"Sylvia, you are the most amazing woman that I have ever met. You are also the smartest woman I have ever met, so I have no idea why you would want to accept what I'm going to propose, but if you do, I know that I'll be the luckiest man on this planet, and probably in the whole Federation." Pike pushed aside his memories of his future. No one would consider that to be lucky. But that wasn't important now. What mattered now was convincing Tilly that he meant every word he said. Because he did and he would.
He took a deep breath and went on.
"I…. know … about Willa. I understand that you're scared of my reaction… but don't be. I'm so happy about her. I want to be part of her life and part of your life. I … need … to be with you both, if you'll permit me," he explained. Then, he sank to one knee and kneeled before her, presenting her with the ring box. "Will you do me the honor of considering a ten-year contract marriage with me? I will do everything in my power to make you and Willa happy every single day we're together, I swear, and I know that being with you both will make me happier than I have ever been."
Her eyes filled with tears, and his heart sank because they were not happy tears. She then said the words that he never thought he would hear.
"No, I will never marry you, Chris."
That wasn't the reaction he had been anticipating; he now possessed a sneaky suspicion that Tilly had glossed over the sordid details to a rather impressionable Willa. He knew how his life would end, in a lifesupport chair, and that Tilly, Will and the rest were deeply entwined in his future. They would be in a long-term contract but he'd free her from what he was to become.
And break her heart in the process.
Best way to handle her, be patient, understanding… and if necessary, woo the hell out of her. Above all, be gentle, Chris.
He got to his feet, grateful that his knees didn't creak, and then sat next to her. The ring box was returned to his pocket, completely unopened. He reached into the bag of ice cream and pulled out the napkins. Gently, he pushed them into her hand, and let her cry herself out. When she was done, he took the crumpled napkins from her, and in exchange, he handed her the spumoni. He then took out his own dulce de leche ice cream.
"Have some, it'll make you feel better," he offered. "Willa needs the calcium, also."
"I rejected your marriage proposal and you're offering me ice cream?" Tilly questioned. Her eyes were red, and her face was splotchy; her hair… it was wild and uncontained.
In other words, she looked as if she desperately needed a hug. He desired nothing more than to be the one to give her that hug of reassurance, but he feared that it would be the worst possible move, especially if she was feeling … overwhelmed.
Sylvia Tilly was a runner. When she was sixteen, she had started a universal diplomatic incident by stowing away on a freighter. She'd stand, fight and die for her loved ones, willingly, but if a solo Sylvia got besieged and felt overwhelmed, she'd run instead of defending herself.
"I got you spumoni; it's your favorite," Chris reminded her. "Chester says not to let it melt."
"Chester?" Tilly questioned.
"The Tardigrade. It's a gift for Willa," he explained even as he began eating his ice cream.
They ate in silence, and when she was done, he disposed of the containers.
"So, what should we do now? You like museums, is there any particular one you recommend that Chester and I see while I'm here?" He questioned. "Would you mind showing me around? Mon français est horrible, and in France, you have to speak the language, else you are viewed as uncultured barbarian. Chester, I'm afraid to admit, speaks French worse than I do."
"Captain?" Tilly's voice shook.
"Chris. In private, I'm Chris. I think with reference to recent events, we've certainly reached that point," he explained. He leaned towards her and whispered, "We need to talk about your friends on the Discovery, so you need to find someplace safe for us to talk. Les murs ont des oreilles as they say."
The walls have ears.
"I haven't heard from any of them…." Tilly whispered. Then she added, "Your accent is atrocious."
"Not safe," Pike whispered also. "I'll tell you what I can later. Be patient, please."
In a louder tone, he stated, "I told you that my French is horrible."
Tilly wanted to protest, she wanted to demand an answer NOW… but honestly, in her overwhelmed state, she could handle one issue at a time. Since Captain Christopher Pike was standing in front of her, that was her current issue.
