I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space...

--- Lord Byron (excerpt from 'Darkness')

"Do you suppose he'll remember anything, Doctor?" Lt. Barclay asked with concern. What a traumatic event it must have been to be captured and partly assimilated by the Borg. He did not envy his colleague the experience.

"I'd like to say 'no', but that's just too unlikely, Reg." Dr. Crusher was busy attending to her patient.

A good hour before the Borg implants had been removed, Lt. Hawk had gone through the shock of being disconnected - by force of circumstance - from the Collective. They had all been destroyed, and so suddenly, his link was severed. Even the quick thinking of Lt. Barclay and Dr. Crusher in removing the implants in a combined effort had not protected him from the trauma.

He had briefly been neither Borg nor Human. There was nothing for him to hold onto. No identity. He most certainly didn't know who he was during that short but painful period of wakefulness.

And then, he had fallen into a merciful coma.

"I... should probably go. I'm getting in your way, Dr. Crusher." Barclay smiled shyly and turned to leave sickbay, but the doctor held him back by his arm.

"I think you should stay, Reg. For one thing, you're not in my way and secondly, you were the first person he saw when he regained consciousness. He might need you as his one reference point. Please?"

Barclay nodded. "Yes, Doctor. I'd be happy to stay, if... if you think it's for the best."

Crusher smiled reassuringly and continued to apply hyposprays, take tissue samples and use skin regenerators on the young Lieutenant, who had only joined the crew a few months ago. This was most certainly not what he'd had in mind for his first assignment on board the Federation's flagship.

It was late in the evening. Dr. Crusher had beamed down with the other senior officers and the Captain to confirm that history was resuming its course. She had offered to return to sickbay afterwards, but Barclay had volunteered to keep an eye on Lt. Hawk.

Reginald Barclay had finally grown tired but hadn't taken the doctor up on her offer to go to his quarters and get some rest. He had been watching her attend to her patient all day and had grown to feel responsible for the young Navigator during Dr. Crusher's absence.

He had settled into a large cushioned chair next to Hawk's biobed and was just drifting off to sleep when a strangled groan came from the sick man. Barclay stood and looked at Hawk.

His fair skin was coated with a light sheen of sweat where his face and his chest were exposed. His eyes were in constant movement resembling REM sleep.

"No, leave me alone!" Hawk called out and his arms began to thrash about as if he was defending himself against an unseen attacker. Barclay felt helpless, so he did the only thing he could think of doing - he took the man's hands in his own and held them still, clutching them to his stomach.

Hawk almost instantly calmed and Barclay couldn't help thinking that it was a rare occasion when he could instill calm in someone else.

Feeling the effects of a long day that had followed a sleepless night, the engineer sat down on the biobed next to the patient. He continued to hold the other's hands in his and watched him sleep... it looked like sleep, even though he knew it was a kind of unconsciousness.

After a little time had passed, Barclay was becoming too tired to continue sitting upright and he settled back into the chair. Moments later, sleep had won out over him also.

A bone-chilling scream woke Barclay. Where was he? - Sickbay. Hawk. Quickly, he moved over to the patient and found him to be awake. The man stared up at the ceiling, looking at something that wasn't there.

Barclay cleared his throat. He would have to be careful not to be too frank with Lt. Hawk. He didn't want to cause him further distress. "It's all right. I'm here," he said gently, placing one hand on the sick man's shoulder.

Hawk didn't move his face but his eyes rolled to the side, fixing on Barclay. "I... know you." It was all he said but Barclay let out a sigh of relief. Well, it was something.

Then it looked as if Lt. Hawk had gone back to sleep, but he had merely closed his eyes again. "What's your name?"

"Barclay. I mean, Reg. Call me Reg." They had met during Hawk's months on the Enterprise but right now, he probably didn't even remember his own identity.

"Reg..." Hawk pressed through dry lips and his head fell to one side.

Barclay remembered being told that after waking from the coma, the patient would need liquids. He went to get a glass of water and brought it back to Hawk.

"Here, you should drink this." He sat on the bed and helped him into a half-sitting position.

Hawk tried to drink, but most of the water spilled on his chest. He never even noticed until Barclay reached for a small towel and dabbed his skin dry.

"Thank you," Hawk said, his voice sounding labored, and sank back down on the bed.

"I'll get the Doctor," Barclay offered and touched his communicator. "Barclay to Crusher."

A sleepy voice answered. "Crusher here. Is something wrong?"

"No, Doctor. Lt. Hawk is... was awake. You said you'd want to know."

"Yes, thank you, Mr Barclay. I'll be right there."

Reg went back to his now-familiar activity of staring at Lt. Hawk. He finally just looked at him as opposed to keeping watch. The man had been restored to his human form, and his Borg implants had been completely removed, but they had left deep scars and infected wounds, most of which were healing thanks to the Doctor's medications. Now he lay there like a newcomer to the human race.

Barclay felt sorry for him. He knew that the recovery period would be long. Deanna had estimated anything up to six months. Not only had Hawk been partially assimilated and cut off from the Collective again within the shortest time, he had also drifted through space for a period of time, facing his certain eventual death from asphyxiation.

That was when he had found a place to hold on to at the side of the saucer section. He had re-activated his magnetic boots and switched on his suit's emergency homing signal - waiting and hoping - and the signal had eventually been picked up by Barclay on his return from Earth.

And Hawk had gone through all that right after all the Borg on the ship had been destroyed. He must have been incredibly disoriented.

Barclay felt great respect for the man's brave and quick actions. He hoped sincerely that Hawk would recover.

"Reg," Dr. Crusher called out as she entered sickbay. "You should go to bed now. Thanks for keeping an eye on him." She smiled and immediately began running a medical tricorder over Hawk's stretched out form.

"I didn't... mind, Doctor. Are you... sure there's nothing else I can do?" He felt odd about leaving now, even though he could hardly form a coherent sentence anymore.

"I'm very sure, Reg. If you don't get to sleep within half an hour, I'll have to put you right here next to Mr Hawk." She smiled when she saw him blush. He did blush easily...

"I'll be back tomorrow morning, though. My shift doesn't start till the afternoon." Shaky and disoriented with exhaustion, Barclay stumbled out the door.

"I bet you will be." Dr. Crusher smiled and shook her head in disbelief at Barclay's dedication to looking after this particular patient. Understandable. He had been the one who had rescued him. Now he wanted to be sure it hadn't been in vain.

At 10 a.m. precisely, Lt. Barclay came rushing into sickbay and headed straight to Hawk's bedside. The Doctor was surprised to see him again after barely 5 hours.

