The BLTS Archuive- The Darkness In My Soul by Joanne Collins (luchenbackoutlaw@gmail.com) --- Disclaimer: Everything Trek belongs to Paramount/Viacom. Vincent was written and sung by the incomparable Don McLean. I bow down in awe. Please do not distribute, archive, etc, without my permission. May be archived on the ASC archive, the CPSG archive, the PKSP archive and R'Rain's Slash Archive only. Posting to BLTS, CPSG, PKSP and ASC/EM only. Anything else, please ask first. I will probably say yes, but I'd prefer to know about it. This story is *not* connected with my other Paris/Hawk stories, Shameless and My Heart Will Go On, it is an a/u, presuming that Tom and Hawk (James) had a relationship and were still committed to each other at the time of Caretaker. However, in this universe, my original character, Miranda Paris (Tom's sister) does not exist. I was wondering about this messages from home thing (I haven't seen the ep as of writing this) and I started to wonder...what if Tom did get the news of his lover's death? How would he react? Major angst warnings here. M/m sexual relationship, not very graphic, do not read if offended, yada yada yada. Title and song lyrics from Vincent, by Don McLean. Dedicated, as always, to my Hawk. --- Starry, starry night... Paint your palette blue and gray... Look out on a summer's day... With eyes that know the darkness in my soul... --- I look at the stars, and I wonder if you see the same stars I do. Or if you...did. Gods, I'll have to get used to thinking of you in the past tense. I want to scream, and yell and rage at the universe for your death, James. But I can't. Well, I can, but...it wouldn't bring you back. I didn't know. I didn't know how much I was relying on the thought of you to get me through the days. I relied on *knowing* you were out there, somewhere, far away, but out there. I even...gods, I even hoped you'd gone on with someone else. Then maybe I wouldn't feel so bad whenever I contemplated doing so myself. And now, when there's no obstacle of a lover back in the Alpha Quadrant, for me at least, there's a bigger one. I think your death will be harder for me to get over because I wasn't there. I didn't get to see you one last time...although if you had been assimilated, I don't know if I would have wanted to...yes I would have. I would have wanted, and needed, to say goodbye. --- Shadows on the hills... Sketch the trees and the daffodils... Catch the breeze and the winter chills... In colors on the snowy linen land.... --- I don't think anyone ever expected us to last. I'd had so many casual affairs in my early years at the Academy, after Susie dumped me, that I'm sure most people thought you were the flavour of the week. But we beat the odds, didn't we? We managed to stay together through the accident in senior year, all the shit my father wanted to put us through, Caldik Prime, the Maquis, and even prison. Hell, there was even an unreconstructed romantic part of me that thought we weren't split up by this whole strange voyage, just...in a holding pattern. Maybe that was dangerous, though. Relying on *maybe* getting back to you. Was *that* what you meant the last time we saw each other? --- Now I understand... What you tried to say, to me... And how you suffered for your sanity... And how you tried to set them free... They would not listen; they did not know how... Perhaps they'll listen now... --- You told me, "Don't rely on the future, and don't remember the past. Just enjoy the moment we have together now. Tomorrow one of us could explode in a shuttle. I pray we don't, but it could happen. Trust in now, this moment," and then of course you kissed me and... --- Starry, starry night... Flaming flowers that brightly blaze... Swirling clouds in violet haze... Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue... --- The flowers you gave me are still on my nightstand. Almost the same colour as my eyes, you said, being the sentimental idiot we always seemed to bring out in each other. I've missed that... Did you even realise that the colour, although not quite the same as my eyes, was an exact match for yours? --- Colors changing hue... Morning fields of amber grain... Weathered faces lined in pain... Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.... --- How I found out...gods, that was so *hard*. I was reading the helm reports from the Enterprise, and trying *not* to remember our codes, which was pretty damn difficult. I didn't realise how many of the terms in the reports we actually *used*, and I even started to wonder if maybe you'd gotten to them, knowing I'd be the one reviewing them, and had put in a few little 'surprises' for me. And then, suddenly, they stopped. A different officer was writing the reports. The style was *so not you*. It was so...abrupt. I didn't know why, so I read the ship's logs. Lieutenant James Hawk. Killed in the line of duty. Assimilated by the Borg immediately prior to his death. So cold, so clinical. The facts, and nothing more. Nothing about your smile, or your laugh, or your love for the music I introduced you to. No mention of *you*, the man I love. Then again, no one expected this to be the way your lover found out, did they? I wonder...if Chakotay or Captain Janeway had seen the reports first, would they have tried to prepare me? I think...I'm glad that they didn't. I wouldn't have wanted to break down in front of them. Especially Chakotay. And that's something that I don't think I'll dwell on right now. --- Now I understand... What you tried to say, to me... And how you suffered for your sanity... And how you tried to set them free... They would not listen; they did not know how... Perhaps they'll listen now... --- I'll never know, but I wonder if I would...if I *could*...have stayed faithful to your memory forever. I'd like to think so, but...I guess that won't be tested. Regrets...for not agreeing to marry you when you asked me, even though we were too young. For not standing up to my father more when he tried to separate us. For not insisting that we be assigned together. For more things than I can name. I don't think anyone ever understood what you meant to me, but maybe...just maybe...the people here on Voyager will. Maybe someone will be able to help me to put you behind me. Never to forget you, I couldn't do that, but I have to move on, and I know you would understand. I think Harry would understand. I know he has wondered about going on too...as have we all. --- For they could not love you... But still, your love was true... --- Who mourned you, James? Who cried over your death when it happened? Captain Picard? Will Riker? Counselor Troi? Doctor Crusher? Data? I know some of them were friends, but did they care enough to hold a service for you? Maybe I can hold one. For us. I think I need to. More for myself than for you, of course. --- And when no hope was left inside... On that starry, starry night... You took your life as lovers often do... But I could've told you, Vincent:... This world was never meant... For one as beautiful as you... --- You were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I know I told you that a lot, especially after we made love, but you were. For about one second, I considered joining you. But I couldn't do that. It would be too easy, too cowardly. You'd hate me, and I'd hate myself if I did that. And eternity would be a hell of a long time to spend being angry with each other. --- Starry, Starry night... Portraits hung in empty halls... Frameless heads on nameless walls... With eyes that watch the world and can't forget... Like the strangers that you've met... The ragged men in ragged clothes... The silver thorn, a bloody rose... Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow... --- I find my thoughts drifting back to our first time together. You were so tender and gentle with me, James. You kissed me everywhere, teasing the reaction out of me, so gentle, not wanting to hurt me. You weren't sure if we should...but I wanted you. I wanted all of you in me, James. I couldn't have done anything else. Your fingers, stretching me, preparing me for you. Then you entered me, and it was like nothing I'd ever felt before. Nothing I've felt since, either. There hasn't been anyone...anyone I *want* to remember since you. Except maybe that almost-encounter with Miguel Ayala. But I couldn't. I couldn't do that to you. And I don't think I was attracted enough to Miguel to consider him seriously. There have only been three men I have thought of seriously being involved with in my life. And one of them was you. Was. It's not so difficult to say. It is difficult to think of, though. One of the others is probably not interested in me anyway. Maybe neither of them are...and maybe neither of them will be ready when I am. But I know that I'm not ready now, and I may never be ready for anyone but you. If that means that I must spend the rest of my life without anyone, maybe that's what is meant to be. --- Now I think I know... What you tried to say, to me... And how you suffered for your sanity... And how you tried to set them free:.. They would not listen; they're not listening still... Perhaps they never will... --- So...I have to mourn you, James. That's important. To me, you've only been dead a day, no matter how long it's actually been. Time is a fluid thing, isn't it? We thought we'd have forever, but we didn't. I want to say goodbye, James. I want to have a service to commemorate your life. And then...maybe I will be able to go on with my life, without you. I will try, because I think it's what you would want, and I think it's what I want too. Goodbye, James. Every time I say it, it gets just a little easier... --- The End