The BLTS Archive - Out of Balance
by Deanna (sweetsorcery@yahoo.com)

---

I don't even remember when it all began... until not too long ago,
such a thing had never occurred to me. In fact, it would have been
unthinkable. It still *is* unthinkable, and always will be.

How can I even presume to tell you how I feel about you? It isn't
right. It can never be. My whole life is the reason why it can't.

Everything I believe in, everything I've fought for, prohibits these
emotions. I'm as confused as I am ashamed. Why could I never even see
it coming?

That time when we were so close... it was so brief, but it sparked
feelings I've never had for anyone. I thought then that I would get
over this. I ridiculed myself for feeling that way. In fact, I even
blamed my reaction to you on my fears and temporary insecurity when
your life was in danger.

In the past, I used to be good at reasoning with myself. Before living
on this station spoilt me and made me so comfortable... too
comfortable. I used to be hard on myself. If I was happy or sad for
too long a time, I just snapped myself out of it. It leaves one too
vulnerable to be sentimental.

But these days, everything makes me sentimental. At least, everything
you do. Whether it is seeing you with a friend, giving advice, showing
emotions or vulnerabilities... I'm on the verge of crying over loving
you so much.

Maybe if we had been together all those years ago, when I had only one
purpose in life, I wouldn't have succumbed to these useless and
detrimental emotions...

It's not that I didn't have feelings back then. I was so sad when
people around me were dying, people I called friends and family,
people I loved dearly, but I didn't allow it to get me down. I fought.
So hard.

How do you do this to me? Maybe it's because I don't feel as though I
need to fight you anymore. Maybe it's because I feel so safe with you.
Not that I would ever tell you this.

If I walk into a room and you're already there, it's as if that room
had been warmed up for my arrival. Comfort. Too much comfort.

I don't even understand why I'm debating this with myself. There are
no options for me. If I can't control my emotions, I cannot stay.

My mind needs to be on my work. At the very least, it needs to be in
the same room with me. But when you're not around, it wanders...
leaving me, to go on its flights of fancy, following you around the
station or wherever else in the galaxy you go.

And at night, when I'm alone in my quarters, it comes back to me
briefly to tell me all about the day it's had. But within mere
minutes, it's gone again. Off to visit you in your sleeping quarters.
It sits there, every night, watching you... the only part of me that
can be there with you.

It guards you. Protects you. Not that you need protecting. You have
more inner strength than I've ever possessed. And I thought I was
doing well. But it is you who has all the confidence. All the answers.
All the power over me.

If only I could follow my mind into your room. If only I could join it
there... perched on the edge of your bed, guarding you, listening to
the calm regular breaths that pass through your parted lips. Those
expressive eyes of yours... closed in sleep. Your mouth... that
sensual mouth... curved in the slightest smile, just as it always
seems to be.

I need to stop torturing myself with these images. What good do they
do me? I will never be listening to the soft sounds of your sleep. I
will never be there to touch your resting body, to whisper tender
words to you, wishing myself into your dreams.

You're in all my dreams these days. Sometimes, you're the gentle lover
I've always wished for. And sometimes, you're passionate and
impatient, taking me with force. In those dreams, you don't allow me
to decide. You're the one who decides whether or not we can be
together. And these are oddly comforting dreams.

Then I have other dreams... you as a passionate and charming leader,
you as a devoted child and a loving parent, you as a brave fighter,
the loneliest creature in the Universe and the one who has lost near
everything.

I am so tired of all this thinking. Wanting. Needing.

If only my old self would come back and tell me what to do... No, I
*do* know what to do, but I can't bear to turn my back on you forever.
I could just as well take a knife and ram it through my heart. And
that would be far easier than to leave you.

Sometimes, when a glimmer of your soul shows through your eyes, I
briefly forget who you are. Who I am. And why we can't be together.

It's not as if we don't have much in common. We have suffered
incredible losses, both of us. We have lost loved ones. We have fought
wars that never seemed to end. And we have not always been on the same
side.

It's not as if I ever hated you. You may believe so, but it's never
been like that. I know I didn't trust you when we first met. I didn't
want to and the circumstances seemed to ridicule any of your attempts
to gain my trust.

A lot of people had reservations about you. A lot still do. But even
your enemies know that you fight for what you believe in. If it has to
be a fight to the death, so be it.

Right now, I'm fighting a fight to the death. I can give in to my
heart, but either you or I will break it. Or I can ignore its wishes,
hoping it will quiet down over time. But I know only too well that
eventually, it will break from the pain and desperation of not having
you.

I wish you could tell me what to do. You always seem to have the
answer to everything. There's barely a moment when you seem truly
vulnerable and confused. And I know you think I'm the same. I used to
be. Until you.

This is one decision I have to make for myself. To ask you for help
would be like begging the knife to pass through my body, twist and
pierce me once more. Just to make quite sure I would never ask such a
foolish thing again.

I couldn't even guess how you'd react to my revelation. It could be
shock, confusion or even hatred.

