Like Sugar on Your Lips By Astra The wooden frame was shattered, the pieces dull brown against the neutral carpet. Fragments absorbed into the pile, waiting, deadly, for my misstep. As if knowing I would make one. I sat barely a meter away, studying the pieces, seeking a pattering in the destruction, as I had so often in my life. And as I had so often discovered, there was no pattern, no reason, no sense. But there was a revelation. Somehow the sight of the photograph lying among the ruins catalyzed me, allowing me to clearly see the answer to the questions that plagued me. Questions that were posed long before our encounter with the Baku Personal cost was something I avoided calculating, not out of fear, but out of that sense of survival that had shielded my sanity so often. But now that same survival instinct made it necessary. The incident with the Baku merely increased the urgency. How much had Starfleet demanded of me? My family? Hadn't we paid enough? The picture fluttered slightly in the flow of recirculated air. I watched it, too paralyzed by my thoughts to move. We were smiling, Nana and I, but there was something not quite truthful in the image. As if we were on stage, wearing proper masks to hide the falseness that drove us apart. Why had it taken me twenty years to see the truth? Would it take me another twenty to find my courage? The door chime sounds, breaking my flight of morbid fancy. An indulgence I rarely allow myself. Tonight it felt right; as if it justified the path my thoughts had taken so often lately. Now to find the courage to follow that path. I know it's him before the door opens. He's here often enough that sounding the chime is just a courtesy. His way of maintaining the proper decorum. Heaven knows we must not tarnish our image. He hurries across the threshold, letting the door close before crossing to my side. I can feel his presence in the quickening of my pulse, the sudden flush of heat in my body. Only the quagmire of my thoughts keeps me seated. He asks if I'm all right, and I nod, my eyes on the shattered frame once more. I can feel the tension of his curiosity as he tries to decide if it fell or was thrown. After a moment he takes me into his arms, knowing. He tells me he's sorry, and I'm surprised to feel the sting of tears pressing against my eyes. He kisses them away before they fall. The ship's been exiled he tells me, banished to stellar research for at least a month as punishment for the Baku. Then he tells me he's exercising his captain's privilege and using some of that leave he's accumulated. Starfleet wasn't happy when he told them he was taking me along, but since they'd stuck us in the middle of nowhere on a milk run assignment, there wasn't much room for them to protest. We would be taking the captains' yacht in the morning. Let Will deal with the bureaucrats for a while. ***** The stars seemed more alluring then they had in a long time. Perhaps it was because I was aware that I might not be traveling among them much longer. I hadn't told Jean-Luc yet, but he knew anyway. We'd stayed up late the night before, just talking. Neither of us willing to bring up the subject that hung between us. We'd compromised by sitting together, permitting ourselves whatever illusions we chose to create. Now, with the Enterprise getting farther away by the minute, the questions of our future became more urgent. I tried, stumbling over my words, to tell him how I felt. How I had lost so much to the demands of Starfleet. My parents, my friends, my husband, even my son. How they had cost me my relationship with Nana and nearly cost me Jean-Luc as well. How much more would I sacrifice for them before it was enough? He hadn't seen the report yet, but I had told him some of it, before the incident with the Baku led us astray. He's had his indulgence with Anij, and I had allowed it, standing passive as I had so often while events moved around me seeming beyond my ability to control. I knew when he crouched beside her in the caves, begging her to live that it was over. He would no more stay with her than I would stop him if he wanted to. She was ephemeral, wish-fulfillment in a well- formed body. Jean-Luc didn't believe in wishes. We were home now, back on the ship, back among the stars, back in the regimented life of Starfleet. Only now it chafed. Perhaps I was being foolish, wanting something I could not have. I was too old for fantasy, yet I couldn't seem to help myself. If only it didn't feel like my body was betraying me. Jean-Luc leaned over an touched my arm, offering silent comfort. I knew he was concerned and a little confused by my mood but I couldn't bring myself to explain. Not yet. He kissed me once, on the cheek, and smiled at me before turning back to the controls. We would be there soon, yet another planet I'd never heard of, but we'd be together and away from the ship and our responsibilities. Perhaps it would allow me time to clarify my thoughts. Or at least make a decision. ***** I think we've dug half-way through to the other side of the planet by now. Jean-Luc is ecstatic, gloating over some of the artifacts we've found. I'm