Chapter Text
She's been married to Michael for no time at all, really, but it's also been long enough that Laira can tell when something is happening. She's not sure what yet. Michael's been in meetings with Vance and some of the other captains, then with the teachers at Federation HQ. Not just the Academy instructors like Tilly, but the secondary school teachers and even some of the parents.
Which means Michael's planning something. When Laira's done with yet another meeting about the ion storms, maybe they'll finally have time to talk about it. She glances at her schedule for a moment, almost hopeful she'll get to see Michael in between her meetings, but it's a lost cause today.
"Madame President, the Federation News Network is ready for you."
She forgot about the interview for Earth. President Montgomery brought up the idea that Laira should let Earth get to know her, and the scheduling finally worked out for today. Laira finishes the last of her coffee, touches her hair, and decides this will have to do. She wouldn't really change anything if she'd remembered. It's better they see reality on the holo news channels. "Thank you, Lieutenant."
"Admiral Vance would like to inform you that installing spore drives is still ahead of schedule."
"We have eight now?"
"Yes, ma'am, and thanks to Discovery there were no casualties during the last ion storm."
Laira chuckles a little. "Yes, Lieutenant, I was there." So they're looking for good news. She can do that.
Lieutenant Willa winces a little. "Right, sorry ma'am. That part is somewhat classified."
"We'd rather I didn't admit on the Federation-wide holonet that I spent several days in the middle of an ion storm?"
"As always, Starfleet defers to your judgement, Madam President," Willa hesistates and Laira knows what comes next.
"I will refrain from mentioning my own personal danger."
"We would rather civilian vessels remained far from ion storms, not attempt to ride them out because Discovery was able to."
"That's wise."
She sneezes twice in the corridor, and three more times while Willa transfers a few other talking points to Laira's holocomm. The words will hover behind the interviewer while they talk, in case Laira needs them. The questions will have been vetted by Admiral Vance and Federation intelligence before they get to this point, and it'll be edited before it goes out. All she has to do is relax.
The interview room is busy, full of people adjusting lights and sensors. One of the techs interfaces with her badge, syncing into the sound. Her first interview went to a tiny audience, when the election circuit was just starting, and now she'll be beamed to every planet in the Federation: every starship and colony.
Of course, back then she wasn't with Michael, hadn't even met her, and no one was twisting just beneath her ribs, and Laira wasn't trying to balance her life and the myriad competing demands of Starfleet, the Federation, her incredible wife and the ever-heavier baby. Rubbing her right side, she reminds herself not to fidget with her belly. Keep her hands still in her lap; project calm. They can edit out her sneezing.
Laira expects one of the interviewers she's had before. The Federation's pool of journalists is vast and talented, and it could be anyone—
Then her great-aunt Margo walks in, wearing a deep blue sweater. She has her notes on the holo in front of her and somehow she's become the interviewer. That must have taken some doing.
"Imagine my surprise when I found out that once Earth had rejoined the Federation, my credentials entitled me to put in for fascinating interviews like this one with the President of the Federation herself." Margo winks at her from her chair. "Should be fun."
Reaching across to squeeze her hand, Laira nods. "It's good to see you."
Margo squeezes her hand back, then leans in for a hug. It's quick and tight, yet comforting. "Any excuse."
Laira's chest tightens with joy. "How we disclose that we know each other?"
"I'll mention it in the introduction, should add a little bit of connection."
There's a practiced calm in the way Margo sits in the chair across from her. It'll be good for Earth to be represented in a way where they're visibly back in the Federation and it seems this is a more personal, less policy driven interview. Those are sometimes more difficult - Laira can't help thinking her own life is a little dull - but it's important for unity. Their leaders have fears and triumphs too, and the personal interest story is important. Laira is not the alien president arriving to tell Earth how to be a part of the Federation and how to exist in the galaxy. In a way, she's coming home. Her mother always wanted to see Earth, and Laira's daughter will run on the beaches.
