Chapter Text
Michael
"You hate politics." Tilly passes over another espresso and raises her eyebrows over her croissant. "Remember? You think it's all opaque maneuvering."
"Not entirely."
"Uh-huh." Tilly takes a bite, looking up and down Michael's new jacket. "You're out of uniform."
"Dress uniform for special occasions, jacket for every day." Michael wriggles a little, trying to get used to the feel of it. It's less practical than her Captain's uniform, more structured somehow. She hasn't worn anything other than a Starfleet uniform or her courier leathers for her work before, and jackets like Laira's are very different. "It's not bad."
"That color blue is the President's blue."
"Oh?" Michael smiles a little, letting Tilly unravel the mystery. "She gets a color?"
"She does and her aides do, so really it's like her whole office has a shade of blue to themselves." Tilly pokes Michael's arm. "This one."
"I am assigned to her office."
"So you said: the president's office." Tilly raises her eyebrows. "Well that's a change from when you wanted her off the ship to never bother you again."
"I didn't."
"You did."
Michael laughs and nods. "Fine, I did."
"So now you work for her?"
"The president's office needed an advisor who understood the damage to subspace caused by the DMA and the isolytic explosion, someone who could explain a warp bubble to planetary governments."
"I read the general report on the your shuttle incident." Tilly sets down her coffee. "Static warp bubbles are dangerous."
"We were very lucky." Nodding, Michael raises her eyebrows. They were incredibly lucky.
"And you had Discovery, and the spore drive. Most people don't."
"We're trying to ensure everyone's ability to detect them."
"And that means you have to work with the president?" Tilly's smile has a playful hint to it. So she suspects something.
"I can explain the spore drive."
"So can Stamets."
"He can't be diplomatic."
Tilly laughs, taking another bite of her croissant. "Okay, that is true."
"Saru needs a chance to be a captain, I need—"
"A break?"
Michael fidgets with her coffee, then takes a sip. "Yeah, I think I do."
"Being on the same station as me will certainly help your mood."
Michael smiles back at her, so grateful to have this time with her. "That it should."
"Not that you need it. I haven't seen you this happy since you made captain." Tilly's eyes shine, and there's something there. She's fishing.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, you're glowing."
"I am not." Michael's not the one that glowing should be for, but so far their little hitchhiker makes Laira incredibly pale. Hopefully today's easier. Hugh said the her hormones might stabilize, but even in this century, pregnancy's different for everyone. Forcing down her sneezing might be causing more side effects than Laira realizes, because she's been so much worse after that wears off. It's still all so new that it could be this is what pregnancy looks like for her, or her hormones are still stabilizing. Michael's instincts suggest caution, while Laira pushes ahead.
"You might think so..." Tilly lets that trail off as she stands up, picking up her dishes for the replicator. "Come on, show me your new fancy quarters that need decorating."
"How do you know they need decorating?"
Tilly puts her dishes into the replicator and brushes her hands clean. "You are good at so many things, decorated captain, Hero of the Federation, but decorating is not one of them, and I have a free afternoon."
Placing her own dishes in the replicator, Michael nods. "You have a point."
"I have so many good ones."
Michael tilts her head towards the lift, down the corridor. "And I've missed all of them."
They talk together, laughing about nothing and stories of Tilly's cadets. When the lift closes them in, Tilly puts her hands behind her back, standing at rest.
"It was the president, wasn't it?"
"What?"
"The report about your shuttle mission and the warp bubble. It says you were trapped with a 'Federation official', that was her."
Michael looks up at the ceiling of the lift, hiding her smile. "Yes."
"And then she seduced you?"
Michael turns, eyes wide. "She seduced me?"
"Brought you over to the diplomatic corp with jackets and meetings meetings meetings."
"She needs help with this."
"And you volunteered immediately."
"I did."
Tilly makes a little noise in the back of her throat, a lot like Laira, if Michael thinks about it. "So you're taking a break from commanding your starship, that you love more than anything, and helping the President, who used to drive you crazy, and you voluntarily agreed to do politics for work, do I have all that right?"
Michal rolls her eyes. "It's not as weird as it sounds."
"Ah, well, do explain it to me."
