Songs in the Dark: Solo I
by Mariel
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 brickabrack 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.
End
Solo I
"I Want it That Way" is sung by the Back Street Boys
"You are my fire,
My one desire,
Believe when I say
I want it that way."
Jean Luc noticed very quickly that he had stopped measuring time as he once had. No longer was it stardates, or shifts, or even hours, that marked the passage of time. Now he measured it in increments of missed breakfasts, missed talks, missed meetings, missed smiles.... The ship had become an empty place. His *heart* was an empty place, without her to fill it.
A shiver of regret passed through him, and he turned his chair around abruptly. The ready room was quiet and, having lowered the lights earlier, nearly dark. Shift was over, but there was no incentive to leave and go to his quarters. His thoughts were such that he could think them here or there, it didn't matter. They would be, he knew, just as bad either place, and to move into the light of the bridge seemed too much.
He moved restlessly and looked out the viewport. In the reflection of the glass, his mind's eye watched as once again he replayed that pivotal moment that had landed him in this situation... he watched and again felt the delicious tension that had arisen and remained between them all that evening. Again, he took her wine glass and placed it gently on the table before turning to her, knowing what he was going to do, his heart thudding in anticipation. They had fallen into one another's arms, unthinking and uncaring of anything but each other. For one brilliantly illuminated moment he had thought that here, at last, he had what he wanted. She filled him with a fire that consumed him. She was his heart, she was his soul, she was his one desire. And God, he had wanted it to be that way.
The feel of her in his arms, the taste of her, the knowledge that now, after all this time....He grimaced and forced himself to relive for the thousandth time what he wanted to forget: he had remembered Jack, and he had been filled with fear. Suddenly, it had felt as though it was happening too fast, without enough thought. Did she truly know what this would mean? Did he?
And so he had backed away, apologizing, acting as though he couldn't tell that she had wanted him as badly as he had wanted her. His body aching for hers, he had turned from her, hiding his desire, pretending it was yet another mistake....
It had not been the reaction she had expected. He knew that she had taken his apology as a rejection of the worst kind. The 'why?' in her eyes had burned his soul, and after she had left with her question unanswered, he had sat a long time wondering at himself. Why had he moved away? What did he want? How did he want *them* to be?
"That we are two worlds apart
Can't reach to your heart,
When you say, that
I want it that way
Tell me, why...
Ain't nothing but a heartache
Tell me, why...
Ain't nothing but a mistake
Tell me, why...
I never wanna hear you say
I want it that way."
Listening to her calmly discuss her decision to leave, he had almost shouted his objections. She had it all wrong, this wasn't how he wanted it, this wasn't it at all.
Almost.
But because he hadn't been certain how he *did* want it, he had remained silent, nodding his head, saying empty words he couldn't even remember now. Perhaps, a small, frightened part of him said, it would be easier with her far away...
He placed his elbows on the arms of the chair and placed his chin on steepled fingers and stared across the room to the door that led to the bridge. Gods, and she was far away. Too far away to tell her how he missed her, how the light had gone out of his days when she had left, how nothing seemed *right* in his life anymore, no matter that the ship was fine, the crew was fine, the damned mission fine...And if he told her, would she believe him?
"You *want* it this way." Her parting words accused him. Fighting the urge to cover his ears against words spoken so long ago, he grimaced, wanting to scream out against the lie of them.
What he wanted was *her*. Every bit as much as he had wanted her the night of their betrayal. But he was frightened. Frightened of the way he lost himself in her, frightened that his love for her had so easily let him betray himself, and Jack, and all the mores he held to be correct, on that night of forbidden lovemaking. Now, so many, many years later, the love and passion were still there, and it still frightened him. Could he handle loving her openly and finally? What would it do to him? What would it say about him as a man?
Tell me why?
Ain't nothing but a heartache
Tell me why?
Ain't nothing but a mistake
I never wanna hear you say
I want it that way.
More weeks passed with no word. Slowly, silently, he plodded through his days, performing his duty, ever the leader, the diplomat, the explorer.
Alone.
And each day, he reached for the comm and almost contacted her. And each day, he let his hand drop uselessly on the desk, in a betrayal of another sort: the betrayal of everything he felt.
Looking in the mirror, he saw the changes in himself and was helpless to prevent the outward show of his inner destruction. Drawn, tired, he retreated into himself, becoming more remote, more controlled, more alone.
A year passed, and the anniversary of Jack's death rolled round once more. Consciously, he mourned the passing of his friend, but deep inside he knew that was no longer why he grieved, nor why this day held significance. Jack was no longer the ghost that haunted him. The day was now branded forever as the day he had watched his heart, his passion, leave him. And all because he had wanted it that way.
Hadn't he?
His fire and desire for life now lived safely tucked away on a small, remote planet, where it couldn't disturb his thoughts and prod his dreams...