"You couldn't have had enough sleep." She frowned in concern.

"Uh, yes... I have, Doctor. How is he?" Barclay stood by Hawk's bedside and noted that the remaining scars were almost gone.

The external ones, anyway...

Hawk's skin was still the color of cold ash, which according to Dr. Crusher was due to the metal components the Borg had injected into his bloodstream. It would pass in a few days. His eyes were closed, so Barclay couldn't tell whether they still had that ghostly transparent quality he had noticed when rescuing Hawk yesterday.

"He asked for you earlier, you know," Beverly stated matter-of-fact.

"He did?" Barclay was surprised. Had the Lieutenant really remembered his name and that he had spent the night by his bedside?

"Yes. In fact, the first thing he said when he woke again was, 'Where is Reg?'" Crusher looked at Barclay, amused at his surprise. "I guess you're like a mother hen to him right now. He must feel quite helpless and recognizing you makes him feel a little safer.

Barclay couldn't help but smile. He - nervous, bumbling Barclay - making the strong, tough Lt. Hawk feel safer? It was quite unbelievable. But he had felt like that last night - protective. And now - he'd had the need to come back here as soon as he'd woken up.

"Reg, if you don't object, I'd like to ask the Captain to take you off duty for a few days. You'd be such a great help in getting Hawk back on his feet. What do you say?"

Without hesitation, Barclay replied, "Of course, Doctor. I'd love to help any way I can."

Crusher nodded. "Good. I'll go and talk to Captain Picard right now. Stay here?"

"Sure," Barclay settled back into the bedside chair and took up watch.

The Doctor left sickbay, quite determined to get a good week of Samaritan Barclay out off Jean-Luc. She didn't usually take advantage of the Captain's fondness for her, but if necessary, she'd make an exception here.

Hawk groaned, as if in pain. When Barclay stood and looked at him, he opened his eyes and recognition showed in the expressive pale blue irises.

Barclay smiled at him, finding to his great relief that the man's eyes had returned to their usual color. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Weak." Hawk tried to see as much of the room from his horizontal position as possible. But all he could determine was that it looked vaguely familiar and he felt as if he'd been here for a long time. "Where am I?"

"You're in sickbay. Aboard the USS Enterprise-E." Barclay wasn't sure whether that much information was needed. "Do you need anything? Water? Food?"

Hawk shook his head. "No, thank you. All I want is to find out who I am and what happened. I know I belong here, and I know you, but that's all." He closed his eyes for a moment. His head hurt too much when he tried to think.

"Well, it's a... start." Barclay smiled in an attempt to cheer him up. "You'll remember in time. Right now, I think you should rest." He turned to sit down again, but Hawk's hand reached for his arm.

"Don't go?"

Barclay shook his head. "No, I'll be right here. You can go back to sleep."

"Mmm," Hawk murmured and had already drifted off again, re-assured that he wasn't alone.

Meanwhile, in the Captain's Ready Room, a disagreement was underway.

"Now look, Beverly, you have your medical staff to do that and then there's Commander Troi. I hardly think that Lt. Barclay is the best choice for the job."

"Well actually, Jean-Luc, he is." She settled into the chair opposite him. "He's the one who saved his life. He's the one Hawk first saw on regaining consciousness. *And* he feels responsible for him."

"That's very touching, Beverly, but I can't spare an engineer for that kind of duty. I need..."

"*You* don't need Barclay just now. We're docked for repairs and have nowhere to go. The restoration of the ship is going well, and there's no problem in Engineering that urgently requires Lt. Barclay's attention."

Picard opened his mouth to intervene, but Crusher continued , "I've already checked with Geordi. Now, come on, Jean-Luc."

He jumped up and said with barely controlled anger, "We don't even know yet whether Lt. Hawk can be re-integrated into the crew. For all we know it may have been too late for him. And I don't want to invest another officer in his recovery."

Now it was Crusher's turn to become angry. "If we had seen things that way after rescuing you from the Borg, Jean-Luc, where would you be now? What if we hadn't trusted you again? What if we had presumed you'd never recover and left you to your own devices?"

She paced frantically.

"And Jean-Luc - considering your reluctance to even let Barclay and me try to get Lt. Hawk back, you owe him a lot more than this... uncaring attitude!"

He had turned bright red, whether with anger or embarrassment, she didn't know.

Not giving him the opportunity to reply, she continued. "You can be so cold, Jean-Luc. How can you care so little about a member of your crew? Lt. Hawk is a damn fine young officer, you've told me so yourself on many occasions. You've also told me how glad you were to have him assigned to the Enterprise. And now, simply on account of your own - understandable - hatred of the Borg, you're quite willing to just give up on him."

The Captain sat down again, listening.

"Well, let me tell you this - Lt. Barclay won't give up on him and neither will I. And yes, Deanna will of course work with him as well, but right now, he needs Barclay as much as he needs medical and psychological attention. Now, don't be so darn stubborn." She had taken a deep breath and sat down again, adding, "You owe him!"

Picard sat there, his mouth open. Rarely had he seen such an outburst from the calm, composed Beverly. He thought about her words for a moment before saying quietly, "All right, one week."

She nodded and turned to leave.

Picard held her back. "I'm sorry, Beverly. I know I can be... insensitive at times."

"Yes," she simply said and left. On her way back to sickbay it occurred to her that it was not exactly her irresistible charm that had earned her Lt. Barclay's help after all.

When Dr. Crusher arrived, she found Barclay sitting by Hawk's bedside, just as she had left him earlier. 'He would make an excellent nurse,' she thought.

"Reg," she said quietly as she approached him. He turned and looked up at her. "I've talked to the Captain and he agrees to give you a week off your regular duties."

Barclay simply nodded.

Beverly Crusher bent over her patient and examined his facial wounds. They were healing nicely. She studied his face and thought once again how handsome the young man was. It would have been a great shame if he'd retained permanent scars.

"Doctor," Barclay inquired, "When will his memory return?"

"I'm not sure, Reg." She sighed.

"The fact that he retained the knowledge of who you are is a good sign. I think over time, everything will come back to him. The question is, how will he deal with his near-death experience? That's what I'm more worried about than the Borg implants and their effects."

She frowned, then patted Barclay encouragingly on the shoulder and returned to an experiment she was running in the small adjacent lab.

Barclay sat and contemplated what to do. Should he tell Hawk everything or merely give information as requested? Then it occurred to him that Deanna Troi would be far better equipped to answer that question.

