The BLTS Archive - Scarce Goodbye 'Points of View' universe: Jack Crusher by Zoinky --- Author's Note: In order to understand this vignette, you really need to read "Say Goodbye" by Wolfen first and TrexPhile's "Saying Goodbye". My little piece is a third in that series and it is from Jack's point of view. I want to thank both of these Author's for their wonderful stories. Perhaps there is no higher praise than to say a work is inspirational but that's what these stories were to me. (Now maybe they won't kill me for butting in on their game.) --- I'm drifting, silent, painful and cold. The light is fading and sounds pass to silence. The structure in front of me melts away, fluid, almost wavelike. It won't be long, even the pain is abating. But this, death, is preferable to the past week of hell. I knew Beverly, I knew. Just seeing you the next day should have been enough to warn me. Your eyes told the story. They were distant blue spheres, barren of even a spark of what we once had. Unacknowledging. You had moved on. When I tried to make love to you that night, my last night at home, I learned for certain then. You went through the motions, you made the proper sounds, proper groans and sighs, your touch was in the proper places, you even simulated a proper climax, but it wasn't real. You weren't there. You weren't making love, at least not to me. When you looked at me, when you actually saw me, your husband, you were cold, unresponsive, but then you shut your eyes. I could tell you were fantasizing Beverly, imagining I was someone else, someone you wanted, someone you needed more than me. I touched your body that night for the last time. I caressed it, made love to it and in return you offered me cold hard sex. No passion, no sharing. An event as fulfilling as locking yourself in the bathroom with a dirty book. The love, the caring, you saved for someone else, your fantasy man. I left the next morning to a chaste kiss and a casual goodbye as you hurried Wesley off to school. You wouldn't miss me I knew. And I knew it was mostly my fault. I had let you slip away. Being with you day in and day out, I had allowed myself to fall into comfortable companionship. I let the grand passion be for the younger guys, forgetting all the while that you were still young. Perhaps I shouldn't have married you Beverly, not with that much difference in our ages. I settled down. I found it easy to slip into a routine, rationing my energies between my spouse and my career, feeding one while the other one famished. The void in your life was my creation. It is appropriate then that I provided you a way to fill it. Jean-Luc Picard was my best friend. He's saved my life more times than I care to remember, and I've saved his. He is the type of man that sets the standard for loyalty and integrity, then expects his crew to follow. And we did. I don't think there was anywhere I wouldn't have gone had he ordered me to. I don't think there was anything I wasn't willing to sacrifice for him, except for you and Wes. I was proud he was my Best Man. There was no person I trusted more. That is until I walked into his quarters. He was running late after an all night push to finish last minute details before launch. When I walked in he was dressing after his shower. He turned his back to me to grab his shirt and I saw them. The marks. Red and angry, still freshly etched in his back, blazing like an altar to primitive lust. The completion of my betrayal. I knew then. God, I knew your fantasy. I must have made some sound, because he spun around, our eyes met. I saw the shock, guilt and pain. I didn't speak, I couldn't. Words couldn't describe the loss or anger. I put my report on his desk and left. Perhaps I should have confronted him, expressed my rage and disgust. Perhaps I should have fought him, fought for you. But what was the use? I had lost it all already. I remained silent, avoiding him. I filled out the forms for transfer and divorce and left them unsubmitted on my desk. I didn't want to endure even the brief contact filing these papers would have required. The ship flew on. My despair growing a little more each day. Then it happened, our first away mission. Picard, maybe in an attempt to re-establish some sort of steady footing between us, tried to remove me from the team, saying he wanted another man to take this one. I didn't fight for you Beverly, but God help me, I fought for this. Unleashing a fury I didn't think I was capable of, I demanded that I be reinstated. Jean-Luc didn't argue, giving me instead a long hard look. Maybe he knew what I was planning, maybe he didn't. I don't know. Finally somehow satisfied with what he saw, he gave me permission to go. As the doors were about to close behind me he warned me to be careful. That was never my intention. I went to my quarters, packed my gear and left a brief message. I was the last member of the team to transport down. I supposed I could have avoided this trap, if I had been on top of my game or if I had wanted to. But now that all is said and done, one questions still remains. Why? Why them? Why me? Why try? I think I hear someone coming, I can't tell who, it's too dark. Maybe friend, maybe foe. It doesn't matter which. Jack Crusher will no longer be here when they arrive. The pain is finally gone. --- On the Enterprise, Jean-Luc had accepted the task of packing up Jack's quarters. His grief needed answers for closure. Answers he had to have before he could face Beverly again. Sorting through the contents of the desk, he found the divorce papers and the request for transfer. He carefully destroyed them both. Then he found the last message Jack recorded addressed to him. Fearing that his agonizing suspicions were true, Picard shoved the small disc into the player. His eyes squeezed shut to hold back the tears, he listened to his friends final words. "Jean-Luc, tell Beverly goodbye for me." --- The End