"How did you know about Willa?" Tilly whispered. "And how did you guess her name?"
Tilly wanted to know how he knew about the baby. Oh yes he'd tell her the truth.
She pops in and out of my life at random intervals, creates merry chaos and then pops on out.
No, that would not work.
"I had the strangest dream. This spitfire showed up, crazy curls-sorry, she's got my coloring not yours-and she was like, 'Hey Pops, can I borrow the keys to the Enterprise for a quick joy ride around the universe? I said, 'No, you may not and don't call me Pops,' and the next thing I know we're all in jail for speeding as she broke Warp 10. We are so going to have our hands full with her," he admitted with a fond chuckle. "I'm rather looking forward to it."
And honestly, he was.
It was though a higher being… God… if you were of the religious bent, had decided that having tortured Christopher Pike enough… the Higher Power… would give Chris a little girl to love for as long and as ardently as he could. And he would love her fiercely and for a wonder, the little girl loved him just as much.
"You always told me that I was there during the darkest times of your life, so I try to deliver."
"You had a dream regarding our daughter?" Tilly questioned. Her face was scrunched up in confusion and Chris nodded his head.
"Considering some of our adventures, it's not that farfetched," Chris reminded her. "I seem to remember a talking mushroom with Napoleonic tendencies, plus there was a Queen with a strange fetish for Spumoni ice cream. Oh, before I forget, she says, 'Hi!' I get the feeling that she doesn't particularly care for me. She's on Team Tilly."
"You met Po? Wait… Who told you about Willa?" she asked. "They promised not to tell you. And Team Tilly? There's teams?"
His heart lurched at her casual drop of the word "THEY" – that meant not just Galen, but other people had known about the baby and hadn't told him.
"I told you, I had this crazy dream." He kept his tone soft, and mild.
"Why are you still here after I rejected your marriage proposal?" was her next question. She barely took a breath before the barrage of queries began. "You want to go to a museum? Why aren't you ditching me to the curb? You haven't even asked me why I won't marry you. Do you wonder why I did not immediately say 'Hell, yes', when you proposed? Like any sane, rational person would have done?"
"You don't have to give me a reason why you said no," Chris assured her. "There are a couple reasons I'm sticking around. Most importantly, I'm not abandoning you and Willa. Two, you like museums…"
"I mentioned that to you once, on the Janus," Tilly protested.
It had been a random comment during pillow talk. Chris had asked her what a perfect date post Janus would be like for them; back when life had been easier, (Yes, back when Chris had been a Star Fleet captain who had been brainwashed by Breen, and he and Tilly hadn't known who she was.) She had mentioned her perfect date consisted of a museum… there had been a park….
And they had ice cream in the park.
Thank you, Will. You're getting a boost in your allowance for reminding me about the ice cream.
On Tilly's perfect date… there would have been a nice restaurant and dancing… under the stars.
He needed to make those arrangements, stat.
Sylvia had also mentioned having the best sex of her life on her perfect date night, but that was most assuredly not happening tonight.
He needed to take his time and woo her.
"Obviously, I was listening as I remembered it," Chris chided her, but very gently as Sylvia was in a very delicate state right now. "So, I thought for today's date…"
"Date?" Tilly questioned.
"Date," Chris affirmed. "For today's date, we'll do something that you like to do. Together. Reason three, that proposal really …. Wasn't very good, wasn't very romantic, so when I ask again, it will be better. Promise, and maybe this time, you'll look at the ring before you tell me, 'No!' I'm rather biased. I think it's a nice ring; one that you'll be proud to show our children later on when they ask about it. Do me a favor, tell a fib, let them know that my proposal was really romantic, don't tell them that you rejected me, because it's an ego thing. Reason four, and the most important reason, you and I need to figure this out and that means we need to talk. Reason five, I will support you during this, any decisions you make, anything you need…. I will do for you."
He dimpled then.