The Counselor of the Enterprise had canceled all her afternoon appointments. Even after two days she was still fighting off the after-effects of Zefram Cochrane's Tequila. Either that or the overwhelming experience of actually being present during First Contact.

She sighed heavily when the doorbell rang. "Enter." Settling into her professional posture, she fully expected to see a crew member in need for counseling due to their encounter with the Borg. She had announced shipwide that she'd be available to anyone who needed her help, without appointment

When Barclay entered - his shy, warm smile greeting her - she felt oddly relieved. After all, he hadn't been on board when the ship had been taken over. But there was definitely a crease of worry around his smiling lips.

"Reg, what can I do for you?" she asked warmly, pointing to the plush couch by her side.

"I need your... advice, Counselor," he said, looking very serious now.

"Are you all right?" She settled in next to him, concerned. And almost instantly, she sensed that it was someone else's welfare that was on his mind.

"Yes, I am. It's Lt. Hawk I'm... worried about." Barclay crossed his legs and turned slightly toward Deanna.

"Oh yes, I know. Dr. Crusher has informed me that he's regained consciousness a couple of times. You're off duty to spend time with him, aren't you?" She continued when he merely nodded, "And you're wondering what to tell him."

"Yes, that's exactly it. According to Dr. Crusher, his memory should return slowly, but... but I'm not sure what to do if he should ask a lot of questions about... things that might upset him." He played nervously with his fingers, lowering his eyes.

Deanna sensed that there was more to this. He was concerned and felt responsibility, and yet... There was a feeling there, something beyond caring. It was very faint and not quite identifiable, but she felt that yesterday's events had created a link between Barclay and Hawk. It just might be possible that those two so very different officers would become close friends after this experience.

She patted him on the knee and smiled. "Don't worry, Reg. I'm going to help you. Lt. Hawk will need a counselor as well as a friend, and you'll be busy enough being the friend." She was relieved to see him smile.

"So, you'll talk to him?" he asked eagerly.

Sighing, Troi concluded, "I believe he'll require quite a number of counseling sessions."

For several weeks, it looked as if Counselor Troi had been mistaken.

Lt. Hawk was making a speedy recovery. His wounds had healed and he seemed back to his usual strong, unflappable self - smiling and laughing as if nothing had happened.

He and Barclay had indeed become close friends and spent a lot of time together. They had discovered common interests, such as a love for 20th century films and music. With Barclay's engineering skills and imagination and Hawk's enthusiasm and flair for detail, they had created several holoprograms - old Earth film-sets and adventure backdrops from literary and other sources.

One evening, while enjoying a program modeled on Jules Verne's "20,000 Leagues under the Sea", they found themselves laughing and joking over the bizarre food creations their program had provided to simulate Captain Nemo's deep sea cuisine.

Holding up a leaf of pink lettuce, Nemo - or rather Barclay - stated that there was clearly nothing desirable to be found at the bottom of the Sea. In reply to which Hawk's Ned Land simply pointed to the submarine's porthole in an attempt to draw the other's attention to the unusual and luscious plantlife outside.

Quite by coincidence, one of Barclay's personal touches to the program floated past, waving at them happily - a mermaid with a mane of dark hair, looking not unlike Counselor Troi.

It took several minutes and a few glasses of water to stop the laughter that ensued and to wash down the dry lettuce leaves that threatened to suffocate Hawk. They looked at each other, tears streaming down their faces, and Hawk gasped, "I had no idea you had such a wonderful sense of humor. When did you add that part of the program?"

Barclay blushed. "Last night, before we met in Ten Forward." He added shyly, "I actually got in trouble once on account of my... holoprograms."

"You've got to tell me more about that at some point." Hawk smiled, adding after a sip from his green champagne, "I'm so glad I've got to know you, Reg. I don't think I'd have ever approached you if it hadn't been for..." His voice broke off and he went silent for a moment.

When he regained his composure, he said with a twinkle in his eyes. "I used to wonder whether you were a little nuts." Laughing, he continued, with a nod to Troi floating between underwater plants, "Now I know you are."

Barclay joined in his laughter, but then quite unintentionally stated, "I used to think you were rather arrogant." His eyes popped wide open in disbelief he had even said that. "I'm... sorry, James. I didn't mean it."

Lt. Hawk smiled and said, "Actually, you're quite right. I probably am. My parents used to spoil me rotten, I've always had things my way and now I'm on the Enterprise." Noticing the shock on Barclay's face, he patted him on the shoulder and said softly, "Hey, cheer up! I'm not offended, you know."

"You're not?" Reg wished sincerely he could take back his words, but he was relieved to find that James really didn't seem at all disturbed by them.

"No, I'm not. And if anyone can call me arrogant without it offending me," he pulled Reg to his feet, "...it's you, my friend."

They stood, looking at each other - Barclay, feeling incredibly awkward and guilty, and James Hawk, realizing for the first time how sweet and vulnerable his friend looked. He gulped audibly and quickly said, "Computer, end program!"

"Mr. Hawk, nice of you to come." Troi smiled cheerfully and pointed to the couch. The Lieutenant returned her smile and settled in, instantly crossing his legs just as Barclay always did. Troi couldn't help but giggle.

"Are you laughing at me, Counselor?" Hawk asked with a wink.

"No, I was just thinking that a certain... number of people take up that position almost the instant they sit down on that couch. I guess it's a counseling session kind of thing." She cleared her throat and Hawk changed into a more relaxed position.

"That's very possible," Hawk conceded. Then he continued on a more serious note, "I must apologize, Counselor, for not having kept my last two appointments. I didn't think I... needed them." He raised his eyebrows, as if asking for confirmation.

"I'm sure you're doing quite well, Lt. Hawk, but it's my duty to make sure you go through a certain number of sessions. It's my job as well as necessary for you, even if it doesn't seem like it now. Quite often, a traumatic event can bring on psychological problems at a much later point. To prevent that, we need to do this now."

He nodded. "I understand what you're saying, but I really am doing fine. I don't even have the dreams any..." He broke off.

"Dreams?" Troi leaned forward, fixing a stern gaze on the Lieutenant's eyes. "When I asked you about that, you said you didn't have any. Why did you lie to me, Mr Hawk?"

The young officer took a deep breath and smiled disarmingly. "Don't be so serious about it, Counselor, please. I don't dream anymore. I didn't think it was worth mentioning those dreams. They weren't very... threatening." He cocked his head and looked very sure that the whole thing was settled now.

