The BLTS Archive- Falling Farther In by Trexphile (trxphile@cox.net) --- DISCLAIMER:Paramount created the wonderful characters (which I have borrowed withoutpermission), October Project created the wonderful music (ditto on the permission thang) -- I've taken both and combined them into something I doubt that either would have considered. Once again, I'm posting another story that I wrote some time ago. Feedback is welcomed in whatever form or mode you fancy, as long as it's constructive. Thanx! November 1997 --- "Dinner tonight, then?" "Yes." She watched him as he stood and smiled down at her from across the breakfast table. Once again, she was taken aback by the openness of the smile. He'd been smiling that way all through breakfast and it was something she hadn't seen from him in a long time. She rose also and, taking her dishes in hand, crossed to the recycler and deposited them. She turned and almost jumped -- he was right behind her. "2030, right?" That incredible baritone rumbled through her. "Yes. Here at 2030." She expected him to take his leave but he didn't. She felt her heart stumble and she held her breath as he reached out slowly and touched her cheek, letting his fingers trace down and along her jaw to her chin. Her skin tingled, a fiery trail, and she pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. What was going on? What was he doing? What did it mean? "I'll see you then," he whispered, his fingers still lingering, his gaze boring into hers, and the pull from his eyes was so intense she had to concentrate on keeping herself upright, fighting the urge to let her body lean and fall toward his. He slowly dropped his hand, turned and left. She stared at the doors and released a shuddering breath, control no longer necessary. She crossed and sat at the table, in his chair, and stared at the tabletop, reviewing the morning. He had been quiet and she hadn't tried to bring him out of his pensive mood. He had been this way quite often since they'd returned from the last encounter with the Borg and when they'd begun their breakfast, she hadn't been too concerned about his mood. She had noticed a difference, however, when they'd both inadvertently reached for the same croissant and, instead of pulling back and allowing her to take it, he'd laid his hand of top of hers and given her a probing look that had quivered through her soul. And more than once she had looked up from her meal to see him silently staring at her, his expression uncharacteristically open and tender, his eyes brimming with emotion, the intensity in his hazel depths causing her to feel weak and powerless. These things had been enough for her to wonder what he was feeling. And his actions before he left had deepened her confusion. She whispered to her reflection in the shiny tabletop. "Is he asking me to make a choice again?" --- "I have traveled the paths of desire following smoke and remembering fire. The night is falling, the path is receding. I don't need to see it to know where it's leading. I'm drawn to you, I'm caught in you. In your eyes - all of the promises, all the lies. Will you keep all of the promises in your eyes?" --- At 2000 hours, she stood before the full length mirror, contemplating her appearance. She had donned a solid black outfit -- softly flowing scoop-necked thigh-length tunic, loose pants, flat sandals. A very modest outfit, comfortable, sexually ambiguous. She had pondered the morning's events all day, replaying every moment over and over, trying to determine if she'd misread Jean-Luc's intentions. She had finally, almost reluctantly, come to the conclusion that he was, in his own way, letting her know that he wanted their relationship to become something more, just as he had after KesPrytt three years before. She couldn't ignore the question he was asking -- once again she was going to have to make a choice. "What are you going to do, Beverly?" she asked her funereal reflection. She knew what she wanted -- she wanted Jean-Luc, wanted him with her entire being, more than she'd ever wanted anyone in her life. "But do I *need* him?" she whispered. She knew that this determination was of the utmost importance. Wanting was one thing -- *needing* was another. "Wanting" implied seeking satisfaction for satisfaction's sake, motivated by selfish desires. But "needing" was more than that -- it validated the want, moving it to a higher plane where the desire became crucial to existence. And only if she could prove to herself that she needed, really needed Jean-Luc Picard as more than the friend that he was now -- only then would she allow herself to cross the line that she'd vowed three years ago she'd never cross. She closed her eyes, weary of her dilemma. When she opened them again, she once again looked at her reflection and with sudden chilling clarity, she saw herself for who she really was -- a woman, teetering on the brink of middle age, dedicated to her career, one who had given much and lost even more, a woman with