The BLTS Archive - Points of View Songs in the Dark: Solo I by Mariel (mjlisi@cgocable.net) --- Disclaimer: You already know about the Trek characters, but just in case there's doubt about the songs I mention: I didn't write OR sing either of them.... ...well, I sing them - but not in public... Notes: This has taken so long to write I'm not sure where to start with my thanks - too many 'visions and revisions', I guess. Nancy, you helped immensely with those last minute comments, and to the friend who wants no mention, consider this your mention anyway! The two songs haunted me but were difficult to blend, so please excuse any failings - those are mine. Summary: Sometimes it doesn't take a catastrophic occurrence to make people see sense...just a little time, a little more angst, and a lot of thought. "Almost" is sung by Brandy --- "Almost made you love me Almost made you cry Almost made you happy, babe Didn't I, didn't I?" "Almost heard you sayin' You were finally free What was always missin' for ya babe You found it in me You can't get to heaven Half off the ground Everybody knows, almost doesn't count." --- Beverly picked up the last piece of bric-a-brac from the shelf and, wrapping it in packing material, carefully placed it in the transport box. That was it. The last item. Her clothes, her medical padds, all her possessions, her *life*, all neatly packed away, ready to leave with her. She paused to look around the empty room that had been her quarters for so long and sighed. It looked almost the way it had when she'd boarded. No sign remained that she had lived and laughed and cried here. And when she left, even the memories that hung thick about her in the air would quickly evaporate into nothingness. She closed her eyes and tried not to wince at the memory of his face when she'd told him her decision. She stopped to ponder their recent lives, thinking how it had seemed that things were changing between them, that they were both, at last, ready to step off into the abyss that a deeper, more intimate and emotionally daring relationship would mean. The lingering looks, the touches, the promise she thought she could see in his eyes.... She had finally overcome her fears, the passing of time finally bringing home to her that time might be running out, that there were more things to life than the past and the present. There was the future stretching out ahead of her, and more and more it was that, and the thought of it without him, of continuing on not completely fulfilled as a person that had haunted her until she had realized she was ready for more, ready to give and accept the love she knew they held for each other. And she had thought that he had reached that point too. Then he had kissed her, and she had discovered the truth. She had been mistaken. The kiss...it had been unexpected, for all the delicious tension that had preceded it. The evening had been little different than any of the evenings they had shared, but that night...She sighed as she felt a physical response to her memories wash over her... That night, both had known that something electric was going to happen, and when he had taken her wine glass and set it upon the table, it had seemed only natural that he should then turn and take her in his arms. The kiss had been wonderful, passionate, and she had readily lost herself in it and her response to him. She moved uncomfortably as her thoughts continued. His breaking away had stunned her, and his mumbled apology an insult, considering the way she had welcomed his caresses and returned them with her own. But most of all, she had been overwhelmed by the horrible, dark feeling that this was never going to work. No matter how strong the attraction, no matter how deep the emotion between them, they would never manage to make a go of it. They almost had, but not now. Not after that rejection. She sighed, and wiped a traitorous tear from her eye. He couldn't stop concentrating on the difficulties a deeper relationship might bring forth, couldn't rid himself of the fear that things might go terribly awry. Worse, though, was the fact he couldn't let go of the past...she was sure he couldn't stop seeing Jack, standing just behind her, looking over her shoulder and watching, whenever he got close. And today was the anniversary of Jack's death. She rose and closed the lid of the container, thinking the date somehow appropriate for her leave-taking. Jack's death -it had always troubled them both- but it had seemed that, over the last few years it had troubled her less and less, and him more and more. For him, it seemed that, instead of it becoming increasingly a thing of the past, it was becoming more and more a thing of the present. She had hoped that this year would show a turnaround, and had, indeed, fallen into the warm fallacies of 'almosts' that had always been her downfall. Fingering a long lock of hair off her face, she looked at the containers spread about the room. She had left her place at Jack's side long ago. Even after the guilt of his dying so soon after their betrayal in that snowbound cabin, she had managed to put it aside, understanding that she and Jean Luc had not killed him, that their loving one another had not in some weird way caused Jack's demise - the nature of that godforsaken planet had. She could even assert with confidence that she and Jack had been well on their way to parting company, though she would have said it to few - there was, after all, Wesley to consider. But Jean Luc...Jean Luc still had part of him on that planet, still saw in Jack's death a retribution for their one forbidden night of love, a punishment for allowing himself a love that part