"You don't dream anymore? Surely you mean you don't dream about the Borg and about being stranded out in space anymore?" The Betazoid frowned when she sensed extreme discomfort at the question.

"Well, I don't really dream at all these days. But there's no harm in that, is there?" Hawk looked increasingly uncomfortable. He knew the answer to his question very well.

Troi stood and paced up and down for a moment before replying, "Yes, there is, Lt. Hawk. It's necessary for us to dream so the mind can deal with events that are logged in our subconscious. During REM sleep our minds solve problems or at least face them. If you don't dream at all, Mr Hawk, you're fooling yourself into thinking all is forgotten and in the past."

She stopped and looked at him. He had listened, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't really want to hear what she had told him.

"I'm sure you're exaggerating, Counselor Troi. Wouldn't I feel that something is wrong?" He settled back, intertwining his hands behind his neck as if to prove how relaxed he was.

"The subconscious mind is a riddle at best and a bottomless pit at worst, Mr Hawk. You may find that things stored away in it *do* bubble up at the most inopportune moments."

Hawk sighed. "I suppose the sum of what you're telling me is that I'm not yet fit to return to duty?" He felt so useless, being on extended leave of recovery for all this time.

Troi took a deep breath before settling in next to him, knowing he wouldn't like what she had to say. She smiled encouragingly. "You will be soon, Lt. Hawk, but right now, I don't feel comfortable enough with your progress to let you get back to your duties. I'm sorry."

He nodded and rose to his feet. "Well, I guess you'll let me know when I'm ready. If you'll excuse me now, I'd like to get back to my quarters."

He walked towards the door.

"Please wait," Troi called out. She reached him just as he was about to leave. "You have to understand that I'm responsible for this decision. I can't make it lightly. You could help by not trying so hard to pretend that nothing ever happened, James." She placed one delicate hand on his forearm.

He smiled, if a little crookedly. "I know you're doing your job. I wouldn't want to be a security risk." Before he turned to leave, he said, "I'll be back in 3 days for my next appointment, Counselor."

She nodded. "All right, Mr Hawk. I'll see you then. In the meantime, take it easy."

"That's what I've been doing for weeks now."

He left without turning back and Troi's eyes followed him down the corridor. He was so very brave, so strong and so hard on himself!

Shortly after the end of his duty shift, Reg Barclay went to pick up his friend for an evening on the Holodeck. When he entered, he found the Lieutenant sitting at his desk, his fingers curled around a cup of steaming coffee.

"Reg," James Hawk motioned for Barclay to join him. He had been studying technical manuals on the ship's propulsion systems and navigational controls.

"I'm making sure I don't forget everything I've ever learned," Hawk pointed out when he saw his friend's surprised expression. "In case they entrust me with the ship again."

Barclay heard the bitterness in that statement and placed a hand on the other's shoulder. "Of course they will, James. You're the best navigator the Enterprise has ever had." On seeing the doubtful smile around Hawk's lips, he fell silent. His friend was right. Some of the crew were apprehensive about him. They had lost close friends and colleagues to the Borg, and some of those had been killed by the Captain and members of the security team. Hawk had been lucky, but many felt that if the others couldn't be saved, was it certain that he could be? Even Captain Picard seemed doubtful.

Barclay once again felt helpless. There was little he could say or do to ease the burden on James or to cheer him up. He knew his friend wasn't as close to recovery as he liked to pretend. All he himself could offer was understanding and friendship.

"I'm sorry, Reg, I shouldn't load my problems on you like that." James Hawk stood and straightened out his uniform, which he insisted on wearing even though he was off duty. It felt like a connection to the past and gave him hope for the future. Just a symbol, of course, but if he gave up on himself, everyone else would, too. Everyone but Reg...

"I want you to talk to me about anything that upsets you, James. I'll help as much as I can." Reg smiled encouragingly, and a pleasant warm feeling spread through his chest when he saw his friend's face light up.

"What did I ever do without you, Reg?" James squeezed the other's arm briefly, before logging out from his terminal. "But enough about me. Did you have a good day?"

Barclay shrugged. "It was all right. I don't get as frustrated anymore when... someone gives me a hard time. For a while that used to be a problem."

"LaForge?" James asked with a twinkle in his eyes, having found out all about the rather strained relationship between his friend and the Chief Engineer.

"Yes." Barclay smiled. He had developed a degree of self-confidence lately that still amazed him, and Commander LaForge rarely disturbed his balance these days.

"Don't let anything get to you, Reg. If anybody gives you a hard time, I'll go after them," Hawk joked.

"You don't have to do that." Barclay grinned. "I can handle myself."

"I know you can," James replied, his eyes fixing on Reg's for a moment, before he diverted his gaze quickly. That strange sensation was there again. It was as if a link was formed whenever they looked at each other.

"Where shall we go tonight?" James asked as he disappeared into the sleeping corner of his quarters to get changed.

"Wherever you want." Reg began pacing up and down until his eyes fell on the small telescope on the sideboard. It had been given to James by his father on his 8th birthday. It gave him an idea. "James?"

"Yes?" Hawk emerged from the bedroom in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, carrying a suede jacket in one hand. He smiled and no one would have guessed that anything at all was upsetting him.

"How did you know?"

"Know what?" James briefly glanced into a wall mirror, sliding his fingers through his short brown curls.

"I was going to suggest a show at the Griffith Observatory." Barclay smiled, adding, "And here you are looking like James Dean."

James laughed. "I can read your mind, Reg. Wonderful idea. Let's go."

They weren't silent. The metallic sounds they made as they walked and the low hum of their machinery combined to a dreary, vibrating threat. It was almost deafening. Almost. But he would resist. They wouldn't break him.

He knew what his mission was, what they wanted him to do, but he wouldn't. Under no circumstances would they make him kill his commanding officer. He wouldn't be the one to stop the Captain and Commander Worf from saving the ship, from saving Earth, from saving the future that was now his own past. He would cease to exist if he fulfilled his mission. His crewmates would cease to exist.

But they wouldn't give up, no matter how much of a fight he put up. Doubt was beginning to set in. Was he stronger than they were?

If only there wasn't so much pain! The implant at his temple felt as though a hole had been torn in his face and salt water poured over it. He felt sick and incredibly dizzy. And now the injections...

First the hot surge in his blood, then sudden, incredible chill. He was so cold! His lips felt numb and still they kept injecting him. Another needle, somewhere in the side of his neck. He couldn't really feel it anymore, but he knew what they were doing. No... he thought, one last coherent individual thought...

