured.
“You knew that when you pushed that button.”
Lorca didn’t answer. She was right, of course. She usually was. It was one of the most infuriating things about her. She was somehow always right, always better. She would have found another way. “What’s going to happen now?” He was glad he wasn’t able to read her facial expression, and realised too late that while he may not be able to see her properly, that didn’t hide him for her gaze. She could probably read every single emotion of his face, and he wished he was able to hide it better, but the idea of being relieved of his duties, of not being on the front line, not being able to fight back after what had happened… He wasn’t sure if he would be able to bear it.
Katrina seemed to think for a while. “I’m not sure. You’ll have to recover, but –”
“There’s a war to fight.”
“And we do need you. I’ve put you forward for a position as a Captain.”
Lorca felt an enormous weight fall off his shoulders. “Thank you.” He would be ready to be back. However he looked at it, he knew he wasn’t ready right now, but a week, two weeks maximum, and he had to be back in action. He had wasted three whole days already. “Can’t imagine many people are as eager as you to see me return to the war.”
Her lips were a thin line, and she sighed. “Starfleet will never publicly approve of your actions, I’m as sure of that as you are. But there are many people out there who understand your decision, Gabriel, and view it as the most desirable course of action.”
But they couldn’t understand. They hadn’t been there. They hadn’t seen it. Lorca blinked uncomfortably. He would keep seeing it.
“You should get your eyes done,” she said, as if she had been reading his thoughts.
“No.”
“Dr. Korsac is able to provide an excellent surgery. Look into it. There’s more than one option, if you –”
“I want to keep my own eyes.”
“Out of the question. Gabriel, you can hardly see at the moment. They’ll never completely heal naturally, and it would take –”
“They’ll heal enough.”
“I personally recommended you.”
Her disappointment was almost tangible. Her hair shone in the dimmed light, and he wished she would take his hand again. He wished he could explain, but he knew she would never understand. Not even her, with all her knowledge of the human psyche. How could she understand what he himself didn’t even fully grasp. The expiration of so many lives, so many souls… It’s not something within human comprehension until you truly see it with your own two eyes.
“I’m keeping my eyes.” He didn’t look at her, and sneered. “You still have time enough to revoke your recommendation.”
“You know I wouldn’t do that.” Her voice softened.
I don’t know anything anymore. “I’ll be ready for active duty when you call on me.”
“Good.”
Lorca felt like something had broken. Like there was something he’d said that had snapped the metaphorical fish line, and any connection between them was now lost.
“Lorca?” Cornwell asked, as she was turning away. “Don’t make me regret this.”

[Ella]

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery
Summary: Captain Lorca meets his new First Officer. Lieutenant Saru has some doubts.
Words: 811

Keep the Albatross Around Your Neck

Lorca looked at the chair in front of him. It would be strange to sit in any Captain’s chair that wasn’t the U.S.S. Buran’s, and for the first time he wondered if he was truly ready for this. He quickly dismissed the thought, and instead focused his gaze on the Kelpien, who was silently waiting for him to speak.
“Lieutenant Saru. Excuse the lighting.” Even though his eyesight had improved much during the past three weeks, mainly thanks to the drops he had to use four times a day, brightness still hurt them, so the room was clouded in shadows.
“Admiral Cornwell told me of your condition, Captain Lorca.”
Of course she did. He supposed that it was right of her to pass it on to his First Officer, but he wondered how many of the crew would know. He dreaded the idea of every soul on the ship knowing about his condition, but the pragmatic in him knew that it would be for the best – he’d never get them to trust him if he lurked in the shadow without explanation, and he was sure they wouldn’t trust him based on the stories that circled among Starfleet officers about him. Moreover, they would need to know if they ever got caught in an attack. “Good.”
“I was sorry to hear about your crew, Captain.”
Lorca turned away. He knew the other had lost his own Captain and part of the crew recently, so it didn’t feel like false sentiment, but he’d had just about too many ‘sorry’s’ during the last weeks. Sorry didn’t buy him anything, especially when he himself wasn’t sure if it was regret that he felt, or anger, or something else entirely. The fire in his eyes reminded him at every turn of what he had done, but he was certain that he had saved his crew from a much worse fate. His father had once told him that if you tell yourself a lie, a good lie, over and over again, you might just start to believe it. But this wasn’t a lie, was it? If it was a lie, he would never have been on the Discovery right now. He’d be rotting in a prison cell.
He’d heard some of the whispers, even if nobody dared to speak about it to his face, especially not his new crew. A Captain is supposed to go down with his ship. He must be a coward. Self-preservation. He just cared about his own life, and he won’t care about ours either. Trust was still a fragile thing on the U.S.S. Discovery.
Lieutenant Saru looked mildly uncomfortable with the silence.
“I’m sure you’ve been brought up to date about the spore drive by Lieutenant Stamets?”
“Yes, sir. A most interesting scientific method, if I might say so.”
“It is,” Lorca said. “It’s what’s going to win us this war.”
The Kelpien carefully tried to keep his gaze blank, and yet something of worry shone through. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”
He had a feeling that he knew what was coming. Surely the Kelpien wouldn’t take gladly to serving under a Captain who’s sight had been corrupted. From a rational standpoint, he was a liability. Cornwell hadn’t minced her words when she had tried to convince him one last time to get the operation before accepting his new position. He knew it wasn’t rational, but it was his choice. “Permission granted.”
“I thought the Discovery was a science vessel.”
Not what he was expecting. “It certainly was, Lieutenant.”
“Are we a war vessel now?”
Lorca wasn’t sure if he was relieved that that was what his new First Officer was worried about. At least that meant he didn’t seem to have reservations about his new Captain, but if his new right hand was unable to see the ship’s new purpose through. “The Discovery is whatever she needs to be. Right now, that means we’re going to contribute whatever we can to the war effort.”
“With all due respect, sir, but this ship’s crew – they aren’t soldiers. They have probably never seen a fight in their lives, and I’m uncertain –”
“Then they’ll become soldiers,” he said harshly. “War isn’t won by staring at the stars, Lieutenant.”
Lieutenant Saru didn’t answer him, and Lorca knew that he had miscalculated. The other was more sentimental than he had thought.
“You’ve seen first-hand what the Klingon are capable of. I want to end it.”
“I know,” Lieutenant Saru said.
They stood in silence for what seemed an eternity when Lorca finally spoke. “Report for duty on the bridge tomorrow at 0900, I’ll talk to through the protocols.”
The Kelpien nodded. “Good night, Captain.”
“Good night,” Lorca said, turning his eyes to the wide world outside of their small ship, Lieutenant Saru’s unspoken question burning in his mind. But at what cost?

