Title: A Confession of Love

Author: JaimeBlue

Fandom: seaQuest

Pairing: Tim/Miguel

Series: The Secret Confessions of Tim O'Neill

Rating: PG-13 (honest!)

Disclaimer: The characters and concept of seaQuest don't belong to me. However, Father Duncan and St. Agnes' church *do* belong to yours truly.

Summary: Father Duncan finally receives word from Tim after his ten year absence, and is reminded of his friend's greatest loss.

Author's Note: Don't read too much into the title — this is *not* the last story in this series. 6 down, 4 to go ;p


TO THEE I CONFESS MY SINS 6: A CONFESSION OF LOVE
By JaimeBlue
***

Father Duncan rolled his eyes as he read the words on his computer screen. His old friend, Father Pierce, had sent him a message over the Internex as he did every few weeks, and was once again exaggerating a story from his own parish in Montreal. Father Duncan seriously doubted that a band of French Separatists had taken over St. Joseph's, a church in the city's English district, yet he couldn't keep the smile from his face as he read his old friend's ranting.

He moved the message into the folder he kept just for Father Pierce's messages, then moved to turn off his computer. Just as his finger met the switch, the speakers let out a tiny ‘ping', alerting him to the presence of mail in his inbox. Curiously, he opened the folder to see what awaited him.

His breath caught in his throat, and he blocked out everything but the machine before him as he read his newest message.

‘Dear Father,

I am sorry I haven't written you sooner. In case you haven't guessed, it's me, Tim O'Neill. I'm guessing you know by now what's happened to me and my ship. I'll admit it's been a difficult adjustment. I won't take up too much of your time with this letter. However, I've managed to finagle a few days away from the ship, and my first stop will be St. Agnes'. I will write you shortly before I leave seaQuest.

I am glad that so many of my friends are here with me, but they haven't given us any time to grieve for the friends we've lost. So many people didn't come back. In some way I will miss them all, but none more than Miguel. Knowing he's never coming back hurts. I never thought I could hurt this much, but then again, I could never really imagine my life without Miguel there in some way, not even when I tried...'

Miguel Ortiz. In his excitement at the survival of his old friend, Father Duncan had completely overlooked the fact that Tim's best friend had not been listed among seaQuest's survivors.

Over the time he'd known Tim O'Neill, he'd almost come to feel as if he'd personally known Mr. Ortiz, a favourite topic of conversation of the Lieutenant's. Whether it be an adventure during shore leave, a practical joke the two had played on their crewmates, or simply comforting each other after a difficult mission, Tim would always have a new anecdote to tell Father Duncan upon his visits.

The priest could only imagine the pain Tim was feeling, especially when he remembered how happy the man had been during his last visit to St. Agnes' before disappearing for ten years.

*****

The priest sat in the front row of his church, his face turned up into the light streaming through the stained glass behind the altar, basking in the multi-coloured glow. It was quiet moments such as these when he loved nothing more than to rest and thank God for all the blessings in his life.

With his eyes closed, he could hear such a blessing slide unexpectedly into the pew next to him. He turned to his visitor, opened his eyes, and smiled.

"Tim, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?"

He couldn't miss the glow around his friend. The man looked happier than he'd ever seen him, and he sent a quick prayer of thanks that Tim had been granted happiness he so richly deserved.

"Something has happened recently, something I can't talk to my friends about, but I just had to tell somebody. And who better to tell than you, Father?"

"My child, nothing brings me more pleasure than to see you so happy. Please, tell me what blessings God has brought you."

"Well, it didn't start out all that well. A short while ago, while I was off-ship and trying to decide what to do with my life, I was kidnaped. Suffice it to say the experience wasn't very pleasant and I wouldn't want it repeated. However, it did force me to look at my life and settle my priorities. I could have died and I've been doing a lot of thinking about what that means, me not being around. And, I guess I'm not the only one who did some thinking about that..."

##########

Tim's mind surfaced from his disturbing dreams, rushing to take a breath of wakefulness. As consciousness claimed him, he came to realize he was still dreaming. A heavy weight held him down, a band stretched across his chest and another around his legs holding him in place. *No,* he thought, *not again.*

"No! Let go!" he cried.

As panic overcame him, he began thrashing about, managing to dislodge the bands over his limbs and the weight that held him. Hearing a thump close by, his eyes flew open. Suddenly, the realization that the last few moments hadn't been a dream hit him. He turned on his mattress, stretching to look at the floor next to his bed where his best friend and bunkmate lay rubbing the back of his head.

"Miguel? What are you doing down there?"

The Cuban didn't answer, only turning his eyes down to hide his blushing and guilty expression.

"Mig? That was you I felt, wasn't it. What were you doing?"

"It's nothing, Tim," the man finally managed to get out. "Just go back to sleep."

"No. Mig, please tell me what's going on."

The sensor chief looked up, finally meeting his friend's eyes. Tim couldn't help but notice the strange expression they held, nor could he ignore the tightening in his own chest at the hint of pain in their depths.

"I-I, this is gonna sound silly..."

"Tell me, Mig."

"I needed to know you were here. The last few nights, when you were still in medbay, I'd sneak in just to look at you, to make sure you were here, safe and sound. Do you have any idea how much you scared me over the last few days?"