no family and few close friends. In her youth, she had been full of passion and fire, her appetite for life and love seemingly insatiable. Time and circumstances had shackled the passion, snuffed the fire -- she had managed to channel some of it into her devotion to her work, but her fear of more loss had kept her true spirit smothered in every other aspect of her life. With the revelation of an opening door, she saw her future clearly and she was frightened by what she saw -- an old woman, alone in her self-imposed isolation, the chance of ever sharing her joys and passions with another now a long past memory. Unable to look back with contentment at a life well-lived life, the memories darkened by regret and what-ifs, her memories and joys and passons fading as they lived only within herself, unshared. She covered her face with her hands. She couldn't look at it anymore. When she looked up again, she had made her decision. She walked to her closet, taking the first steps into a different future. --- "Out of the silence, into the blue You finally remember where you've been You finally remember who you are. And you remember the light. Out of the spirit, into the flesh. The animal heartbeat in the chest, the naked desire, the appetite. But you remember the light." --- The table was set beautifully, the lights dim, classical music playing softly and unobtrusively. She sat on the couch, concentrating on her breathing, trying to will her heart to slow its frantic beating. He would be here any moment. She looked down at her hands that twisted slowly in her lap against a shimmering red background. "Computer, time." "The time is 2025 hours." Five minutes. She stood and walked to her mirror. The woman that stared back at her looked very different from the one earlier. She wore a silky, slinky creation in solid, brilliant red that clung to her body, the neckline dipping low, held up by spaghetti straps. The hem comfortably hugged her bare legs at mid-thigh and she had yet to don any shoes. She had debated putting up her hair, finally deciding to leave it down and the blonde tresses curled softly against her neck. She smoothed the front of the dress where it clung to her abdomen, her newly red nails matching the material perfectly. "Allright, Beverly," she muttered, "You've made your decision. Let's just hope he's ready to accept it." The door chimed. Her heart leapt into her throat. She swallowed it down and called out, turning to face the doors. "Come in." The doors opened and he was there. She held her breath, once more captivated by the sight of him in his civilian clothing. He always had this effect on her. She took in the sight of him in just a few seconds -- the pale blue tab-necked full-sleeved shirt that buttoned quaintly, the top buttons undone to reveal a hint of the amazing chest beneath, dark blue pants tailored perfectly to fit snugly. She brought her eyes back up to his face and smiled at the expression she saw there. Her attire had produced the desired effect. She floated over to him in her bare feet. "Ready to eat?" He didn't answer right away. She caught his eyes moving down her body and she suppressed a shiver. He brought his approving gaze back to hers. "You are stunning, Beverly." "Thank you, Jean-Luc." She leaned in and spoke low in his ear. "So are you." She crossed to the table and laid a hand on the back of a chair. "Have a seat." She moved away towards her chair on the opposite side, feeling his gaze boring into her back, trembling slightly. She sat down, crossed her legs and picked up a carafe. "Would you like some wine?" He nodded with a smile. --- "I can hear the echo in a maze of words A lonely voice behind a door. Can you hear me calling from a world away? A lonely voice behind a door." "Take me past this lonely truth and let me go beyond my skin, The walls that held me here before have no purpose anymore. Let me enter in. Break me from my injured past and make me over in your arms The pain that guided me before has no comfort anymore. Let me enter in. I leave a life behind me I feel myself begin. I'm reaching out to keep you, falling farther in." --- Their meal done, they sat and quietly finished their wine. Their conversation had followed its usual path, touching on the safe topics of work and their comrades, never venturing into anything too personal -- yet the air had been charged throughout the entire evening, the occasional silence full of provocative whispers, a locked gaze exposing quivering desire just below the placid smiling surface. Beverly replaced her empty wine glass, noticed Jean-Luc's was also empty. It was time, she decided. She stood and moved to him. He looked up at her expectantly. "Would you care to dance, Captain? And don't tell me you don't dance because I know better." His gaze moved down her body again. "I would be delighted, Doctor." He stood slowly, his face only centimeters from hers. She smiled casually -- she hoped -- and stepped over to press a button on the wall. New