[Ella]

Fandom: The 100
Summary: Roan-centric; oneshot for 4x10
Words: 995

Yu Gonplei Ste Odon

The loud clang of metal against metal dragged him out of this world, and all he could see was the warrior in front of him. Roan was vaguely aware of Octavia’s movements, but he didn’t need to focus on her right now. He trusted that she would honour their pact. Unlike Clarke, Octavia knew their ways, their traditions.
They spun together in a lethal dance, and he was ever focused on his opponent. He had to win this. Octavia was a strong warrior, and he felt something about having to end her life, but if he killed Luna, he’d be the one to win the Conclave, and his people would get to live. He knew his own skills well. Roan knew that he wouldn’t have been able to kill Luna on his own – she was well-trained, and there was a determined viciousness in her eyes. A week ago she would have had nothing left to lose except her life. Today, she didn’t care about that, and they both stood to lose everything.
Roan hardly noticed he had the upper hand until he was standing over Luna, his sword ready to pierce her heart. He didn’t smile as he braced himself to take her life, tightened his grip on the hilt and –
An excruciating pain hit his skin with the falling of the rain. His face and his hands were burning. His body was burning. Roan staggered backwards, keeping a strong hold on his weapon. He couldn’t back out now. Not now he’d come so close. He was not his mother. He would fight for his people with honour, even if that meant he would suffer for it. He spent five years of his life being forced away from his people, and he wouldn’t, he couldn’t fail them now.
“Roan, run! It’s black rain!” he heard Octavia scream behind him.
It didn’t matter. If he was meant to die here today, he would. But he wouldn’t go without a fight. Every small drop that found its way into his skin tore at his nerve system, but he had known pain before. Pain was something his mother had trained him for. Pain was something he could take.
He was hardly able to focus himself on Luna again when he felt her sword slash through his stomach. His sword found its way against hers again, but she was stronger, faster. It didn’t affect her.
Luna grabbed a hold of his throat, and he felt her eyes burn into his, stronger than any black rain could manage. “Yu gonplei ste odon.”
Perhaps it was. He could hardly feel his fingers, and he had trouble seeing in the darkness. Still he pushed back, and trapped his opponent between his own body and his sword, grabbing the blade with one of his senseless hands. “It will still be a good death.”
She retaliated, and he felt the sword slice through his stomach one more time. He fell to his knees and bit back a cry of pain. Azgeda show no fear. Azgeda show no pain.
But he was afraid. He couldn’t move his limbs, and he was left to Luna’s mercy. He had failed his people, and he had banished the one person he knew to be capable to lead them in his stead. Because of his death, they would all die today. Whatever the afterlife had in store for him, it wouldn’t be pleasant.
For a moment his eyes met with Octavia’s. He supposed he should have felt betrayal – she left him to fight Luna on his own. But he knew that would be unfair. She warned him, and her face betrayed her emotions. If she had stayed, they would both have died here today. At least she was safe, for now. Maybe she would win from Luna in the end. Maybe someone would get to live, if it was meant to be.
Even though he knew his death was coming, he was still surprised when Luna grabbed his collar and pushed him underwater. The water was a blessing on his burning face, and he found it in himself to move his arms, to fight against her hold. He wasn’t strong enough. He kept fighting, but no matter how strong he was, he simply wasn’t strong enough.
There were only a few moments in his life when he had felt that way. When he was ten years old and his mother took him to see his father’s mangled body, punctured by arrows and broken by swords. When he had cried, and his mother made him regret it. When he was banished, and he realised how little he truly meant to her. That he was never good enough.
He couldn’t go on, and let his arms sink into the water. He felt Luna release her hold on him, saying something he couldn’t catch because of the water that drowned out his hearing. He wasn’t gasping for air anymore, and he felt blood ooze from his wounds. He would die as he had lived. No one would be coming to save him. No one ever had.
No, that wasn’t true. Skaikru had saved him the last time he almost left this earth.
After they shot you in the first place.
Because they needed you.
Maybe Clarke had cared, even if she never truly understood their ways. Even if she stabbed him in the back in the end.
“He’s my friend.”
Echo.
She was only trying to help save their people. She betrayed the code. For their people. For him.
No one ever had, and no one would now.
There was no panic anymore as he realised he couldn’t breathe anymore, as he felt the darkness closing in. He didn’t know what to feel, and at the same time he felt everything at once. The last thing he saw was his mother’s cold glare, begrudging him his sentimentality, clawing through his skin, before the world faded, and Roan kom Azgeda was no more.

[Ella]

Fandom: The 100
Summary: post-S04E04
Words: 961

Survivor's Move

“This is not surviving, John.” Her eyes were accusing, and he couldn’t help but feel the pit of guilt in his stomach. All those years he had trained himself not to feel guilty about anything he did, not to feel guilty because it wouldn’t matter. Remorse was not a survivor’s move. But now he looked into her hazel eyes, he knew that surviving wasn’t the only thing that mattered anymore. And even if it was, he wasn’t doing it alone.
“Then what would you have suggested? Should we have deserted them on the island of doom?” They were on the small boat, returning to their camp. Theirs. He didn’t know when it had started to feel like it was his again. Not his home. He still had trouble seeing Earth as his new home, and wondered if it would ever truly be. But he felt at home with these people. They weren’t the same as Emori. Emori was close to his heart, and she was a survivor, but there were ways in which she didn’t understand him. Ways in which Abby Griffin did, while she met his gaze from the other side of the deck.
“They are not our people, John.” Her hand was on his, and gave it a small squeeze.
Murphy wasn’t able to meet her gaze, because how could he tell her that even after all they had done, they were still his people. They shared a culture, they shared a history. How could they not be?
“How do you know if you can trust them now? You’ve trusted them before. You’ve trusted Bel–”
“You don’t understand,” he snapped. The words tasted harder in his mouth than they should, and he saw Abby raise an eyebrow. “It’s complicated.”
Emori raised his chin and made him meet her eyes. “Uncomplicate it, then.” Her gaze was calm, but there was something behind it that he just couldn’t grasp. Something he didn’t understand. There were differences he just couldn’t put his finger on. They were both outsiders, but that didn’t mean they had everything in common. And that’s how it should be, he was a fervent believer of that. It wasn’t healthy to be similar in every way, it wasn’t healthy to know everything about each other. And yet… He longed to know what was hiding behind those dark eyes, and he bet she would split his skull open to find out what was really buried underneath his own mop of hair.
“I can’t.” He blinked. “It doesn’t make sense to me either. I guess that – I guess that I’ve changed. They’ve changed.”
“You want to give them another chance?” It wasn’t anger, exactly. But it was something akin to it. It was as if she simply couldn’t believe that he would want to further associate with the people who had spurned him. As if she couldn’t understand that maybe, just maybe he’d let go of his ‘resent and remember’-attitude. And still, she looked as calm as she had before, and there was only a slight strain on her voice.
“They are giving me another chance.” It wasn’t an answer, but it was as close as he could get. “We can’t survive on our own.”
“I’m not sure if we can survive with these people, John. They take risks.”
“Isn’t that a part of surviving?”
Emori looked doubtful, and looked away from him.
Murphy settled on staring at the small waves again as if the answers were to be found on the bottom of the lake. Maybe they were. Who knew what was out there. There was so much about this planet that he didn’t understand, so much he still had to learn. He couldn’t do that on his own, and he couldn’t do it with just Emori, not even if he wanted to. Emori had the knowledge about this world, this society, but neither of them had the technological knowledge he feared they’d need to survive this. To survive a possible apocalypse.
“These people will always put themselves first, John. Not us.”
Not you, was what the pit screamed. Even if his people would save him, he doubted they would care as much about Emori when it came to it. He had heard about Mountain Weather, he had heard about Maya. For the good of the people. He could hear Clarke say it, and he feared it. It wasn’t that he didn’t realise that, it just wasn’t that he didn’t know what else to do. “I know. So would we, if it ever came to it.”
Emori looked at him, her eyes unreadable. “But you want to give them the benefit of the doubt. You think they might be better?”
He fought the instinct to shake his head. People don’t get that much better. “I hope they might be. They accepted Lincoln as one of their own, maybe, with time…”
“Time we don’t have.”
“They’re not heartless, Emori. They like you.”
“They shouldn’t. They don’t know me.”
“We’ll be all right.” He took her deformed hand, and realised how corny his own words sounded. He seriously doubted their truth.
“It’s not a survivor’s move.”
He brushed some of her hair behind her ear, and moved a little closer to her.
She brushed his lips against his. “I trust you, John. If you think we should stay with them, we will. But if you ever change your mind –”
“You’ll be the first to know.” He smirked.
She stole another kiss from him, and let him to stare at the blue while she joined Raven in the cabin.  Murphy closed his eyes. He didn’t know what he would choose. Who he would choose. He hoped to whatever gods may be out there that he would never have to.

