The BLTS Archive- Take These Broken Wings
by LRLorelei (lrlorelei@aol.com)

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No license infringement meant on any holder of ST license including
Paramount and Viacom.

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I stare out of the picture window, watching the slate gray fog tumble
in across the bay.  I can't help a furtive glance up at the
approximate position of the space dock.  Even knowing that my new
Enterprise is safe and undergoing every conceivable repair does
nothing to ease the yearning ache that hammers in my chest.  I take a
deep breath, so deep I think I can hear my ribs crack.  But it doesn't
help; nothing helps.

I tug down my sweater against an imagined chill and begin pacing yet
again.  My quiet apartment, my sanctuary, my haven has suddenly become
my cage.

"Is something wrong, Jim?" you ask.

Hell, yes, I want to shout -- but I'll be damned if I know what is, so
I say, "Cabin fever, I guess.  Too long in port."  You seem surprised.

You leave the warmth of the crackling fire and come to stand beside
me, gazing at the dense night fog.

"Do you know how beautiful your Earth 'fog' is?" you ask.  "On Vulcan,
we have no such phenomenon."

"Phenomenon?" I repeat, chuckling.  "Only you could find the beauty in
a San Francisco fog."  I turn my gaze from your face and watch the fog
performing its slow-motion gymnastics against my window.  It is indeed
beautiful.  "You're right, of course -- sometimes I just need you to
remind me."

I touch your shoulder, squeeze lightly, then begin pacing again.  I
thought I had laid my ghosts to rest, but perhaps I was wrong. The
restlessness that drives me is without face or form.  I know I could
explain it to you, and you would then quite logically explain it to
me, but you've seemed so at peace lately, I won't trouble you with my
ghosts and goblins.

I stop pacing for a moment.  You take the opportunity to prepare to
leave.  You move toward the closet, take out your heavy Star Fleet
jacket and start to slip it on.  That restlessness, that urgency seems
to swell until my head rings with it.  What is the matter with me?

"Stay?"  I ask a against the ache in my throat.  It's late, I know,
and I should apologize and let you be on your way...but I can't say
the words.

You raise you brows in question, then take off your jacket and neatly
hang it in the closet.  I expect you to return to the fire, but
instead you come to me.

"Jim, what is troubling you?"

When I can't answer, I see the concerned hurt in your eyes.  The few
times in my life I've shut you out has cost us both dearly.

I shrug.  "I honestly can't say, Spock.  I feel as if...I'm dying."  I
immediately regret the words, and hate myself for saying them.  I can
see how they frighten you.

You move so close to me I can feel the Vulcan warmth radiate from your
body. You place both hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look at you.
"You are not dying," you command.  Oh, the hurt in your eyes ...

"I'm sorry," I stumble around, trying to look away.  "I don't know why
I said that." I start to turn away, but you won't let me.

"Jim?"

"I don't much feel like being along tonight.  Stay with me?" I ask,
amazed at my selfishness.

You look at me and I can feel the strength in your hands upon my
shoulders.  My very life has telescoped down to this single moment.
Slowly, your hands move from my shoulders, to my temples and I can
feel your gentlest of touches in my mind.  You hesitate, then smile.

"Tonight...or forever?" you ask.

And suddenly I know what that restlessness has been, that terrible
aching in my heart.

"Forever," I breathe, tears coming to my eyes.

Your hands move from my temples, to my chin, turning my face up to
you.  I close my eyes and feel the feather-light touch of your lips.

I love you, Spock.

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The End