Author's Note: Arguably also Friends to Lovers? I'm not sure whether it counts, let me know if you have an opinion.

It should feel strange, perhaps. Part of her expects Chris's shadow to linger, colouring the edges as she lifts Marie's nightshirt off, if I don't have time to get dressed, Chin-Riley, that means we're already dead, teases the hair back from her dampened face, touching tears away with it. It should feel strange, but it doesn't. It's almost… familiar. They know each other more intimately by now than Una's known most people, and frankly Marie Batel isn't 'Pike's ex', she isn't anybody's anything. She's a person, with a history and a future and a will that she's clearly struggling not to exercise as Una's touch drifts slowly across her skin, because whatever else they might be in this moment she's still Una's captain, and Una's very much still her XO, and anything that sounds like an order is going to be… problematic. Una pauses, barely started in her exploration, to flatten a palm against her ruined chest. Apply a gentle, steady pressure.

Slow down. "I know what I'm doing."

Marie blinks at the ceiling, tension coiling through her hands. "I won't break, Una. Just…"

Only she might, Una thinks, watching her throat flutter. She thinks she wants something blinding, something vicious, a pain and energy to match what's going on inside. To mask it. Overwhelm it. But Una isn't about to do that, to anyone let alone someone who clearly can't consent. It would only make it worse. "I know what I'm doing." She repeats quietly. And she does. Looking after people comes easily, when they let her. "Take a breath."

Marie only winds tighter in restraint. "Not helping."

It is though. It's doing exactly what Una wants it to, inching her open, one movement at a time. "It will, if you let it." She shifts carefully to the edge of the bed, sitting so she's hemming Marie in, blocking out the world that spreads reality all around them. Reality no one wants to see. Marie blows out a shuddery breath as Una takes her hands, eases them outwards, stroking slowly down her arms until she stays. Open. Vulnerable, nascent sobs beginning to loosen in her chest. "Good. That's good." It doesn't take much, after that. Una keeps her touch gentle, just fingertips and exhales, finding all those little places that draw goosebumps and watching her uncoil, surrender, until she really is just breathing and the quiet tears become an afterthought, a symptom of the cause that Una's curing, slowly, for however long it lasts.

Then, finally, she sets a careful rhythm, feeling for the boundaries, watching for responses, because a good XO doesn't actually need orders, and Marie's characteristically honest, even in this. Easy to read, going heavy as the pleasure builds, takes over, blots everything out but sensation until she's letting herself be lifted over the edge in a sudden, gasping shock, spilling open in a way that's utterly captivating, that makes Una feel more trusted than anyone ever has, the accompanying flood of catharsis leaving her sobbing with something that isn't misery. Just everything else.

I've got you.

I know.

Una strokes down her slowly loosening legs, waiting while the moment subsides before she wets a washcloth, bathes Marie's heated face, the swimming eyes that are focussed determinedly away.

"You don't even like me."

It isn't true, if it ever was, but Una feels no need to contradict her. It's not about that. She lets Marie push her hands away, twist to hold them instead, tight and telling. It is about this.

"That didn't work."

No. And it was never going to fix it, the underlying trauma remains. But at least she's been able to feel it, had some endorphins, some dopamine, a wash of oxytocin to stop anxiety pulling her into depression. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Marie watches her for a moment, considering. Then, "No."

She really doesn't. And of course they don't have a shrink on board. Or not a proper one. Una strokes her hands, up over her arms, the places her skin had wept one short, impossible year ago, and feels her shudder.

"Don't."

But she doesn't pull away, and Una keeps her touch gentle. Predictable. "It's over. It won't happen again." I'll make sure of it, she finds herself thinking, a sudden vivid impulse as Marie reaches to pinch at her scarring, a habitual gesture that Una's seen every day of this mission. That she's never really seen, because it's so much less jarring over her clothes. She covers her fingers until they flatten, soften, strokes gentle soothing passes in between. "It's over. All of that's over."

"It doesn't feel over."