Sitting in the darkness of his quarters, he lifted a silent toast to the woman he loved. Then, without thinking, without pausing to question the whys, he tapped in the communications codes he'd long ago seared into his memory, tearing apart the world of 'almosts' that had dogged his days since she'd left.
He knew what he wanted now.
"Am I your fire?
Your one desire?
Yes I know: it's too late,
But I want it that way."
"Now I can see
That we're falling apart
From the way that
it used to be, yeah
No matter the distance
I want you to know
That deep down inside of me
You are my fire...
A lot can take place in a year; people grow..older, wiser... they experience things that change them. He wasn't certain what he expected to see when her face appeared. Happiness? Surprise? Confusion? Did she feel for him as he was sure she once had?
Could he salvage anything of what they had once had together?
It had not taken many words before he realized that the distance between them could be measured in more than light years. The discomfort, the stiltedness of their conversation, frightened him. Still, he drove himself on, saying the words his heart dictated, the words she had deserved to hear years and years ago, but which he had been too foolish, too scared, too stupid to say.
As the conversation eased a bit, and they began to tentatively find common, comfortable ground, Picard drew a deep breath.
"Beverly, I need to say that I'm sorry. I miss you. It's my fault we're not the friends we were. There are no good reasons for my not having contacted you, other than fear. It's my fault we weren't the lovers we ought to have been. I want you to know how much I regret that."
When she frowned and opened her mouth to speak, he raised a hand and said into the viewscreen, "Beverly, I know that things have changed between us, but there's something I never told you that you deserved to hear, and that I need to tell you now, because it's still as true now as it was when you left the ship...."
"Jean Luc..."
He overrode her again, knowing he had to somehow tell her that she was his fire, his one desire, that he wanted and cared for her, that he had from the moment he had laid eyes on her, and that he had never stopped, no matter how hard he'd tried, no matter how fast he'd run from it, or how far he'd tried to distance himself. Years ago, on the night they had shared in the cabin, he had been unable to escape what he felt for her and, all these years later, he couldn't escape what he felt for her now. He had to tell her that somewhere deep down inside himself was an emotion he had to simply admit. No matter what it said about himself, no matter what it said about what they had done to Jack.
"I love you."
When she didn't respond, he continued, stumbling over the words as he tried to explain himself. "I've always known what I wanted, and been able to make what I wanted obvious. Except when it came to you. There was Jack...and Wesley...and the guilt...and my career...and fear I might hurt you the way he had, and...I knew what you meant to me, but...." He swept a hand over his head, then held her eyes with his steadily. "I want you in my life, Beverly. I want us together, the way it should be. I want us to pick up from where we were just before you left...that night...." His eyes were remorseful as he apologized, "I could have avoided so much heartache on both our parts, if I'd just allowed myself to act on how I felt. It was a terrible mistake."
There were tears in her eyes, making them shimmer like sapphires in firelight, and he felt a glimmer of hope until she shook her head and said in a whispered voice, "I've got to go, Jean Luc, I'm sorry. I'm going to be late for an appointment. I've got to leave now...This isn't the time. I'm sorry..."
Her having to leave was a wretched lie, and they both knew it, but Jean Luc nodded. "I understand, Beverly," he said, his voice low and defeated. "It's late. Too late. I'm sorry, too."
Too late. The words echoed around him as, the transmission terminated, he sat slumped in his chair, sorrow welling up within him. He closed his eyes against his feelings and inhaled deeply. It was done.
Exhaling audibly, he stood. He had done what he needed to do, and he would go on. No more 'almosts' between them. He had told her how he wanted it to be between them, and her life no longer had room for his feelings for her. There was a weight lifted from him that he had not expected to feel, a lightness that, despite the fact he had been rejected, he felt empowered by.
No more 'almosts'.
He wanted it that way.
Tell me why?
Ain't nothing but a heartache.
Tell me why?
Ain't nothing but a mistake.
I never wanna hear you say I want it that way.
On Caldos, Beverly sat motionlessly, staring at the viewscreen. He loved her. And he had said so.
Now what?
She sat motionless, hands clenched in her lap, staring sightlessly at the viewscreen that had, for a moment, held the image of her heart's desire. She had almost told him she still felt the same as he. She knew very well that she loved him still, and that he was the only one to thrill her with a fire that nothing, neither time nor distance, could quench.
Almost.
She looked around her beloved house, thinking of all she had gone through here, all she had learned about herself and her feelings and her strengths. She had almost been happy here.
Almost.
Reaching over, she opened a comm link.
When his face appeared, she swept away years of 'almosts' and asked one question.
"What do you really want, Jean Luc?"
Feeling the fire return to his life, he nodded. "You. I'm on my way," he said, knowing that, finally, he was.
Because he wanted it that way.
"You are my fire
My one desire
You are...."
End
Songs in the Dark: Solo II
Next or back to wolf tales?