From: Brandon Ray Date: Sat, 24 Jul 1999 20:52:22 -0500 Subject: March 5, 1993 (1/1) Source: direct Reply To: publius@avalon.net TITLE: March 5, 1993 AUTHOR: Brandon D. Ray EMAIL ADDRESS: publius@avalon.net DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere is fine, so long as my name stays on it and no money changes hands. FEEDBACK: Go ahead; knock yourself out. Ephemeral: *FEEDBACK*publius@avalon.net SPOILER STATEMENT: "Pilot"; "Lazarus"; eentsy ones for "Milagro", FTF and "Triangle" RATING: PG CONTENT STATEMENT: M/S UST, or MSR. Somewhere in that range. The "L" word is used. You make the call. CLASSIFICATION: VA SUMMARY: He comes to her in the still of night, after she is sound asleep. THANKS: To Robbie & Shannon DISCLAIMER: In my dreams... AUTHOR'S NOTE: The date is not an error. The date stamp on the Pilot episode just makes no sense at all given the rest of the timeline, so I've moved it forward exactly one year. March 5, 1993 by Brandon D. Ray He comes to her in the still of night, after she is sound asleep. It has always been thus for him. His visits have been few and far between, beginning during that first terrible absence when she was taken from him, born from a bottomless well of fear and guilt and lack of sleep. Only on those nights when his need becomes strong enough to transcend the barriers can he go back and see her as she was. And never in her waking hours; never in the daylight. His rare sojourns here have always been relegated to the shadowlands of her dreams. Tonight is no exception. Tonight, on the eve of the final turning point, he finds himself once more standing by her bedside. For a moment he wonders if he should disturb her. She seems so calm and peaceful lying there; she seems so free from tragedy and despair. He knows that this is not entirely true; as with anyone she has had her share of heartache. But the trials and disappointments she has so far weathered are as nothing when compared to what lies ahead. Twice before he has reached this point and turned away. On each occasion his forbearance was due to having found her sleeping in the arms of another man. He knew the man, of course. He knew that part of her history. But still the sight of her in the other's intimate embrace forced him to withdraw -- although whether this was from reluctance to interrupt such a private moment, or was due to the stabbing pain that vision caused within his own heart, he cannot say. Now he thinks of those times as squandered opportunities -- wasted chances. Those quiet moments of contentment, when she was most at peace with herself and in tune with the world she lived in -- perhaps those were also the times when she could most easily have been persuaded to turn aside from the onrushing darkness. Maybe by pulling away and refusing to engage her on those occasions, he has sealed her fate. And perhaps now it is finally too late. Despite his previous interventions her mind appears to be made up, and in less than twelve hours the die will be cast. Perhaps he should leave, and allow her one more night of peace. Perhaps he should leave. "I wondered if you'd come to me tonight." He sighs, and kneels down next to her bed. "I couldn't stay away," he admits. "I tried." He pauses, and for a moment he studies her face. She is still asleep, of course. Her eyelids flicker slightly from the rapid eye movements of her dreaming state, but they do not open. And he adds, "They called you today?" She nods drowsily. "Section Chief Blevins' office. Ten a.m. sharp." The rest remains unspoken; there's no need for her to go on. Even better than she, he knows what will happen after that -- and she knows that he knows. "One last time," he says. "Don't do it. Tell them 'no'." Run, he adds within his mind. Run far and fast and never look back. Don't let them do this to you. Don't let *me* do this to you. But he doesn't say those words. She's heard that argument more than once, and it has not persuaded her. To repeat it now would be futile -- as futile as this visit. As futile as all the visits. "I can't do that." She shakes her head, as he knew she would. Duty, honor, country -- the values of self-sacrifice and public service run bone-deep within her. Her family doesn't understand this about her, he knows. They think because she expresses these feelings in the way she does, rather than in the manner of her father and brothers, that it's merely some childish rebellion. But they are wrong. She still respects authority, and this he also knows. Not blindly or without reason, of course; never that. But with the considered thoughtfulness of an intelligent woman who appreciates the value of order and self-discipline. In this way more than any other, she strikes an essential balance with his own distrust and disdain for that self-same authority. And it is for this reason more than any other that he loves her. Because she makes him a whole person. But time is rushing onward. Soon her dreaming time will end, and he will have to leave. This will be his last visit, a sad reality of which he has been aware for some time now. Once she has made this final choice she will no longer be available to him -- not in this way. Once again she will belong to another, and that other will not allow his presence, will not understand his need -- not until it is far, far too late. Not until she has burrowed so far into his heart that he cannot bear to make her leave. "I won't be seeing you again, will I?" she asks, bringing an unwilling smile to his lips. Even now, at the beginning, she can read him so very well. From his first visit she seemed to know who he was and accept his presence in her nightscape. He knows that she does not remember these encounters in her waking hours, and that even if she did her strict rationalism would reject any suggestion that he might be real. But still she knows him. Even now, she knows him. "Yes you will," he answers. "In the morning." He glances at the clock on the bedside table. "In seven hours' time." Again she shakes her head. "That's not what I mean," she says softly -- and for the first time in this strange association he hears what may be regret in her voice. "I don't mean him. I mean you. I know that in time he will become you, but by then I will no longer be me. I'll be somebody else. Somebody different." She pauses, and seems to wait. "Won't I?" "Yes, you will," he admits. He cannot lie to her, not on this night of nights. He has hurt her in so many other ways over the years, but this he will not do. "You will be changed. Altered." He hesitates to use the word, but it is the truth. "You will be transfigured." She nods and replies, "That's what I thought." She is silent for a moment, seemingly lost in some deliberation. At last she says, "Do you love her?" He sighs, and now he truly knows that he has failed. "Yes, I do," he says quietly. That's why he's here, after all. That's why he has tried to turn her away. "Does she love you?" "I think she does," he replies heavily. "A man told me recently that she does." "I think he was probably right," she says softly. After another moment of silence: "You should tell her. She deserves to know." "I have told her." Striving to keep the defensiveness out of his voice: "Twice in the last year. But things ... things have been difficult." "Things are always difficult." Her voice holds that practical, cut-to-the-heart tone which he has come to know and love so well. "You should tell her again, and again. As often as necessary. Eventually she will understand." "I don't know if I can do that," he answers. "it's been so hard for both of us. We've seen too much, and we've hurt each other too often." "All the more reason," she says. Her voice is fading now, and he knows that soon the dream will end. "All the more reason why you should take such joy as you can find." "You're not going to let me off the hook, are you?" he asks sadly. He waits, but she makes no response. He didn't really expect one, but he had held out one last, flickering hope. At last, the sorrow of his failure heavy in his voice, he says, "This is how it ends." "No," she denies, shaking her head one last time. "This is how it begins ...." And her voice trails off, and after that it's quiet in the room. Fini -- Space Ghost: With freedom comes responsibility. Zorak: With freedom comes nudity! ========================== Fortunately, my fanfic is very non-judgmental: http://www.avalon.net/~publius/MyStories.html