Always

In the ready room Una stood at attention, her expression determined, a brave face couching apprehension and misery. "Captain, I'm an Illyrian. Not from this colony, from far away. Starfleet policy is clear. I am resigning my commission and surrendering myself for disciplinary review." She reluctantly placed her Starfleet badge, one of her most prized possessions, on the edge of the desk he sat behind.

Pike held Una's gaze while she spoke, never looking away, not blinking. His hands rested on the desk; his expression was unreadable. Immediately and without hesitation he firmly said, "Rejected. I don't care where you come from, you're the best first officer in the fleet."

She remained at attention. "Thank you, sir, but I feel obligated to point out that Starfleet does not allow …"

"Una, stop."

"Chris, that's …" her shoulders drooped.

"Stop," he repeated. Then in a gentler tone added, "Please."

They fell silent yet their eyes remained on the other. Eventually Chris quietly asked, "Is this the reason? Is this why you walked away from me, from us nine years ago?"

She nodded. "I couldn't … I couldn't risk it. My secret … it's too big. The consequences for it … too harsh."

"Your identity was … is safe with me. You were … are safe with me," he protested. "You could have trusted that. You should have trusted that." The words 'should have' were punched out with heat behind them.

Una shook her head. "Putting your career in jeopardy? And your freedom? Harboring my secret and me is a punishable offence. An imprisonable crime. No. Not an acceptable option."

His quiet tone returned. "That was my choice to make, not yours. And Una, I would have chosen you."

"No Chris. If I told you, once you knew, any true choice was negated. Then you either turned me in or balanced on the knife's edge dreading and waiting for discovery as I have done all these years." She looked away, not wanting to see the pain in eyes. "I didn't want that for you."

"There was a third path. Playing offence instead of defense." His eyes narrowed and he then insisted, "Why now? You ended our relationship in order to protect me. After all this time you come clean, putting in motion the choice our break-up was meant to avoid. Why?"

She faced him again. Her expression no longer hid the sadness felt. "My resignation shields you."

"Still rejected," he reiterated.

"Chris, that's kind but I've broken a dozen regulations. I lied to get into Starfleet. Accept the inevitable and let it lie," Una pleaded.

"You didn't answer my question."

Una straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. "I'm not ashamed of the choices my people make. I'm proud of my heritage. My people seek to learn by becoming. We give back by constantly improving ourselves. Our modifications aren't for gaining superiority or power; we heal and protect by adapting to our environment. Some of our genetic programming succeeds, some of it fails. We learn from those mistakes and continue forward. I'm not a monster. And I am tired of hiding who I am because the Federation is too timid to find a middle path. That's why."

"How does resigning aid changing Federation attitudes towards genetic engineering? A showy trial and lengthy punishment render you a labeled danger or an object of pity. Neither will make a difference," Chris pointed out then urged, "Stay. Push back against an outdated policy based on fear and bias. Create a bridge so others may follow. I welcome the discussion. The library records Spock discovered on Hetemit IX are a good beginning."

"Do you say this because my genetic modification cured the virus? What if I hadn't saved these lives? Would you still fight for me?" Una asked almost afraid of the answer.

"Always."

ooooo

Sitting at the end of the bed in her quarters Una said, "Pause recording. End personal log."

"Erase last entry." A permanent record of her thoughts was too risky.

Remembering those final moments with Chris in the ready room, her fingertips traced over her lips.

His sincere promise, "Always," echoed in her thoughts.

After that vow, Chris rose from his seat and circumnavigated the desk. He halted in front of her, their bodies nearly touching, their breathing audible to the other. Time felt suspended. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb tenderly brushing along her cheekbone. "I still miss you," he had whispered.

And for the first time in nearly a decade they had kissed. A brief kiss, and a loving one. One acknowledging a possibility.