"Children?" Sylvia repeated. "We haven't even discussed the one I'm carrying, and you're talking about having more?"
"Children. I got the idea that Will wasn't an only child. So, to which museum are we going?" He picked up the bag with Chester the Stuffed Tardigrade. "Chester says he's game for anything."
Chris squired her.
That was the only way to describe it. The Captain, no… Chris… walked on her left side, opened doors, paid for everything, pulled out chairs for her, had her sit down first and he even offered her his jacket when he noticed that the museum was cold.
And he held her hand in his.
It made her feel safe… cherished… protected…and he flashed those damn dimples at her whenever he leaned her way. He flirted with her and he was completely and utterly focused on her.
He had even done his research and knew exactly what exhibits she had wanted to see. Chris had even pulled some strings so she was able to see exhibits that were closed to the general public.
The afternoon was very epitome of what she had once thought of as the perfect date.
"What can you have to drink?" Chris asked her when they were at street café. "You seem very quiet. Are you overdoing it from the concussions? Should I take you three home? Chester seems tired. Chessie, we can hit the bookstore tomorrow as your mom's tired, right?"
He looked at the stuffed Tardigrade and for a moment, Tilly saw their daughter having an all too serious conversation with Chester.
"I need to start practicing reading bedtime stories, so I promised Chester I'd read to him. He promises not to interrupt me."
Tilly tried to imagine Captain Christopher Pike of the Enterprise reading baby books to a stuffed tardigrade. And she thought of Michael Burnham, and how she quoted Alice in Wonderland. God knows she felt as thought she had fallen down the rabbit hole.
Oh Michael, I knew who I was this morning, but I've changed a few times since then.
Chris interrupted her thoughts by asking her again, if she was tired.
She was about to answer when his communicator chirped. His soft exhale of annoyance surprised her as it was almost as though he was disappointed by the interruption, instead of relieved. It was almost as though he truly wanted to spend time with her, rather than due to Chris feeling some sort of noblesse oblige to humor a pregnant ensign.
"I have to take this, because I left strict instructions not to contact me unless it was urgent," he admitted. "Be right back. Don't run; you have my jacket. When the waitress returns, I'll take the Croque Monsieur and the un café liégeois."
"Do you want coffee or a coffee ice cream sundae?" Tilly questioned. "Because you had ice cream before we went to the museum?"
Christopher laughed, and confessed, "Ok, I don't want that. I actually want a large cup of coffee, black, strong. No milk, no sugar. Dessert will be later, when I take you out for a night of dinner and dancing. Just for the record, I am an excellent ball room dancer, so be prepared to trip the light fantastic."
"I'm not a very good dancer," she admitted.
"You did fine when we had that one dance… a life time ago on the Discovery," Chris reminded her. "Though no knives this time."
He winked and flashed a dimple.
"In my defense, I was trying to save you a piece of cake," she stated petulantly.
He laughed and smiled that smile. The one that made her feel like she was the only person in the entire universe.
Tilly smiled as he walked away. She placed their order and included an almond croissant for herself. Then she requested additional pickles for Chris' sandwich.
Ok, they were for her, but an almond croissant with a heaping amount of pickles was just weird.
But tasty.
After ten minutes of no Chris, she slid her cold hands into the pockets of his jacket and she felt a small box.
The ring!
Hesitantly, she pulled the box from the pocket and carefully opened it. She gasped when she saw it because it was… gorgeous. The stone… whatever it was… was the color of a nebula and it was flush against the ring.
"Try it on," Chris requested softly, as he'd returned to the table unnoticed while she had gawked at the ring. "I want to know if I guessed your size correctly. I have to confess I needed help picking it out, but fortunately, someone saved me from making a sizable, expensive mistake. That ring would have convinced you that I meant business… but you never would have worn it. This one, this one, you can wear all the time and not worry about damaging it."
"I said no," Sylvia reminded him as she closed the ring box.
Regretfully.