Of course there is the possibility that you might actually feel the
same. You've said things in the past that have indicated as much. At
the time, I didn't pay close enough attention to the tone of your
voice, a sparkle in your eyes or a touch of your hand.

You can be kind and sensitive, but I've also seen you fierce and
merciless. If you didn't share my feelings, I would risk losing you
altogether, even if having you means no more than being able to see
you from afar and hear the sound of your soothing voice.

And what if you were hurt by my feelings? What if they brought back
memories of the past in you? Memories of happier times for both you
and your people. Memories of those you were close to and lost. What if
I just made you afraid of losing again?

There are so many things I want to tell you. So many things I want to
do with you. You're as good a speaker as you are a listener, but this
is not something we can ever mention between us.

I've heard you talk about all kinds of things, including emotions,
which seem to run so deep in you. We've spoken of sadness and joy,
loyalty and desperation, loneliness and trust, but we've never spoken
about love.

You know how I regard you. It's very clear that you and I just can't
be. Whether it's our differences or our similarities, I don't know.
All I know is that it drives me insane to keep thinking about you.

I should go away from here. Maybe not even say goodbye. I should make
sure you couldn't find me. But you usually find what you're looking
for and we parted once before.

The more I run from you, the more you come after me. But the sadness
of it all is that you don't know why I run and I don't know why you
follow.

Sometimes, I fool myself into thinking that the reason you never give
up on me may be the reason I can never stay away from you. You've told
me that you respect me, like me, admire me, but you've never told me
that you love me.

If you did love me, you would probably never say so. You know what you
are to me and it's a bridge neither of us can cross. And before we
can't cross that bridge, we can't be on the same side of the river,
fighting the same battles, consider ourselves equals.

My convictions and my heritage forbid me to think of you this way.
It's wrong and it's dangerous.

Once, I could feel comfortable dismissing you. Even if you were only a
symbol for things I hated, I had at least that. Now that I love you,
I've lost all that simplicity.

There goes my mind again... It's night time and I should be going to
sleep, but it has things to do and places to go. One place... it
always goes there.

Right about now, you're lying there in your bed. You're probably still
awake, thinking about your day. And maybe, just for an instant, you
think about me. I can't help wondering whether my face appears in
there amongst all the others you've looked into today.

Maybe if we could pretend that the past hadn't happened? Maybe if we
could pretend that our feelings for each other make all that
disappear? Fade into the background?

My mind would find you lying still on your back, stretched out under
your sheets. And you would be thinking of me. 'I wish you were here,'
you would think. 'Oh I wish you were here with me.'

You would let a finger glide over your lips, imagining my kiss. With
your eyes closed, it would seem as if I was there... my mouth pressed
against yours, my tongue playing with you, setting a wave of desire in
motion.

And your hands would begin to wander over your chest and your stomach,
spreading a comforting warmth throughout your body. Your eyes would
close and in your mind, you would see me, lying on my own bed.

You would know what I was thinking. You would watch me sliding the
sheet aside. Your eyes would follow my fingers as they spread and
slowly begin to run down my body.

You would see my closed eyelids and you would know that I'm imagining
your hands on me... tenderly exploring the softness of my skin, the
exotic feel of my body.

And while you would see me like that, your hand would move down
towards your hips, inwards and further below to the center of your
being.

Your mind would see me growing more aroused thinking of you and my
arousal would further stir your own. You would see me sliding my hand
over my abdomen and my thighs, parting my legs slightly and
disappearing in-between.

By then, you would be touching yourself, stroking gently and imagining
my hand was there. Or maybe you would think of my mouth... pleasuring
you with my warmth and wetness, giving you everything you need.

I would be touching myself. But I would imagine your smooth beautiful
hand parting my legs, intruding into my most intimate existence,
gently touching me, slowly becoming slippery from my wetness running
through your fingers.

And you would be moaning, knowing I'm imagining you doing this to me.
You would touch yourself, and your fingers would become me, enclosing
your heart and soul, letting you glide into my body, pulling you in as
far as you can go, entering you to the depths of ecstasy.

Eventually, I would scream with the incredible release. The beautiful
vision of your body beneath mine, intertwined and all around me.

And then you would moan, satisfied. Fulfilled. Happy.

This is the last night. Tomorrow, I will tell you. Nothing less than
my life depends on it.

Whether I tear out my heart thinking of being with you, every night,
or whether I tell you and lose you forever, I must put an end to this.

One way or the other.

---

Now that I'm on my way to you, I feel strangely relieved, as if I'm
about to unload an unbearable burden. I'm walking the Promenade,
noticing nothing around me. I have a destination and I won't let
myself be distracted.

Finally, I have arrived. I'm standing there, separated from you
through just one door, a few heartbeats, a few words. I ask to be
allowed to enter.

And there you are... your face lights up when you see me, but that's
just the way you are. Always kind, always an open ear for everyone.
And I am feeling bold and confident now.

"Please come in, Nerys," you say.

I nod, waiting for your encouraging smile. There it is.

"I need to speak with you, Captain Sisko."

---

The End