"It's complicated."
Tilly bounces on her feet, looks down, then dives in. "Uh-huh, so is this because you're having a baby?"
"What?" Michael turns to her, staring as the lift opens and the door goes ignored by both of them.
"You're happy, like, really happy, and you're making huge changes in your life, taking yourself out of the field. The report said you experienced pieces of another timeline, like the bubble read your minds and altered reality. I know you've thought about having children—"
Stepping forward into the empty, highly secure corridor that leads to Laira's quarters, Michael reaches back, guiding Tilly out. For a moment they stand there, lit by the starlight, hands entwined.
"It's the only thing that makes sense."
Michael smiles, slowly letting go of all the worries she held back. "I am."
Tilly reaches for her belly, starting to laugh. "I knew it, it had to be that you wouldn't just--"
Tilly's hand lands in her belly and Michael covers it with hers. "She's not here, Tilly, she's in a meeting."
"What?"
"My baby, she's in a meeting for at least another hour."
"What? How? What are you talking about?"
Michael holds Tilly's hand in both of hers. "I- we- are having a baby, but I'm not carrying her."
"We? You and I? We'd have a great looking baby."
"And so intelligent too."
Tilly hugs her, wrapping her up tight in her arms. "I'd have a baby with you in a moment, but where's yours? Who's carrying her, someone here?"
Michael laughs, then releases Tilly. "Come on, you'll get it when you see our quarters."
"You moved in already?"
"It made sense."
"Oh you're in love."
"I--" Michael pauses, hand above the controls for Laira's - their - quarters. If she's not there already, she's very close. Laira's precious to her enough that she's always in the back of her mind, and living with her is a logical extension of their relationship.
And she wants to see her. Not just for the baby and the support Laira needs, but her, and the way she can't resist any word puzzle Michael puts in front of her, or how she touches Michael's back when she walks by.
Love snuck up on her with Book, surprised her when they were suddenly in deeply, no longer friends, but something else wonderful.
This time, Michael's caring comes like the sunrise, hinting on the horizon, as if falling in love with Laira will be the dawn. She sees it in the back of her mind, reaching across everything.
"I might be in love."
"Because of the baby?"
"Because of her. The baby helps, she's definitely a catalyst." Michael opens the door and leads Tilly in to the President's palatial quarters. The rooms are huge, the view of ships passing is exquisite, and the walls are empty. Laira's presidential suite is like a wonderful hotel room: beautiful and soulless. She's been traveling, of course, and just having enough to fill the drawers.in the bedroom would be so much.
But she's been president almost a year, and the rooms are still bare.
Tilly whistles, wandering from room to room. "I thought your Discovery quarters were big. These are-"
"I know."
"And your baby, that meeting she's in, it's pretty important, isn't it?"
"Resource allocation."
"For the entire Federation."
"You could say that."
Tilly throws a pillow at her. "What the fuck, Michael, Madam Federation is having your baby? She has her in the meeting and you, fuck, Michael really?"
"It happened very fast."
"After you saved the galaxy together, of course, after you became her go-to ship, her favorite captain."
"I'm not--" Maybe that's true, now that Michael thinks about it. "The anomaly changed things."
"It made a baby."
Michael taps her badge, then sends Tilly the full report. "You'll need to be-"
"Got it." Tilly picks up one of the cushions with the Federation seal from the couch and hugs it. "Your baby's going to be so cute."
"Almost as good as you and me."
"Close, but Michael, she's so tall."
"Shut up."
"Seriously, your baby's going to be like ten and she'll be taller than you."
"That's not true."
"It's true."
Arguing ends in laughter and replicating sparkling wine and while the bubbles dance in her mouth, Michael tells the story, all of it now, not just the safe parts, but how Laira couldn't stop sneezing on the shuttle, how afraid she was to voice any of it, how they thought the baby would just go back to another timeline, and how destroyed they were when they thought she was gone.
Tilly understands faster than anyone, elaborating with warp theory Michael doesn't fully understand herself.
"These static warp bubbles are so dangerous, Michael. You could have thought up another DMA or made a new Terran Empire."