"And I'll ask again, because I rushed my original proposal," he rumbled. "I'll ask again, when you understand that I'm being quite sincere…. But first you… you have to permit yourself to trust me."
"I trust you," she insisted.
"Yet you ran," Chris stated that quietly. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. Chris seemed to understand how the physical contact seemed to steady her, so he kept her hand in his, Hesitantly, then with increasing boldness, he stroked her hand with his thumb. "Because you were scared of me and my reaction. It's perfectly fine to admit that, Sylvia. Right now, more than ever, we need to be completely honest with one another while we navigate these tricky waters… together."
"I just didn't know how to talk to you," she confessed finally. "I wanted to tell you, so many times, but… I just didn't know how to talk to you."
"Practice makes perfect," he offered as he kissed her knuckles. "You're talking right now, and I'm listening."
She pulled her hand away, because she couldn't think when he kissed her hand, and she whispered a futile protest, "You don't have to do this, Chris."
He pretended he was stupid, so he gave her a wink and an easy, dimpled smile, "I'm hungry so yes, I must eat. A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thou."
Their plates arrived then and Chris' smile grew broader after the waitress left. "I see you ordered me a plethora of pickles with a sandwich on the side? Or are these cornichons? Is this...a craving?"
He tried to be light, teasing but she retreated inward.
"Please stop pretending," she whispered, as she stared at anywhere but at him. "This… is a fucking catastrophe. Stop pretending that you're happy. I'd rather you yell at me, than deal with this… Pike Performance of Proud Paternity."
"I'm not angry about the baby, I'm not angry at you. There is no reason for you to think that I'm angry… No reason for you to fear that this is a catastrophe," Chris stated intensely. "We had talked about this... possibility. We both wanted this."
"They wanted it. The Faux Chris and The Fake Sylvia wanted it," Sylvia reminded him. "And I have no idea about the real Chris."
"I'm … delighted… surprised… but delighted," he offered. "When you reach my age, you just accept that having kids isn't in the cards for you."
"You forget how well I know you," Sylvia offered. "There is something that's bothering you, and you're trying to hide it behind your bright smile and your stellar dimples. Once this gets out, it will destroy your career. Tell me that the thought of the impact of this on your career hasn't crossed your mind."
She scored, and scored well. For a brief moment, the bright, happy Christopher Pike façade shattered and she saw a scared Christopher Pike who was utterly overwhelmed ... but then… it was gone, as though she had never witnessed it.
And his fear wasn't because of the baby.
Or even his career.
Christ, he looked scared to death.
The glimpse of the frightened Chris disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
Sylvia, I don't care about my career. In ten years, I will be horribly disfigured and trapped in a life support chair. My career will mean nothing to me, to anyone then. I'll just have the memories of you and the kids while I beg to die.
No, no, no. He couldn't permit himself to focus on THAT future.
No, he was focused on a bright, LOUD, future surrounded by a horde of little Tillys.
He pondered for a moment, and then offered something… something insignificant. Yet, true… and a rather selfish emotion that he hadn't really permitted himself to focus upon except during the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep.
"At the moment, my career is the least of my concerns. I've thought about it, yes, but … What I'm not successfully hiding is that I feel… a little… hurt…" He offered that confession gingerly… poised to apprehend her but gently, if she bolted. "And ... unhappy …. That you didn't trust me with this. That I had to find out from Will what had happened while you were facing this, frightened and scared, and utterly alone."
He leaned towards her and attempted to radiate sincerity.
"I understand why you chose to do what you did. It still… stings… I would have been there," he stated softly. "I would have supported you when you found out. I would have."
Instead of answering him, Sylvia took several of his cornichons and slipped them into her almond croissant. She munched on the concoction with a relish, pardon the pun, that was obscene.
"Do you really think I believe that you had a dream about our daughter?" Sylvia asked, finally. Her eyes darted away from him as she looked for someplace safe to look.