"This is an introduction to you, Earth missed the election cycle because we were ignoring the rest of the galaxy," Margo says, rolling her eyes. "So don't worry about policy or making an impression, we're just talking."
Laira raises her eye ridges a little. "Of course, no pressure."
"I can throw in some fiendishly difficult questions if you want."
"Trying to keep me on my toes?"
The lights come on around them, illuminating both of their faces so they'll carry well onto holocomms. Everyone around them steps back, leaving the two of them in a little circle of golden light, with talking points and Margo's list of questions hovering around them just out of reach of the holocomm.
"Might as well appreciate your toes while you can still see them," Margo quips. Her smile's bright at first, then wistful. "My sister - your grandmother - laughed until she cried when she couldn't see her toes anymore. Your mother got big, and then Vivien couldn't see her feet. I hadn't thought about that in years." Her gaze remains on Laira's belly for a long moment, then she takes a breath. A few blinks have her eyes clear, but there's old longing there still.
When Laira's grandmother left Earth, she left everything. Earth was not part of Federation or participating in the interplanetary alliances. She'd left her family with no way to see them again. Yes, she'd built another family among the stars, but she'd been away from her home for the rest of her life. She'd missed that home enough that Laira's mother had been enamored with the Pacific ocean that she'd never seen because her mother had talked about it so often.
"Maybe this will be harder for me. I seem to be getting soft in retirement."
"Are all your questions going to be sentimental?"
Margo shakes her head, her steel-gray hair falling loose on her shoulders. "I'll try to keep it together. When that light goes green, we're recording." She points at the holo behind her. "In five, four, three—"
The lights shift, adding a ring of green around them so everyone knows not to interrupt, and then they start. Margo begins with the easy questions, where were you born, how did you go to school, what was it like on a cargo freighter for some much of your childhood?
The way she first met a Vulcan with blood dripping into her eyes makes Margo chuckle, and once she's telling stories, the interview flies by. The stories that matter are about connection, when Laira helped bring planets together, when she reached out - that's what they're all searching for - what brought Earth back into the Federation.
"We were out past the edge of the galaxy, and everything's dark except for a handful of stars. We knew Earth and Ni'Var were in danger. I wanted to go back, I thought- I don't know what I could have done, - but I thought I could help—" Laira trails off, for a moment even the baby's still before she finds a new spot to kick. "Michael wanted to make sure I was all right. I couldn't stop thinking about everyone in danger, about my mother's family and Ni'Var-" she pauses, clearing her throat, "I don't know if I could tell you the last time anyone asked about me."
"And after that?"
"Well, she's a Starfleet Captain, she's brave, intelligent, charming and gorgeous." She's blushing and Laira must look like a lovesick idiot, but there's truth in that. Let them see Michael for the wonder she is.
"Comes with her own ship," Margo teases.
"That does help."
"So she swept you off your feet?"
"Effortlessly."
"You'll have to remind Earth what they say about Starfleet captains. We haven't had them for awhile."
Laira sneezes twice, then a third time before she can explain what a wonder Starfleet Captains are. They still only have a fraction of what they did even when Michael was back in her own time. Maybe that makes them all the more special.
"Starfleet is what holds the Federation together. Our shared values - the desire to help and support each other - all of that brings us together, and we try to move forward together, but Starfleet is what brings grain, and weathers ion storms, and rescues medical vessels. They're also our explorers, because there's still so much we don't know about our own galaxy." She pauses, looking at Margo and the camera behind her. "A starship captain is the person who comes to save you when your space stations spinning out of control. Someone who negotiates with planetary governments when it's all about to fall apart. When you call for help, they answer. When we're at peace, they look outward. There's something wonderful about that, how we have the resources to return to exploration."
"The Federation was inward looking for years."
