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The Future, is what you make of it	By : emeraldsyndicate Category: Star Trek > Discovery Views: 549 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek nor do I benefit financially in any way. I take no credit for these characters, I'm just playing with them, seeking a happy ending to a muse that sat upon my shoulder and murmured "what if...."

Chapter List
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The pain in your arm and side continues to intensify as you lie there, the cold metal of the Jefferies tube floor pressing against you. You groggily wonder how much time has passed as you keep trying to catch your breath fading in and out of consciousness. The irony of it struck you rather paradoxically. You had managed to cheat death over and over. You survived the time warriors and a wormhole for gods sake, had tea with a deity who threw you 100's of years through time and someway, somehow, survived the delta radiation that should have meant your death. Now, now you were going to die being punished for, hell, you didn’t really know what for, but it was so very very cold. You were so very very cold and you just couldn’t seem to catch your breathe….
You’d awoken, to your surprise, as you really hadn’t thought that was likely to happen, gasping for air as the sharp pain in your side jolted through your body like barbed wire. The lights are too bright and there is an acidic smell of disinfectant. As your eyes adjust to the harsh light you realize that the very sterile looking space is med lab. Oh god, you think freezing in terror. Your afraid to look, terrified to confirm it, but it won't change anything if you try to deny it. You always knew it was a possibility, you were just really hoping you would die versus “melting”. You carefully lift your hands to see if in fact you can, and then your toes. The biobed has started to beep in an alarming way as your panicked thoughts that your paralyzed and on the way to that horrible chair send your heart rate, blood pressure and respiration soaring wildly.
The noise causes one of the shadowy figures to approach you, and it takes you a minute to recognize one of the nurses, one you don’t think likes you. Then again, no one here likes the screw up you think ruefully as another stab of pain loops across your ribcage causing you to wince and screw up your face.
The nurse is wearing a rather strained expression as your admonished rather curtly to “try not to move, you’ve had a bad fall” and “we’re already short handed without you causing more work.”
You close your eyes tiredly thinking three words, three little words and all this will go away. You’d be safe, cared for, protected… but debt and duty, honour and obligation, they are damn poor substitutes for love and that is all it would or could ever be. A few hopeless tears trickle down your cheek as you fade back into a medicated sleep as the nurse adjusted the settings. You just miss it as the Captain strides into med lab his strained, tired eyes tracking across the space to find, you.

The captain had been unable to shake it. He’d hit the gym trying to burn it out with a good workout. Tried to run it out. He’d tried cooking but still found himself distracted. Thus, it was late into delta shift, when he should be sound asleep, he had found himself walking the ship, restlessly. His feet had brought him here, to med lab, to her. However, this is what his subconscious had keep “poking” him about. It didn’t sit right, it was off, badly off with the pieces not lining up … or… they were the wrong pieces entirely. It was that second option which was eating at him. She had fallen, been hurt, badly, on his watch.
The atmosphere on the bridge had been heavy after his chief’s revelation. That she had been told to miss the meeting with him, that she had been told to go alone. Then there was the Gorn. The pieces just wouldn’t fit and the image of her lying unconscious, like an abandoned broken doll, tossed aside like so much garbage, was haunting his thoughts. It was cruel.
The info on the bio bed was easy enough to read and his jaw clenched and unclenched as he reviewed it. It painted a gruesome picture of the deliberate torment she had endured and that had been being carefully kept from the crew, and him. And with every passing moment and scrap of information uncovered it became more and more apparent that her torture had been very carefully and deliberately orchestrated.
His fists kept clenching and unclenching at the idea someone had done this to her purposefully and with full knowledge of the harm that would be caused. He looked down at her, noting the bruising and the, what was that? He had thought incredulously to himself. He leaned in closer and a fist tightened around his heart making it suddenly hard to breathe as he reached out to gently stoke her cheek, damp with her tears.
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The Future, is what you make of it