The BLTS Archive - Cold Feet Second in The Captain's Chair series by Deede (jaylee_g@yahoo.com; deedej@pacbell.net) --- Disclaimer: Paramount owns them, I just like to play around a bit. :-) --- It wasn't supposed to frighten me as profoundly as it was currently doing, yet it did. I hadn't expected to feel this way, after all, this was what I wanted – what I had dreamed of for so long. Just up to a few hours ago I had been fairly certain that I would forgo the ritual cold feet indigenous to the occasion and handle myself with the certainty of one who knew what she wanted and went for it. After all, how many patients had I talked through events like this? How many times had I lectured breathing techniques, soothed fears, and reminded others to focus on the primary objective. . . deep, abiding love: the kind that is life-long and unending, the type that is symbolized by the marriage vows. I definitely have a new appreciation for all those who courageously faced this act before me, in fact, from now on there will be no mentioning of breathing exercises in pre-marital counseling sessions. After all, the last thing I'm thinking of right now is breathing. At this moment I'd be happy with getting my heart to stop beating so fast. This can't be healthy - And if Bev wasn't so busy giggling over the fact that, to quote, 'my unflappable friend has now found herself flapped. Oh, if Will could see you now,' she'd probably tell me the same thing. And what would Will say if he saw me now, a complete and utter nervous wreck just minutes before I was to be escorted down the aisle and pledge the rest of my life to him? Would he find it amusing, as Beverly did, or would he be hurt by it? I feel like I'm about to jump out of my skin, and for the first time that I can remember in a long time I can't place just one emotion. That was my job, what I was supposed to do: categorize the feeling, realize it for what it was, recognize that it was natural and indigenous to the event, and then move on with the understanding that, since labeled, it no longer had baring on my actions. But I couldn't do it, years of discipline and learning the intricate designs of the mind just went down the tubes because everything I was experiencing in that moment went so far beyond that almost verbatim text book description. Was I afraid? Most definitely. In fact, I haven't been this afraid in a long time. I remember the first time Will and I had been together, back when we both had little more than youth and idealistic dreams to our names, I would get these sudden flashes of panic. We'd be laying on the ground, bodies flushed from our recently spent passion, and a thousand thoughts would be running through my head at unfathomable speeds. Was it normal to feel this powerfully for someone? Why had I let things go this far, almost to the point where everything felt so dizzyingly yet wonderfully out of control? Would I be able to move on if things didn't work out between us? Would I ever be able to feel the same way about someone else that I felt for Will? As fate would have it I did receive the answers to my naive uncertainty. Yes, I did learn to survive without Will - moving on with my life when he left me for his career out of necessity and because it had needed to be done. The imzadi bond that existed between us was swift, and it was powerful, but so, I found, was my strength of spirit - I wasn't about to let a broken heart hold me back. I guess it is sort of ironic that we became such good friends when we were first stationed together on the Enterprise, but in a way I don't think we could have really been anything else to each other at that point. We were both still in the process of growing up, of searching for what it was we wanted. And grow up we did, facing countless losses and triumphs by each other's side, ultimately learning to combine the reckless passion of youth, and the wisdom of age, as our destinies intertwined once more and we realized we had never really stopped loving one another. So, what was I afraid of now? Some residual traces from youth, and our first failed attempt at commitment? I honestly don't think it is either of those things. For years Will had been my best friend, my confidant. I had learned a long time ago to trust him in a way I really hadn't been able to when we were both so young and inexperienced. I get this tender pang when looking at him, as if my heart fills by the sight of him alone. There are so many things about him that I find endearing, so many traits, little things really, that get my blood racing. The way he cradles my head when we kiss, or the way his blue eyes light up like a little boy with a secret whenever he thinks he is pulling something over on me. The way he reverts to a male-domineering, Teutonic state during away missions when he feels the need to protect me, even though I am fully capable of holding my own, and the way he smiles at me when I walk onto the bridge - the only outward sign during duty hours that there is something deeper between us. There are moments that transpire every once in awhile where it seems as though only the two of us exist, that somehow we have managed to separate ourselves from space and time, and there is only Will and Deanna in our own private world. These moments usually happen without provocation: I'll be curled up on his chest as he lays elongated across on the couch, playing idly with the zipper on his jacket or he'll be speaking adamantly about one topic or another in ten forward, flaying his large hands to emphasize his words. . . It doesn't take much and I'm lost, he's lost, and this bond between us ignites fully and uncontrollably. It makes me wonder how we lasted as long as we did without contact, how the bond managed to lay repressed during our process of growth. But I suppose it doesn't really matter, it's active now, and making up for lost time with a vengeance. I think maybe it's the idea behind so drastic a change that has me the most frightened. I do not doubt my love for Will, or that our hearts and souls aren't already married and have been for a long time. Will once told me that he had never really stopped loving me, even when we both swore that we wouldn't interrupt our careers by entertaining thoughts of rekindling our romance those first few years of service on the Enterprise. At the time I didn't