"We had to be, we couldn't help everyone who needed it. So we put out fires and brought ships in and fought the Chain, but we couldn't make any lasting change, we could barely welcome new members, and now—" Laira takes a breath, smiling. "Now we can ask what's in that nebula, or why that pulsar has such a strange gamm ray signature. It's a gift we were missing."
"And your wife does that."
"She's an excellent explorer, so is her ship, and her crew. If someone has to stand between us and danger, I'd send her."
"That must put you in a difficult position."
"Luckily I don't make those decisions often."
"Still, that's a lot to balance. Sh'es your wife, you want her to be safe, to be with ou, and you have to send her out."
"A ship in spacedock is safe, but that's not what ships are built for." Laira touches her belly. Their daughter could have chosen parents with quieter lives, but that's not what happened. "There's risk when we leave spacedock, when we leave our planets and look outward. I know it's frightening. Losing Michael terrifies me, of couse it does, but reaching out also provides us with solutions. Our spore drive technology allows us to cross the galaxy in a moment. That brings us together. Warp drive lets us touch the stars."
"And each other," Margo finishes for her. "Now that Earth is connected to the Federation again, I can see you and be home tomorrow. You can send Discovery into an ion storm, because she'll come home."
The entire Federation is watching her. She can't falter. Michael will come home, and she has to trust that.
"We are better together. That's the oldest ideal of the Federation, and it's the most salient. Our best chance at overcoming our differences is together, and we can best support each other, together. When we're supported and safe, we can reach outward and explore."
"That's what you think the Federation brings to Earth? Some of the Federation's critics say that Earth would have been better off without the Federation's help."
"The DMA would have destroyed Earth with the Federation. Our evacuation plans never could have saved everyone, barely half a million people, but Earth could have saved no one without us. Federation technology can rebuild a better planetary shield, Tellarite soil reclamation can heal farmland. We can give the stars to anyone who wants to see them." Laira sneezes into her wrist, once, then again, and she shakes her head at Margo before she can finish. "I met a young cadet from Titan who hadn't spoken to a non-human until she went to the Academy. Now she serves with many different species, even flies a starship. Her universe is brighter and more beautiful because she's chosen to join Starfleet. When Earth looked inward, she could have merely flown inside the solar system. Now someday she might leave the galaxy."
"Is that what we should aspire too?"
"We should retain our sense of wonder. We have all looked at the stars, from every planet and moon and starbase, because out there, somewhere, there's more beauty, more understanding, more potential, for ourselves and our people. That covers a wide variety of aspirations."
Margo nods, and sits back in her chair, smiling in pride. "Yes, I'd say that does. Thank you, President Rillak for your time."
The holo recording shuts off, and Margo shivers in her chair before hugging her again. "Oh you're good."
"Thank you."
"Really, that's—" she pauses, shaking her head. "I'll leave in some of the sneezing because it's adorable, and the way you teared up talking about Michael is perfect."
"I'm happy to serve."
"She's the most important person in the galaxy for you and you'll send her out to save any of us, that's…that's a hell of a thing." Margo has just enough time for dinner before she needs to return to Earth, and they have to plan a visit to Earth. Michael and Laira still need to see the house and it might be nice to take some time off before the baby arrives. There's much to schedule.
Laira has two meetings with planetary leaders after lunch. A colony near Orion space is concerned with the security arrangements, and Commander Nhan joins her for another briefing on her security for the rest of her tour of the Federation. Kaminar is a quiet planet: the Kelpiens and Ba'ul have a peaceful communion, but there are smaller colonies near the Orion border, and more places that are rebuilding that she should visit. Those are more complicated.
"While Federation Security understands the importance of supporting planets that could become future members, and the visibility of the Federation, we have concerns about planets that were more dependent on the Emerald Chain. What the Federation can provide is different." There's a gentleness in the way Commander Nhan avoids the more difficult subjects.
Admiral Vance nods. "You mean using Federation technology does not provide the same standard of living that relying on slave labor and pillaged resources that the Emerald Chain could offer?"
