The BLTS Archive - Sunset
by Seema (seemag1@yahoo.com)

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Archive: ASC and BLTS yes, everyone else please ask.

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Damn him, I thought with some fury. Seven lifetimes of emotional
entanglements and I still never see disappointment coming. I rose,
placed my finger against his lips, effectively stopping him from
saying anything further.

"It's okay," I said. I cleared my throat and then reached into my
pocket. "Uh, anyway, I just came to give you these." I held out the
small package, wrapped in the remnant of one of my old turtlenecks. "I
was saving it for a special occasion and--" I shrugged "-- I guess
this is as good of a time as any. The last night of the Defiant." I
gave a shaky laugh. Worf's fingers brushed against mine as he took the
package and then carefully, opened it. He stared at the contents for a
moment and then glanced at me.

"Barak-kadan, his most famous performances," Worf said with some
reverence. "I thought this opera was lost in the crash."

"So did I, but I found it among my things when I, uh, moved out of the
barracks the other day and into the hut. I guess I must have borrowed
it from you, though why I'd ask to listen to such a one-note
performer, I couldn't tell you."

"You should have returned this immediately," Worf said, caressing the
tube with such feeling I thought my heart would burst into a million
tiny pieces. "Borrowed possessions should be returned in a timely
manner."

I glared at him. "If our possessions were in the same place to begin
with, you understand we wouldn't have this problem, right?" I cleared
my throat, resolving to try being mature about the situation as my
300-plus years would dictate. "Anyway--" I indicated the small black
box I'd included along with the recording "-- this fuel cell has
enough power for about 10 minutes, enough to get you through the
overture." I took a step towards the door. "I will leave you to your
two loves, the ship and Barak."

I was halfway down the corridor, when the sonorous tones of the opera
filled the ship. Even broken, the Defiant still managed to have
marvelous acoustics. I stopped to listen. I was never a member of the
Barak-kadan fan club, but there was a wrenching, passionate quality to
the music I'd never noticed before, and Barak-kadan's guttural voice
lent an understated counter note of longing. I pressed my hand against
the wall, letting my head droop slightly, my eyes closing, and let the
opera sweep over me.

I was still standing there when Worf came up behind me, his footsteps
echoing loudly but in rhythm with the music. He wrapped his arms
around me, and despite my very best intentions to remain aloof, I let
myself ease into his embrace. He pressed his lips to my cheek, and
then along my jaw line. His hair was rough against my skin, but
everything else about him was soft, warm, and gentle.

"You did not let me finish earlier," he said in a voice so low I had
to strain to hear him over the music. "You are quick to draw
conclusions, Jadzia."

I sighed impatiently, the warmth of the moment rapidly evaporating.
"Yes, yes," I said. "We've had this conversation many, many times. I'm
impulsive, emotional, illogical -- oh, wait, T'Sen said that to Curzon
-- among the other things that are wrong with me. I honestly don't
know *how* you manage to stay with me." I wrenched away from his arms.
"Well, at least you don't have to worry about that *now* since you've
pretty much decided we're *done*."

"Jadzia." Worf shook his head. "I did not say that."

"How else am I supposed to take this bombshell of yours that you're
not moving in with me?" At this point, my voice was overwhelming
Barak-kadan's award-winning performance, but I didn't care.

"I did not say that either."

"You didn't have to," I said. "I can read between the lines. I don't
know why I put up with *you*. You're argumentative, stubborn,
absolutely unfeeling, and you have more affection for inanimate
objects and boring opera singers than you do for me." This would have
been a good time to turn on my heel and head for the hatch, but for
some reason, I was absolutely rooted in place. I put my hands on my
hips and offered Worf my very best glare. "And come to think of it,
being stuck on this planet for the rest of my life with *you* doesn't
sound that exciting anymore."

Worf extended his arm towards me, and I thought, no, no, no, but
instead I reached for him. My face was hot with fury, my heart
pounding madly, but despite all of the things that were so incredibly
wrong with Worf, with our relationship, I longed for him with a
passion that, quite frankly, bordered on madness. My eyes filled with
hot tears as he drew me closer. Why in the caves of Mak'ala had I
picked the one man in the galaxy who would never quite commit to me?
Better to have gone with the safe and reliable choice of Julian
Bashir, I thought with some bitterness.