He knew them. They owned him now. 'Forgive me!'

He was back at the deflector dish now. Captain Picard's face - recognition at first, then fear. And after the first punch... sheer hatred! He couldn't help himself. He had to do as they told him. If only Picard would kill him. If only he would stop him before the entire crew was lost.

Then, mercifully, a dull pain in his chest. Commander Worf shot him. So grateful.

But why had he not killed him? Why only a shot against the protective breastplate of his suit, causing him to lose his connection to the ship's hull?

Why not let him die quickly? Maybe it was too late for that. Maybe he was too much a part of them already? But this?

Left to drift in space until he would run out of oxygen... it was instant death he wanted!

Then, the edge of the saucer section. Right there within reach. Grab for it. Yes, solid metal. Quickly, magnetize boots. Get to an airlock before oxygen runs out... Do the Borg need oxygen? He was not completely assimilated. Not yet... inhuman. Suddenly... death. Everything dead. The link had been broken. What am I?

Signal ship. 'Help me, please! I don't want to die.'

De-materializing... losing consciousness... the pressure chamber... someone's hands removing his helmet... air... a tricorder... a gentle voice... 'Help me! Reg! Reg!'

James Hawk woke up screaming his friend's name. He was sitting upright in his bed, pearls of sweat dripping from his hair at the base of his neck and into his eyes. He blinked, several times, but couldn't clear his vision.

Then he rose and staggered to the bathroom to wash his face. He felt nauseous.

Why had the dreams come back?

"Troi to Lt. Barclay."

Barclay thought he was dreaming when he heard the Counselor's voice in his sleep. But no, his communicator beeped again.

"Troi to Lt. Barclay. Please answer, Reg."

"Barclay here. Counselor Troi?" He straightened up and rubbed his eyes. It had to be an emergency for her to raise him in the middle of the night. James!?

"Reg. Please go to James Hawk's quarters immediately. I don't know what's wrong, but I sense that he needs you. Please, Reg, go quickly!"

Deanna had considered going as well and taking a medical team, but she was certain that Hawk wasn't injured and it was clearly Barclay he had called out to. She thought it wise to add, just in case, "If you need help, call me!"

"Yes, counselor. I'm on my way. Thank you."

Barclay jumped up and threw on a bathrobe. He left his room and ran down the corridor to Hawk's quarters. He didn't bother ringing, using his over-ride code instead. On entering, he found the room and the bed empty.

"James!" He looked around and noticing the light from the bathroom, he went to find out if his friend was injured. He opened the door which had been ajar and found him bent over the sink, water dripping from his face. His pale blue eyes were wide open and he was staring into the mirror as if he saw someone other than himself.

"James," Barclay repeated softly. The other man stared up at him as if he didn't recognize him at first. Reg placed his sick friend's arm around his own shoulder. Then, with his free arm around the other man's waist, he led him back next door and to the ruffled bed.

"No, please, not back there." Hawk's voice sounded weak and dry. He seemed to have some kind of irrational dread of his own bed.

Barclay made him comfortable on the couch and went to retrieve a glass of water from the replicator. When he returned, James was pressed into one corner of the sofa, shivering. Reg sat down next to him and gave him the glass.

After a few eager sips, Hawk set the glass down on the table and looked at his friend. "Reg, what are you doing here?"

"To be honest... I'm not sure. Counselor Troi called me and told me that you needed me. So I came. What happened, James?" Barclay moved closer to James, unsure how to help.

Beads of sweat shone on James' face and chest and his breathing was rapid. At the same time, he was trembling. And... he was staring at him with the strangest expression on his face. He looked so sad and vulnerable.

"Reg..." James Hawk finally couldn't hold back the tears. They demanded to be released. They were overdue by weeks and now, his barriers couldn't hold up against them anymore. The dam broke.

"Oh god, James." Barclay instinctively pulled the other man into his arms and held him close. Tears were streaming down his friend's face as he sobbed silently. They wetted Barclay's pajama top, but he never even noticed. Holding the other pressed against his own chest, he began stroking over the short, brown hair. At that simple gesture, James' body stopped trembling.

"It's all right. I'm here. Let it all out. I'm here."

Hawk felt the warmth of his friend's body against his own and for a brief moment he remembered one of his last thoughts before the Borg had penetrated his mind with their cold metal poisons - the end of human contact, human warmth. No more for him. And he cried and cried...

Finally, when he had no more tears to spill, Reg was still cradling him in his arms and he felt limp and spent. Warm hands were on his back and he listened to the other's heartbeat, comforting and human.

He could have sat up again but he didn't want to. He just wanted to continue being held like this, so firmly and safely.

With his arms around Reg's waist, James shifted slightly, and his head came to nestle against the other's neck. Warm tears tingled Barclay's sensitive skin but at least James had finally stopped crying. Maybe now, he would be able to deal with the past.

"I'm here with you, James. I'll help you through this." He heard his own voice, noting that he wasn't stuttering or grasping for words this time, and he hoped that it would make James feel safe.

Hawk nodded in reply, his wet face rubbing against Barclay's neck. And before he knew how it had happened, he had lifted his face and was pressing his lips against the other's cheek.

To Barclay it seemed so natural to shift slightly and kiss his friend. Their warm mouths touched gently; full dry lips against moist and unusually relaxed ones. They kissed for a long time, tenderly, devoid of eroticism. It was a kiss that transferred energy and life-force between them. Healing...

When their mouths parted, they smiled at each other shyly, uncertain.

"Reg..." James Hawk's voice was warm and soft. He couldn't find the words to express what he felt, but he sensed that Barclay knew.

"Yes, James," Barclay whispered. He didn't feel nervous or awkward for once, and it showed in his eyes and his relaxed features.

Hawk sank back against the cushions and said, "I owe you my life twice over now." He smiled and basked in the warm blush that spread across Reg's face.

Barclay didn't know what to say. He was so overwhelmed with emotions he'd never known before. As close as they'd grown, he'd never questioned just why he was so grateful that he had been the one to log onto James' signal, that he was the one the other had turned to and that he was so close to him now. He loved him. It could never be any other way again.

"I want to make love to you, Reg." James spoke softly, almost in a whisper. Reg's heart jumped but he didn't dare make a move.

"You don't have to thank me like that, James," he joked, but when he saw the answering hurt in the other's face, he felt that he had misinterpreted him. "James..."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. There's no reason why you'd feel that way about me." James stood, his legs shaky and almost giving in.