"Changing how you live is a difficult thing." Nhan keeps her voice level, without judgement. "There will always be those who are angry, with the President, with Captain Burnham, or the Federation itself. It's my job to keep the president safe through that anger. Some planets are easier."
"We're saving Barzan for the home stretch."
Nhan smiles, squaring her shoulders a little. "Barzan will be an easy one." She calls up the tour schedule and indicates a few planets. "Trion Prime, Saicury Four and the colonies in the moons of Zaecuta Lides are the stops that pose the most security concerns in the coming weeks. Their governments are less stable, there's more unrest, and Saicury Four nearly voted to remain in the Emerald Chain."
Vance follows her gaze to the map. "The remnants of the Chain are more dangerous without central leadership."
"Agreed," Dr. Kovich says. "Some former links want to rise to power, some just want to lash out. Osyraa was at least predictable."
"Until she wasn't."
Laira meets each of their eyes in turn. "I defer to your judgement in security matters, as always. I trust that you can make it work. A Federation presence on planets who are wavering can bring them closer, and avoiding scattered parts of the Chain makes us look weak."
"We'll make it work, ma'am."
"Good." Standing up wakes the baby, who reminds her that this is only going to become more difficult as she twists towards Laira's ribs. "I'll look foward to your solutions."
When she returns to her office, she's hungry, and though she wants hasparat it'll give her heartburn, and crunchy banta chips will make her sneeze, and there's no balance. Hugh would tell her to just chose what she wants and the consequences can be dealt with when they occur. He might say if, but he's more of an optimist.
Pretzels and banta chips do make her sneeze, but when she's alone it's less frustrating. She wants coffee but she's already had it once and tea is fine, but it's not what she wants.
What she wants…isn't going to come from the replicator. Her skin's too warm and her breasts are heavy and Laira keeps thinking about Michael's hands: her very talented hands. She'll be busy. She had meetings all of today. Luckily, Laira's the president. Meetings end when she needs them to end.
Michael's deep in a meeting with two other captains and the Commandant of the Academy - it's busy and important and Laira's the president of the Federation, so she walks in.
Michael, two other captains and the Commandant of the Academy all stand, Michael smiling, proud and tentative. Laira smiles back, careful to radiate how this is a good thing, she's fine, and Michael - the most perceptive non-telepath she's ever met, relaxes.
"Captains, Commandant, forgive the interruption. Could I take Captain Burnham from you for a moment?"
"Of course, ma'am."
"Captain, I—"
Michael beams at her and it's that coy little smile that gets to her. Really gets to her. This is what she wanted.
"My aunt is here."
"Oh?"
Laira's nose itches and she sneezes, twice.
"She did your interview?" Michael guesses, helping the conversation move foward while Laira can't speak. "Is she well? How did the interview go?"
Nodding gets her somewhere, but this particular sneezing fit is intense.
Michael offers her hand, which steadies her a little. "I think Earth's going to find you adorable."
Laira finally regains her breath. "Margo's going to have to cut out the sneezing."
"Leave a few in."
"That's what she thought."
"See."
"We're meeting her for dinner."
Michael touches her cheek. "That'll be fun." Her fingertips linger, and Laira wants to keep them on her face as long as she can. Michael waits, not asking why she's here. This could have been a message, or waited, but it wouldn't have been the same.
"I wanted to see you," Laira admits in a whisper into Michael's hair.
"Everything's all right?"
"Everything's great." She touches her belly, then guides Michael's hand to the baby. "She's active today. Awake. I can't stop sneezing and I think I spent the last hour of my interview for Earth just telling the galaxy how much I love you."
Laughing, Michael taps her comm and beams them away. They materialize in her quarters, in the living room. Discovery floats beneath her window, brigt in the spacedock.
"I think you must have gotten a few important political things in there."
"I tried."