Tim shook his head but didn't speak, allowing his friend the space to express everything he'd held in check.

"First there was this business about your resignation. How could you do that without telling me? I'd be thrown off the ship in no time if you weren't here to keep me sane! And then, when we were talking to Mariah and she pulled you into view, and it was so obvious she'd been hurting you..."

Tim reached down and placed his hand on Miguel's shoulder, offering his support and comfort. Miguel pulled himself up slightly so that he was sitting on the floor cross-legged, then lifted his own hand to lay over Tim's.

"You're my best friend, Tim. You mean a hell of a lot to me, and I'm afraid to let you out of my sight. If anything were to happen to you..."

Hearing the break in Miguel's voice, Tim moved as much to the edge of the bed as he could without falling, then reached out to pull his friend near. As the Cuban shuddered and wept against his shoulder, he felt his own eyes tearing up.

"I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon, Mig, and I don't want to lose you either. Not for any reason."

"I just love you so much, Tim."

"I love you too, Mig."

The two men remained as they were long past when it had become uncomfortable. Sometime during the years they'd known each other, they'd become each others' family. They were closer than friends, closer than brothers even. Somehow, neither man was surprised when something changed in the way they held each other.

"Mig," Tim's voice had become somewhat lower in tone than usual, "you must be pretty uncomfortable. Why don't you come up here and we can talk."

Reluctantly, they let go of each other so that Miguel could lift himself onto Tim's bunk, stretching himself out and lying face to face with his best friend. Not one inch of their bodies touched, yet they had never been more conscious of each other than they were at that moment. Their heads lay side by side on the pillow, unblinking eyes staring into each other with love and concern.

Miguel's hand instinctively reached out, fingers tracing the features of Tim's face. Not an inch was spared in their exploration as Tim resisted the urge to capture one of the wandering fingers with his lips. He knew this was part of what Miguel needed to reassure himself that Tim was there, real, lying next to him.

The fingers trailed away from Tim's face and down his long neck, running along the edge of the t-shirt the commtech had worn to bed. The hand moved aimlessly down Tim's chest until it reached the bottom edge of his shirt, Miguel's eyes asking a silent question of his friend. After an almost imperceptible nod, the obstructive clothing was removed with a little help from Tim.

Miguel's hand moved along Tim's body, hovering an inch away as if he were afraid that touch would only prove Tim to be an illusion. Tim's hand grabbed on to Miguel's as it passed by, bringing it to his lips so that he could place a kiss on each finger. He then spread the fingers across his bare chest, running his own hand along the muscled arm, a strong shoulder, and finally fluttering over Miguel's bare chest.

Tim was in awe. He'd never felt so aroused in his entire life, yet the arousal wasn't sexual in nature. He felt an overpowering need for closeness with Miguel, a need to draw the man into himself, to wrap around each other until they were inseparable.

Tim's hand moved to Miguel's waist and pulled the man closer. Their bodies pressed together, tingling from the contact. They fit together, a yin and yang that could only achieve harmony when united. Tim's eyes closed as his forehead pressed against Miguel's. The love he felt was the kind he'd waited for his entire life, and it had taken nearly getting himself killed to realize that he'd found it with his best friend.

The feel of full lips pressing against his own broke him out of his thoughts. He kissed back, putting all his emotions into the movement of lip against lip. Miguel's arms wrapped around him, making him feel secure rather than the terror he'd felt before. Tim's hands tenderly cupped the Cuban's face as both men's lips parted to further their mutual exploration.

After some time, their kisses returned to the simple pressing of lip against lip, ending when Tim exhaustedly nuzzled his face into Miguel's neck.

Tim's last thought before falling into a dreamless sleep was of the security of Miguel's arms.

##########

"My son, I share in your joy." Father Duncan reached out and gave Tim a one-armed hug. "I must admit, I am not too surprised by this revelation. Barely a visit has gone by that you have not mentioned Mr. Ortiz."

Tim blushed. "I know. So far, we've been able to keep it a secret from the rest of the crew, but we don't know how long that'll last. I wish we didn't have to hide, but circumstances make it necessary."

"I understand, my child. I am glad that you could come to me. Please tell your friend that I am happy for him as well, and that the two of you can visit any time you like."

"Thank you, Father. I'll do that." Still smiling, Tim rose from the pew and bid the priest goodbye, promising to visit on his next shore leave.

*****

There never was another shore leave. A few short weeks after that visit, the seaQuest had gone missing, not to return for ten years and with several of its crew missing, including Miguel Ortiz.

Father Duncan rose from his seat at the computer and instinctively walked toward the main section of St. Agnes', kneeling before the massive cross and looking up into the face of his Saviour.

"Dear Lord," he murmurred. "Please watch over Tim and help him to heal. Remind him that life must continue despite the pain we feel and guide his steps in whatever path You choose. Please take care of Mr. Ortiz so that his soul can be at peace. Let him know that You and so many others on this plane care for his lover, and will watch over him until the day they are reunited."

The old priest's fingers moved in the sign of the cross before he murmurred a final "Amen," rising from where he knelt to return to his humble home.



***
END