Date: Tue, 30 Dec 1997 20:59:58 -0500 (EST) From: Alaera Subject: [sQ-ff] FANFIC: The Letter 0/1 (Disclaimer/Notes) All - Okay, this is the first thing I've sent to the list. I'm relatively new to fanfic, I spend most of my time caught up in my own characters. So any and all response is appreciated/begged for etc. Disclaimer and Authors Notes follows, the story is in the next email. :) Disclaimer: I don't own these people - I'm just one of the few individuals who wishes I did. If the owners of these people don't want them, they can give them to me. I couldn't possibly treat them any worse than they've already been treated. I'm making absolutely no money from this endeavor, and no infringement is intended. Don't get mad. As a matter of fact, the owners of the copyright should be glad *someone* liked their product. Timeline: This story takes place immediately after "Weapons of War". SPOILER ALERT!!! Stop reading NOW if you've not seen this ep!!! AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm a Hudson fan. 'nuf said. If you aren't, you won't like this. This is a very short piece written between 3:15 and 3:35 a.m. I arrive at work at 7:00 a.m. and was therefore going on nearly 24 hours without sleep. I ran out of coffee at approximately midnight. At 3:00 a.m. I deleted two days worth of work on my current novel in progress and thought, "Fanfic. Yeah. That'll get rid of the writers block." And then this thing popped into my head. It hasn't been editted, just proofed for typos, and even that could have gone wrong. In any case, there has not yet been revision. There will be. Any suggestions as to what form said revisions should take would be vastly appreciated. This is me begging, pleading, on bended knee.... *** Mea Date: Tue, 30 Dec 1997 21:04:03 -0500 (EST) From: Alaera Subject: [sQ-ff] FANFIC: The Letter 1/1 The Letter A SeaQuest 2032 story. By mea alaera@aol.com Captain Oliver Hudson snapped off the recorder and struck the delete key. Hard. No, it wasn't right. One hand rubbed his eyes roughly. It came away damp, and he ran it along his leg, wiping away the evidence of his discomfort without acknowledging it. One deep breath. Two. There, he was ready. He straightened in his chair and schooled his features into the professional mask that had served him well on occasions like this in the past. No, not like this. Similar maybe, but not like this. He cleared his mind, sat a bit straighter, and flicked record. "Mr. & Mrs. Fredericks, it is with deep regret that I must inform you of the death of -" his voice cracked and he reached out to hit delete for the fortieth time. "I can't do this" he whispered to himself, the tightness around his eyes increasing dangerously. The box on his desk stared at him accusingly, the brass plate from her quarters shining brightly in the artificial light. He couldn't say that name. Not in that sentence. 'Janet is dead' the voice in his mind repeated. Those three words had not stopped ringing in his mind since that moment. The terrible, horrifying moment when she'd ceased to be. It was as if he couldn't make himself believe, and so had to say it over and over in some sort of sick litany, trying to pound the truth home. He reset the recorder and stared straight ahead, pretending it wasn't there. He couldn't do the professional, military thing. But he would do his damdest, and send it as it came out. "Mr. & Mrs. Fredericks, I am Captain Oliver Hudson of the UEO submarine Seaquest. It is my duty to inform you that your daughter, Leuitenant J.J. Fredericks was killed in the line of duty while protecting this vessel from hostiles." He stopped, but let the recording continue. It had to be done, and there was no easy way to do it. He took a deep breath and continued as best he could. "Lt. Fredericks was a fine officer." No. That wasn't right. His voice grew rough around the edges as he strayed from the usual form these letters took. "She was more than that. Janet was the best. She was professional, precise, and dedicated to the constant improvement of her abilities. She was also loyal, trustworthy, and fearless. Truly fearless - and I'm not referring to the results of technology. She faced each day with purpose. She inspired all of those around her to strive toward perfection in their lives, both professionally and personally." He stopped. He had to, his voice wouldn't work. Hudson cleared his throat and drew in a long breath, then went on. "In the time that Janet served under my command, she never stopped growing. Just by being herself, she challenged others to be the best at whatever they did. She was an example to be looked up to by younger officers, and she was a reminder to the more experienced crew of what it means to be an officer. As her commander, I deeply regret her loss. Her place on this boat can never be filled. As her friend - " here his voice broke, but he'd gone too far now to stop. He couldn't start over. He couldn't do this again. "As her friend," he repeated, though his voice still cracked on the words, "I grieve with you. She will be missed." He stared for a moment, trying to think of something else to say. There was nothing else, and everything else. Things he couldn't say to her family or to the rest of the crew, that he couldn't even have said to her because of their positions. After a moment, he reached out and stopped the recorder. It wasn't perfect. Far from it. It was unproffesional at best. But it was done.