Barclay jumped to his feet and held the other man by his shoulders. "I do feel about you that way, James. I... don't want to use you. You've thanked me so often, I don't want to take advantage of you."

James smiled with relief. "What makes you think I'm not taking advantage of you?"

When he saw the confusion followed by joy in his friend's face, he said, "Now, will you kiss me, stupid, or do I have to beg?"

"No, you don't." That was all Reg managed to say before James captured his lips with his own, his arms around the other's neck, kissing him until he could hardly breathe.

When Reg stood back and gasped, "My god!" James just smiled and pulled him back into his arms. His lips sought the warmth of the slightly taller man's neck and a warm, seeking tongue trailed up its side, over the fine jawbone and the soft cheek, traveling onwards to a sensitive ear.

Reg was shaking now just as James had done before. What a strange and magical sensation... Every inch of his skin was tingling. His hands came to rest on James' narrow hips and he intuitively pulled him closer. Feeling the other's beginning erection press against his own, he temporarily forgot to breathe. He whispered close to James' ear, "I've never done this before... with a man."

A silent laugh answered him. "Me neither."

And suddenly, it all seemed so simple and so right. Reg kissed James again and his tongue began to explore those full sensuous lips, the hardness of his teeth and the soft wetness of his tongue. That taste... so sweet and warm... like vanilla milk. When he elicited the first moans of pleasure from James, his own body reacted so strongly, he almost lost his balance.

"Oh Reg, why didn't we do this before?" James managed between kisses, only to resume that hot, sexy exchange of their fluids. Their hands were roaming over each others' bodies.

James pressed Reg close. He could hardly bear the heat and urgency between their bodies but he couldn't bear to give it up for a second, either. He had wanted this so much... he knew that now.

Reg felt that he couldn't last much longer. The things James was doing to him with his lips, his tongue and his wonderful, strong hands would bring him to the edge within seconds. He pulled back, holding the other at arm's length, gasping for breath.

"What"? James asked teasingly, and when he saw his friend's flushed face and the arousal that was demanding attention, he smiled. "Oh."

"I have to cool down for a moment," Reg said hoarsely, standing at a safe distance from James. Not that any distance was safe anymore. Anywhere he could feel the other's warmth, look into those large, blue eyes and see the luscious curved lips he was in danger of being incinerated.

After initial disappointment, James said, not quite in control of his speech, "Yes, me too. We shouldn't rush. I want this to be wonderful." He motioned to come closer, but Reg retreated a step.

Laughing, James continued towards the bathroom. "I have an idea."

Reg heard the water being run next door and when he followed James, he found him bending over the large sunken tub, filling it.

"I love baths." Reg smiled.

"Me too. We do have a lot in common." James looked happier than he ever had since that... day.

"Vanilla, Musk or Sandalwood?" He pointed out a small assortment of bath oils on the side of the tub.

"Vanilla," Reg decided easily, remembering James' taste from before. Almost instantly, he felt his heated reaction to the memory. "Maybe a bit of musk, too?"

"As you wish." James poured a tiny bit of musk oil and a larger amount of vanilla under the hot stream of water. The oil of course didn't form bubbles, but it spread smoothly through the steaming pool and a warm, sensual scent filled the room within seconds.

"What a delicious combination," James said, his eyes burning into Reg's.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I won't get in there with you," Reg said, pointing toward the tub and praying he wouldn't be taken seriously.

"Is that so?" James straightened up and crossed the small distance between them. His hands tenderly settled on Reg's cheeks and he pulled his face in for a kiss.

Reg grasped the other's wrists and pushed him back just a step. "Yes," he croaked.

James smiled and before Reg knew what was happening, his bathrobe was being removed, followed by his pale blue pajama top. No force in the universe could have made him resist when James's eyes lasciviously wandered over his bare upper body, caressing him, while his hands slid underneath the waistband of his loose pants, pushing them down over his hips. He closed his eyes.

"You're so beautiful," James whispered, and Reg's eyes flew open in amazement.

"Me?"

"I can't see anyone else in here." James smiled reassuringly, unable to fathom why his friend had such a low opinion of himself. There was so much they could help each other with, make each other feel better.

Reg saw the open admiration and honesty in James' trusting eyes and he returned his smile. When he stepped forward to remove the other's clothing, James stood back, motioning towards the tub.

"You go get comfortable." He added huskily, "I want to watch you."

Hot, aromatic wetness closed around Reg's limbs as he settled into the tub, leaning back against the far side of it. James had spread out several large towels all around the tub.

Now, Reg was watching him as he begun to unbutton his silver-white pajama top... slowly... teasingly. The pale skin showing between the folds of silky fabric was covered in light brown curls, leading down from the muscular chest to the elastic of his pants, where they began to concentrate in a straight trail that disappeared behind the shiny material.

Reg had never thought it possible that he would be so turned on by another man's body - by anyone's body!

James knew exactly what he was doing. He moved so slowly... performing, for lack of a better word. He stretched and rotated his shoulders like a lazy panther when he let the shirt slide off, revealing broad shoulders and a perfect torso.

Barclay found it hard to form coherent thoughts, let alone voice them. He certainly had no control over his physical reactions to James, who was coming closer now, still wearing his pants.

"Computer, raise room temperature by 3 degrees Celsius and reduce lighting to 25 %... candle-light equivalent." James climbed into the tub as if he'd forgotten about his pajama trousers.

"James, you're still..." Barclay offered, but his friend just smiled.

"I know. I wanted to leave some of the work for you."

James slid into the hot water until it covered him up to his chin. Kneeling on the bottom of the tub, in front of Reg, he pressed him back against the sand-colored wall. His hands grasped the other's shoulders and his mouth locked onto the parted lips in a fierce, urgent kiss.

Reg, between kisses, began to work on the wet silky trousers clinging to the other's body. Balancing himself with his feet against the opposite wall of the tub, he peeled the fabric down over James' hips until it caught and wouldn't go further. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asked with desperation.

James only laughed quietly, enjoying every second of the other's frantic attempt to finish undressing him. It felt so good to have those soapy, slippery hands roam over his hips, his buttocks, beneath the fabric and against his skin. But he finally had mercy and moved back, settling against the opposite wall and the tiny raised bench under water.

"Better?" he teased, and Barclay nodded.

"Much better." Reg gently pulled the wet item of clothing down over the other's hips, freeing what it had been catching on. He proceeded to pull the obstructive fabric down James' long legs and tossed it out of the tub with a spray of water, sending it splashing on the floor.

