When Pike was late to the briefing this morning, she should have known that the day would go to hell. He's never late, though when Saru mentions, off-hand, that Pike's first officer has come aboard, Michael feels a not entirely insignificant twinge of disappointment. The reminder that his assignment is temporary, that he belongs on the Enterprise, is a harsh but useful one. She uses it to remind herself not to get too attached.
She manages to hold on to that reminder for a whopping fifteen minutes before he strides into the ready room, issuing orders to the senior staff, kindly but firmly telling Saru to take time off. It shouldn't be wildly attractive to her, but it is, and Michael tries to tamp down on the want coiling in her belly.
She fails spectacularly when he asks her to hang back. He is practically preening with excitement, his voice low and intimate as he shares the information his First Officer dug up with her. It churns in her, the wanting, the exhilaration, and the fear. He's so happy they're about to find Spock.
She wishes she could be happy too, but Michael knows the minute they find her brother, Pike will learn what an awful person she is and will loathe her, just like Amanda.
She didn't mean to imply what happened between her and her mother. She's usually better about policing her privacy, Michael thinks, but there is something so comforting about Pike, about how he looks at her – like maybe she'd be safe with him.
The look on his face when she practically begs to be recused from Spock's case tells her that this conversation is in no way finished. Michael does not doubt that Pike will coax out of her what she's done at some point, why Amanda left in such a hurry.
His voice softens and is almost affectionate in its regret when he tells her to suck it up, that Spock is the priority. It fills Michael with such warmth she wants to cry. The more time she spends with Pike, the more she believes that, yes, in another life, she would be very safe indeed.
Then, a new crisis pops up, and she has never been so grateful for a scientific anomaly to sink her teeth into. It gets them to focus on something else, at the very least, instead of Spock or each other.
Her gratitude and excitement are short-lived. Michael feels immediately guilty once Saru tells them he is dying. When Pollard announces he's in pain, Michael aches for her friend.
It nearly knocks her off her feet. Saru is dying. She loves him, and he's going to die. Someone else she loves is going to die right in front of her.
Sometimes, the universe is a bitch.
Somehow, seeing Pollard understaffed and overwhelmed, she and Pike end up helping stabilize the multitudes of wounded while they try to figure out how to save Saru. The Kelpian is maddeningly resigned to his death, and Michael is infuriated by it.
"'Rage, rage, against the dying of the light,' eh, Michael?" Pike asks her, an attempt at levity after Saru shoots down another of her suggestions.
She rolls her eyes. "One of these days, I will come up with an appropriately cutting literary reference that'll knock your socks off."
"I look forward to it, Commander," he replies, eyes sparkling in the dim light.
Pollard glances between the two of them, saying dryly, "Not that this isn't entertaining as hell, but would you two mind making sure my damn patient doesn't bleed out ?"
Michael feels the heat ride up the back of her neck, followed by shame as she presses the gauze pads – a little old-school field medicine happening on their disabled ship today – to the injured crew member's wound. Were they flirting over an injured crewman while Saru lays dying across the bay?
Their hands are covered in the crewman's blood as they work and talk. It's seamless, like she and Pike have worked together for years, not days. Michael muses that if their straits weren't so dire, she might ponder it.
But they don't have time.
As always, she and Saru develop a working theory, playing to each other's strengths. Working together is bittersweet but brilliant. They have come so far in their relationship. She means it when she tells him his empathy is beautiful.
Michael feels guilt when he sends her away, and she goes. She has her orders from Pike, but Saru is dying, and she cannot bear to leave him. Still, she does as she is asked and returns to her station. The bridge is barely controlled chaos, Pike's anxiety at losing Spock's shuttle palpable. Michael finds that she wishes to calm him and wishes there was something she could say to help him rachet down – both for the crew's and his own sake.
He drifts to her station, as has become his wont, once again his voice dropping to the low, private thing she has come to hear in her dreams. Pike's love for her brother is near to bursting from every cell when he tells her they're losing the chance to protect Spock. Michael marvels at Pike; she really does. He's clearly a natural-born leader, comfortable in command, a man who clearly cares for his crew.
His devotion to Spock is also beautiful. Michael tries to imagine what it is to have someone who cares for her that much in her life. She knows she probably has it in Tilly and Saru, but – someone who would go to bat and chase across the quadrant to protect her? It's a tempting and terrifying notion.