"But Margo asked about me?"
"She did, she did and I—"
"It's all right." Michael kisses her cheek and oh that's what she needed. Fuck, why can't she tell when all she wants is this.
Laira turns into the kiss, searching for Michael's lips and kisses her, hard and demanding and she pulls her closer.
"I have to go back," Michael protests into her mouth.
"They'll fill you in."
"It's my meeting."
Laira kisses her again, slipping her tongue into Michael's mouth. She winds her "I'm the president."
"Yes ma'am." Michael reaches up for her collar, opening Laira's jacket. "You don't usually pull rank."
"I thought I was hungry, thirsty, I couldn't relax. I needed you."
"You need me naked."
Slipping Michael's jacket from her shoulders, Laira nods, biting her lip. "I do."
"Just what did Margo ask?"
"She asked me about Starfleet captains."
Leaning in, Michael starts kissing her neck. "So what do they say about captains?"
"Things you've heard, I'm sure." If Michael keeps doing that, she won't be able to talk at all.
Michael dances a hand over Laira's breast, and it's so sore and heavy and Michael's fingers are devine, light as the first snow. "I like hearing them from you," Michael says, nuzzling her cheek.
"Starfleet captains will sweep you off your feet, beam you away, have their way with you, and if they don't, you'll want them to and if they do, all you'll want is them again."
Warm fingers slide into her bra and Michael's palm cups her breast. That ache settles between her thighs and at least this she can do something about.
"So it was the badge and the chair that got you?"
"You look so good sitting up there."
Easing off Laira's bra, Michael finds her way to her other breast, caressing them until Laira hisses. "I do, don't I?" She pauses, kissing her again. "Still sore?"
"I didn't think they could be this heavy."
"They're beautiful." Michael flips her black tank top over her head and stands, removing her trousers. She pauses for a moment, standing in the starlight in her underwear, beautiful and strong, her skin that rich golden brown.
"You're beautiful."
"We're short on time."
"We have more than an hour before dinner."
Michael removes her bra and tosses it to the bed. "You need more than an hour."
"I'll need two minutes."
Easing her up, Michael helps remove Laira's clothes, efficent and gentle. "The first time."
"You don't back down from a challenge."
"Starfleet stubbornness."
"And it's wonderful."
Wrapping her arms behind Laira's neck, Michael turns them, putting herself closer to the bed. "Hugh says we're going to have to start getting creative with positions."
"I think we can manage."
Michael's thigh brushes against her and Laira can barely breathe.
"I love how captain is always a turn on."
"Captains are sexy."
"All of them?"
"One in particular."
The weight of what they haven't said orbits them, threatening to tug them apart. They lose each other when they're out of sync. Laira doesn't need sex to be in love with Michael. Sex is great and being with her is exquisite and she's over thinking it. Her skin tingles for this, and her nerves beg. They're fine, this is fine.
Michael touches her hand, gently finding her fingers and pausing. They're not angry with each other. They're both stubborn and this is new and it's that tentative messy part of figuring out who they are together. Michael - stunning, sexy, confident - Michael Burnham will not seduce her. She won't insinuate, won't ease her way in. Sex is trust and connection and hope and they're all right. They've been all right through all of this.
So many who love Michael have died for her, or at least tried to, parents and mentors and lovers — she deserves that kind of devotion. She deserves the galaxy spinning in the palm of her hand.
So of course, that's love: Laira and the baby safe while Michael carries the danger for them. She'll put herself in the way like a shield.
Laira needs her to stay. That's a different kind of sacrifice. That's all the Herculean good Michael could have done not caring about herself. That's asking hundreds and thousands of strangers to risk being saved by someone less incredible.
Because Laira needs her.
Michael's saved everyone enough.
They can have this.
They can build a life in the small moments. There are other captains. (none of them are Michael, but they're all qualified to save the galaxy).
Michael brushes a tear out of the corner of Laira's eye and pauses, still beneath her. "What is it?"