"I'm all yours now," James purred, and Reg took him in his arms, holding that beautiful wet body against his own in a slippery embrace.

"You are?" he breathed as his mouth searched for the other's.

"Oh yes, Reg," James gave himself up to the passion of that fiery kiss, letting his tongue toy with the other's, searching out every part of his lover's mouth, before withdrawing and running his lips down Reg's neck, over the wet tuft of light hair and just below the waterline, where they closed around a hardened nipple.

Reg felt himself melt into those arms, slung around him underwater, as if the two of them were turning into one single being of pleasure and need.

James had lifted him slightly and was kissing one hard nipple, letting the tip of his tongue dart out against it repeatedly. Reg held onto the sides of the tub for dear life. His inhibitions were melting away in that hot touch and the soothing water.

James raised his head and looked at Reg with watery eyes, tiny droplets of moisture dripping from his lashes. Reg pulled him closer for another kiss. He held him so tight... letting him know he would never have to feel alone and afraid again.

"You're turning me into someone I don't even know," Reg whispered between kisses, and James sighed against his cheek.

"I don't want to change you. I love you just the way you are." James said it as if it was the most obvious and easy statement, but Reg pulled back a little.

"Did you say you love me?" he asked with sparkling eyes.

"Yes, Reg. You're so good to me. You're always there for me." He smiled mischievously. "And you have the sexiest smile I've ever seen."

James nestled into Reg's lap and pressed his wet face against the other's. "I've never felt like this about anyone before."

Reg felt a surge of tears rising and felt very stupid for it. But he was so incredibly happy. James loved him. He didn't feel sorry for him and didn't laugh at him for his clumsiness or inadequacies. He just loved him.

Holding James tight, he swallowed a few times before he could reply, "I love you, too. You've given me confidence and something far more real than my Holodeck fantasies."

James smiled up at him and said teasingly, "I intend to live out a few Holodeck fantasies of my own with you..."

His lips found an earlobe and he began to pull and chew on it very gently. "You know that smile of yours has been driving me mad, Reg," he breathed into the nicely-shaped ear before running his tongue around it's smooth curves.

Reg inhaled deeply, shivering despite the warm water.

"You're so sensitive," James whispered. "I desperately need to make love to you."

"Oh god, yes..." Reg rasped, tingling at James' words as much as from the touch of those gentle hands running over his chest, playing with his nipples, while James moved very slowly in his lap, rubbing against Reg's erection with those firm buttocks.

Reg pulled him so close that the hands could no longer move and he let his own hands travel over that wonderful shape in his arms. One hand ran up over James' back and cupped the back of his head, feeling those soft, wet curls. The other moved down over one cheek, squeezing it gently, before moving back to the top, where he let his middle finger part those tight buns.

James sighed against the side of his face.

Reg continued to hold him, kissing every inch of that handsome face as his finger continued probing. He felt James' erection growing harder, pressing ever more urgently against his own stomach. He wanted to make him feel so good.

Raising James slightly with his hands under his buttocks, he let both his own legs part the other's. Then he lowered him again to sit on his thighs.

"You're so hard, Reg. Let me help you," James teased in his throatiest voice.

"I can wait," Reg managed with great difficulty as their erections slid against one another in the fragrant, oil-softened water. He moved James back and forth until he himself almost went out of his mind at the other's unrestrained groans of pleasure.

"I can't... stand... anymore... of this," James said hoarsely, and Reg stopped, holding him still, allowing them both to catch their breaths.

"You'll kill me with all that teasing," James said, smiling at the man over who's lap he was crouching, his knees on either side of Reg's hips. "I had no idea you had it in you."

Reg was surprised to hear himself say, "I don't... yet."

"Oh, you will!" James said warmly, his eyes sparkling at the invitation.

That pair of incredible eyes alone had the capacity to make Reg come if he would allow it. He had to divert his own eyes, but James took his chin in his hand and turned the other's face back to look at him.

"Hot chocolate," he said softly, gazing into Reg's eyes.

Reg blushed. "Don't look at me like that, James, or you'll find that I won't be much use to you for a while."

James laughed lightly. "And why is that?"

Reg smiled. "As if you didn't know."

He moved James back against the other wall of the tub and sat him down on the little sunken bench. "I don't dare touch you. I'm afraid of going mad."

James blushed now, which was the prettiest sight. "You won't. Please touch me." And he took one of Reg's hands and pulled it through the water toward his lap. He parted his own thighs with Reg's hand and then let it rest at the top of the soft dark curls. "Reg..."

Reg allowed James to guide his hand down to the base of his rockhard cock, where he closed Reg's long fingers around the shaft and began to move them up and down slowly, his eyes never once diverting from Reg's face.

"I love to feel your hand around me, Reg," James murmured before his head sank slowly back onto the edge of the tub and his eyes closed. He looked like a cat that was being stroked in just the right places.

Reg looked at him breathlessly, unaware that he was now moving his hand himself, without James' guidance. He continued to glide along that oil-slickened hardness, letting his fingers play with the swollen head. He leaned forward and kissed the base of James' neck, never letting up pumping him.

"God, you're beautiful," Reg whispered, as much referring to the outline of James' cock under the surface of the water as to his friend's face... so lost in bliss.

He suddenly couldn't resist any longer. He had to taste him.

James' eyes opened wide when he felt himself being lifted out of the water and placed on one of the towels at the edge of the tub. He looked down at Reg who was still in the bath and knew what he was going to do.

"Yes, Reg... oh yes, please!" he said hoarsely as he parted his thighs and leaned back on his elbows, his legs still dangling in the warm water. "Do with me whatever you want!"

He gasped when Reg rubbed the bath oil off his erection with a small towel he had moistened under the tap. And then that soft, curved mouth approached his erection.

James gasped as the warm lips closed around him, sliding down his entire length and back up, before tugging on the thick, round head. What an unbelievable sight, to have Reg kneeling there in front of him, sucking him... he quickly diverted his thoughts, tried to think of something truly silly.

"Captain Nemo, I see you're quite at home in the water even without your submarine..." He heard his voice trail off and giggled nervously at his foolish words.

Reg smiled around him but didn't stop for a second. His tongue had found that tiny cleft at the tip of James' cock and played with it, pushing into it, extracting the first droplets of sperm.

"Reg... make me come, pleeeease." James could hardly keep his position, but he didn't want to stop watching. Those soft, pink lips around him, that tongue pressing against the underside of his cock, that mouth pulling him in right against the back of his lover's throat... he came with a shudder and a suppressed scream.