[Ella]

Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: The blossoming relationship between James Potter and Lucius Malfoy seen from the perspective of one of the latter's most treasured pets. I wish this was a crackfic, but it isn't.
Words: 920

Roses Are Red, Peacocks Are White

His human was acting weird. He didn’t know what exactly was going on with him, but he appeared to be whistling. Lord Arcturus strained his ears – maybe they were betraying him, and the sound was warped by the small white feathers that covered them – but the sound was really there. He hadn’t seen such preposterous behaviour since seventh son had attempted to practice his mating ritual on his ageing grandmother.
In truth, perhaps the human’s behaviour seemed so disturbing because of the sharp contrast it formed with his behaviour the last five years. The man had seemed downcast after the death of his beloved mate – a somewhat scary human, it was agreed among the peacocks. She had been there when their human had first handpicked them and gave them their names, but she had always laughed at them, as if their snow white beauty was somehow ridiculous to her. Every time their human had come to the garden, she had been standing in the doorstep, slowly shaking her head.
“Peacocks aren’t pets, dear. Buy a dog.”
“We have two dogs, Cissa.”
“Buy more dogs. What good are those overgrown birds?”
His human had looked offended, and rightly so. “They’re elegant. We’re elegant.”
The mate had rolled her eyes, and Lord Arcturus had never understood why. They [i]were [/i]elegant. In fact, he had been rather jealous of his human’s mate. However beautiful any of the peacocks would ever grow, they would never quite life up to the standard of her grace.
“Good morning, Lord Arcturus,” his human said, bringing him back to the here and now. Goodness gracious, he was actually smiling.
Lord Arcturus laid his head against his human’s stretched out hand, and revelled in the touch of his fingers on his feathery neck. If he could purr, he would. Instead, he remained silence. Calling would only attract the other peacocks, and he quite liked to have the human’s attention to himself. He nibbled at the food his human presented to him, careful not to hurt his hands. He had accidentally pecked at one of his fingers three years ago, and he still felt guilty about it.
“My my, isn’t someone glad to see me.”
I’m always glad to see you, Lord Arcturus would have said, but again, that was not part of his physical capabilities.
“Lucius? Hey, Malfoy? Where are you hiding?” a strange voice called out. “You know it’s like six in the morning, right?”
Lord Arcturus’s head shot up in the air. A stranger? Was it an intruder. He was ready to spread out his tale and fend off any possible attacker.
“It’s all right, Archie,” his human said, and immediately Lord Arcturus allowed his body to relax. “He’s with me.”
Oh, how much Lord Arcturus would have given for a voice right now, a voice which he could use to ask questions. How dare his human bring a stranger into his garden?
“Good morning, James.”
A man, wearing only boxers, a crumbled shirt and his messy mop of raven hair appeared from behind the bushes, looking as if he had rolled straight from his bed. “What in Godric’s name are you doing outside at this time of night, Lucius?”
“I’m an early riser,” his human elucidated. “I always feed the peacocks around this time.”
The stranger – James, apparently – looked at Lord Arcturus as if he did only now see him. “You own peacocks.”
“An astute observation.”
“Why?”
His human groaned, and Lord Arcturus crept closer to him, positioning himself between his human and the Jamesstranger. Whoever this he was, it wasn’t his turn to spend quality time with his human. It was Lord Arcturus’s turn now.
“They’re elegant.”
Jamesstranger snorted. “Of course they are.” He paused for a moment. “That bloke seems quite fond of you.”
“This is Lord Arcturus,” his human said, with a proud tint to his voice.
“Quite a mouthful.”
Jamesstranger appeared to be making fun of him. Lord Arcturus made an indignant sound.
“I call him Archie for short, but I think he only allows it because it’s me.”
“Ah, pets,” Jamesstranger said. “Just as proud as their owners.”
His human giggled. He actually giggled. “Cissa used to say the same thing. These animals were the bane of her existence.”
Jamesstranger frowned. “They’re not that bad, right? I mean, they seem pretty low-maintenance.”
“Wait until the mating season start and the garden is one chaotic zoo of peacock calls. I’ll talk to you then.”
Lord Arcturus was glad to see that Jamesstranger looked slightly afraid at that.
“Shall we start breakfast, now you’re awake anyway?”
Jamesstranger looked positively appalled at the idea. “I repeat, it’s six in the morning.”
“Would you like a stroll through the garden, perhaps?” his human offered. A sensible option. There would be many of Lord Arcturus’s kind around should Jamesstranger prove to be hostile.
 “Hmm,” Jamesstranger grumbled non-committedly. Then he grinned deviously. “Peacocks.”
His human raised an eyebrow. “I think we’ve established that I own peacocks by now, James. Your point, exactly?”
“Peacocks.” Jamesstranger stroked some of his human’s white hair away and pressed their lips together. Suddenly Lord Arcturus saw the strange ritual for what it was, and he now understood the source of his human’s happiness. He had finally found a new mate. About time.
“James…”
“Let’s go back to bed, Lucius,” James nagged. “It’s still only six a.m. More than enough time for some peacocks before breakfast.”
“James, peacocks is not going to be our codename for sex.”
James smiled. “It so is.”

[Ella]

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery
Summary: In which Hugh tries to help Lorca, but since when does Lorca listen to anyone?
Words: 862

But Atlas Shrugged

“I guess I shouldn’t try to talk you into surgery, should I?” the physician asked, as his patient groaned in pain at the bright lights of the medbay.
Lorca almost smiled to himself. “Wise man.”
“I doubt it,” Hugh Culber said. “But you’re not the first Captain I’ve treated, and each is as stubborn as the last.”
The Captain actually snorted at that, and was glad to see that his examiner was smiling as well. If there was anyone’s trust he had to win, it was Culber’s. If anyone from medbay blabbed to Katrina about his eyes, he could be done for. It was why he dreaded every test and examination. Starfleet wanted him to submit to weekly tests, just to see if his eyes were healing as they should. It had been a month since he’d taken control of the Discovery, and there seemed to be little to no improvement. He’d known it would take time, but it bothered him nonetheless. If anyone started to doubt his capabilities, well… “And as the next, I bet.”
“I’m sure of it,” Culber said, running the Captain’s vitals. “Still not as stubborn as my partner, though.”
“Stamets,” Lorca said, not really knowing how to phrase it like a question.
Culber nodded absently, lost in the data on his pad.
“Are you going to release me anytime soon, doctor?” he asked after some minutes of silence, and it immediately felt like a slip-up. If he seemed too eager to leave, too impatient – he had learned as much during his psych evaluations.
Katrina’s voice popped up in his head, and he wished he could silence it. [i]P[/i]atience has never been your virtue. Would it hurt you to stay still for a minute?
There was too much to do to stand still. War didn’t wait.
Culber’s brow creased. “Have you been sleeping properly?”
“I’ve been sleeping just fine,” Lorca answered evenly, crossing his arms over his chest.
A defensive move, her voice prodded into his ear.
Shut up, he pushed back.
“My readings don’t agree with you. You’re showing signs of exhaustion.” Culber seemed to hesitate, unsure what to do with his new Captain. “After everything that’s happened, it wouldn’t be strange if –”
“I’m sleeping [i]fine[/i], Lieutenant Commander.” His voice sounded harder than he had intended. The Buran was his, and while he didn’t want to leave it behind him – couldn’t leave it behind him, it was not the [i]Discovery[/i]’s burden to bear, and especially not the crew’s. He should have known that Katrina would have given this man her full report, that she had her eyes to look out for her, whereas he was so crippled that he could hardly stand the dimmed light of his personal quarters. He should have known that everyone on this bloody ship would be aware of this situation, of course people would have heard of it, it wasn’t a small incident exactly.
Then why did it surprise him so much? Then why did it scare him and make his bones quake was if he was a schoolboy? Lorca squeezed his eyes shut, and balled his hands into fists.
Defensive, she said, as if it was something to be victorious about. Oh, how she always wanted to be right.  
Shut up, he screamed, even if he didn’t know if he was talking to Katrina, or to his own mind.
“Captain?”
Lorca opened his eyes, and he was back in the medbay with the gentle doctor standing in front of him, a look of concern on his face. “Did I –”
“Yes.” The man smiled softly, a gesture of comfort. He was careful not to touch the Captain, almost as if he was a wild animal. “It’s not the first time someone’s told me to shut up, but usually I’m actually speaking when they do so.”
Lorca didn’t respond. A feeling of tiredness crept up on him instead, and he wished that he deserved to forget.
“You should get some sleep,” Culber said. “You’ll feel better.”
“I can’t –”
“You [i]can[/i].” His tone was insistent, and Lorca remembered that he was talking to the man who somehow managed to handle Paul Stamets on a daily basis. “And you will. Doctor’s orders. You can try to carry the world on your shoulders, but even the best of us need rest.”
Lorca stared at Culber in a weak attempt at defiance. “I guess I don’t have a choice, then.”
“No, you don’t.”
He sighed. “All right, just –”
Don’t tell Katrina. I don’t want her to worry.
No, that’s a lie. You don’t want her to take away what little you’ve got. Don’t show your fears.
“– just don’t think this means you’ll get to boss me around all the time.”
Culber smiled. “I wouldn’t dare to. Sleep tight, Captain.”
Lorca nodded, even though he already knew that his dreams would hold nothing pleasant.
As he was staring out of his window at night, chasing away the remnants of his memory, flashes of yellow and red, trying to see what stars his damaged eyes could still make out, he remembered the good doctor’s words. He guessed the weight on his shoulders wouldn’t let him go anytime soon.