Pulling the ring out from under her shirt, Michael removes her necklace to show Tilly. "Luckily, all I came up with was getting married. "
"You didn't. You did, obviously you did. Michael--" Tilly grabs the ring and studies it. "This is beautiful."
"I must have been thinking about-"
"The stability you wanted but never got in your last relationship-
"I didn't want to marry Book-"
"Sure, sure." Tilly pulls up the report, reading it over her glass. "And she didn't want your baby."
" We both did."
"Of course you did. The idea is one thing, having it right there--" Tilly pauses, finishes her wine and heads back to the replicator. "Is she okay?"
"The baby?"
"The president, your- well - at least your girlfriend, your maybe more than a girlfriend."
"She's exhausted."
Tilly touches her shoulder, hands back the ring and smiles, all gentle. "It'll get better. Give it time. Making a person is hard."
"Right now she's a blob."
"Still hard to make."
They laugh, Michael gets more wine, and they beam over Michael's things from storage. It's a start, but Laira's quarters are huge, and they'll need more of everything. Laira must have things that aren't here, pieces of art from Federation member worlds, or something. Tilly has the idea that Michael can cover a wall with old holos, pictures she took years ago, centuries past, and put them up. One of the walls of the living space turns into a shifting holographic ode to Langkawi, because Philippa was right, there are few places as beautiful. Michael covers another wall in Ni'Var, old and new, and with Till's help they collect holos of Bajor, Cardassia, and space lines from all over the galaxy so at least the shiny white walls are no longer bare.
They strip the bed together, Tilly laughing that it's the softest, bounciest bed she's ever sat on and Michael tossing the sheets into the recycler.
"I didn't know sheets could end up feeling that stiff."
"Run them through the auto-laundry enough times and the fabric starts to change texture." Tilly pulls pillowcases off and folds the fancy blue blankets off to the side. "The Burn really changed things for them. If I tear my uniform, I replicate a new one. I always have. Here, they might mend it over and over until the seams don't hold because it's less energy. I have cadets who come to the Academy with one crate of things, and everything in the crate is worn beyond repair but it's their whole life."
The war touched all of them, changed a generation back home, but this went on, and on. They had the technology to make new sheets, new blankets, but not the power. So they made do.
"Laira puts a vitamin supplement in her coffee, every morning. We have one of the best replicators in the galaxy, and the database is huge, but she grew up drinking bad coffee from a somewhat faulty replicator that didn't always make b-vitamins and d-vitamins the right way so she hates the taste of coffee without it."
Tilly takes half of the new red sheets from Michael's hands and nods. "It's the little things I didn't realize were trauma, but you see them everywhere. Even the instructors I work with, officers who grew up on Starfleet ships where they had enough. They're careful, almost skittish."
They make the bed together, tucking in the sheets Michael's accustomed to, soft and welcoming. Hopefully Laira doesn't mind the color. She looks good in everything, and nothing, anyway, and Tilly picks up on Michael's distraction like a homing beacon.
"So the sex is good then?"
"We're not talking about that."
"Really good."
Michael tosses a pillow Tilly's way and sighs. "It is good."
"Even with—"
"She's best in the morning, so we—"
"Have a little fun before meetings? Send her off happy for the good of the Federation? You do your duty?"
"Anything else?'
"Call her ma'am right before—"
"I beam you into space, you terrible, awful, person."
Laughing, Tilly drops to the bed and closes her eyes. "It's pretty comfortable, bet you could have a great time."
Michael lies down beside her, folding her hands. "It's still very new."
"And?"
"And she's incredible."
Tilly reaches over to pat her shoulder. "That's what I wanted you to say."
"You know it's hard for me to talk about."
"You Vulcan."
"I'll talk about sex every seven years."
"Well, let me know when that happens."
Michael rolls to her side, her face flushing warm. "It's different."
"Usually is with someone new."
"I like it."
"And?"
Michael shuts her eyes. "She definitely likes it."
"Good, that's the whole Federation you're going down on before breakfast."
"I hate you."
Tilly leans close, then sits up. "Oh you love me, so much, and you missed me."
Michael hugs her knees for a moment, then leaves the bed, following Tilly to the next task. There's still a lot to do.
