He knew why he was being called. The Supreme Intelligence didn't bring soldiers in for casual chats. He was being called to report on the girl, the woman, the weapon. That was what he had believed until he saw the Supreme Intelligence standing before him. Wearing that twist of her mouth, that half-smile half-smirk that made his stomach lurch. On his knees before the Supreme Intelligence, in the form of everything he'd been trying to deny, to ignore, to not feel, he realized the real reason for his visit. It was wearing her face, and not much else. Proving that in this, like everything else, the Supreme Intelligence really could see into the dark, shadowy corners of his soul where the things he was ashamed of lived. For instance, instead of appearing in uniform, the way he usually pictured her, the Supreme Intelligence was wearing her form draped only in his robe. He'd have to burn it when he got back to the barracks, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to erase the image.
Almost worse was the nearly physical longing the sight brought him, knowing his leader could feel what he felt, he tried again to repress, to deny, to be the proper Kree that some believed his skin color precluded him from being. "Does this distress you? That I have taken her form?"
"No, Supreme Intelligence. I know you do what is for the greater good." He can't even look at her, or the mockery, the facsimile that is standing before him. His stomach is turning, knowing that his darkest fantasy is standing before him. The Supreme Intelligence moves closer to him, the sound of silk sliding on skin lights his body on fire. He closes his eyes for a moment, fighting for the control he's constantly telling her to find. He can smell her. He has no control. When he opens his eyes, she's standing right in front of him, revealing so much bare skin. He forces his eyes up, to focus on hers, to pretend that he isn't longing to run his hands over the bared expanse of skin before him. Never before has he wondered if the Supreme Intelligence would feel solid beneath his hands.
He's never imagined touching his leader, and he's horrified to realize that's exactly what he is doing. Kneeling before the leader of all Kree and imagining touching, tasting. A sharp intake of breath is the only sound in the cavernous space. He's never been sure if the space exists in his mind or if he's been pulled into the AI's system. He's never asked. He's always striven to be a perfect Kree, to make up for his skin color, atone for his weakness.
"You have developed feelings for the weapon." It's not a question. It doesn't occur to him to deny what is quite obviously a fact to both of them. The AI wouldn't be standing before him wearing her face if there weren't truth to the statement, and it certainly wouldn't be dressed so skimpily if his feelings had been appropriate.
"I will not fail you." He has to clear his throat before he can even attempt the words.
The AI doesn't look impressed and seeing the expressions floating across the Weapon's expressive face made him glad he'd remained on his knees instead of trying to stand in the presence of his leader. "You will. This weakness is too deep now. Even if you bedded the weapon, it wouldn't clear your mind of this affection."
He feels ill again. He had been telling himself that the bone deep longing he was feeling was only lust, that could be satiated if he ever bothered to indulge. Hearing a being who could see into the shadowy crevices of his mind speak the truth that he had been avoiding made him want to run. He'd never understood the Weapon's fixation with the act, running was a function to carry you from one place to another, a means to an end, not an activity in itself. But there, on his knees, he understood the urge to go. To get away as quickly as his body could carry him. But he couldn't outrun his mind, and he wouldn't try to outrun his leader so there was no point. He pushed down the surge of emotions, trying to tamp down the roiling in his gut.
He lifted his head, making eye contact, "I won't fail you. The weapon will be yours."
The AI drifted away, trailing the fingers of one hand along the table that sat in the center of the space. Every step made the hem of his robe rise higher and his squeezed his eyes shut again rather than see what his brain had conjured. He'd never seen her like this. He never would. He'd be content knowing that he had trained her, honed her, given her the very blood that flowed through her veins. He would not give into his animal lust. "And if I ordered you to bed her?" The question was posed so casually that he had a moment of doubt. Perhaps the Supreme Intelligence could only reach so far, perhaps she was prodding to see how he would respond. Perhaps it was a test. Asking a question when the AI already knew the answer.
He bowed his head, knowing that hiding his eyes wasn't hiding anything from the AI, "I defer to your judgement, Supreme Intelligence." The silence stretched on for a long moment before he looked up. The AI wore an expression he'd never seen on Vers face. She was perched on the edge of the table and only a shadow kept her from exposing herself to him. He swallowed, sure that he was sweating. Not only from his physical response to the form the Supreme Intelligence had taken. Not only because, for the first time ever, he was afraid of his leader, but because he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to follow orders. If the Supreme Intelligence ordered him to bed the Weapon, he wasn't sure she would cooperate.
He knew that Vers had some affection for him, he'd become her touchstone, the person she turned to when her lack of memories got to her. But he didn't know how far that affection reached because he had never probed. He was afraid of how he might behave if he found that she would respond to him the way he only imagined in the dark shadows of his rooms at night.
The Supreme Intelligence tilted her head to the side, she was wearing the look that Vers got when she wasn't sure how to interpret something. A look that said she was studying whatever had confused her, in this case, him. He dropped his eyes again.
"No. I do not give that order." She shifted her weight on the table, leaning forward to rest an arm on her bent leg. "You will continue as you are, build the Weapon's trust. Make her mine."
He inclined his head, "For the good of all Kree." The tendrils of the Supreme Intelligence left his body and he found himself standing in the hub surrounded by silence.