Comfort (Part 2 of the "C" series)
by Astra <astraplain@yahoo.com 

He came to her cabin late one night, pacing the width 
of the door frame twice before steeling himself to 
ring for admittance.

"Come."  She answered at once and again he worried 
that he was interrupting her.  Perhaps she was 
waiting for someone?

"You're not disturbing me a bit.  I was just catching 
up on some reading.  Please have a seat."  She rose 
gracefully from her place on the sofa and he saw a 
flash of satin beneath her robe.  She either didn't 
notice or chose to ignore his sudden hard swallow.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Damn her sweet innocence.  Didn't she know what that 
honeyed voice, that feline slink of a walk did to 
him?  To any man?

The replicator made a noise as it produced her tea 
and he realized she was looking at him waiting for an 
answer.  He really needed a shot of something mind- 
deadening so he wouldn't embarrass himself.  Instead 
he shook his head then focused on the wall over her 
shoulder.

"Nothing, thank you."

She carried her hot beverage carefully, setting it on 
the coffee table with a tiny clink of china against 
glass.  Then she curled up on the sofa again, the 
skin of her long lovely legs visible for an eternity 
before she wrapped them in her robe.

*This was a huge mistake.* he decided, ready to 
leave.  But she was holding out her hand, reaching 
out to him and he couldn't refuse her.  Just as he 
could never refuse her.  He took the closest chair, 
then reached out to accept her offering.

She didn't push.  She never did when he came to her 
like this. Whatever was hurting him, whatever brought 
him here would come out.  She just needed to be 
patient.

Her thumb caressed the skin of his hand.  It was 
rough in places, toughened by old calluses that spoke 
volumes about him.  She knew the history of those 
hands, or at least most of it.  But there was always 
so much more to learn.  So she waited,  giving him a 
gentle smile.

He closed his eyes for just a moment, feeling the 
strength of her hand.  The strength of their 
connection.  She was always so strong.  After all 
wasn't that why he was here?  For her strength?

Slowly.  With much effort, the words formed.  He 
spoke of himself, his youth and finally of the son 
that had been thrust upon him then cruelly ripped 
away.

Sometime during his disjointed monologue she left her 
seat and knelt beside him, never breaking their 
contact.

He promised himself he would not cry.  That he would 
not shed tears over something he could not have.  
When he finished speaking and opened his eyes, he 
realized that he had broken that promise.  Hot tears 
rained down onto her delicate hand and trailed 
streams of saline down her arm.

Embarrassed he tried to pull away.  She wouldn't let 
him. Instead she drew his face down to hers, kissing 
away the wetness.

Her kisses were loving and tender, given innocently 
and he took them they way they were meant, returning 
the favor as he kissed away her own tears.  Tears she 
shed in sympathy, mirroring his pain with her own.

After all, that was why he had come to her.  Because 
she alone could understand what it meant to lose a 
child yet still be strong enough to offer comfort to 
another. 

He wrapped his arms around her, sorry for his 
selfishness.  Sorry for bringing her tears.  Sorry 
she had so very much sadness in her life.

She knew what he was thinking, even as he thought it.

"It's all right."  She promised him, kissing his wet 
cheek again. "It will be all right."

They stayed there, intertwined, sharing sorrow and 
strength.  The sense of loss he felt over the boy, 
who for just a short while had been his son, lessened 
just the slightest bit.  And Will Riker managed to 
find a tiny smile for the beautiful red head he held 
in his arms.

He believed her.

:::end:::