Her brother is very lucky.
It is Pike's desperation to help her brother that has her offering to go to Engineering and try to convey his plan so they can succeed in their mission. When she gets there, she is not expecting to see the only other person on the ship who loves her also in imminent danger.
Not today, she thinks, desperate and fearful. I can't lose both of them today. It's a blur after that – the Stamets and Reno show, Tilly begging Michael for help, Michael getting the hypothesis that she literally sprints through the ship to share with Saru. He understands her because, of course, he does, and from there, it's the not-so-simple matter of convincing Pike that they're right.
It takes longer than it normally would, Michael notes. She can only assume that Pike is torn between his devotion to her brother and his oath as a Starfleet officer. She understands the pull between your oath and your duty to someone you love. While he deliberates, they come closer and closer to not only losing Spock but to their demise.
Saru's final entreaty does it, and Michael feels such a sense of relief it's all she can do not to cry out. Pike believes them, defers to them, and again, the exhilaration is heady. That they're right, and the sphere's final act is to save them, how beautiful the light is after the sphere explodes – it's all almost too much, and one of the privileges of Starfleet that they get to be a part of it.
Stamets telling her Tilly is safe rachets her joy up another notch, only to be immediately dashed when Saru nods to her, and Michael knows.
"Now it's my turn," he tells her, and it's all she can do not to sob.
She helps him off the bridge because what else can she do? How can she begrudge him what he has asked her to do, even if more of her soul will die? When they turn in the turbolift and see the bridge crew, led by Pike, standing to honor Saru, Michael loses her battle against her tears and lets them fall. Pike stares at her, his sympathy and heartbreak for her evident on his face as the turbolift doors close.
Everything about Saru asking her to cull him is terrible. She's never felt closer to him and, on the one hand, is honored that he trusts her this much – she never thought they'd get anywhere near this level of trust – but that she has to be the one to help end him, it's too much.
Still, Michael is a person of honor and will do as she is asked. She knows she is telling him too late that he is her family. Her biological parents died, her foster parents – well, that's complicated, even if there is love there – her brother doesn't speak to her, but Saru; Saru sees her, has seen her do terrible things, forgives her, and loves her despite it all.
The universe is cruel that she has to lose him now that she's finally realized it.
That Saru is insistent she can repair her relationship with Spock, and he makes her promise to try; it feels inevitable, almost. Michael thinks that she should have seen this coming, seen the logic in the parallels between her relationship with Saru and her broken bond with Spock.
Maybe Saru and Pike are right, she thinks, later, when they're in Sickbay discussing Saru's miraculous recovery and what it means for him and his species. Michael almost tells Pike when he comes striding into Sickbay, looking pleased and relieved.
"Mr. Saru!" he calls. "You're looking decidedly among the living!" Pike has a giant grin, and Michael wonders what it's like to live with that much joy.
Saru smirks and remarks, "How does the saying go, Captain? 'Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated?'"
Pollard mumbles something about working with a bunch of nerds and leaves them for patients who are worse off and less likely to throw around literary references.
Satisfied Saru is fine, Pike orders him to take twelve anyway, if for no other reason than he saved the ship and 100,000 years of knowledge, and if that doesn't deserve a break, he doesn't know what does. Saru accepts the orders, and Michael and Pike leave him, but not before Michael gives Saru one more hug, whispering, "I'm really glad I didn't have to kill you."
Saru chuckles, then sobers. "I am truly sorry I asked that of you, Michael."
Uncomfortable to be having this conversation in front of the captain, she shrugs and gives him a small smile. "I'm honored that you trusted me enough."
Saru squeezes her hand, and then Pike ushers her out of Sickbay. They walk in silence through the halls, contemplative and comfortable. Though she suspects Pike is a patient man, she also knows he likes conversation to work through things that have happened, unlike everything she knows, which is to deal with things in solitude and quiet contemplation.
"Hell of a day," he muses.
Her eyebrows raise. "That's putting it mildly."
He glances at her, fond and sympathetic, "The life of an explorer."
Michael has nothing to add, merely hmms her agreement. She appreciates that he wants to talk, but her mind is so full, her soul so in turmoil, she would prefer the quiet and his company.