[Ella]

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery
Summary: After returning to their own universe, Tilly finds none other than Gabriel Lorca tied up in the depths of the U.S.S. Discovery. No one appears to be able to get through to him, but luckily Ash Tyler is not a quitter. AU! in which mirror!Lorca kept prime!Lorca alive on the U.S.S. Discovery.
Words: 4731

Down the Rabbit Hole

“Where did you find him, exactly?” Saru, or Captain Saru, as some of the crew had taken to calling him, was staring at the screen which showed the vitals of the man lying on the stretcher. He looked down on Tilly, her face contorted in nerves, and her features nowhere near as optimistic as usual. The man wasn’t doing well, and he was crushed by the feeling that it was partially his own fault. If only he had – but how could he have known? He had never met Lorca before in his life, and even though everything about him had been conventional, he was well aware that he himself wasn’t the most conventional of creatures either. He’d been willing to give Lorca the favour of the doubt. Looking at the bruised body in front of him, he shouldn’t have.
“Down,” was all Tilly said. “I was checking for damage to the ship, because Stamets pointed out that the mycelium – that’s not important right now,” she checked herself. “It was nothing, but then I heard a voice. At first I thought I was going mad, that it was the influence of the jump or something like that, but then I heard the voice again, and – and –”
“And what?” Saru urged her gently.
“He had heard me too,” Tilly said softly. “And he – he was begging for help.”
Saru looked at the man. He couldn’t imagine the Lorca he had met begging. He wasn’t sure if this Lorca would have, before. He wasn’t sure if ‘before’ even mattered anymore. “Then what happened? Where did you find him?”
Tilly bit her lip. “I found him tied up in one of the shafts. He was – he passed out almost immediately after I helped him out of there. And then I brought him here.”
“You did well, Cadet,” Saru said, placing one of his large hands on her shoulder.
The redhead looked away, to the bed with the unmoving man. “We don’t know anything about him, really. All we know is that he’s a Starfleet Captain.”
“That should be enough.”
“Is it?” Tilly asked, hesitating.
Saru sighed. The question had crossed his mind as well. They knew next to nothing about the man, and their current situation was far too dire for any more unanticipated factors. If the man was even half as reckless as the Lorca they had met. Or if the man was somehow – but no, it was impossible. That Lorca was dead. Michael had seen it with her own eyes. “It is. He is a victim. I know that when you saw his face you first thought of his Terran counterpart –”
“I –”
“– because I know I did. But we can’t judge a man on what we have seen of him in a parallel universe. You aren’t Captain Killy here either.”
Tilly smiled. “I know, and I guess it’s unfair, but…”
“It’s still a hard thought to shake. I know. If only we had noticed before, this would never have happened.”
“But we didn’t. How could we have? We can only make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Tilly looked down at the captain – or former captain – with something in her eyes Saru couldn’t quite place. It was as if the girl had lost some of her innocence, some of her naivety, but part of her spark had been lost in the process. He could only hope she could regain it, because he needed her blinding optimism now. They all did.
A movement from the bed startled him out of his thoughts. “Lorca? I am Saru, captain of the U.S.S. Discovery.”
The man’s hand moved slightly, but he didn’t make a sound.
“Are you hearing us right now, Capt… Lorca? You’re in sickbay, and you’re going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine,” Tilly said.
Saru wondered if she believed her own lie.
“Lorca, if you can hear us, please move your right hand.”
No movement.
“Lorca?” Saru tried again, and he places one of his own hands on the man’s arm.
As if burned by fire, Lorca jerked away, trashing in his bed, but still not opening his eyes. No sound was coming out, not even the slightest groan, almost as if the man had unlearned how to produce one. It made him fear for what the man’s counterpart had done to him. They’d seen his ruthlessness, and he felt guilty for believing for a second that this man could be anything other than a hurt prisoner. Before Saru knew what was happening, he was ushered out of the way by one of the medics, who pumped something into Lorca’s veins that made him calm down. Still, not the slightest whisper. For the first time he realised he could hardly even hear him breathe. “He makes no sounds,” he told the medic. “Absolutely nothing.”
The medic nodded absentmindedly, her gaze concentrating on her patient. “And he doesn’t like to be touched, apparently.”
“Perhaps Lieutenant Tyler could talk to him,” Tilly suggested.
Saru looked at her in surprise. “Are you sure that Lieutenant Tyler is ready for that? He is still recovering from his operation, and I can imagine he is still quite confused about the ordeal.”
“Michael went to see him earlier today,” Tilly said. “He’s not okay, but he’d been asking about Lorca and didn’t take it well when Michael told him about – about what happened while he was out. I think – I think he’d like to meet this version of him.”
“Why?”
“He feels indebted to Lorca, despite everything. It might help him to talk to the real Lorca, or in this case [i]at[/i] him. Besides, out of all of us Ash is the one who’d best understand what Lorca has gone through.”
Saru nodded. “I can see how that would work in their mutual benefit.” He looked down at the pale man. It was worth a shot.