"Jadzia." Worf placed his finger against my lips. "I did not say I did
not want to live with you." His gentle pressure against my mouth made
it impossible for me to speak. "I merely wanted to propose we get
married first."

I blinked in surprise. In the background, Barak-kadan's performance
was winding down on a long, drawn-out note. The steady, monotonous
beat of drums didn't do much to add texture to the vocal. "What?"

"Communication is very difficult with you, Jadzia." He sighed.

Now there was the understatement of the year.

I stared at him, trying to process what he'd said. "You want to get
married? When?"

"Tomorrow."

"Seriously? Tomorrow? Are you trying to be funny?"

"Do you not want to get married?"

"Yes, I mean, yes, of course, but--" I glanced about helplessly. "On
such short notice? I mean, shouldn't we *talk* about this?"

Worf regarded me gravely. "We are not very good at 'talking', Jadzia."

"Most people would say that would be a key reason to *not* get
married," I scoffed. "I should know, I've been married six times
already." And then taking a look at Worf's expression, I gulped. "I
mean, not that I look at marriage lightly, and not that I *don't* want
to get married, or that this is just another thing I've already
done--"

"Jadzia. You talk too much." He silenced me with a kiss and I laid my
head against his shoulder. In the background, the highlight of the
piece -- a bone-shaking drum solo -- echoed loudly through the
corridors before abruptly ending. "And you are mistaken, Jadzia. We
have discussed marriage before--"

"That was a long time ago, Worf," I said, feeling the heat rise in my
cheeks as I remembered the very first time Worf had proposed to me:
after our first, feverish and rather violent tryst in the holodeck.
"You haven't mentioned anything since we crashed."

"I did not want anything to distract me from our objectives--"

"Which was?"

"Returning to our timeline and the station."

I shook my head. "I can't believe this. Are you proposing because
you've given up hope and there's nothing like sealing defeat with
marriage?"

Worf drew away from me, pulling himself up to his full height. I hate
to admit it, but I stopped to admire him.

"You do not wish to get married?"

"I never said that." I clenched my fists and then gently, uncurled my
fingers. "You are an infuriating man, you know that?"

He offered me a faint smile. "Is that a yes or a no?"

"You know--" I tipped my head to the side "-- I'd like a formal proposal.
Something out of a fairytale, you know, roses, crystal, diamonds, candles,
champagne, the whole nine yards. And ideally, you should be down on
one knee."

In the dim light, I could see Worf bristle at the very notion.
"Warriors do not kneel. Not even to their par'machai," he said
stiffly.

"So, what do warriors do then?" I asked, leaning closer to him.

Worf cleared his throat and took my hand in between his; his skin was
calloused from days hunting with rudimentary weapons, but his touch
was warm and gentled. "Given the circumstances, I believe this is the
appropriate time to formalize our relationship," Worf said. "Do you
not agree?"

"Wow, now, that's romantic."

He glared at me, but without the heat of real anger. And then slowly,
the corners of his lips tugged upward into a rare smile. He knew he
had me, and there was no reason to pretend otherwise. Damn Klingon
smugness, I thought with some irritation.

"Tomorrow, huh?" I said finally. I lifted my head to look at him.

"If that is acceptable to you."

Acceptable? He was asking *me* about acceptable? After I'd spent over
an hour hiking a small mountain to bring him his precious Barak-kadan
so he could spend his last night aboard the Defiant doing what he
loved? 'Acceptable' was not a word *I* would use to describe that, but
Worf is Worf, and the heart is what it is.

I cleared my throat. "Well, it probably make the most sense to get
married tomorrow, since you'd need somewhere to put all your
possessions once we clear them out of the Defiant, and you know how
awful I am about misplacing things, and you'll always be after me to
find one thing or another for you," I said shakily.

"It is agreed then." He interlaced his fingers with mine and gently
pulled me back towards his quarters. "It must be well after sunset and
the trail is too hazardous to attempt in the dark."

I couldn't resist teasing him one more time. "But what about the ship?
Don't you want to be alone with her?"

Worf smiled. "Stay," he said. It was more than a one-syllabic answer,
it was everything. I closed my eyes and let him sweep me off my feet.

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The End