Later, when they're nearly done finding places for the crate of Michael's belongings from Discovery, they stand next to Philippa's telescope, studying the rooms.
"Does she get home late often?"
"My baby?"
"Your baby's - what - entourage?"
Michael laughs and hands Tilly a Vulcan carving to hang. "Laira's schedule is brutal; she'll be home soon though. Dr. Kovich ends meetings when she looks green."
"Remind me not to be the one who gets pregnant in the warp bubble."
Michael laughs, sharing her head. "We could switch, Hugh said he could do it, but she wants to carry the baby."
"Some people do."
"I wouldn't mind，I don't think it would make me as happy."
"You might be less sick."
Resting her head on Tilly's shoulder a moment, Michael sighs. "I absolutely would be."
"That's not what it's about though, is it?"
"There's technology to gestate the baby externally, but-"
"She wants the baby to be safe." Tilly gets it in a way Michael doesn't.
"She fell in love with her so quickly."
"Does she have family?"
"Laira?" Michael snuggles closer and shakes her head. "Her mother's family is on Earth, but she had never met them. Her parents are gone, grandparents too."
Tilly hugs her close. "Let me guess. No siblings. No one she's mentioned, just work, maybe a friend or two, and she doesn't talk about her exes."
"Yeah."
"They're so isolated."
"She has us now."
"Assuming your crew will adopt your pregnant girlfriend?" Tilly pretends to tease, but that's not even a question.
"Are you saying you won't?"
"Oh no, I love her already I'm just slightly terrified because she's the president of like...everything and the only thing that makes me feel even remotely qualified to talk to her is thinking about you making terrible jokes in bed."
"I don't make terrible jokes in bed."
"Too busy with your mouth?"
Michael's face burns and she releases Tilly to glare at her just as the transporter pops in the other room, filling Laira's ornate living room with light.
Tilly's eyes widen, and she nearly drops the piece of Vulcan wood carving she was supposed to be hanging on the wall near the viewport. "Did she hear that?"
"Michael? Are you here?" Laira's voice is soft, tired, and it would almost be more fun if she.
"I'm here, Tilly's with me."
"Do you want me to-" Tilly whispers, miming beaming out.
"Of course not." Michael shakes her head. "I want you to meet each other, you stay for dinner." She pats Tilly's shoulder and leaves her behind. "How was your meeting?"
Laira sneezes once, then again and that swallows her reply. That good then.
Michael rounds the corner into the living room. Tilly follows a few steps behind. Laira's the president, after all, her quarters might be Michael's when she's not home, but now they're hers. Even if they look like a well decorated hotel room.
"I see you got-" Laira pauses, then sneezes again into her elbow. She sinks into the sofa like her legs are shaky, and Michael aches for her.
"My things from Discovery."
Laira nods, shutting her eyes. Michael wanted to go to the last meeting, but it was only Laira, Kovich, and some Federation intelligence; she insisted she'd be fine.
"I did."
"And it's good, because there's really a lot of space for things in your quarters. You should get some more things." Tilly touches Michael's shoulder, then silently asks if she should do something.
Michael shakes her head for the moment, reaching for the sleeve of Laira's jacket. Their fingers touch, then their hands and Laira's cool fingers slip into hers.
"Long day?"
"I'm fine."
Tilly makes a little sound that might be disagreement, but she's too polite to comment on how pale Laira is. "I'll get tea."
Tugging Laira's sleeve, Michael starts easing off her jacket, guiding it off of her arm, then her shoulder. "Should I even ask if you're hungry?"
Laira's little hum is closer to a moan.
"Okay, we'll wait."
"No, no—"
Michael touches her knees, crouching down. "It's all right. We're not in a hurry."
"You shouldn't—" Laira opens her eyes reluctantly, blinking before she focuses on Michael. "It's worse when I sit down."
"You pay attention to it when you sit down, that doesn't mean it's worse."
Tilly returns, holding a mug of tea. She trades Michael for Laira's jacket. "I always had this kind of ginger tea before exams, because I'd drink so much espresso I couldn't have anything else."
Laira's half-smiles are somehow all the more precious, and Michael wants to hold all of them in her thoughts. "Is this something you tell your students?"