Reg swallowed, tasting the wonderful combination of James, vanilla and musk. He pulled the flushed and relaxed figure back into the tub and into his arms. "I love you, James."

"I love you, too." Kissing Reg softly, James nestled against him, enjoying the warm water engulfing him again, if not as much as the embrace of the other's arms.

"We should get out of here before we shrivel up completely. I'm not finished with you yet for the night." He gave Reg his sexiest smile.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Reg climbed out of the tub first, rubbing himself down with a soft white towel before wrapping it around his waist. Then he held out his hand to help James climb from the tub and found that his lover was still quite shaky on his legs.

"Wanna carry me to bed?" James asked, grinning.

"If you want, gladly." Reg playfully pretended to try and lift James, but the other resisted, laughing, and wrapping himself in another towel, he lead Reg into the bedroom.

As James came to stand in front of his bed, he realized that it no longer filled him with dread. The bad dreams were going to be replaced with good ones... dreams of life and love and happiness.

James turned suddenly and sank against Reg, whose long arms closed around him, and he felt a tender hand stroking over his hair.

"Everything alright?" Reg asked quietly.

"Yes, everything's alright now. " James looked into those warm, brown eyes and smiled. "Everything's alright."

He sat down on the bed and pulled Reg down next to him. They just sat there, in silence, looking at each other, for a long time.

Reg said, "I was so worried about you..." He took James' right hand in his and kissed it gently, keeping it pressed against his lips.

James smiled. "And all along you were the cure for what ailed me. Oh Reg..." He pulled his hand free and kissed Reg passionately, pushing him back into the pillows, and pinned him down with both hands in the other's palms.

"I want to make love to you for the rest of our lives," he murmured against the other's throat, nibbling at it gently. "Every night..." he kissed his chest, running his tongue over one hardened nipple "...and as often during the day as I can get hold of you."

Reg laughed quietly.

"And when we can't make love..." James continued, licking his way down to Reg's navel, "...I want to look at you..." he pulled the towel from Reg's hips with his teeth, "...and listen to your voice..." he licked the sensitive area around the pubic patch, "...and if I can't do that..." his tongue ran up and down the soft inside of Reg's thighs, "... I want to dream of you..." He licked up the slowly hardening shaft and when he reached the head, he said hoarsely, "I want to dream of loving you until we melt in each others arms."

Reg groaned. James' lips were closing around his erection, pulling it into the depths of his throat, sucking it, swallowing it. He groaned and only great willpower enabled him to hold back. "No," he gasped with great difficulty.

James released him and slid between the other's thighs. "Let me love you, Reg."

"Yes, James. But not like that. I want you... inside me." Reg looked at him pleadingly.

James nodded, his heart flooded with warmth and happiness. He'd never felt that close to anyone else before. Reg could have asked him for the universe, he would have found a way to give it to him.

"There's nowhere I'd rather be. But I don't want to hurt you..." He tentatively slid his right hand between Reg's legs and cupped his balls briefly, before moving further and feeling for that tight, unexplored hole. With one tender finger, he opened Reg, probing him gently. Such a small space... He was worried he might injure his lover.

"You could never hurt me, James." Reg smiled warmly, closing his eyes and making himself relax around that gentle intruder.

James watched the other's face mellow, and he carefully sped up his probing, adding another finger, moving in and out as well as in tiny circles. Then he had an idea.

"Turn onto your stomach."

Reg complied and he knelt between his legs, parting them, pressing small kisses on those baby soft cheeks. Then he ran a finger down between them, finding the tiny opening again, and this time, Reg sighed softly when a finger entered him briefly.

James let his tongue flick over his lover's hole, and Reg jolted at the unexpected touch. "Don't be afraid."

Reg allowed himself to relax into that touch he'd never known before, feeling the tip of James' tongue enter him, a little further with each thrust. He moaned, his legs subconsciously parting further.

James continued to lick, but his right hand moved underneath Reg, running along that sensitive stretch of skin behind his balls, before grasping them, firmly but tenderly.

"Ah," Reg groaned with pleasure. He still couldn't believe how easy it was to just let himself go with James. Everything felt so right. And *so* good...

James reached forward and feeling the tip of Reg's penis, he retrieved a droplet of pre-cum. He rubbed it gently into the opening he was longing to plunge into.

"Give me more," he rasped. "I want to make you wet, Reg, so I can fuck you."

"Please..." Reg begged, feeling his climax lapping up against him like waves against a shore.

James was squeezing his erection, milking him, but only enough to extract fluids, not enough to make him come.

"I can't stand this much longer," Reg gasped.

And James rose off the bed, turning Reg back around, facing him, before kneeling between his legs again. "I want to look at you."

Reg nodded, his voice no longer under his command. He pulled up his knees and with his feet firmly on the mattress, allowed James to move him into position.

James pulled Reg further down the bed, raising his buttocks onto his lap, and then he looked at him for a moment, assessing whether he was ready.

Reg was flushed, all over. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and his eyes were on fire.

"Let me in, Darling," James rasped, as he pushed softly against that tiny, slippery entrance, further moistened by his own fluids.

"Oh god, you feel good," he moaned as he felt himself being enclosed by that firm heat. He paused, careful not to get carried away and risk hurting Reg.

But it was his lover now who was moving against him, urging him to penetrate deeper. Reg's fingers were clutching the sheets as he thrust his hips up to meet James who was breathing heavily, sliding back and forth so gently, with such control.

"Slow down," James whispered, "please, or I can't make it last."

Reg's eyes locked on his, and the message in them was clear - don't!

And they both gave in to the passion. They moved together in a perfect rhythm, sliding together like a knife into its shaft.

"James!" Reg called out, his perception changing. A wave of pleasant dizziness washed over him and he focused on James, whose eyes were shimmering more silvery than usual, alive with desire.

"Come, Reg," James gasped, and those words combined with the look in his eyes sent Reg into an abyss of emotions and sensations. The orgasm washed over him, almost drowning him. And he spilt himself over James' stomach.

James thrust for as long as he could stand it, but when his lover's head sank back in total relief and bliss, he couldn't help but dig his fingers in the other's hips, pulling him hard against himself as he shot his sperm into that beloved body beneath him.

He screamed his lover's name as he came.

"I'm so tired," Reg said, as they lay holding each other. He yawned as if to prove it.

James' face was nestled against his neck and the long lashes were tickling that sensitive skin. "So am I. Sleep well, Reg." He settled in and closed his eyes, hearing the soft reply, "Sweet dreams, James."

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!

- Lord Byron