"I need you to let someone else save the galaxy."
Kissing her slowly, Michael runs her hand down Laira's back. "I know."
"It's a lot—"
"No, it's not." Michael rubs her hip, then her thigh. "Vance asked me who I thought should raise the baby."
"What?" Laira lowers herself to rest on Michael's body. Pressing their skin together is the most wonderful thing she's felt all day.
"If something happened to me, and you, he asked me where I'd want her to go. He could take her, with Ronia, or T'Rina, and she could grow up on Ni'Var, like I did. Hugh and Paul could raise a baby, Joann, Keyla— she could have a life on Discovery."
"Without you."
"Without us." Michael kisses her, closing her eyes for a moment. "I hadn't thought about losing you. So many people keep you safe, I- I told myself—"
"Sacrifice would not be my way."
"Right, but, it's something we should think about."
"Jen's a good mother."
"She'd kill us both for ruining her sleep with a baby."
"I know, but—" Laira's eyes sting. "Discovery's crew should raise her."
"Unless they're gone with me."
Shuddering, Laira swallows. "I can't—"
"I know, I know." Michael kisses her forehead, then her mouth. "We both have to stay with her."
"This is what your meeting was about."
"The secondary school here at HQ would like to send some of the older students on a starship. Kind of a space camp. We have the space, there's empty quarters, we can bring some of their teachers, make some dorms—"
"You volunteered for this?"
Michael touches her belly, rubbing her thumb in a circle over her taut skin. "We want Discovery to be safe for her, might as well start with other people's children."
"Vance wants to send his daughter."
"She's been begging to see a starship. Got her class to write letters to Starfleet command about how they should experience space."
"That sounds like her."
"Leadership can be learned, or genetic, she might have both."
"She might be worse."
Michael laughs, shifts done to kiss Laira's belly. "Take it easy on us, okay?"
Brushing Michael's braids with her hands, Laira cradles her face as she returns. "I love you."
"I love you too." Michael resumes kissing her neck, shifting beneath her, and it doesn't take much to make her need stir again between her thighs.
"Thank you."
"It'll be fun. Kids, diplomats, scientists—"
"It'll be chaos."
Michael teases with her thigh, then her fingers follow and Laira can't speak at all for a moment. "We can handle it."
Her fingers dive deep, then glide over her clit and Laira whimpers. She's so good with her hands. Michael finds her eyes, holds her gaze, and slowly, patiently, uses those too perfect fingers of hers to wrench an orgasm from Laira that leaves her gasping. That delicious tingling sensation runs through her and they lie there, wrapped in each other. It's probably hormones, or she's become accustomed to a different class of orgasm lately, but she turns her attention to Michael while her teeth are still tingling.
Flipping Michael to her back, she kisses her way down, half-reverent, half-hurried because she loves that little sigh of Michael's. Between her thighs is one of the most comfortable places in the universe and she settles in. Laira licks and plays and presses upward and inward until Michael curses in Bajoran like she's being doing that all her life.
"Your accent is adorable."
"I've been practicing."
"For this?"
"So I'd know what you said." Michael guides her up, pulling her in to her chest. "You never curse in standard."
"It's not polite."
"It's different in Bajoran?"
"It reminds me of home."
Michael pulls herself up, sitting her her back to the wall as Laira curls into her lap. "Home is the freighter more than the planet."
"Home is people who are gone." Laira toys with Michael's knee, shifting in bed so her back won't ache later. "Home is you now."
Michael lifts her head, cupping her face. "You know that I'll do my best not to leave you."
"I know." Her eyes sting again, so does her nose, and if Michael keeps looking at her like that, she'll cry.
"No one's been able to stay, for either of us." Michael rests her forehead against Laira's. "So we stay together."
"It's that easy?"
"Oh it's incredibly hard, we're just that good." Michael brushes her tears away. "We've got this."