Chapter Text
Saru-D smacked his PADD down on the table. “What do you mean, you’re not ‘going back’?” he demanded.
“Exactly that.” She reached out and delicately straightened the angle of the PADD. “I’m staying here.”
“Burnham.” He glared down at her in familiar frustration. “I have spent the last ten days working with my counterpart to find us a way back to our own reality, while you’ve been doing who knows what—”
“I've been with Captain Georgiou.”
“Yes. So my counterpart has told me. In great detail,” he added, with a flat intonation that made Burnham raise an eyebrow solely so she wouldn’t blush from the memories. “He seemed very... tolerant. Of the situation. Far more than I would be. This reality is more different than we realized. Different actions have led to different outcomes. You cannot expect to just slip back into your old life!”
Burnham met his gaze squarely. “Your disapproval will not change my mind.”
“No. It never has.” Saru’s narrow shoulders slumped, and he sighed with something almost amounting to sadness. “Burnham. ...Michael. She’s not our Captain Georgiou. And you’re not the person she lost.”
“Ohhh, I know.” A muscle in her jaw jumped. “I’ll never forget that. Every time I look at her, I’ll see our Captain Georgiou getting stabbed by a Klingon blade. And every time I look in the mirror, I’ll see the other Michael Burnham and wonder, ‘Why was she the one to die? Why did I get to live?’ Every day and every night and in my nightmares, til the day I die. But I’ll be with her, and she’ll have me. And for that, I can live with a few more nightmares.”
“But should you? Think of your mental stability, your... stability as an officer. This isn’t...”
“Real? Right?”
“Healthy,” he said gently. “I can’t think of any species where this would be considered an acceptable part of the grieving process.”
“Saru, I know this doesn’t alter what happened in our reality’s past. I know I can’t change that. But I’m still staying.”
“Why?”
“Because she needs me.”
“Doesn’t Captain Lorca? I may disapprove of nearly every decision he makes regarding you but he is still your commanding officer. He got you out of prison, gave you a second chance—”
“He’s using me. I know that. And I’m resent it, and I’m done with it.”
“And Stamets? Cadet Tilley? Me? Are we using you?”
“Yes,” said Burnham bluntly. “Apart from Tilley.” Saru’s face fell. “We’re not friends. We never really were, and we’re certainly not now. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“I was... afraid. Captain Lorca didn’t tell me he was planning to recruit you, and I had worked hard to establish myself in a new command structure, without—” He broke off guiltily.
“Without me undermining you. I know.”
“I thought you were dangerous.”
“I am dangerous. I loved my crewmates and my captain more than I loved my career. It’s a very Human trait and a very Vulcan one, though you’ll never get a Vulcan to admit it.”
“Which raises another point: Ambassador Sarek. Do you expect him to believe whatever cover story you create? How can you justify what you’re about to do to him and his wife and son back in our own reality?”
“I don’t, and I can’t. This isn’t a moral decision, Saru, but it is a logical one. It’s logical for me. And for you – you’ll finally get rid of me. Or do you just want me to go back to prison, instead of getting a second chance at being happy?”
“I don’t think you deserve this second chance, no. This is just running away. What about the war? The war that you helped to start? Are you really going to abandon that fight—”
Burnham shot to her feet, eyes and face blazing at him. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you…” She gritted her teeth, feeling so painfully Human in the face of his lofty superiority. “Saru. I am so tired of having my feelings of guilt be used to force me into things I want no part of. And I’m done with it. I will step into the place my deceased counterpart left, and you can return to Discovery without me and tell everyone I died here, which will please almost everyone. Apart from Lorca. You’ll have to tell him the truth.”
“He will be… less than pleased,” Saru agreed. He retrieved his PADD and looked at Burnham now with open sadness. “You did promise to obey my orders, you know.”
“I did. Please don’t make me into a mutineer again.” She raised her hand in a Vulcan salute. “Live long, and prosper, Saru.”
He simply nodded. “And what am I to tell your foster family?”
Michael Burnham took a deep breath, and then smiled. “That I’m with my captain, where I was meant to be.”