know how to take that, and I told him so, pointing out the fact that his libido didn't seem to have a problem finding companionship with or without me. Will's reputation in regards to the opposite sex was practically legendary before we renewed our relationship, and during the early years of 'we're just friends' it was something I had trained myself to be more amused by then not. After all, the only other alternative was to have my heart broken each and every time, and well, that just didn't seem very practical, especially given the circumstances surrounding his constant need to display his virility. I had nothing to prove, but I refused to begrudge him his own vice. Our friendship veiled anything deeper, and I had worked pretty damn hard to suppress any jealous inclinations I would have otherwise had. He got really quiet when I pointed this out to him, standing positively still for countless seconds before he moved to crush me to him in a bear hug, nearly strangling me with his grip. "They didn't mean anything, Deanna. All that time I was searching for something - trying to fill this void that only you could complete. I thought you didn't want me." It had taken me awhile following his confession to assure him that I was there, and that I wasn't going anywhere. For someone as confident as Will is - he is not without his insecurities. But then neither am I. I like to look at it as a sign that despite how far we've come we are still learning. Only this time, we are doing it as a couple and not apart. That's not to say that it has been all 'smooth sailing', as he would say. We've had our moments, just as any normal, functioning couple does. I haven't really kept count of the times we've argued, but they are rare, thankfully, although no less intense. "Will, would you have come to me if we had never gone to the Briar Patch?" I had asked one day when we had been curled up together on a chair reading from the same padd. My question had taken him by surprise, and I had wondered at the time if it was because it had seemingly come out of nowhere or because of its content. In all honesty I can't yet say why I had asked it when I did, it had been a nagging fear, yes, but not one that I dwelled on, and not one I had even been thinking of at the time I had voiced it. He had sighed then, halting what work he had been trying to accomplish to stare at me. For some reason my question bugged him, and he had looked mildly exasperated when he asked, "Well, what do you think?" "If I knew the answer to that I wouldn't have asked the question," I had responded in as even a tone as I could muster given my own rapidly growing irritation. He had glared at me then, his frustration shining brightly in his eyes. "Gods Deanna, I love you. I have since the day we met. I had thought about approaching you for years with my feelings, but didn't want to disrupt the status quo. Didn't you know how I felt? And if not then, don't you know now?" It was a legitimate question. After all, I was an empath, and even if not for that, Will and I were imzadi - through our bond I should have sensed something. I can easily dismiss why I had suppressed it before the Briar Patch. . . because I had wanted to. Like Will, I was afraid of putting our friendship on the line, afraid of pursuing something that could disrupt the comfortable pattern we had been living in, even if that something was as powerful as the love that we share. Oh, there had been an occasion every once in awhile when I had felt his love burning brightly within him, but I had somehow passed it off as hormones, or residual emotions from the past - the alternative had been too frightening to consider at the time. I hadn't been ready for those feelings again yet. Yet how I answered Will's question was a double edged sword, I knew that there had been a good chance he wouldn't understand a truthful answer, and yet I didn't want to lie to him, couldn't lie to him. Above all else I believed in honesty in a relationship, even if it hurt us both in the process. "I guess I turned a blind eye to it. . . before the Briar Patch, that is. I prevented myself from knowing. But I do know how you feel now." My answer had hurt him, as I had known deep down that it would. And it pained me that it had affected him like that. The last thing that I wanted was for him to take my words to heart. True, I had been honest, but at what cost? He muttered something under his breath about "wasted time" and then proceeded to mope the rest of the night, shooting the occasional accusing glance my way, as if to say 'my frustration is all your fault'. It wasn't until I had gone to bed that he had crawled in beside me and gently brushed the hair from my eyes. "It doesn't matter. I have you now and I'm not letting you go this time," he had announced, wrapping his arms around me while pulling me close. "I'm not going to let go either, Will," I had mumbled into his chest, entirely appeased for the first time in a long time. It still never ceases to amaze me just how much little things like words can affect someone. I knew that Will loved me - he had shown me in a million different ways, and with a thousand deeds - I could feel it in his soul, empathy or not. But what he had said to me in the bed that night was something I had needed to hear, and I think he had an equal, deep seated need to hear me say them back. And we had moved on from that moment with renewed vigor, working to reach the point that we are at now: me scared for my life, and Will just an aisle away. In an odd way there is a sense of propriety in my fear - this was it, my life as it had been was about to change, and yet the prospect for a thrilling, and different future lay before me. True, I was leaving my friends and the Enterprise - I was going to be legally bound to someone, making the possibility for escape or the need to retreat in private nearly impossible, but Will and I had each other, our bond, and a whole universe to explore. It was as exhilarating as it was exciting, and yes, it was also scary, but in a good way - the kind of scary that makes one feel warm inside. Any minute now I will march a few feet and have it seem like miles, I will look into Will's eyes and see the love there, relinquish my inhibitions - while reminding myself, as I was doing now, that imzadi really does mean forever. --- The End!