"Making it through finals without destroying your stomach lining is a skill."
That earns another smile, a brighter one. "No wonder they wanted you for the Academy," Laira says.
Michael kisses her forehead. Laira's skin's cool, slightly damp with sweat. She's pushing too hard. Hugh's still trying to help her find a balance between her symptoms and suppressing medications, and Laira's own hormones are still trying to find some kind of equilibrium. Their little hitchhiker is safe, and perfectly healthy, but Laira's body isn't hers alone, and it's a rough transition. Rougher than she admits, probably even to herself.
"At least tomorrow's schedule is empty."
Laira squeezes her hand, nods once, then stops moving, her eyes closing again.
"You're dizzy."
That hum at least is affirmative, almost apologetic. Laira leans into her, relaxing a little against Michael's shoulder. "When the hypo wears off I start sneezing again and everything is so--"
"Confusing because it's like your inner ear's been tossed into one of Keyla's donuts?"
Laira chuckles, wincing a little. "I could handle that better."
"Bet you could."
Tilly's eyes are wide and bright, and her smile has all the energy Laira's lacks. Raising her eyebrows, she teases with a look.
Michael rolls her eyes in return. Tilly finding them cute is a discussion for later.
"What can I do?" Tilly asks, sitting down across from them. "Does anything help?"
"Not so far, but thank you," Laira says lightly, like it's simply a dense word puzzle, not a mess of frustrating symptoms that make her already complicated job even more difficult to manage.
"I- we were hoping that taking tomorrow off might help us find some solutions."
"You get days off? Because I didn't know your office, you I guess, did that."
"I haven't been good at it."
"Laira—" Michael starts to chide her, but Laira smiles, beams really, in a way that makes Tilly's eyebrows shoot upward. "What?"
She lifts her head wearily from Michael's shoulder, but her eyes meet Michael's. "You know, you're the only one here who says my name right."
"She studies," Tilly says, winking. "A lot, Michael studies a lot."
"Names are important." Michael kisses her forehead again. "Laira is the Cardassian pronunciation, your name is Cardassian."
Tilly shrugs. "You know, all of headquarters says Laira, the way Admiral Vance does, when we say your name, which we don't because you're the president and we are so not a first name basis, but that's how he says it, so that's how I thought it was."
Laira chuckles, finding Tilly's arm with her fingers. Tilly jumps, nearly flying backwards. "I might throw up in front of you, so we're probably closer than you think."
"So we're really jumping to that stage with like, Spore Drive friendship ?"
"I'm sorry to rush you."
"Michael hasn't even thrown up in front of me yet."
"Well then—"
Tilly takes Laira's hand that startled her so badly before and squeezes it. "Do crackers help? I'd get so sick to my stomach before big exams, I'd live on these crackers from Risa."
Michael tilts her head towards the dining area. "Replicator's over there. Hugh said eating might help."
Swallowing, Laira stares down, her free hand on her chest. "Right now, I never want to eat again."
Michael taps her comm, sending Hugh's list to Tilly at the replicator. "Hugh put together a list of things to try, some of them might not be bad."
Laira hums again, acknowledging that the list exists but without much optimism. Michael can't blame her. Yesterday afternoon, and evening, they tried to navigate her nausea. Whether its purely hormonal or if its exacerbated by the medication she took to suppress her sneezing neither of them know. It's still so new, and Laira's had so little time to prepare. The medication to hold back her sneezing makes a mess of her inner ear, which in turn spirals into nausea.
Beginning a serious relationship curled up in bed is one thing, sharing that with bathroom floors and holding Laira's head in her lap on the sofa is sweetly different. There's plenty of time to talk: even if some of it is just Michael telling stories of the galaxy before the Burn, or her adventures as a courier. When the sudden changes stop hitting her like an asteroid belt, Laira can reciprocate.
Tilly returns with a tray of food, different crackers, plates of melon and fruit from planets Michael hasn't visited yet. "I've heard mint can help, and Commander Khan at the Academy really likes Deka tea, then there's Phyrellean ginger, and Earth ginger, so I'll be back." She waves up a programmable matter table from the floor and sets the tray down. "Just a minute."
