A/N: The Philippa Georgiou referenced is Prime Georgiou.
Why We're Doing This
Team Christopher Headquarters aka Phil Boyce's quarters
Una, Phil, and Rene Louvier gathered in the CMO's living area. "Spock and Matt?" the first officer asked.
"Both held up, Spock on the bridge, Matt treating an injury," Phil replied.
Una noted the usual twinkle of mischief was still absent from the physician's eyes, it had been for days. And that his mood remained uncharacteristically subdued. She took the bull by the horns, figuratively and literally, saying without preamble. "The danger was unknowable Phil. None of us could have predicted nor prevented that shuttle accident."
He shook his head. "Perhaps not, but the bottom line is I relentlessly looked for an opportunity to push Chris and Aalin together. To give them time alone with each other. Absent that, they would have been here and safe rather than on a tiny spacecraft in a location proving hazardous. Forgetting nothing out here is routine was a rookie mistake on my part."
Louvier said, "We've all had feelings of disquiet and regret over their accident. Grant yourself absolution. Chris would encourage the same."
"After a thorough dressing down once briefed on our intent," Phil reminded.
"Yeah," Louvier agreed with a chuckle and nod.
Phil sighed. "I will. Just need a bit more time. And some progress on our project." He then sternly lectured, "But in future all our match-making activities will be confined to Enterprise. Goodness knows Christopher Pike can find enough opportunities for trouble or injuries on board the ship without casting into the darkness for hostile aliens, dangerous ruins, aggressors mimicking helplessness, or unstable radiation fields."
"Wouldn't want you to get bored, doctor," Una said as she rose from her seat.
"With this crew hell will freeze over first," Phil shot back. He smoothed the top of his graying hair. "Conventional wisdom says silver fox is the new sexy. Thanks to those assembled and our fearless leader directly across the hallway, I'm on track to test this truth sooner rather than later. Where in the command curriculum does the Academy teach 'how to age your medic before his time'?"
Una sorted through bottles containing various colored liquids and sitting on a nearby shelf, lifting one then another and peering at their labels, frowning here and there. She answered while continuing this pillage, "Introduced first semester freshman year and reinforced at all levels and through the various on ship trainee programs. Where's the good stuff?"
"Under lock and key until we achieve our goal," Phil answered.
She turned and cocked an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"
The doctor smiled at her. "Having already experienced your talent for lock-picking, heaven knows where you picked that up and I am slightly afeared to ask, Spock devised my latest containment device."
"Well now you've waved the red flag," she murmured with a faint smile.
"Let the games begin," Phil answered good naturedly, almost too much so. "I'll post the daily score on the ship's intranet." His smile morphed into a grin. "But first you have to find the hidden hooch. Squirreled away by none other than me. I was trained in this art by the illustrious Philippa Georgiou."
Una nodded, a silent promise she'd take the bait. Primarily because such a contest would cheer up their downcast and much-loved chief medical officer. And because said officer kept one of the best bars on the ship.
"Once again, as happens at every meeting, we've veered from the subject at hand," Louvier reminded.
"Late for a date?" Phil queried.
"Hardly," he scoffed. "With Una's pretended immunity to my charms and Aalin now a junior colleague rather than a civilian and more importantly off-limits, my prospects are rather dismal." The chief engineer loved women, loved romancing them, loved pampering them, and, well, loved making love to them. He also held to a strict set of ethics and a third of the crew worked for him.
"Charm? You?" Una harrumphed then pronounced, "You're a legend in your own mind," adding, "And I can fix my own replicator."
"Not to worry, Rene, you're next on our list," Phil pledged.
Louvier wagged a finger in front of the physician. "Oh no. Not me. I'm a confirmed and committed bachelor. Meddle elsewhere. Sooner or later one of those hostile aliens will cross our path and I'll end this dry spell. Or Nhan will agree to a romantic dinner."
"I thought she did?" Una queried, knowing the answer but never tiring of hearing it repeated aloud among witnesses.
"Combat, that was close quarters, hand-to-hand combat training, not a leisurely, multicourse meal," he corrected through clenched teeth while gingerly rubbing still sore ribs. "You might have warned me her idea of foreplay is a bit of not-always-so-friendly sparring."
"And what fun would have come of that?" Una deadpanned.
"In my experience, it's the confirmed and committed bachelors who fall the hardest," the doctor regaled as if reminiscing. "And they're the first to turn into doey-eyed Romeos."
"Hmmm." Louvier's eyes narrowed. His hand waved. He mused, "A circuit pathway here, a flip of the switch there, and your quarters become Chicago in January complete with cold wind blowing off the lake."
Una shivered involuntarily. She preferred a sunny, warm beach, preferably tropical.
Louvier continued, "Or closer to my home, a frosty day in the Alps sans warming vin chaud."
Phil steepled his fingers. "Did I mention mandatory physicals are coming sooner rather than later? Complete, no holds … or should that be … ahem … you can intuit the similar sounding word … barred exams?
Before Louvier could one up, Uan said in her firm command tone, "Keep going and you'll each be spending a time-out in a corner."
In unison they turned and stared at her.
"Don't tempt me," she replied with a sweet smile, knowing neither grasped the capacity of her copious physical strength. Yet the glare she had perfected over many years and practiced via a mirror did not go unnoticed.
"Yes ma'am," both men said tamely.
"That's more like it," she replied.
Phil brought his hands together with a snap. "Yes, yes, back to the matter at hand. Rumor is the Captain has been holed up in his quarters since early afternoon."