He seems to get the message, content to travel with her in companionable silence. It is comforting having him nearby, a steady, solid presence.
The turbolift ride back to the bridge is silent, but for their breathing. Michael closes her eyes, focusing on the lift's faint hum and the warmth radiating off Pike as they stand shoulder to shoulder. She realizes she can smell him, sweat, shampoo, and aftershave, and it shouldn't smell like home, but it does.
Michael's eyes fly open as the lift opens onto the bridge, sparing her any more horrifying realizations or emotional reactions. She relies on protocol and training, following him onto the bridge, the bosun's whistle announcing his arrival.
"With your permission, Captain," she requests, forcing her voice to be steady. "I'd like to go to the Science Lab and analyze the sphere data."
Pike smirks, his eyes shining. "Early xenoanthropologist catches the worm?"
Utterly charmed, despite herself, she smiles back. "Something like that, sir."
Nodding, he replies, "Permission granted."
Turning to leave, she immediately returns her attention to him. "I'm sorry we lost him, sir."
She sees pain, regret, and sadness flash across his face before he slips behind his Captain's mask. "We'll find him again," Pike replies, although the words sound empty.
Michael nods, not knowing what else to do, leaving him with his pain.
Later, after she spends hours parsing through data and brings Pike good news of Spock's shuttle and likes it a little too much that she can make him smile, Michael realizes how exhausted she is.
It's been a long week. A really, really long week.
Michael can't remember being this tired, this weary, since they returned from the Terran Universe after all they'd endured. She's never been one to indulge in much human relaxation, instead preferring work, solitude, and meditation to reinvigorate herself. However, a year of being Tilly's roommate has exposed her to the concept of the therapeutic nature of a hot shower and an alcoholic beverage, and Michael finds herself wanting one desperately.
She's at her station, Pike in his chair. The way he was willing to spare her from Spock's wrath and allow her to hide from the things she's done was unexpected. It's been a long time since there was someone who wanted good things for her. Saru and Tilly do, of course, but they're friends and comrades, bonds forged by war and serving together. Pike has known her a week, and he's just kind, good, and decent, and Michael feels like she shouldn't be too good a friend to him lest she stains him.
Growling inwardly, she digs deep for calm and serenity against the emotional whiplash that rolls through her. Between the two of them, she and Pike have had three near-death experiences in the last week; Tilly got infected with some mycelial parasite and had to get her skull drilled into; Saru almost died, then didn't; her mother isn't speaking to her; Spock is wanted for murder and on the run; they've made the archaeological discovery of the millennia, and all it cost them was the ship's near destruction; and if that isn't enough, Ash has resurfaced to bring turmoil to her life at the literal worst time.
Yeah, a hot shower and a drink seem amazing right about now.
Despite herself, and to her utter horror, she yawns on the bridge.
Pike spins towards her, smirking. "Are we boring you, Commander?"
The embarrassment must be broadcasting on her face, but Pike seems amused and understanding. Still, "I apologize, sir," she replies primly, standing up straighter and adjusting her jacket.
He waves it away, rising from his chair and walking to her station. He leans against it, his back to the viewscreen, and speaks in a low voice. "It's fine, Burnham. It's been a hell of a…week. I'm sure you're exhausted."
She arches an eyebrow at him. "And you're not?"
He smirks. "Captains don't get tired."
Michael laughs and tries not to be embarrassed that she's being so familiar with her commanding officer. It seems they do this now, quiet, intimate conversations on the bridge in full view of the rest of the crew. "Why sir, I believe that's the first time I've caught you in a lie."
Pike holds her gaze, something in his eyes that Michael cannot identify, a certain… heat. He seems to catch himself because he blinks a few times and says, "It'll be a bit before we catch up to Spock. Why don't you get some kip? Go check on Ensign Tilly."
Michael beams at him, the gratitude flooding through her "Thank you, sir."
"You're a good friend to her, Burnham."
She smiles affectionately. "And she to me, sir. She was my first friend aboard Discovery, whether I wanted it or not."
His lips quirk. "And did you?"
"Not even a little," she admits. "I thought I was on a temporary assignment and would return to my life sentence at completing my mission." Her lips quirk fondly. "But Tilly didn't care that I didn't want any emotional entanglements. We were roommates, and she would make the best of it."