"Yes, I did. Will is a terror. She hit me in the face with Chester, in fact. She was wearing Christmas pajamas, complete with baby aliens wearing Santa Hats. Chester appeared pretty snazzy in his matching pjs. She insisted on a Christmas story so she'd fall asleep. As she informed me, Santa won't come if you're awake. Chester, Will and I shared champurrado and churros while I told her a story that my Mama had told me."
He smiled in fond remembrance, and she shook her head. "That's not all of it, Chris."
"She also offered to tell me all about the Adult Boy Girl stuff as apparently you made me tell her all the details. I guess nature took its course and there's a sibling and she desired an explanation. I wanted her to tell me the specifics so I can have the script prepared and ready."
Sylvia shook her head in mute protest.
"Ok, truth demands that I admit that I just heard from Una, my XO on the Enterprise. She's tough. She likes to test the new additions to the crew. I told her, in no uncertain terms, to skip that with Singh, Ylsa and Nessa. She decided to ignore my advice and... Una will be doing cleanup for days. Weeks even."
Sylvia laughed and Pike grimaced.
"The test was just for Singh, but apparently his wife and he are…. Bonded… Telepathically. She picked up his thoughts… and… she got Dr. Nessa involved. The Valkyries went full throttle as they feared the Enterprise crew had been compromised by… brain… worms."
"Brain worms?" Tilly questioned.
"Not juts brain worms, but sentient brain worms. Una has a sadistic streak," Pike admitted… fondly.
"So, the Pride of Starfleet was…." Sylvia prompted.
"Completely overwhelmed and utterly embarrassed… Through a blatant use of Deltan hormones, Singh's commanding use of the Shastar Vidya and the vicious onslaught of various little blue appendages…they cut a swathe through the various teams as they commandeered the bridge and locked everyone out of the computers. End result mainly bumps, bruises, a couple broken bones and a great deal of wounded pride because they still can't get into the computers."
He leaned forward and admitted softly, "Spock's pride is extremely wounded. Klingons have nothing on Vulcan pride. Though Vulcans won't admit that."
She laughed loudly.
"I may regret insisting that they join the Enterprise crew," he admitted with a very crooked smile.
"Commander Saru would take them in a heartbeat. Or is he now, Captain Saru?" She tossed that comment in, just to see his reaction. "I know he thought Singh had great potential."
No response, which meant he was hiding something.
"I promised DelRosso I would take care of his crew, so I requested they be added to the Enterprise roster." He pulled out a PADD and then placed it on the table which was a distinct non answer. "I believe dinner and dancing is next. Do you have a preference? I thought maybe I could make reservations for a cruise on the Seine? Only if you're up to it."
She deliberately placed her hand on his. The unexpected physical contact seemed to shock him as he looked at her and this time, she didn't glance away. No, this time, she made eye contact.
"I need to know what happened to the Discovery. I've tried to contact Michael; I haven't heard from her."
"We need to be someplace private," he reminded her.
"Let's go to your hotel room," Sylvia suggested.
He debated that option, thought about his hotel room being a small room with only a bed and chair… what might happen when he told her the truth… and then he offered a safe alternative. "How about I take you to your grandparents? We'll talk there."
Sylvia paused and then nodded her head. "I'll let them know you're coming."
"Would you like me to help carry something?" Sylvia asked him for what had to be the tenth time.
Chris had a small rolling luggage on which he had balanced Chester (still wearing a jaunty bow however the stuffed tardigrade appeared both sad, as his parents were not yet engaged, and worried, regarding his unresolved custody agreement) and a very large, expensive box of chocolates. In his free hand, Chris held a bouquet of flowers as he was prepared to meet the very formidable Adele Quinn, Sylvia's grandmother.
When Tilly had contacted her grandmother to let her know that Chris would be visiting, Adele had insisted that Chris stay at her house. As the Queen Decreed, so they obeyed.
