The BLTS Archive- In Soft Darkness
by Martha McDonnell (marsta@geocities.com)

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Archive: Please. :)

Disclaimer: Obligatory bowing and scraping to Paramount, who own Trek
and its characters, but not me or this story.  (And, ha.  I didn't use
any names, either.  So there.)

Feedback: Loved it, hated it, totally indifferent?  Please, let me
know!  Feedback may not make the life worth living, but it certainly
makes the fanfic worth writing.

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The taste of her skin is still warm on his lips as he watches her
undress.  Her movements are slow, measured, and she folds each garment
before putting it away.  She knows he's watching her, silently
laughing at her quirks, and she turns that special, secretive smile on
him. He's entranced, even now, by the luminescence of the skin, pale
as, and tasting of, moonlight, which she gradually reveals.

She's beautiful, so beautiful, he thinks to himself.  Beautiful even
at this age, older, though he can't believe it, than he was when he
first met her, loved her.  Some women become hard with age, letting
the years sharpen and chisel them into something cold, but she hasn't.
And especially now, as she shakes loose her hair -- red, just barely
streaked with silver -- in the dusk of the room, she's nothing short
of magnificent.

She finishes, and turns, coming to sit by him on the bed.  Her kisses
are soft and soothing on his face and hands and chest as she gradually
slips off his shirt.  With a word to the air, the window is dimmed,
and her delicate form vanishes into the darkness.  They make love
slowly, by feel, and he marvels that they know each other's bodies so
well now that he doesn't even miss the light.  He would never have
imagined this gentle, unhurried loving in soft darkness would be able
to replace the more desperate, passionate nights of the past, but now
this is right.

Afterward he holds her tightly to him from behind,not quite sure, not
quite caring, whether his eyes are open or closed.  Her hands and arms
cover his firmly, not-quite-desperately, not wanting him to let go.
He feels her need for this, knows how it is, knows the chair in which
she now sits and the stresses and terrors it can hold.  He knows that
this is sometimes necessary, wishes he could do more to chase away the
demons, lesser or greater, that must plague her, and wonders how he
ever ever managed to do what she does without her there to support
him.

He marvels, as always, at the apparent contrast between her strength
and her fragility.

He can't remember just now, in this realm of only touch and taste and
scent, how long she'll be here, this time.  A day or two weeks but
then she'll be gone again.  He smiles against her hair, which he still
thinks smells like moonlight, thinking it's somewhat ironic and more
than slightly amusing that it would take their mutual reassignments to
bring them together, into this decade long courtship of hurried
meetings between missions, all-too-brief rendezvous on space stations
and here on earth.

She sighs gently and turns to face him.  He captures her lips for a
moment, finding them by instinct, and feels her smile softly.

"I've been offered an assignment here on earth," she whispers against
him, and he isn't sure he's heard correctly.

"Where?" he asks finally, and in that thick and total darkness he's
glad he's touching her, because he knows she's real.

"Head of Medical," she says, and he makes a noise of recognition as
she shifts to lie more comfortably against him.  She's quiet for a
long while, and he takes the time to trace the curves of her face with
the pads of his thumbs, pleased with how familiar they are to him.
He follows his fingers with his mouth and she sighs against him,
sleepily tangling her fingers in the sparse hair on his chest.  "I'm
going to take it," she murmurs, and he pauses with his mouth pressed
to the soft skin just next to hers.

"You ... what?  You're going to be here?  On earth?"  His words are
stumbling, disbelieving.  She nods against him.

"Mon Dieu..." he whispers in surprise at this sudden revelation before
letting his voice trail off to be swallowed by the darkness.  He feels
nothing but her skin on his for what seems an eternity and knows she's
awake only by her breathing.

"Marry me," he says suddenly and hears her intake of breath before she
laughs suddenly, softly.

"What, now?  After all this time?" she asks half incredulously.

"Yes, now.  You can live here with me on the vineyard.  Together."
Their noses are nearly touching now, and he can envision the
thoughtful expression on her face.  He knows she can feel his heart
beating faster as he waits.

Finally he hears her exhale softly.

"Yes."

He swallows.

"You -- what?"

She giggles, if dignified starship captains do.  "I said yes.  I'll
marry you.  I will be," she kisses his nose, "your wife.  If you'll
have me."

"If I'll have you?!"  He feels like either laughing or crying, and
isn't sure if these emotions so close to the surface recently are a
product of his age or were always there.  "I've always wanted you, and
always will.  And I will always, always love you."  He kisses her
fully, and she's breathless when he pulls back.

"Good," she says, and he hears her smile.  "I wouldn't want it any
other way."

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The End