My Star Trek One-Shots

Christopher Pike - Temporal Drift PT 3

Pike avoided the Warp Core Lounge. For three days. He reviewed reports from Deck Six in his ready room. Took meals alone. Assigned himself to duty rotations he hadn't done in years, just to stay busy.

Every time he passed her in the corridor, he forced himself to nod, polite and professional. She always nodded back. Never with a smile. Never with her usual spark. It killed him more than he could admit.

Daisy didn't beg for attention. She'd learned, young, how to read silence. How to recognize when someone was building a wall and pretending it was mercy. She kept her head down. Made drinks. Played music at half volume. Smiled for the crew but not for herself.

Every second she spent on the ship reminded her of that night—of the warmth of his skin, the way he whispered her name like it hurt to say it. But he didn't come back. And she didn't ask. Because that wasn't the game they were playing now.

The crisis came on the fourth day.

A diplomatic detour to Thalix V, a border moon under temporary Federation observation, required a handful of staff to support a peaceful cargo transfer.

Daisy volunteered. She needed space. Dirt. A place with air that didn't hum like broken hearts. She was supervising bartering arrangements when the security feed went dark. By the time Enterprise received the distress signal, Daisy was already gone.

Pike stood frozen at the console.

"Taken," Uhura said. "Intercepted mid-transaction. Not a local conflict—external party. Transport signatures unregistered."

Pike's voice was low, clipped. "Who has her?"

"We don't know yet."

Pike didn't hesitate. "Prep an away team. I'm leading it."

Number One looked up from her station. "Chris—"

"I let her go down there," he snapped. "This is on me."

There was no more discussion.

The trail led them to a mercenary skiff orbiting the far side of Thalix's smaller moon. Shielded. Armed. But not ready for Starfleet.

Pike beamed in with a small team—Ortegas, La'an, and two security officers. They split. He moved like a man possessed.

Daisy had been missing for nine hours. He found her in a locked chamber—dimly lit, her hands bound, a split lip crusted with blood. The moment she saw him, her breath hitched.

"Pike," she whispered, like it wasn't real.

He crossed the room and dropped to his knees in front of her, fingers working quickly at the restraints. "Are you hurt?"

"Just bruised." She looked him over. "You didn't have to come."

"Yes," he said quietly. "I did."

Their eyes met. Too many things passed between them to say out loud. He cupped her cheek—only for a second—and she leaned into it before she could stop herself.

Then La'an's voice crackled over comms. "Captain, you've got incoming. Two minutes, tops."

He helped Daisy to her feet. But when she stumbled slightly, he caught her. Held her. Didn't let go. Back on the Enterprise, she sat in Sickbay, her fingers absently tracing a bruise on her collarbone.

Pike stood beside the biobed. Tense. Quiet.

She glanced up. "I'm fine."

"You're not," he said. "And you don't have to be."