"I'm perfectly balanced," Chris quietly stated. "You need to rest and take care of yourself and Will, so I will handle this."
"Are you going to be like this the entire time?" Tilly quipped.
"I'll be significantly worse," he admitted. "I hope this means that you're letting me be involved?"
Tilly retreated inward and Chris nodded his understanding. "We've got a great deal to discuss, but you make all the decisions. Including the extent of my involvement."
"Her name is Willa," Tilly informed Chris.
He grimaced and nodded his head. "In my defense, she introduced herself as Will. Whenever I think of her, she's Will."
"You're still insisting that you had a dream about her?" Tilly retorted. She shook her head and looked uneasy. "What else can you tell me?"
"Will told me how much she loved you," he offered.
Sylvia's eyes began to fill with tears. "Really?" she whispered.
"And that she tries to be perfect for you but fails miserably. I'm afraid that she gets that troublemaking ability from me, plus a double dose of shyness. I was always a disappointment to Josh," Chris admitted that slowly.
Then in a brighter tone, he focused on the issue at hand even while Tilly attempted to formulate a protest. "Your grandmother is petite, Quinn is tall. They met at the opera, and they married rather quickly much to everyone's horror because they seem like complete opposites. It seems that your grandmother's friends believed that Gabriel Quinn was a ne'er-do-well, and a rapscallion. However, Quinn adores your grandmother and you, and he also encouraged you to go into the exciting field of astromycology by agreeing that you should do a report on space shrooms. He has managed to survive the rather stormy relationship between your mother and grandmother by keeping his mouth firmly shut until there's no other option."
Long pause.
"Also, all of your grandmother's friends are still in a state of horrified disbelief that she and Quinn are still together. Am I right so far?" Chris asked. "Plus, your father is currently teaching at Oxford? Your mother is negotiating something. Thank God for that, else she would have landed on my mother's flower garden. Josh would never have forgiven her; as it is, the Mojave PD is doing penance in the garden."
Tilly nodded.
"I don't remember telling you all about my grandparents," she admitted.
"It's all on your Star Fleet application. I did my research when I first came on the Discovery. I wanted to know as much as possible regarding as my new crew, especially regarding the Ensign who admired my nail beds."
He winked.
"I think we'll skip mentioning the sentient mushroom that kidnapped you?" was his next suggestion. "Now, important question. You didn't mention my nail beds at all today. Is the allure gone? Chester and I both got manicures today…. And do you have any idea how hard it is to give a space faring tardigrade a manicure?"
Tilly laughed as Chris displayed his hands for her inspection.
For the first time in too long, she laughed and Chris realized anew how much he had truly missed that sound.
"I've missed hearing you laugh. When I was on the Discovery, I'd wait for your laugh of giddy excitement … and you weren't there," he admitted. He then added, with a very warm smile, "I want to hear you laugh more often."
Her unexpected response was to hide her face behind her hair.
"What's the problem?" He prompted.
"Lorca reprimanded me for laughing," she explained in a very soft voice. It was the voice that he had nicknamed the Tilly TeenyWeenyVoice as it was soft and meant that Tilly was feeling uncertain. "He said that a StarFleet Officer shouldn't sound like a babbling orangutan."
"The Real Gabe," Pike offered slowly… hesitantly… then plowed forward. "He had a crazy laugh…and a wicked sense of humor. He would have so enjoyed being your Captain."
"You knew him?" Tilly questioned.
"Yes, we were at the Academy together." He kept it at that.
Tilly squeezed his arm, and murmured a protest. "You're back to hiding something from me again."
"I can't talk about Gabe here," he explained. "Cornwell, Georgiou, Lorca, Leland…were classmates of mine. Only Kat's left these days, and that's only thanks to a certain group of tattooed aliens."
Her eyes widened at the list of names and then she nodded her head in instinctive understanding. "We've got a great deal to talk about, don't we?"
Fortunately, that's when Quinn arrived with the transport.