music began, very different from the soft classical piece that had been playing. A strongly accented percussion beat began, sounding almost Latin, accompanied by guitar and an unusual but pleasant woman's voice. Beverly turned slowly and looked at Jean-Luc. From his expression, he had not expected to hear something like this. She took a deep breath and moved close to him, took his hand and pulled him into the center of the room. She placed her free hand on his shoulder and began swaying to the music, very subtly, following the irresistible rhythm. He stood, unmoving staring directly into her eyes, a frown teasing his brows. "Beverly, I don't --" "Just feel it, Jean-Luc," she said and closed her eyes. She felt him begin to move, matching her movements. Side to side, barely moving, bodies almost touching. She kept her eyes shut, letting the music take her over. She was barely aware of her hand moving, releasing his hand, moving up his arm, fingers moving lightly across the back of his neck. Her other hand joined it there and together, they caressed his neck. "Hide your eyes .... hide your eyes," the woman sang. She felt his hands move down her back and rest low on her back, just below her waist. She opened her eyes and saw his glistening back at her, the desire lurking so close to the surface. He moved in until their bodies were touching and she had to fight back a moan. Without breaking eye contact, he released her and continued moving to the music, hands at his sides. Oh God, he's good, she thought and removed her hands from his neck. They danced with only their bodies touching, hands at their sides and Beverly's head swam with the overwhelming sensations his hard body was causing, warmth beginning to pulse at her core, as they moved as one. The music changed, sweetening slightly, with the harmony of two women's voices and guitar predominant, joined by a harmonica. She moved her hands to his hips and when the percussion rejoined the melody, intensifying the mood again, she pressed even closer to him. She closed her eyes again as the woman sang. "Close your eyes. This is your lullaby." His hands moved to her hips, mimicking hers and the dance continued. The instrumental portion of the song began, a harmonica playing the lead. Beverly opened her eyes and lifted her hands from his body, then turned around. She moved back, pressing her back into him, never breaking the rhythm. She took his hands and entwined her fingers in his, keeping their arms at her side. He felt so good, so solid against her back. Keeping the rhythm had now become second nature to her and she was completely consumed by him, by their connection. She felt his breath hot on her upper back and his arms move to encircle her waist, her hands still clasped in his. His lips moved across her bare shoulder blade, along the top of her shoulder to her neck, up to her ear, not making contact but so close, only his breath caressing her. Her knees almost gave out when his lips finally touched her ear, the sweet warmth of his shuddering breath almost as hot as the warmth growing inside her, as hot as his body pressed against hers. "Look at me," he breathed. She turned in his arms and he pressed her close, still moving to the music. She wrapped her arms around his back and they continued the dance, gazes locked, faces millimeters apart. It felt so right, holding him this way, moving as one, and she knew that she was ready to knock down the wall. She reached up, took his face in both hands and, voice trembling, spoke the words she had kept hidden from him and from herself for so long. "I love you, Jean-Luc. I need you so much." He sighed. "I've waited so long to hear you say those words." He closed his eyes and hugged her close, she returning the embrace, as he laid his cheek against hers. His lips close to her ear, he spoke in a shuddering whisper, "God, I love you, Beverly." Joy, enormous and wonderful, exploded within her and brought tears to her eyes. Unaware that they were still moving to the music, she once again brought her hands to his neck and moved up to the back of his head. He raised up to look at her and she smiled, a tear slipping down to season the corner of her mouth. "Thank you," she sighed and now that the barrier between them was gone forever, there was nothing keeping them from becoming one completely. They met in a sweet kiss that grew in passion and she felt herself falling into him, reveling in the sensation, rejoicing as their inevitable destiny finally became reality, wondering why she had ever been afraid of this. The singer spoke through the final bars of the song. "Down, down, down ... would the fall never come to an end? Wonder how many miles I've fallen?..." Jean-Luc pulled away and smiled at her and Beverly smiled back, content that she would never stop falling. --- "Come take my body, come take my soul. Come take me over -- I want to be whole." "Let me make a simple wish as we fall asleep -- Let me wake with you by my side Always." --- The End