hoping we uncover a nice hotel and a good meal. It's been four days since he heard about the abandoned archaeological excavation and three since I've had a shower. I'm beginning to feel like an artifact myself. Maybe I should toss myself in the sluicing troth and pretend to be valuable. Twice over the past three days I nearly fainted from the heat. I've been feeling a bit light-headed all morning. He's too absorbed to notice. I take long breaks and drink lots of water, hoping it will help. It doesn't. ***** I wake up freezing, my body chilled to the bone despite the blanket that covers me. I'm alone, and it frightens me, although I don't know why. From the other room I hear his voice as he logs the days finds. He compromised after I nearly fainted again, taking us to the nearest village and renting a cottage. It wasn't luxurious, but it was comfortable and much nicer than the plush anonymity of a resort. I gravitate towards him, pulled by the sound of that voice. He could read the crew roster and it would make me hot. He hears me, and turns, his eyes concerned. Before I'm halfway across the room he's there, holding me. "I'm so cold." I whisper, unable to say more and I begin to tremble. "Please hold me." Without hesitation he puts his work aside and guides me into the bedroom, lifting up the covers, then sliding in behind me, pressing close. He tightens his hold and I relax into the embrace, taking the warm he gives. At last the trembling stops and I sleep. ***** I tell Will he's early, frowning up at him where he stands backlit by the sun. He nods, grinning, as if I'd told a joke, but the smile doesn't touch his eyes. We're needed. I feel my chest tighten as I rise, making a pretense of brushing the dirt from my clothing. He waits beside me silently, making me more nervous. We travel together to the far side of the dig where Jean-Luc is working, flanked by a few of the local children. They're thrilled to have a playmate, and he seems grateful for their company. The sight of them together brings a sharp twinge of pain and I damn myself for having missed the chance to share a child with this man. And then I curse Starfleet for all they have demanded and taken from me. The men are a few meters away, heads together as they study the padd Will brought. I stay away, playing with one of the younger girls, fiercely ignoring the pain that "if onlys" bring. At length they turn back to me and for a moment I catch the unguarded look on Jean-Luc's face as he sees me with the child on my lap. It's pure want, and it sheets through me like ice. He explains things softly, standing so close I can breathe him. It's the usual technobabble about anomalies and energy readings. It barely hear half of it. I know what it really means; he's leaving me behind. His reasons make perfect sense, as they always do. This time I capitulate, not finding the strength to argue. It's only later, as I hold this moment frozen in the amber of my memory that I regret my decision. He and Will took a shuttle to planet's third moon, planning to investigate and return before dawn. I watched the place where they had been for a long time before returning to my digging. ***** I was back in that same spot just after sunrise the next day, pretending to be concentrating on my finds. There were a few items I knew Jean-Luc would like to see, and I washed them carefully, recording all the necessary data as he'd shown me earlier in the week. When the transporter beam appeared I remained in my place, trying not to show my relief. The smile of greeting froze on my face. Will was alone. He explained it gently, telling me how Jean-Luc had been studying the artifact, how he's touched something and a blinding light had filled the room. How he had cried out and tried to move away, but had been held in place until the light faded, taking him with it. I fussed over Will's injured hands, burned from where he's tried to reach into the light to help his captain. I offered and accepted words of solace. And then I welcomed the darkness. ***** I'm in sickbay when he arrives, smiling his encouragement. I know he feels responsible for Jean- Luc's disappearance, as if he should have been able to stop it. I wonder if this is something Jean-Luc handed down to his exec, or if it comes with the big chair. Dr Hill leaves us alone, and there are no other patients in sickbay. I appreciate my staff's discretion. I can't help the smile that ghosts my lips; I can't wait to share my secret. I listen patiently to his monologue, the usual search and recover routine. Although I am frightened, my secret has given me courage and faith. We will find him. I tell that to Will, and allow him to grasp that there is something more before telling him. His smile is pure joy and I savor it, anticipating the day when I can tell Jean-Luc. And I will tell him. For the first time in too long my future is clear. I savor the surety of it, no longer in thrall to Starfleet, or anyone else. I will find Jean-Luc, and we will be happy together. And together we will raise the child I am carrying. I will have my family, and this time nothing will take that away. :::end:::