Good. It's a good admission. Something she clearly needs to say. "But it is. You're safe here. Nothing's happening." It's an absurd reassurance given they're currently slinking through enemy space, the perpetrators all around them, and Marie looks at her as if she knows that, but then she's wrapping forceful arms around her and Una hugs her back, gentle, careful, not too tight. You're safe here. It's startling how much she wants that to be true. "Whatever happens, you're Marie Batel. No one can take that. It's yours, forever." Marie presses into her shoulder, something unreadable rattling through her.

"Thank you."

"It's ok." Una strokes her hair, wondering how they ever got here. From nodding acquaintances, Pike's sometimes fling, to the woman who came to arrest her, who turned out to be an honest opponent, a willing ally, whose smile Una had watched light up the courtroom as she realised she'd be losing, eyes come alive with genuine delight. It hadn't been justice in the end, not by a long shot. But it had been right, and Marie Batel is all about right. About fair. About duty. It's why she came out here. Why Una's suddenly so very glad she followed.

"I should clean up."

Yes. Una helps her gather her clothes together. Neatens her face before she heads for the showers, because no one wants to see their captain in a state, especially not while hurtling blindfold through the void. Then she straightens the room, the barely rumpled blankets, and waits. She's supposed to be falling asleep, it's what she's scheduled to do, but she doesn't even try. Acknowledges the telltale shift of relief when Marie reappears. She smells of vetiver, of cedar, all clean and earth and wood, and it loosens something in Una. Something like home. She lifts the blankets open in silent invitation, and Marie doesn't tell her they share the same bed. That she was going to end up there anyway. Just curls back into her, quiet in the darkness.

"Tell me… anything."

So Una tells her about Epheska. Because it's a gripping yarn, and none of it's classified.

Marie sleeps on her stomach. It's something of a revelation after three months sharing quarters, but there it is suddenly, whenever Una's in the room. She rolls as soon as she can sense her in the bed, even when she's asleep, and it's so… endearing, somehow, this open vulnerability. Una strokes slowly down her spine without thinking, the first time it happens, waking to it after the night before. Not a cuddler then. Well, noted. It's not as if Una had expected romance. But this feels deeper somehow. More of something. Marie's eyes flutter, don't quite open, and Una continues up into her hairline, sweeps gentle pressure along the muscles in her neck then back down either side of the bony processes in a simple massage. Marie loosens, as intended. Every time. It's fascinating, and beautiful in a way Una can't quite process, wants to come back to, over and over. Marie doesn't complain. She reaches one day to take Una's free hand, only inches from hers in any case. Traces her palm, her fingers, unfocussed for a moment. And there's a question there, but Una doesn't know how to answer it. Simply leaves their palms pressed together, the moment lingering as Marie begins to fall asleep. And then the world shudders, and they're both up, and life comes crashing straight back in.

"Subspace shearing." Kavorkian grinds out through gritted teeth. The engines hiss and flicker, threatening to drop them out of warp. Una's still up on engineering, slides herself under the nearest fritzing panel. It's an all hands on deck kind of thing. Marie drops to her knees as if to follow, but Una shoots her a look. "We've got this. Go be the captain." Someone needs to back up the helm. An expression flashes across Marie's face. No. And Una wants to reach for her, only it's gone, and then she is, disappearing above the console, and Una simply gets on with it.

They fix the ship. They avoid the Gorn. They catch their breath amid the rings of a slow gas giant. Una finds her staring out of the aft porthole, drink in hand, as the crew get raucous in the mess hall. "Hey."

Marie half turns. Smiles without meeting her eyes. "Sorry." For becoming distracted, because that wasn't what this was meant to be. Only 'meant to' is such a human thing. Feelings never work like that. Una pulls her into a hug, a knot unclenching from all those hours earlier. Feels the way she breathes as if she's trying to resist. "I'm sorry."