of him couldn't acknowledge -or that a part of him feared; she wasn't sure which. She looked out at the stars, knowing that the _Enterprise_ was not his mistress, the passion that kept him from loving her whole-heartedly. It was guilt. He clung to guilt like a lover -and to his misplaced sense of duty to Jack's memory like a belatedly-faithful husband. And he wanted it that way, for some reason she couldn't fathom. She also knew that they had almost --*almost*-- gotten beyond that. But almost didn't count. She was admitting defeat. Throwing in the towel. Calling it quits. Caldos and the solitary, healing existence it promised called her like a siren's song... The waiting was over. --- "I can't keep on lovin' you One foot outside the door I hear a funny hesitation Of a heart that's never really sure Can't keep on tryin if You're lookin' for more And all that I could give you, Ain't what you came here for." "Gonna find me somebody Not afraid to let go Wanna tell you You could be that kinda man- You came real close But every time you built me up You only let me down..." --- His coming to say one last goodbye almost surprised her. She thought that surely there had already been enough things unsaid between them, but no, he had come, to leave more trails of the unspoken in his wake, adding one more moment of nothing ventured, nothing resolved. And so they had journeyed to the transporter room together in silence, the air about them thick with unverbalized thoughts and feelings. On the turbolift, she saw something in his eyes she had to steel herself against... that look that begged her to stay, begged her to keep waiting, to keep hanging on. Schooling her features, she fought against the impulse to take him in her arms. She couldn't. Couldn't keep waiting, couldn't keep trying to get past whatever that damned hesitation of his was. She'd been convinced before that he would and had stayed. But no longer. Her heart couldn't take it anymore. Inside the transporter room, she stifled a desire to ask him what he wanted of her, what he was really looking for, why he continuously drew back, retreating to that shell of his, into that place she couldn't reach. Resolutely, she stepped up onto the transporter pad, ceasing her second guessing of the past and looking instead to the future. For, she reassured herself, she did have a future: alone, or if it happened, with someone who didn't have this fear, or this hesitation. She needed more, deserved more. She wanted it that way. She *needed* it to be that way. But gods, they had come so close to almost... She stood erect, her hands at rest by her sides, a part of her wondering what would happen if she stepped down and said that she had changed her mind, that she would stay after all. Mentally, she shook her head. Pointless now to dream. He wanted it this way, or he would have said something, done something, long ago. Quietly, Jean Luc had dismissed the chief, saying he'd take care of the transport. The man had nodded and left them alone. "Beverly, I..." She raised a hand and stopped his words. "Jean Luc, we both know that, deep down, you want it this way. You can beam me down to Caldos now." 'Almost' didn't count anymore. There had been too many 'almosts' in her life. No more. He had 'almost' too many times. He had, she knew, 'almost' followed her after Kesprit to ask her to rethink her rejection, he had 'almost' told her he loved her after the loss of the _Enterprise D_, 'almost' told her he loved her after he'd realized his experience on Ba'ku with Anij had been just that, an experience, but not part of his real life.... Almost. But, for reasons she couldn't understand and refused to live with, she knew that this was how he really wanted it. Her leaving was as much his choice as hers. --- "Maybe you'll be sorry Maybe you'll be cold Maybe you'll come runnin back, babe From the cruel, cruel world Almost convinced me You're gonna stick around But everybody knows Almost doesn't count" --- Jean Luc watched as his heart disappeared in a shimmer of transporter light. Part of him had almost asked her to stay, had almost begged her to reconsider. Another more familiar part of him had stopped him from doing so. Perhaps this is what she really wanted, what she should have done long ago. With her safely off the ship, perhaps he could regain the equilibrium he held so dear. Without her presence, perhaps there would be no more dreams of loving her to haunt him, no more guilt to push aside, no more fear of getting too close. Another part of him, angry at her leaving, thought she might not find life on Caldos as attractive as she hoped. Perhaps she would regret leaving, perhaps she would want to come back. He sighed, and slowly turned to leave the transporter room, tired of the conflicting emotions, unsure of exactly how he felt. --- "So maybe I'll be here Maybe I'll see you around That's the way it goes Almost doesn't count." --- She'd been on Caldos for weeks, slowly adjusting to her new life, reassuring herself, in what was quickly becoming once again familiar surroundings, that she had made the right decision. But the memory of their shared passion that evening in his quarters, no matter how brief, haunted her, made her question her decision and resist letting go. She wondered why he had not called to say hello, to enquire after her well-being. Friends did that, didn't they? More than once, she almost went to the console to call him, to send a message of greeting, to tell him the news of her days...but her almosts began to number as many as his. She almost called, she almost... But she had made her decision. She wanted it this way. Almost didn't count. --- The End