***

“Hi,” Ash said, uncertain of where to sit, what to do with his hands. It felt weird to see Lorca on a bed, lying down, vulnerable. The Lorca he knew would never – but then the Lorca he knew hadn’t been Lorca, really. He’d been an imposter. An imposter who’d helped him escape the worst torture he had experienced in his life. He had mourned him, even after he had learned what the man was. He knew that he shouldn’t feel that way, knowing what he knew now, knowing what the Terran had done to the man who was lying still on the stretcher, but still… the man had helped him, and he was grateful to him. He guessed that if the Terran was capable of such acts, the man who was unconscious in sickbay had to be quite something. It was with that thought that he had agreed to Tilly’s plan. He doubted that he would be able to get through to Lorca – he hadn’t even met the man, after all – but he wanted to help. He wanted to feel useful. He hadn’t been allowed back on active duty yet, and even though he understood perfectly well why, he was still frustrated. Frustrated with Saru, for not allowing him to walk two feet outside of his room without someone accompanying him, as if he was a child, but even more frustrated with his own progress, because, to be honest, he had had a panic attack two feet outside of his room two days ago.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Amila asked. “You look a bit pale.” Even though he didn’t remember much of his days spent in sickbay, mostly because he’d been trying to forget, he remembered her kind smile.
“I’m fine, thank you.” He returned her smile as sincerely as he could, but he knew she wasn’t buying it. Still, she didn’t bother him about it any further.
“You can sit down next to the bed,” she told him, apparently noticing how lost he felt. “Just don’t touch him – they must have told you that already, but just for good measure, he doesn’t like being touched.”
He nodded – he’d been told what reaction Lorca had had to Saru’s touch, and he had no intention of making this any harder on the man than it already was. He knew what it was like to want boundaries, to want to be able to decide what happened to your own body. And yet, Ash had to stop himself from grabbing Lorca’s hand when he first came into the room. He didn’t know why he felt the urge, but it felt like the right thing to do when someone was unconscious. It felt like something he would do if it was Michael lying there, or Tilly. It felt like something he would do to comfort people, and that spread a warm glow through his stomach. The past days, it felt like he was getting to know himself anew. “What [i]do [/i]I do?” he asked, looking at the man on the stretcher. If Ash was pale, this man looked ready for his funeral.
“Talk to him. Hope some of it gets through.”
Ash nodded. He could do this. Talking.
“Good luck,” Amila said, and she left Ash alone with the former captain.
“Well, seems like it’s just the two of us now,” Ash said, dragging one of the chairs next to Lorca’s bed. “I hope you like the sound of my voice, because you’re going to be hearing it on a pretty regular basis from now on. If you don’t mind, that is. If you do mind, you can always say so.” He watched for a reaction, even though he knew he wouldn’t get any. Still, the words hadn’t upset him either, so that was something. “As I’m sure the medics have told you, you’re on the U.S.S. Discovery. I bet they didn’t tell you that we’re currently in a bit of a tight spot – our return to this universe didn’t go as swimmingly as planned. But we’ll be fine though. Saru is a very capable captain, and I’m glad that he’s replacing – well…” He wasn’t sure if he should be telling this, but then again, he’d have liked to know the truth, and not be kept in the dark about what was happening. He decided to return this man the favour. If he was anything like his counterpart, he would appreciate the truth. He had been a practical man. “You don’t know who I am, I guess, but I’m Lieutenant Ash Tyler. I was – I was imprisoned on a Klingon ship when I met you – or actually the other version of you. He helped me escape, and gave me a home here. I know that wasn’t you, and I know – and understand – that you probably don’t want anything to do with that version of yourself. I know I wouldn’t. But still… I want you to know that I’m grateful, even if it wasn’t you.” Why not speak his mind, while he was at it? If the man was every truly to believe that he was safe here, he needed to know that he was appreciated. “If even the Terran version of you was capable of something like that, despite everything, if he could help me like that, I bet you’re a good man, Gabriel Lorca. You must be a good man, and you deserve to be safe here. I hope you know that.”
Still no response, not even the slightest movement.
Ash sighed. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. It was not as if the man was magically going to wake up at the sound of his voice, but he had still hoped for something. A sign that what he was doing here wasn’t entirely futile. “I guess I’ll be off now,” he said. “I’ll visit again tomorrow, all right? Same time, same place,” he quipped. He looked down at the man, ready to turn away, and there it was. The slightest movement of his head, as if he was nodding. Yes, please.

***

“So he’s still unresponsive?” Michael asked. Her head was planted against his chest, and his hand was in her hair.
Ash nodded. “Apart from that nod he gave me on the first day, it appears he hasn’t moved the entire week. I’m starting to think that I imagined it.” He shook his head involuntarily. “It’s almost as if there’s no life left in him.”
“But you think there is.” It wasn’t a question as much as a statement.
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be doing this. Some of the medics are starting to doubt, though. There’s brain activity, but there is so little else. They fear that the trauma he has experienced…” Ash squeezed his eyes shut, and Michael’s hand found his. “They fear that there’s no way back.”
“Well, then it seems like all the has to do is prove them wrong,” Michael said playfully. “I think you proved a lot of people wrong already, so who says Lorca can’t, with a little help from you.”
Ash put his arm around her, pulling her in a little closer. “I’m not sure if I’m the right person, Michael. I can barely help myself, how can I help someone else? All I do is talk to him, and so far it isn’t really working. There’s got to be a way to bring him back to us, but I just don’t think that this is the way.”
“Patience, my friend, is a virtue.” She pressed a kiss on his cheek.
“What a sensible thing to say.”
She grinned. “I grew up on Vulcan, Ash. I’m a very sensible person.”

***

“Good morning, Lorca. Or perhaps I should call you Gabriel by now. What would you prefer?” Ash knew the man was unlikely to respond to anything at this point, but it made him feel a little better if he asked him questions anyway, instead of just assuming. At least he tried. “I talked to Michael about you yesterday. I’m not sure if you know who she is, but I guess even you might have heard of the famous mutineer, Michael Burnham. She’s pretty cool, though. She said that I’m not patient enough with you, but, truth be told, I’d really like it if you gave any sign of life right about now. Even the doctors are slowly starting to give up on you, even though they’re usually stubborn as hell.” He looked at Lorca, his skin still as pale as it been a week ago. Not a shade lighter, but also nothing better. He could easily imagine what this Lorca would have looked like before his capture, but now his brown hair was greying, and his entire frame seemed smaller. He looked exactly the way as sometimes felt at night, when he was alone. Sometimes he wished he was lying there in Lorca’s stead, where no one really wanted anything from him. Where he could just forget. When he’d told Michael, she’d told him he was way too restless to lie down for a week. Even after his surgery he didn’t keep to the doctor’s restrictions, so she doubted that a coma would really do anything for him.
The sickbay was quieter than usual, but he was a little earlier. He hadn’t been able to sleep well last night, and seeing Lorca usually helped him gather his thoughts. It was easy to talk to someone who wouldn’t talk back, even if getting him to wake up was the prime motive of his conversations. He knew that he could talk to Michael, or even Tilly, but sometimes it was easy to tell the hard stuff [i]knowing [/i]no one would respond to even potentially judge him. Even in his catatonic state, Lorca was still helping him. Before he even realised he was doing it, he had put his own hand on Lorca’s, slowly moving his thumb over its back. He started as he saw what he was doing, remembering Saru’s words, but there was no response from Lorca whatsoever. Ash’s heart fell. What if this meant that there was truly nothing of Lorca left? What if he didn’t even register something that had frightened him a week ago? If he was optimistic he’d say that Lorca was getting better, but the past month had given him a taste of realism.
Taking his chances, he grabbed a tighter hold of Lorca’s hand. “If you’re in there, please just… do something. Move, make a sound, I really don’t care what it is. You’re safe with me, and I’m not going to let him hurt you again. Just please, let me know that you’re still there.”
Nothing.
Ash closed his eyes, feeling the tears forming behind his lid, when he felt it. Lorca’s hand was squeezing his. “Yeah, that’s it, well done,” he said, allowing the tears to flow freely. He squeezed back, and felt the man hold on even tighter. “You’re safe here, Gabriel, you’re safe. It’s okay. You’re in the sickbay of the U.S.S. Discovery, and they’re taking great care of you here. You’re safe.”
The hand didn’t let go, and when Amila came to check on her patient two hours later, she found Ash asleep at his bedside.

