Chris has given up hope that he’s ever see his best friend again after months in Atlantis. He was planning to catch up on lost time but also knew that Phil probably had questions. Which is why Chris has chosen a booth in the back of the Old White Lion, and a bottle of single malt with two glasses. He was already halfway through the first glass when Phil arrived.
“I promise there’s still enough for both of us,” he said, indicating for Phil to join him.
"Started already?" Phil said, giving Chris a level look and then sliding in across from him in the booth. "Is it that kind of conversation then?" He sat back, crossing his arms and glancing at the bottle for a moment before reaching forward to pour himself two fingers' worth.
“Just getting warmed up. And needed to entertain myself before you got here,” Chris said with a smirk as he leaned over to clink his glass against Phil’s. “Figured it’s better to be prepared when I’m not sure what kind of conversation it’s gonna be. Figure you’ve got questions now that you’ve had a few days to settle in.”
"I'm not sure if all of my questions will ever be answered," Phil said, lifting the glass up to take a small sip. "First, how long have you been in Atlantis?"
“It’ll be two years in January. Last thing I remember is being at HQ, the officers meeting, the attack… not being able to get everyone out of there…”
Chris took a gulp of the scotch, closing his eyes. “Getting hit by the blast… Spock doing the mind meld as I lay dying, and then my hand closed around a coin and I woke up in the hospital here.”
So he'd been saved from death at the last possible moment. Phil had to take another sip at that knowledge, when all he could see in his mind was Chris on the table, in the medical bay in front of him, and Phil useless to help. He couldn't do anything to save him, but apparently Atlantis could. He swallowed hard and nodded. "And you lived, here."
“Phil, you can’t blame yourself.” Chris knew the look in his best friend’s eyes. He’d seen it after missions gone south when Boyce was his CMO. “They have fucking magic here… I don’t know how I’m alive, but I am. And apparently when they healed me, they healed everything - the blast from that night, and all the damage from the Centurion slug as well… I feel like I did when I graduated from the academy. You’re the best Starfleet has, Phil, it’s why I always wanted you in my medbay. What Atlantis has is something else entirely.”
Chris sighed and took a long drink. “By all rights, I should be dead. I felt myself dying. I felt Spock trying to make it easier for me..” it hadn’t been pretty, at the end, and his courage had failed him.
"You did die," Phil said, perhaps more sharply than was his intention. "You were dead by the time I got there."
Chris flinched. It seemed so long ago to him, nearly two years ago. Two years in which he’s done his best to bury his love of Starfleet and space. Two years in which he’d gotten to know a daughter he didn’t know he had. Two years he’d had with Christine. Besides, that attack wasn’t what kept him awake at night. The nightmares had started to fade, but when he woke up in a cold sweat it was usually still because of the Narada.
For a moment, Chris looked older than 54, the decades of command and loss written into the lines in his face and the sag of shoulders. “Hell of a time to die, you know? They’d just given me the Enterprise back and Kirk as my first officer..”
"I know," Phil said, because he did. He'd lived through it when Chris hadn't. He understood that, on some level, it was just as difficult - maybe moreso - for Chris. And yet. "I'm glad you've just been here though," he said after another sip - a long, slow one that drained most of the glass.
Chris chuckled, draining his glass and refilling both of theirs. Scotch had definitely been the right choice. "I didn't expect to wake up after the Narada, either, you know," Chris admitted. And there were still times, in his darkest moments when he thought it would have been better if he hadn't.
"I'm sorry you had to deal with that," Chris said, gaze focused on the amber liquid in his glass. "I didn't mean to end up on your table again. I was just trying to get my sorry ass up into the black again."
A smile half-quirked onto Phil's face. "Well, now you never mean to end up on my table," he said. "I know that. But you still end up there all the time anyway."
Chris laughed at that. "Hazard of the job, we both know that. And I'm pretty sure I used up all of my nine lives by the time I was thirty-five, so really, it's a miracle I made it to fifty." It had been a miracle he'd survived the Narada. A miracle he'd survived so many other missions that had blown up in his face or when he'd endangered himself to try and save others. "But I've got a kid now, so I'm trying to not be quite as reckless. Plus, there's no Starfleet here, so.."
Chris shrugged and took another drink - the lack of Starfleet and space travel was the hardest thing for Chris to get used to in Atlantis.
"So then how have you been keeping busy?" Phil asked. He couldn't really imagine Chris doing anything except Starfleet. The thought of it was just one big blank space there in his mind's eye. "Besides being a husband and a father, of course," he added, not able to help himself.
“Mostly that. I missed the first four years of Lauren’s life so trying to make up for that. Working here as a relations specialist - putting that command track diplomacy training into action. Spending a lot of time with the Pegasi. Riding is riding and it clears my head. There was one mission last year that involved Starfleet which was a nice distraction, but it made it worse after. A lot of therapy. The puppy we bought for Lauren has turned out to be more of a therapy dog for me.”
He was happy here, with a life he never dreamed possible, but he still longed for space, every day.
Phil refilled his glass and nodded. "You look happy, Chris. I'm glad to see that." He smiled, even though he knew without Chris saying so that the one thing was missing was Starfleet, the Enterprise, space travel. Whereas Phil would always be content to stay grounded, when given the option.
"So, Atlantis - what are my need to knows and what are my not to be missed?"
"I am. Although being a father is much harder than managing cadets or a crew. I can't exactly make my daughter drop and give me twenty if she's throwing a tantrum - not that Lauren has many of those. Mostly it's just the puppy dog eyes. Hell, I can stare down a Klingon warlord without flinching, but I'm useless when it comes to my kid. She's got me wrapped around her little finger."
Chris' own fingers were currently fiddling with the Starfleet insignia he kept in his pocket. The one part of his life he didn't have here. "The food and the drink are beyond compare. Definitely hit snoozle for breakfast - unless you're craving my pancakes, which I can certainly provide. Try the blue bubbles - tastes different for everyone. I think pegasus riding is an essential part of Atlantis. You'll probably want to check out medical and talk to the doctors and the healers. Check out what they're doing here. Generally Atlantis keeps us on our toes. The other day, a bunch of people turned into five year olds so that was exciting."
"I'm sure it's different when it's your own kid," Phil said, still trying to reconcile the Chris that he knew with the one in front of him. The one that was a husband and a father. He probably wouldn't really be able to imagine it until he got to see Chris with Lauren. And Christine, of course.
So it sounded like a lot of it was too adventurous for Phil, who preferred the monotony of Starfleet command and medical to the unknown of space travel. "Guess I have a lot to look forward to then," he said.
Chris laughed. "Probably a good thing I didn't have any kids back home or else it would have been terrible for my career. Turns out I'm total pushover, not the hardass Captain."
He swirled the amber liquid around in his glass for a long moment before a smirk tugged at his lips. "Apparently Jim is a horse in the current mission, which I would pay good money to see."
Phil smiled back. "Kirk said something to that effect, yes," he said. "Although I'm not sure I understand how people get turned into toddlers or horses or what have you. Then again, if we're talking bringing people back to life or healing people, I guess getting from there to shapeshifting isn't that far of a reach."
“The magic of Atlantis,” Chris said waving his hand. “I gave up on trying to understand it.”
Chris took a long sip of his drink. “You’ll come for dinner though, right? Meet Lauren - both Lauren’s - and Christine. I mean, I know you’ve met Christine before but it’s different now.”
Of course he would go to dinner. It might be a little awkward and Phil might come across as a little stand-offish, but he'd do his best. He downed another swallowed of his second drink. "Of course I will," he said, "just name the time and place and I'll be there."