My Star Trek One-Shots

Captain Gabriel Lorca

The soft sound of music filled the room as the Discovery flew through space, blurring the distant lights of the stars into streaks of neon gold and silver. Inside, the only illumination came from the amber glow of a half-empty glass of Saurian brandy and the soft hum of the desktop console.

Captain Gabriel Lorca sat in the shadows, his collar unbuttoned, staring at the floor. In the quiet hours of the alpha shift, when the crew was asleep and the starship was nothing but a silent beast drifting through the black, the ghosts always found him. The choices he'd made, the scars he carried-both the visible ones on his skin and the jagged, festering ones in his mind-weighed on him like lead. He was a man built for war, forged in conflict, and hardened by a universe that chewed up the soft-hearted.

Then, the door chime whistled softly.

Before he could call out, the doors slipped open. Alexandria Johnston stepped into the room. She wasn't wearing her uniform, just a soft, oversized sweater, her hair falling loosely around her shoulders. She carried a mug of tea, the steam rising in gentle curls.

She didn't say anything at first. She never did when she found him like this. Alexandria had an uncanny ability to read the silence between his breaths. She walked over, setting the mug on his desk, and then did something that always made Gabriel's chest tighten with a strange, terrifying ache: she reached out and placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

Gabriel looked up, his dark eyes shadowed with a weariness he hid from the rest of the galaxy. "You should be asleep, Alex."

"So should you," she replied softly, her thumb tracing a gentle circle against his collarbone.

He leaned his head back, letting his eyes close for a fraction of a second, absorbing the warmth of her touch. But the dark thoughts won't let go that easily. He pulled back slightly, looking at her, really looking at her. She was brilliant, kind, and possessed a grace that seemed entirely too pure for the world they lived in.

"I don't get it," Gabriel muttered, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that sounded like gravel grinding together. He picked up his glass, swirling the amber liquid. "I'm a cynical, broken man, Alex. I've made decisions that keep me awake at night. I've hurt people. I'm cold, I'm obsessed with the mission, and half the time, I don't even recognize the man in the mirror."
He looked up, meeting her steady, unwavering gaze. "I keep wondering why. Why are you still here? Why do you keep loving me, even with all of this?" He gestured vaguely to himself, to the darkness in the room, to the invisible weight of his flaws.

Alexandria didn't flinch. She didn't offer a hollow platitude or try to deny the truth of his words. She knew exactly who Gabriel Lorca was. She had seen him at his worst, furious and unyielding, driven by a desperate, internal fire.

She stepped closer, closing the distance he had tried to create. She took the glass from his hand, setting it on the desk, and then took both of his large, calloused hands in her own.

"Because I don't love a perfect man, Gabriel," she said, her voice fiercely quiet, filled with a certainty that shook him to his core. "I love you. I see the scars, and I see the walls you build to keep the universe out. But I also see the man who carries the weight of the entire world on his shoulders so the people he cares about don't have to. I see your loyalty, your fierce protectiveness, and the quiet kindness you think nobody notices."

She leaned down, pressing her forehead gently against his. Gabriel closed his eyes, his hands tightening around hers like a drowning man catching a lifeline.

"You can wonder why all you want," Alexandria whispered against his skin, her breath warm and comforting. "But I'm not going anywhere. Your flaws don't scare me, Gabriel. They just make you real."

In the quiet of the ready room, to the slow, steady rhythm of the rain outside, the captain let go of his armor. He pulled her into his lap, burying his face in the crook of her neck, finally letting the silence bring him peace.

The harsh, unforgiving glare of the starship's standard lighting was replaced by the soft, simulated dawn of Gabriel's quarters. The ambient computer hum felt less like a drone and more like a steady heartbeat as Alexandria blinked open her eyes.

She smiled, finding herself tangled in the dark sheets, the space beside her empty but still holding his lingering warmth.

From the small kitchenette across the room, the rich, rich aroma of fresh coffee was already drifting through the air, accompanied by the quiet clink of a plate. Gabriel stood by the counter, his back to her. He was dressed simply in a dark t-shirt and uniform trousers, the rigid posture he maintained on the bridge completely gone. Here, in the quiet of the morning, he just looked relaxed.

Hearing the rustle of the blankets, he turned around, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips.

"Morning," he said, his voice still thick with sleep. He walked over, carrying two mugs and a plate with warm, toasted bread and fruit. He set them on the small table by the viewport before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Morning," Alex murmured, stretching and sitting up, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. She took the mug he offered, cradling it in both hands and taking a slow sip. "You didn't have to make breakfast."

"I wanted to," Gabriel said softly. He reached out, his fingers gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His touch was incredibly tender, a stark contrast to the demanding commander the rest of the Discovery saw. "Besides, it's rare we get a morning where the red alert isn't sounding."

They ate slowly, sharing quiet conversation and comfortable silences as the artificial sunlight shifted across the room. For a few hours, there was no war, no spore drive, and no overwhelming burden of command. There was just the warmth of the coffee, the quiet hum of the ship, and each other. Gabriel watched her over the rim of his cup, the shadows that usually clouded his eyes entirely absent, replaced by a profound, peaceful stillness.

But eventually, the chronometer on the wall chimed, signaling the impending start of the alpha shift.

Alex sighed softly, setting her empty mug down. "Duty calls," she said with a reluctant smile, sliding out of bed to gather her things and smooth down her clothes.

Gabriel stood up, walking her to the door. As the metallic panels slid open to reveal the empty corridor, the subtle shift in his posture returned-the captain's mask slipping back into place.

Before she stepped out, Alex turned back. She closed the small distance between them, reaching up to rest her hand against his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his jaw. Gabriel leaned into her palm, his eyes locking onto hers.

She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a long, lingering kiss to his lips. It was a kiss full of promise, sweet and entirely unhurried.
When she pulled back, she kept her hand on his cheek, her gaze fierce with unwavering certainty.

"I'll see you on the bridge, Captain," she whispered, a soft smile playing on her lips. Then, her voice dropped lower, carrying the weight of the night before. "And Gabriel? I love you. I will always love you, even if you think you're too broken."

Gabriel's chest rose and fell with a sharp breath, a sudden warmth flaring in his eyes. He didn't say a word, but the tight, grateful squeeze he gave her hand spoke volumes.

With a final, affectionate smile, Alexandria turned and stepped out into the corridor. Gabriel watched her until the doors slid shut, the lingering warmth of her words staying with him long after she was gone.