***

He spent every following morning as he had the week before, but now, each time he arrived, he would take a hold of Lorca’s hand, and the older man would squeeze it in return, as if it was a lifeline. Perhaps it was. Perhaps Lorca [i]was [/i]finding his way back. It gave Ash hope, and hope was all he needed right now.
This morning, he’d brought a book along. He didn’t read a lot, but he’d mentioned to Michael that he was sort of out of one-sided conversations to have – after all, he’d told Lorca all about what had happened in the Mirror Universe by now, and all he knew about the ships current hardships. She’d given him Alice in Wonderland, with the suggestion he read something to the man. While at some level it felt silly to take a children’s book to read to one of his superior officers, he guessed it couldn’t hurt. It was better to take the nonsense from a book than to talk nonsense himself, and it seemed that Lorca most valued his hand anyway, so whatever came out of his mind was probably of secondary either way.
He was only two pages into the story, when he felt Lorca’s hand tug. Lost in Carroll’s words, he squeezed back, but didn’t take his eyes off the page. Another tug. “When did you turn into an attention seeker?” he joked, and he looked up to see Lorca’s blue eyes staring back at his. He immediately dropped the book and scooted closer to the man, his mind whirring – how would he address him, what would he say? He had waited for this moment for two weeks, but now it was finally here, he didn’t know what to do.
Lorca was still looking at him, their hands interlocked, his gaze something of confusion and pain.
“Captain Lorca,” Ash said, unsure of himself. “It’s good to say you awake. You’re aboard the U.S.S. Discovery and –”
The man jerked away from him, trying to take his hand back, but Ash held a tight grip on it.
“You’re [i]safe[/i]. He – the other you – he’s gone. He’s dead, he won’t be back. You’re in sickbay, you’ve been out for two weeks after Tilly – one of the Cadets – found you.”
Lorca’s eyes seemed to soften a little, but the man was still pressing himself against the wall as if he wanted to disappear into it.
“It’s fine,” Ash said, locking Lorca’s hand between both of his. “I know that you’re afraid.”
The captain seemed to shake his head, as if to deny Ash’s statement.
“You [i]are [/i]afraid. And that’s okay. I understand, I really do, and I would be if I were you. But I want you to know that you’re safe now. You’re safe.”
It seemed as if Lorca wanted to say something, but he never got the chance. Amila had walked in and noticed that her patient was finally awake, and immediately rushed to his side to run a couple of tests. Ash stayed by his side the entire time, squeezing his hand occasionally, but Lorca didn’t move to speak again.

***

“So he still hasn’t said a word?” Saru asked, hunched at the desk in his ready room.
“No, sir.”
Saru shook his head at the formality. “I wish he would. He might have a way to contact the Federation.”
“I take it your plan to contact the Admiralty aren’t going well?”
“You know they aren’t.”
“Well –”
“I know Burnham tells you everything, Tyler.” Saru sighed. “We’re behind enemy lines, we’ve been attacked twice, and still no trace of the Federation.”
Ash looked down to the floor. He didn’t have any answers, and he doubted Lorca had. “If there’s anything I can do –”
Saru waved his offer away. “There’s nothing you can do that we aren’t doing already.”
[i]We[/i].
Sometimes Ash doubted if he was even still part of the crew.

***

Ash woke up from a small knock on his door. He was a light sleeper these days, and he guessed it would be Burnham. “Come in,” he said, as he pressed the button to open the door. “It’s a bit late for you to join me, isn’t it Michael?”
The door opened a little, but when no answer came, fear grew in the pit of his stomach.
She[i] [/i]was still aboard… What if She had –
Then he realised that not only had there been no answer, but that there had been no sound at all, and he was able to breathe again. “Good evening, Lorca. What are you doing here?”
The door opened a little more, but he still couldn’t see the old captain. With more effort than he cared to admit, Ash pushed himself up from his bed and stumbled to the door to open it. Lorca all but fell into his arms, shaking as Ash immediately folded the man into his embrace. “Hey, what’s going on? Gabriel?” He realised his slip a second too late, but decided it didn’t matter. It’s not as if Lorca himself would notice at this moment. He dragged the man to the couch and flopped down, the man grabbing a hold of his arms and crawling into his arms again. “Hey, sssh, it’s okay.” He started stroking Lorca’s hair to calm him down, but it didn’t seem to be helping. How the hell hadn’t any of the medics noticed?
Lorca buried his face into Ash chest, and the Lieutenant started to rub circles on the man’s back. “Did you have a nightmare?” he asked, and the man pressed his face even closer to him. “I have nightmares too, you know. But whatever you saw, it was not real. It may have been real once, but it’s not anymore. You’re here now, with me. You’re safe. I know it’s something I keep saying, but it’s true.” It was also something he himself liked to hear, but that was something he didn’t deign to tell Lorca. He held onto the captain, shushing him and rubbing his back, when he realised something. Lorca was crying – no, sobbing. The silence was over.

***

Ash was the first to wake up. They’d fallen asleep on his couch in an uncomfortable position, Lorca still plastered to his body. He decided to wake the man up. He knew he had to return to sickbay before the medics got really worried, and he knew that keeping Lorca here would only contribute to his sense of shame. “Good morning, Gabriel,” he said as the man opened his eyes.
Lorca seemed to started a little as he saw where he was, but it wasn’t the wide-eyes panic of last night. “‘M sorry,” he slurred. “Sorry sorry sorry sorry s –”
“Shut up,” Ash said, and he pushed Lorca and himself in an upright position. “I waited two weeks for you to talk, and this is what you say? You have nothing to be sorry about, you idiot.”
Gabriel looked away, biting his lip, and Ash immediately regretted his words.
“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just – you don’t have to be sorry, about anything. Not about this,” he gestured around him, “and not about anything that happened before. It’s not your fault.”
“You don’t understand,” Gabriel whispered, and deep in his heart, Ash was singing with joy, despite the gravity of the man’s words.
“I do understand,” he said seriously. “You were held captive, and if you had been stronger – if you had been just a little smarter – maybe you wouldn’t have been. Maybe you could have taken him. Maybe you could have killed him yourself.”
“If I had been stronger –”
“There is –”
“He wanted me for information. I should have refused. I should have let him kill me.”
“Maybe,” Ash said. “It’s what I thought. She – A Klingon… She kept me on her ship for months and months, she used me and she turned me into something I was not, and I – I thought it was my fault. I thought that it was my own weakness that had landed me in that situation. But I wasn’t weak. If I had been weak, I wouldn’t be here today, right now. I didn’t give up, and that’s what makes me strong. What makes you strong.”
Lorca looked at Ash the way Ash had looked at Lorca when he first arrived on the U.S.S. Discovery – liked he contained his whole world.

***

“How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Lorca said.
The captain still didn’t speak much, but Ash was sure that he would improve with time. Lorca had provided them with a way to contact Admiral Cornwell, who had been happy to hear that her friend was still alive, and less happy to hear that the Discovery had jumped through the multiverse. “I hope you’re eating well?” he asked. “Amila won’t get off your back if you don’t.”
Lorca grimaced. “I’ve noticed.”
“I’d really like you to meet someone,” Ash said, not entirely sure how to introduce the topic. “I’ve told you a lot about her already, but –”
“Ash…”
“I know that you’re hesitant to meet other members of the crew, but they’re nice people.”
“I failed them.”
“You never even met them.”
“That’s exactly how I failed them.”
“That’s exactly the way I don’t want you to think, Gabriel.” Ash took his hand, and pressed it against his chest. “You didn’t fail anyone, least of all us. Didn’t Admiral Cornwell also tell you that –”
“Kat’s a psychologist, and she’s one of my oldest friends.”
“So why would she lie to you?”
Lorca didn’t answer.
“Come on, it’ll be fine. You’ll have to talk to them eventually. You’re our captain, after all.”
“Not yet,” Ash said. “But you will be, one day.”
“You and I both know I’m far from ready for that.”
“But when the day comes, I’ll be more than willing to serve under you.”
Lorca smiled, and Ash’s heart jumped into his chest. “Wait until you find out what I was like as a captain.”
There was a knock at the side of the door. “This is Michael Burnham,” Ash said, and Michael nodded to Lorca politely. She had had very different experiences with his Terran counterpart than Ash had, and he could feel her hesitation. Still, she stretched out her hand to shake his.
“It’s an honour to meet you, sir.”
Ash could swear that he saw Lorca’s eyes become a little lighter. “According to Kat, I shouldn’t be returning the sentiment, but it’s my pleasure, Michael Burnham.”
“I hope you enjoyed the book.”
Gabriel looked at Ash, something akin peace written on his face.
“You’re thinking about something, and it makes you forget to talk,” Ash provided helpfully.
“You’re entirely bonkers. But I’ll tell you a secret: all the best people are.”
“I can’t believe your remember that,” Ash said, and he was certain his smile stretched over his entire face.
“I remember everything. I’m sorry I took so long.”
“It was worth it,” Ash said, and he meant every word. As he looked around the room, he saw a family of his own creation, and he couldn’t be prouder.
Michael laughed, and whispered softly into his ear. “I told you the book was a good idea.”

