Thanks! Good advice. (✿◠‿◠) I’m really glad you’re through the toughest part of it, and hey, for what it’s worth, I’ll be very happy to read Bleary fics for as long as you wish to write them. <333
Thanks! Maybe I’ll skip ahead to Nathan’s college graduation next 😉 (just kidding. probably)
Can you send some of that writing productivity my way please? XD
I can try! The airing out and unpacking of issues is apparently easier for me to write than the subtle planting of hints as to what may or may not be wrong in their relationship. That was necessary but exhausting. My advice, move beyond the angsty, emo, pining and suspicion. Of course, I’m not sure what you’re working on, and as we all love to read a bit of angst, I suppose we all have to take turns writing it. But my god it was pulling teeth to give them each their voice and a fair position from which to be struggling. But at the moment, I’m feeling less like this will be the last Bleary fic, which I’ve been thinking from the beginning. IDK.
Anyway, that was long-winded. Read it as relief. Good luck with your writing! May your muses be as word-vomiting as mine have been.
I’m as shocked as anyone. And now I have to sort out how many chapters the rest of the fic fits in…which I have not thought seriously about because I’ve been so focused on getting to this point…
Okay, I found a bit of the new Cleaving chapter that probably doesn’t give it all away.
“There’s something I want to ask you… ask of you. And I don’t know how. It’s not fair. I just can’t really think of an alternative.”
“Fair… I’m not sure what fair has to do with things. Was it fair when Nathan and I invaded your home? Was it fair when you hopped a plane to be with me at the meetings where I learned about him. If you need something, you ask.”
Chris nodded, taking a deep breath. “It just seems like neither of us has been happy the last few months, and we should make some changes. And it’s totally my fault, and I know that. I’ve accepted too many projects and I’m gone too much. But my hands are tied; I’ve signed the contracts. I can fix it as we go forward — I’ve already told Karen I don’t want any new scripts for a while.” Zach had overheard something like that when Chris was talking to Melissa, but he he hadn’t been sure if Chris was just tired or if this was because of him. Guilt twisted in his stomach. “But for the next year or so, I have limited options. I have press for Hours, and filming for Trek and Wonder Woman and Hell or Highwater, and then press for all of that as well. And after this I can try to limit myself to two projects a year, and try to make sure that one is reasonably local, but until then, I’m going to be on location a lot.”
Zach squeezed his hand. Shit, that sounded like a lot. Even without the pressures of planning a wedding or co-parenting, it was a hell of a lot to shoulder in one year. But Hollywood was unforgiving, and when you were hot, like Chris was at the moment, it was really impossible to say no. “Chris, I’m not asking you to cut back. I know this is an important time in your career.”
“I know. And it is. And there’s still that voice in the back of my mind that says someday the acting police are going to take my card away, and I’d better work as hard as I can while they let me. But it’s an important time in our lives, too, Zach. And in Nathan’s. I hate that I have to ask you what his favorite game is. I should just know that. I’m his dad, too. And it’s also an important time in your career. It’s one thing to take some time with limited producing projects so you can be with Nathan, but it’s a different thing when I’m the one asking. I need to help you carve out time. I know you love producing, but you’re an actor. A really good actor. You need room to continue to grow in your craft. I’m your partner; should be helping you make time for that rather than sucking all the time for my own career. I just… I let it get away from me. And I don’t want to be like that. My dad was always able to find a life balance. He always fed his career and the other things that were frankly way more important: his marriage and his kids. I’m not doing a good job of following his example.”
More of this Survival Trek thing, tentatively called Bono Fortuno.
“You’re going to run the battery down to nothing,” Jim comments.
Spock’s eyes don’t leave the padd, but he nods, “Yes.”
He huffs in annoyance, tossing the spice stick away. “What is that, anyway?”
“I am attempting to absorb as much information as the colonists have written about life on this planet,” Spock explains, “It is logical to make use of the available resources. The padd’s battery will lose its charge in 16.6 hour’s time regardless.”
“So what are you learning, then?” Jim asks. “Care to share with the class?”
“There are many wild edibles in this region, during certain times of the year. I would propose that we locate and scan as many of these as possible while our tricorders still hold a charge, that we can be certain which ones a Vulcan and a Human with considerable allergies can safety consume.”
Jim snorted, “I don’t even know all of my stupid allergens.”
“Dr. McCoy supplied me with a list of compounds most likely to trigger your histamine reaction 6.4 years ago.”
“That bastard,” he shook his head, “What the hell ever happened to patient confidentiality?”
“Given the incidents during the diplomacy missions on Vargus II and Omaticaia Prime, I thought it prudent to simply ask, so that I may prevent such instances from occurring in the future. Leonard agreed.”
“Still, the Hippocratic Oath exists.”
“It was merely a list of chemical compounds, Jim. I assure you, I will keep your strictest confidence.” Spock sent him a look, “We both know Leonard’s version of the Oath is more along the lines of—if I have the phrasing correct—‘Do no harm, take no shit.’”
Someday someone is going to look at you with a light in their eyes you’ve never seen, they’ll look at you like you’re everything they’ve been looking for their entire lives. Wait for it.
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