"He took the day off," Una confirmed.
"This sounds like a positive development for the budding romance," Louvier noted.
"Knowing Chris he's reading a book, plotting the next mountain to be climbed, or planning bloodlines for this season's … what's the word … crop? … stable? … litter? … of foals," Phil predicted. "Or baking bread. Remember the post Nathalia period? Loaf after loaf after loaf. I finally had to send a friendly distraction his way in order to break that cycle. Una, did Chris discuss any plans with you? Drop any hints?"
"No. Though he and Isak spent quite a bit of time together this morning."
Louvier shook his head. "Little good that'll do us, no one has ever pushed Isak into talking when he didn't want to. Not even the Klingons." He paused. "I'm circling nearer the opinion we should back off and let nature take its course. Chris has always had a healthy social life. Perhaps the time has come to allow him the space for working this out in his own way and at his own pace. As Isak has advised."
"Have you seen Captain Batel around more than a couple of times since Aalin came on board?" Phil asked then answered his own question, "No. Nor has Chris entertained other old friends or new acquaintances."
The chief engineer leaned forward. "And now we are months from home space. A contained community living in the same house. There is plenty of time and opportunity for Chris and Aalin to figure out if what they want is each other."
"He's not working this out, as you say, he's burying his head in the sand," Phil argued. "And this contained community also works against, there's no urgency, no impetus for changing the status quo even if it's not ideal. By the time we finish this tour, too much water may have flowed under the bridge leaving Chris and Aalin stranded with no path forward."
Una added, "The air feels charged, the situation between them tenuous, as if a little unexpected friction and the resulting shock could send their relationship in an unrecoverable direction." She looked thoughtful. "Though, honestly, I don't know if that is a case for or against continuing our efforts." She slouched against the back of the armchair. "This all felt so right when we started …"
Phil rubbed his chin. "And it still is," he encouraged with conviction. "Yes, the shuttle crash is casting its pall, and we're all weary from that narrow escape after being sucked into the asteroid field. Every shadowed corner seems to hold a bug-a-boo. Second guessing is natural. But back to basics. Chris is one of my dearest friends, in many ways, the son I was never privileged to have."
Louvier picked up the thread, "Chris' impact is felt in all our lives. Again and again. And when these shipboard days are long gone, we'll be welcomed at his ranch, gathering there to share the new in our lives as well as remember old times. He's the hub and we're the spokes in a made family wheel. Managing a long-term relationship is hard enough for one in his position. Nothing wrong with tilting the odds a little in his favor."
"And what happened on Talos …" Una's voice drifted away. Memories surfaced and she swallowed hard, forcefully pushing them back into their box. "You can't fathom the brutality of that experience. Now Chris has met someone who lights his world. This is obvious in his expression and body language when he and Aalin are together. We can't let those bastards win and Chris lose."
"So, Phil, what do you have in mind?" Louvier asked.
"First I must correct an oversight on my part," he answered. "I've never taken the time to get to know our newest crewmember. I shall remedy this in the next couple of days. Understanding Aalin's perspective will provide important clues to her feelings for Chris and the state of their relationship."
"Yeah, that's a grande non-starter," Louvier replied. "And rumeur is she won't talk about such things."
"Thus confirming approaching her cries out for a man of my folksiness and charisma," Phil reassured.
Una rolled her eyes.
The doctor smiled. His eyes turned to Louvier. "Second, a little competition. In a good way."
"What kind of competition?" Understanding dawned. Louvier glared at the doctor. "Why me?"
"Most are aware you, now and then, enjoy the company of a captivating woman," Phil explained to the engineer while managing a straight face.
Una snorted.
"All women possess a unique beauty," Louvier corrected. "All women are captivating."
"Stoking Chris' competitive side is not a bad strategy," Una mused aloud. Having a reasonable and useful plan energized and she straightened her posture, sitting up and forward in the chair.
Louvier shook his head. "Both of you are forgetting I purposefully backed away from Aalin in order to give Chris a clear field. Back when we were on the way to Varia. Months ago."
"Now as a favor to that same man, in his own best interests, show a little attention to her. Have a cup of coffee together in the mess hall. Suggest a walk in the arboretum. Chat about one of those French poets you quote so often." Phil smiled. "A piece of cake."
"Oh yes, this is an excellent career strategy, horn in on your commanding officer's petite amie," Louiver muttered. "Even Chris is not that good natured, that facile à vivre and forgiving."
"Exactly to the latter and the point of our, well your, in this case, intervention. But she's not his girlfriend, which is the problem we are attempting to correct," Phil explained in a tone indicating his conclusion was utterly reasonable and obvious.
"The lack of a publicly announced label for their relationship does not change the fact that, in his heart, Chris sees her as son amoureux and is, reasonably so, possessive of that," Louvier argued, hands waving in the air. He lapsed into total French.
Phil glanced at Una. She raised her shoulders communicating, 'Haven't the foggiest idea what he just said.'
"Next time wear your universal translator," Phil grumbled.
"… so to sum up," Louvier continued without missing a beat, switching to Federation standard mid-sentence, "You want me to ask out the woman our Captain, who controls the continued enjoyment of my stripes as well as whether I spend my days tending our antimatter reactor and managing my department or micro cleaning a starbase garbage scow with my toothbrush … you are suggesting I ask out the woman he loves?"
"Exactly. What could possibly go wrong?" Phil replied, his mood now lifted as well.