Picking up a cracker, Michael hands it over. "Hugh's list is thorough."
Laira holds the cracker like it has a chance of exploding in her hand. "So is Tilly."
"She likes you."
"I can see why you're friends."
Laughing, Michael nuzzles her head. "It's good to have Tilly so close. I've missed her since she left Discovery."
"I'm glad you get her back."
"Being here is good for me," Michael starts, picking up one of the crackers. "It'll let me slow things down a little."
"Tell the walls to stop shifting, while you're slowing things down."
"That bad?"
"I've been less dizzy standing on the hull of a barrel-rolling freighter."
"I'm sorry."
Laira finds her hand, tugging it towards her belly. It's still hard for her to put words to how much she adores their new life form, but the way her eyes shine says so much. "I'm not."
She'll push through, of course, Laira's been through injuries that make Michael wince and outbreaks of diseases Michael's never seen, but there's a fine line between necessary strength and creating more misery by not slowing down. Michael can't rush her.
It's a strange dinner, but a charming one. Michael and Tilly eat crackers and fruit, then cheese and hummus and all the things Tilly's found in the replicator that go with crackers. Laira picks at it, eating half of one, trying something. Phyrellean ginger seems to help a little, and she lets Tilly replicate more of that. Their picnic sprawls over the sofa and onto the floor, and by the time Tilly and Michael have moved on to chocolate, they're curled up on the cushions, Laira's head in Michael's lap.
Laira insists on sitting up when Tilly leaves, and watching them hug, no matter how quick or tentative, makes Michael's heart soar. They'll work, Laira and her Discovery family. Hugh's ready to be an uncle, Tilly will be a constant presence, and Laira doesn't have to bring her family, Michael's knows what it's like to have lost everyone. Laira will fit.
She sends Laira to bed before cleaning up, half-hoping Laira will fall asleep, but she's awake when Michael enters the bedroom, curled into the pillows.
"You changed the sheets."
"I like these, and I knew you wouldn't mind."
"Replicating new ones seems so indulgent."
"We can afford a little indulgence."
"A whole picnic's worth." Michael changes into her pajamas, pulling on her red 23rd century issue shirt. This century has its own uniform pajamas, but she likes these ones.
"I never would have replicated all those things."
Michael leans down and kisses her forehead, but now we know you hate melon and you can keep down uttaberry pudding."
"Were you taking notes?"
Michael chuckles, grabbing her tooth cleaner. "Don't have to."
Laira chuckles, curling tighter around a pillow. "Vulcan mind."
"You don't mind my Vulcan discipline when it suits you."
"It's certainly an asset."
Michael sets her tooth cleaner down on the table and kneels by Laira's side of the bed. "So you did hear Tilly."
Laira smiles, blushing faintly pink. "I don't mind if you talk about our sex life."
"I do."
"You don't really."
Michael takes a breath, trying to stop the rush of embarrassment that comes from thinking about explaining what having sex with Laira is like. "Tilly will talk about it, probably with you if you give her half a chance."
"That might be fun."
"Fun?" Michael leaves the side of the bed and crawls in beside her, letting Laira settle herself onto Michael's chest.
"I haven't had friends like that for a long time."
"What about the President of United Earth?"
Laira chuckles, then yawns. "You don't want her and Tilly together."
"We don't?"
"She'll drink Tilly under the table and find out all our secrets."
"That kind of friend."
"She's exceptional, just—"
"You can't even drink right now."
"And I'm grateful. Otherwise she'd want to know everything."
"She'll still want to know."
"I can deflect."
"How diplomatic."
Laira yawns one more time, then rubs Michael's stomach with her thumb. "She likes you."
"Good."
"Good?"
"I prefer being a charming wrecking ball."
Laira reaches sleepily for her hand. "You're so much more than that."
"I know."
Toying with her fingers, Laira sighs once more. "You made it look like home. I've had a year and I haven't, but you— thank you. I still can't believe you're here."
"Where else would I be?"
"Saving the galaxy."
Michael shifts down, making room to kiss her forehead. "You're the center of my galaxy right now, both of you."