"She's very important to you," he observes.
"I can't imagine my life without her, sir," Michael admits. Now she knows she's exhausted to freely admit to such emotion to a commanding officer she's known for a week.
Michael turns to leave when the internal comms come to life.
"Stamets to Pike."
Pike glances at the ceiling as though he expects to find the engineer there. "Go ahead, Commander. What do you have for me?"
"It's Tilly, sir." Stamets sounds out of breath, bordering on frantic. "The entity escaped containment, sir. It…it took Tilly!"
Pike meets Michael's horrified gaze, and she runs.
She barely registers Pike calling her name as she sprints, screaming at the turbo lift to take her to Engineering. A millisecond before the doors close, she sees Pike still on the bridge, looking at her, stricken and sympathetic, looking for all the world like he wants to join her. Then the doors close, and she rockets through the ship, hurtling towards Engineering.
Michael literally bounces up and down on the balls of her feet as though that will make the lift move faster. She runs again when it slows to a stop, squeezing through the doors before they open completely. She runs through the ship, arms pumping, yelling, "Make a hole!" anytime anyone dares get in her way. She knows people must look at her oddly, but she can't bring herself to care. Something has happened to Tilly.
Her feet hit the Engineering deck, and she stops cold, panting. Stamets is bent over a kind of chrysalis that looks far too much like a coffin for Michael's liking. He meets her eyes, and it's like a punch to the gut when she realizes he looks hollow, grief-stricken in a way he wasn't even when Culber died. He doesn't speak to her, and what he doesn't say is worse than anything he could have said.
She feels like she can't breathe. She's run farther, faster, longer, but she can't catch her breath. She bends forward, hands on her knees, desperately gasping for air, the tears pricking at her eyes. Tilly is gone, and Michael cannot breathe.
Suddenly, someone is touching her. The hand on her back is large, warm, and gentle, and a quiet voice in her ear, but she cannot understand it. Her ears are ringing. Why are her ears ringing?
The voice is saying her name, Michael realizes.
The sound comes rushing in nearly at once, like the volume being turned to maximum, and she hears Pike's voice as it so often is, warm and low and impossibly gentle, his lips close to her ear.
"Breathe, Michael. Deep breaths. You're all right." He's right beside her, practically holding her up, and if she weren't so panicked, she'd probably be mortified at her loss of control. Still, as his hand rubs up and down her back, she wants to sink into his touch.
Michael hears him ask Reno what happened and knows the self-proclaimed "grease monkey" must answer, but she cannot hear it. She forces herself to breathe deeply, closing her eyes and trying to summon the Vulcan calm she's known since she was twelve years old.
She starts at her feet and knows she is standing on the deck in Engineering on Discovery. She is in her uniform; her leg muscles feel fatigued after her sprint through the ship. Her hands are clenched into fists, and she relaxes them, forcing her fingers and arms to relax. She's still hunched over, so she stands up straight and feels Pike help her – but not take his hands off her. She focuses on it, its weight and warmth of his touch, and how grounding it is.
It probably shouldn't be, but it is.
"We'll find her," he promises her, his voice low in her ear still. "Go back to your quarters. Catch your breath."
"I'm fine, Captain," she forces out, her voice shaking.
"Why Commander," he says drolly. "I believe that's the first time I've caught you in a lie." She huffs out a laugh, small and tired.
"Take fifteen, that's all," he murmurs, his tone almost beseeching. "Don't make me order you."
Wordlessly, Michael nods.
"Are you alright getting back to your quarters?" His voice is heavy with worry, and Michael tries not to think too hard about that, either. There's a lot she isn't thinking about these days.
"I'm alright, sir," she answers, meeting his eyes. They seem to stay that way for a long time, staring at each other. Pike must see what he's looking for because he nods and takes his hand off her back.
Taking a deep breath, Michael walks back up the stairs, hearing him dive into discussions with Reno and Stamets again.
She doesn't speak to anyone on her way back to her quarters; she walks, eyes front.
It isn't until she's back in the empty quarters she shares with Tilly and collapses on her bed, staring at the space where her best friend should be, that Michael realizes she can still feel the warmth of Pike's hand on her back.
Yes, she realizes she would be very safe with him.
In another life.