"This is fine." Una says it into her hair, skims the glossy strands to ease her closer. "Really. It's all fine." And it is, strangely. Whatever it is. It's comforting, getting to be this person for someone so determined, so sure, so solid in her convictions. Someone who would die for her without a thought, because that was the oath she took. It's weighing heavy on her, that oath, and it's good to be able to balance some of that burden. To be everything an XO should be, and then something more. Marie breathes into her chest for a moment, gathering herself.

"I take it there's a party?"

"No sense drinking alone."

"Noted." Marie pulls back to study her, suppresses the merest hint of a smile. "Go relieve Harrington." It's low, and it's the right call.

"Yes ma'am." And Una doesn't kiss her, because it's not the time to go there. But the thought occurs, and sits there, that she might have.

The ship is quiet. Has been for hours, which is novel and also not, a pocket of downtime while the systems beam out data. Marie watches her climb into bed, sets her book down, rolls over. And there's something about it that's different, this time. Her palm against Una's too light. "Can I… Is it…" She seems to have heard the negative before she's even asked the question. And she's right. Una squeezes her hand.

"There are feelings, and there's everything else. It's better if the two don't mix."

Marie frowns, trying to interpret that. Coming up short. "That makes no sense." It's endearingly honest. It makes Una want to reach for her, but she doesn't.

Una's never done vulnerable. She's not about to start now, like this. "I don't need that from you, and you don't need me to need it." They need to balance this mission, and Una's always been an island. She can handle this.

"I need to feel like I'm not taking advantage."

"You're not." Una traces the line of her face, because she can't help herself. And damn it if something isn't slipping. "This isn't the place." It's all too complicated. And they have history, in a manner of speaking, and it's only the circumstances that have ever made this work. Once it's over, if it's over, there's no way it's going to survive.

Marie settles under her touch, her eyes changing. "Too much."

Una pauses at the insight. It's something she hasn't allowed herself at all, but Marie's right. It is. "I don't have a lot of practise." She doesn't have any practise.

"No. So I'm going to tell you that you're not alone, even if you aren't going to believe me. And when we get back," she's just said when, casually, is if she means it, "this doesn't disappear with the mission. This matters, whatever form it takes. I've got you. Forever. Ok?"

It's the most she's ever said about anything, and Una blinks at her, too stunned to move, to breathe, to even begin to work it through, but Marie doesn't need her to answer. She simply rolls onto her stomach and snaps off the lights. Una watches her face go quiet in the darkness, her breathing deepen as she falls asleep. I love her surfaces out of nowhere, nebulous and lacking weight, because they know each other only in the context of extremis and nothing built like that will ever last. But it is real. She knows that. She just has to work out what it means. And now, she decides reluctantly, is not going to be the time for that. She climbs over Marie carefully, manages not to wake her.

The bridge can always use another pair of hands.

"Why did you come?" Marie asks one evening, alone together in the mess.

"For La'an."

Marie thinks on that, swirling her drink for a moment. "She said you're family."

Una doesn't respond, because what is there to say?

"Why would you leave her?"

Because she loves her. Because she's a kid still, Una's kid still, and she can't face another war. Not this one. She shouldn't have to. "I didn't leave her alone."

Marie considers that, quietly. "So why did you come?"

Because someone had to. Because she's qualified, and capable, and because it might do some good. Prevent the very worst. Speed the end of this thing. "Because no one would miss me."

"That isn't true."

No, it isn't. Plenty of people would miss her. Chris might even be devastated, because Una's the person who knows him best, even if he's never quite known her. La'an would be shattered, but she'd heal. She'd live. Chapel would make sure of it. "Because no one needs me."

"Just the job you do."

Yes.

Marie pulls her into a sideways hug, presses an unexpected kiss into her hair. "Life sucks, Chin-Riley. And then sometimes it doesn't." It doesn't actually mean anything, but somehow Una feels seen, right here, in this moment, leaning into someone who has nothing left to lose, and is reaching for her anyway.

"Let's go home."

"Let's go home." Marie echoes quietly.

If they can even make it back. They're almost out of coffee.