[Ella]

Fandom: The 100 
Summary: Bellamy Blake/John Murphy, slightly shippy; Murphy has been isolating himself in his room for three weeks, and Bellamy isn't having it; oneshot based on 5x01, so beware for spoilers!!
Words: 1713

In the Dawn / of a Most Stormy Life - Was Drawn / From Every Depth of Good and Ill / the Mystery Which Binds Me Still 

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone

Alone - Edgar Allan Poe

“Murphy?” Bellamy gave the door a soft knock. “You in there?” It was a rhetorical question, of course. Murphy hadn’t left the room for three weeks now, and he didn’t seem adamant to do so anytime soon.
“Fuck off.”
“I’ve brought you dinner.” He was trying. He was really trying. Murphy was getting on his very last nerve, but he knew that if he didn’t try, no one would. Echo didn’t particularly care – she hadn’t known Murphy well when she came aboard, and Murphy had never made an effort, which meant that Echo hadn’t either –, Raven thought Murphy was being a dick and would get over it, Monty and Harper had put up with it for a solid three days before they joined Raven’s camp, and Emori… well… he understood why she wasn’t speaking to him. Murphy’s behaviour was [i]wrong [/i]and unfair and perhaps Raven could even be right. Bellamy knew that, even as he stood here, knocking at that door, as futile as it was. He would never understand Murphy’s behaviour, not really. He never had. But he also knew that he had let Murphy down before, and that hadn’t ended well for either of them. They simply had to live together on this ship, and to hell with it, Murphy was his friend just as much as the others were.
“Why do you still care,” Harper had yelled at him last night. “Let him drown in his misery if that’s what he wants.”
Monty nodded. “I know you always want to help people, Bellamy, but some people just don’t want help.”
Bellamy didn’t say that he had wanted help when he had closed himself off from his friends, a good six years ago now. He didn’t say that he still marvelled at the way that Kane hadn’t given up on him. Had never given up on him.
“He’s right, Bellamy,” Emori said. “He’s being an ass. The only reason that he’s pissed is because I’m good at something and he can’t work out the controls for the life of him. I’m suddenly not the damsel in distress anymore and he can’t –”
“I doubt that Murphy ever saw you as a damsel in distress,” Raven said with a smile.
Emori threw her a furious glance. “My point is that he’s being a childish dick. He’ll come crawling back sooner or later.”
“You know what he’s like, Bell,” Harper said. “He’s selfish, he always has been. Remember when we first landed… what he did –”
“Is a long time ago,” Bellamy cut her off. He didn’t want to be reminded of that time. Of what he had done.
“It happened.”
“It’s a low blow, Harper. We’ve all done things we regret.” He knew he did.
“I’m not sure if Murphy has ever regretted a thing in his life,” Harper said with a huff.
“He regrets,” Emori said with a blank stare. “I’m just not sure if he ever learns.”
Bellamy sighed. He didn’t believe that Murphy was simply jealous of Emori. Even if what Harper said was right, and Murphy was the most selfish idiot in this corner of the universe – which, statistically speaking, wasn’t that unlikely – Bellamy had always thought that Murphy respected Emori and her capabilities. As far as he’d understood, Emori had saved Murphy’s skinny ass more times than he could count and had always been the smarter one. He just didn’t understand why that would pose a problem [i]now[/i], after five years. He knocked again. “Come on, Monty has updated his concoction a little, so it’s marginally less disgusting than yesterday.”
“It told you to fuck off.” Murphy’s croaky voice was followed by something slamming against the door.
“What has the door done to you?” Bellamy said, trying to keep the mood light, while he was in fact ready to break the door down.
“You’re standing behind it.”
Bellamy dragged a tired hand over his face. “Look, Murphy, I’m not going to pretend that I understand what the hell your deal is, because frankly, I do not, but please just let me come in for five minutes and get something to [i]eat[/i]. After all the crap that has happened back there on earth, do you really want to die because of your own stubbornness?”
“I’m not dying, drama queen. But that [i]does[/i] sound like me, doesn’t it?” Murphy’s voice had an edge to it, and all Bellamy’s alarm bells were ringing.
“You’re the one being dramatic. If you don’t fucking let me, I swear I’ll break the door down.” Bellamy had expected Murphy to laugh at his threat – he probably had it stacked up with chairs and the like by now – but it remained awfully quiet on the other side. Bellamy hated the silent treatment – at least when Murphy was talking, he knew he was relatively okay. He had almost asked Raven to use a laser on the door when Murphy hadn’t opened up or made a sound for three days straight last week, but she said that he should leave him alone. Murphy valued his privacy. And the silence had brown over.
“You’d actually do that?”
“I’ll have you know that I was very close to doing so last week, but Raven wouldn’t help me.”
Murphy laughed now.
Bellamy smiled as he heard the door opening, but his smile dropped as soon as he saw Murphy’s face and the state of the room behind him. “What the hell happened here?” he asked, ignoring the fact that Murphy had obviously been crying for now.
Murphy shrugged. “I heard you brought food.”
Wordlessly, Bellamy handed him the bowl.
“Hmm,” Murphy said as he took his first bite. “Still tastes like piss.”
Bellamy rolled his eyes and looked around the room. The place had been trashed, and he was pretty sure that Murphy had made some good effort trying to put his fist through the wall. “Murphy…”
“I’ll clean it up, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” I’m worried about you, asshole. “I just wish you’d leave your room sometimes. Spar some with Raven. She’s getting good.”
“I bet she is,” Murphy said, and there was that bitterness in his voice again.
“What is your problem? Is it really so hard to deal with the fact that some people are better at things than you? If I locked myself in my room every time Clarke made a better drawing than I ever could, I’d never leave it either.”
“Well, this is not about drawing, is it?” Murphy bit.
“You’re not bad at fighting, Murphy.”
“Echo thinks I am.”
“Echo’s Echo.”
“You don’t understand. You’re like this perfect poster child –”
“I’m far from perfect.”
“Then what am I, huh? I can’t do anything. I can’t fight well and will never be as good as any of you, I can’t help Monty with his stupid plants because I wouldn’t understand it anyway, I can’t work the controls because I – I just can’t –”
“You could put in some effort and actually learn such things, Murphy. If you only just –”
“Get the fuck out.”
“What –”
Murphy was pushing Bellamy away from him, towards the door, an angry snarl on his face.
“What are you doing?”
“I said get out.”
Bellamy grabbed the other boy’s arms and pushed him against the wall until he stopped struggling. “Is it really that hard to try and put some effort into something. Emori has learned. And it isn’t as if Emori had any past knowledge on space, so if Emori can –”
“Yeah, I know,” Murphy said, his voice flat and his eyes accursing. “If Emori, the stupid savage girl, can do it –”
“Emori’s not a savage,” Bellamy said sharply.
“If Emori can do it,” Murphy continued without faltering, “then surely, so must I.” He laughed, but this time there was no joy behind it at all. “Well, guess what, I fucking can’t.”
“Have you –”
“Yes, I’ve tried. I’ve watched Emori, I’ve asked Raven to explain it to me, but I just – I don’t get it, okay. Not any of it.”
“But –”
“And did you know that Emori can read? She learned to read English within two years, perfectly, even though she couldn’t before. She reads better than I do now. I never really – I wasn’t good at it, and I never will be. It’s not as if I didn’t try. My father – I’m just – I’m stupid, okay.” Murphy was looking away from Bellamy now, finding some spot on the wall behind him. “I know that. I’ll never be good enough. But that doesn’t mean that I’ve got to be thrilled about it.”
“You’re not stupid,” Bellamy said, as he slowly let go of the other’s arms.
Murphy slid down and stretched his legs. “Well, you’re probably the only person who’s ever thought that. Perhaps that makes you even more stupid than I am.”
“Murphy, if you were really stupid, you wouldn’t have survived earth,” Bellamy said, slowly sitting down next to Murphy.
“I’m stubborn. That’s not enough here. And it just reminds me of…”
“What?”
Murphy shook his head, and they sat together in silence for what felt like minutes.
“Hey, Murphy?”
“Hm?”
“Just so you know, it [i]is [/i]enough. I can’t speak for the others, but it is enough for me. I don’t really care if you can read well or not.”
Murphy didn’t reply.
“And if you ever need help with any of that –”
“You don’t have to baby me.” Murphy’s voice sounded harsh and defensive.
Bellamy wondered if it had been a mistake to come here. Maybe Harper was right. Maybe he couldn’t help someone who didn’t want his help.
“Why couldn’t he just be happy with what he had?” Emori had asked him a couple of days ago. “Did I –”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Harper had said. “Don’t ever think that.”
“I sometimes think that he just doesn’t know how to be happy,” Raven said.
Bellamy took another close look at Murphy’s face. For all his harsh words, it looked like he was close to tears. Bellamy simply smiled at him. Yes, Murphy was an asshole, and if he wanted his help he probably didn’t know it himself. But Bellamy couldn’t let it stop him from trying. Not while his friend needed him. “Suit yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[Ella]

Fandom: Game of Thrones
Summary: In which Jaime is not as alone as he thinks, and Bronn still doesn't get a castle [post-S7 oneshot].
Words: 1187

Do You Still Believe in Love I Wonder

He didn’t look back as he rode away from the castle, away from the place that had always felt like home, even if it was simply because [i]she[/i] was there. Wherever he went, he had always returned to this place, to her – even defying the greatest odds. Even now, when she had so clearly refused him, now she had laid bare how little she truly cared for him, he couldn’t bring himself to believe it had [i]all [/i]been a lie. Her sweet words when they were little more than teenagers, her touches when they were able to steal a moment after she’d been married off like a piece of cattle – it must have meant something, at least then. He wondered where they went wrong.
Jaime halted Honour as he put the glove over his golden hand. it was more of a burden than anything else. He couldn’t use it, not really, and it was heavy on his wrist. Still, it was a reminder of his family, a reminder of what he came from. Perhaps this was where he went wrong. He remembered her harsh words that day. Perhaps he hadn’t been there enough. Perhaps it was his fault that his sister had turned into the woman she was today. He sighed. Perhaps Lady Olenna had been right after all.
A single snowflake fell on his gloved not-hand, and he looked up to the sky. He could almost see Ned Stark throw him a self-satisfied smirk from beyond the grave. Winter was truly coming, and it seemed as if his house wasn’t as dead as they had all believed it to be. Brienne would be pleased. The two Stark daughters, safe and sound at home. He wondered what they would do to him if he were to ever reach the North at all. What they were to do if he would arrive to tell them that his sister’s promises were bare, and that he was the only one who had come. They’d lock him up, they’d kill him. They probably didn’t even know that he was the one who had crippled Winterfell’s heir, but he’d still done enough. They’d never trust him. He couldn’t go to Winterfell, yet it was the only choice he had. No way back, no way forward. Cersei had been right on that account, as his father had been for all those years. He was truly the stupidest Lannister.
We are the only ones who matter, the only ones in this world. And everything they’ve taken from us we’re going to take back and more. We’re going to take everything there is. Turns out the only one who was going to do the taking was [i]her[/i]. Her and their unborn child. She had so easily traded him for the babe in her belly. She didn’t even have to think about it. Was it the Lannister name that mattered to her? Their house? It sounded like a priority his father would have had. Cersei had always been the one who was most like father, even if her love for her children was the one quality he didn’t quite share with her. He wondered if Cersei could have loved a son like Tyrion. She had never been able to understand his care for his brother, she had never been able to understand that he was a part of her family too, just like their father hadn’t been. Yet she had loved Joffrey unconditionally. She had always loved her children more than she had loved him, and he’d understood that. He understood it, even though it wasn’t necessarily a sentiment he’d shared. It wasn’t until Myrcella – until he saw her in Dorne that he had truly felt like a father. Cersei had shielded them from the world well enough, and he felt like he’d never known any of them. Not Tommen, and certainly not Joffrey. He saw them, and their paths crossed, but he was never in their life. Sometimes he had felt like Tyrion knew his children better than he knew them himself. He had been too scared. Too scared they’d figure it out, too scared that others would figure it out. If only he’d been a little less scared…
“Did you really think you could just fuck off without me?” Bronn rode up next to Jaime, and looked up to the sky. “Weather’s really shit for riding.”
Jaime sighed. “What are you doing here, Bronn?”
“You still owe me a castle.”
“My sister’s the one who’s got the Iron Bank on her side. I don’t have a penny. I mean, you could have Casterly Rock for all I care. It won’t stand long if the dead reach it.”
“Podrick told me about that, yes. Dreadful story.”
“I saw it with my own eyes. It’s not a story.”
“So that’s why you decided to ride for the North all by your lonesome?”
“I made a promise.”
“It won’t be the first vow you’ve broken.”
Jaime gave Bronn a pointed look. “I’ve always done what I thought was best for the people I care about. For my family. Cersei might not think so, but it’s true. I’ve just been failing for a very long time.”
“Looks like me you’ve just been trying to do what’s best for her.”
“She’s my family too. And more than that.”
“And yet here you are, leaving her behind.”
Jaime gave the reigns a small tug, and Honour started walking again. “Are you here to question my decisions, or are you here to help?”
“I’d be the last to question your decisions. You’re the heir, and you are technically the one with the money, so –”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. If it’s money you want, I’m not the person you need to go to. You’re better off with my sister. I’m too stupid to manage that sort of stuff anyway.”
“Aye, you’re a stupid cunt. You do stupid, brave things and are likely to get yourself killed. But at least you’re not insane. I’d take you over your sister any day of the week, Jaime Lannister. I’m not looking forward to fighting the dead, and if there was anyone else in that castle I might have just stayed in King’s Landing. But your sister set the entire Sept ablaze, and let’s face it, without me you’re going to get yourself killed, if not simply by going North, then by fighting an army of the dead, which you’re still shit at, by the way. I mean the fighting in general, not just fighting the dead.”
“I don’t know, they die if you burn them, I think I can manage that.”
“Maybe,” Bronn said, as unconvinced as Jaime felt. “My point is, I can hardly let you go alone, can I?”
“One might almost start to think you cared,” Jaime said, a small smile around his lips at the oddly touching words. It was nice to know that someone cared, even if that someone wasn’t Cersei. “My knight in shining armour.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Bronn said, but he was smiling too. “Now,” he said, spurring on his horse, “let’s get ourselves killed.”