========================================================================== PERCHANCE TO DREAM - COUNTERPOINT Jessi Albano ========================================================================== Timeline: SeaQuest 2032 Author's E-Mail: cirrah@hotmail.com or jcsa@cnl.net ========================================================================== AUTHOR'S NOTES: Dear Folks -- Okay, I hear you thinking -- does the world _really_ need another Tim/Kimura story? (Not really, no.) Is that _all_ Jessi can write? (Well, no, but it does seem that way, doesn't it? ::g::) Is she _ever_ gonna stop? (Again, probably not. ::g::) This story was inspired by Melissa's "Perchance To Dream" which I think you all have read already. If not, please read PTD first, I'm sure Mel will be happy to mail you a copy. Or you can go to the Sacred Archives of Ted (http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/7319) where PTD has been recorded for posterity. That's it, enjoy, please send comments, etc. Thanks, Jessi 2oHK ========================================================================== PERCHANCE TO DREAM - COUNTERPOINT by Jessi Albano a seaQuest 2032 story, based on characters from seaQuest DSV and seaQuest 2032 Inspired by Melissa Beattie's "Perchance To Dream" The crew was giving her a wider berth than usual. Lt. Cdr. Heiko Kimura was used to the glares, the whispers, the covert glances. She was even used to the pregnant pause, the momentary silence that followed whenever she entered a room. She was more than used to it. It even gave her a queer sense of comfort, a queer sense of power. She didn't ask for it, didn't want it; but she had it and she was going to use it. If it kept people away she was all for it. Especially today. "Steady as she goes, Mr. Piccolo," she ordered, as they navigated the trench. "Watch out for those rocks." "Aye, Sir," Tony answered somberly. Around her the seaQuest went along its business, each unit performing perfectly, with the precision of a Swiss watch. And yet there was something missing. She knew what it was, of course, but she refused to acknowledge it. Refused to fall prey to the air of sorrow that hung around the ship, to the sense of impending tragedy. "Well?" a voice asked beside her. She glanced up to see Lt. Lonnie Henderson standing beside her, her arms akimbo, her gaze challenging. "Well?" Kimura repeated, questioning. "Aren't you even going to go and see him?" Lonnie demanded. "I have work to do," Kimura answered coolly, returning her attention to the console before her. "And so do you, Lieutenant." "You don't care, do you?" Lonnie asked, gesturing to the seat currently occupied by Kimura. "Look at you, you even have the gall to sit there! In Tim's chair! Tim's station!" "Return to your post, Lt.," she ordered coolly, "or I'll find someone to fill that station, too. We still have a ship to run." There was a brief struggle of wills but in the end Henderson was the first drop her gaze. "You," Lonnie accused harshly, tears burning in her eyes. "This is all your fault. None of this would have happened if you hadn't come here." *** *None of this would have happened if you hadn't come here.* Lonnie was long gone, gone off duty in a flurry of disdainful sniffs and barely concealed tears, but her words clung to Kimura's skin like the cold air. With a slight sense of surprise, Kimura realized that she envied the lieutenant's ability to throw blame around, uncaring of its target. And she supposed she couldn't blame Lonnie. After all, she made such a convenient one. Ford was off the ship, at a meeting with the Secretary General. Under Perry's orders, Hudson was quarantined in his quarters, under observation for the next 48 hours. He had been the one who had caught Tim when he had collapsed on the bridge. Of course, no one remembered that now. All they remembered now was all the times Hudson had raised his voice at Tim, the time when he had thrown Tim out of his chair, using the memory to fuel their anger, to keep the fears at bay. They didn't remember that Hudson had been the one to carry Tim to medbay before the medevac took over. All they remembered was his barked order that she take command. And now she sat in Tim's chair because there was no one who even came close to filling the Communication Officer's place. No one had even tried. She'd never known people could be so stupid. They were like a house of cards, so dependent on each other for strength. Bring one down and they all fall. And what was worse, they made no effort to hide it. How the hell did they survive this long, she asked the gods of her ancestors. And how the hell did they expect to win this goddamn war? She would never be one of them. She'd never be so weak. Never be so dependent. On anyone or anything. She'd never be so stupid as to forget she was the only one she could count on.. *** Ford's first stop was the bridge. He had gotten word of Tim's collapse right before his meeting with McGath and had responded immediately to the panic in Tony's voice. He had rushed McGath through the meeting - a simple debriefing about their latest brush with Macronesia. He wondered if he had made much sense -- he'd been too distracted. Well, it didn't matter. At least, it didn't matter as much as this. Kimura looked up briefly as he crashed through the doorway, noting his haggard appearance with vague disinterest. "How is he?" he asked her immediately, wearily running his fingers through his short curls. "What's wrong with him?" "Ask Perry," she answered, returning her gaze to the screens before her. "Excuse me?" Ford asked, confused. "I'm not a Doctor, Commander," she responded. "I'm hardly in a position to make a diagnosis. Dr. Perry said she would notify the bridge as soon as she knew anything," she continued. "And as I've heard nothing, I would assume there's been no change." Ford stared down at her, a slow anger beginning to burn through the concern. But he wasn't a demonstrative person by nature and so he contented himself with a slight reprimand. "Didn't you even check up on him?" he asked, "even if it's only as his Commander, and not his friend?" "His friends are already overflowing the medbay," she retorted coolly. "And his Commander has a boat to run." "Well, I'm here now," he stated coldly. "So that gives you a little free time, doesn't it?" *** She had the gym to herself, and was giving the heaviest punching bag everything she had. She missed having a sparring partner, missed pitting her body against a living, breathing, reacting target. Missed hitting something that could hit back. Hepatitis, Dr. Perry had said. A particularly virulent kind. Forty-eight hours, Dr. Perry had said. Either way it would be over in forty-eight hours. The door opened and in walked Tony, dressed in his uniform. "A little overdressed for gym, aren't you?" she asked mockingly as he made his way towards her. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "Is that a trick question?" "You haven't been in to see Tim," he accused. "That's right," she agreed. "So?" "He's dying," gritted Tony. "Don't you understand?" he continued, his voice rising. "Don't you care?" "Tony," she said, her voice registering nothing but mild exasperation. "If he's dying, he's dying. I fail to see how my going to the medbay will change that." Tony looked like he was ready to throttle her. She knew he wouldn't dare - with one flick of her wrist she could send him sprawling to the floor, howling in pain. Not to mention what it would do to his career to be brought up on charges for attacking a superior officer. But part of her wished he'd go for it. Part of her wished he'd get in one good punch before she tore him apart. "I would think," she added flatly, "that you'd be happy I was staying away. Isn't that what you've been telling me since I first came here? All of you? To stay away from Tim?" "Never," he gritted. "I never asked you that." "Not out loud," she agreed. "But only because you would never have dared challenge me out loud." "Lady," he said stonily, "if you think that then you're not half as smart as I thought." He turned to face her squarely. "I've been part of this from the very beginning," he stated. "And I know you won't believe this, but I'm doing this for you as much as for Tim." She gave a quiet snort of dismissal and turned away. Tony sighed, frustratedly, helplessly. "I don't know what Tim needs," he whispered to her back. "I don't know what to do to help." He looked at her. "But this I do know. Deny it as much as you want, you and Tim are tied in ways most of us can't even begin to understand. You care about Tim. Not going down to the medbay won't change that." She turned back to him and smiled coldly, mockingly. "You have no idea who I am, Tony," she said. "If you did you'd know you how wrong you are." "Am I?" he challenged. "If you didn't care you'd have gone down to see him by now. You're too good a leader not to. You'd go to be polite if nothing else." He stared her, anger tinged with the slightest hint of pity evident on his face. "You think staying away proves you're strong?" he asked her harshly. He slowly shook his head. "It doesn't. It only proves you're afraid." "This conversation is over, Piccolo," she announced coldly, walking past him to the gym's shower room. "Waste your time all you want, but stop wasting mine." *** Like a thief she stole into the medbay, making sure no one else was around. She didn't know why she was there, she didn't want to be. This was, in fact, the last place she wanted to be. But something called her here, something she'd been trying to ignore without success. Something that clutched at her heart and throat and constricted her breathing. Piccolo was wrong. It wasn't fear that had kept her away, it was another thing entirely. She stared at Tim's unmoving form. She stared, just stared, refusing to think, refusing to feel. *He's dying,* Tony had said, and the words reverberated inside her like gunshots. Like nanoexplosives going off in her bloodstream. *He's dying.* And each explosion brought forth an echo of the past. Father. Mother. People whose names she couldn't even recall, she'd been so young. She refused to think, refused to feel. But she allowed herself to remember -- it was alright to remember. They were already dead. She couldn't hurt them anymore. They were already dead. *He's dying.* *None of this would have happened if you hadn't come here.* She cut off the words, refusing to give them any more credence, any more power. She was guilty of many things, but not this. This I did not do, she told herself, gathering her strength around her. Not this. But still... She moved closer to Tim, and her hand moved in a strange graceful gesture over his still form. You are nothing to me, she mouthed silently. And no part of me touches you. My fate is mine alone. It was an ancient curse, an ancient blessing. "Get away from him," a harsh voice commanded. Kimura turned to see Lucas standing near the door of the medbay, flanked by Piccolo and Dr. Perry. "Commander," the doctor stated softly, diffusing the hostility in Lucas' voice. "You haven't been properly inoculated. You shouldn't be here." "I was just leaving," Kimura assured her calmly, turning to Tim's form one last time. My fate is mine alone, she repeated silently. "Commander," Lucas questioned, suspicion apparent in his voice. "Just now... Before we came in. What were you doing?" She considered not answering, but she knew they would never accept that. Tim was too important. "Commander?" prompted Lucas, coldly. "I was taking something back," she replied. "What?" demanded Lucas. "My shadow," she answered, turned away and left the room. *** Tony held his breath, pain and sorrow etched on his face, making it appear older than it was. "How is he?" he asked Perry, his voice breaking a little. "About the same," she answered softly. Perry methodically went about her business, examining Tim with her cool hands and a critical eye. "Taking her shadow back," Lucas repeated sarcastically. "What kind of bullshit is that?" "No idea," answered Tony, uninterested in anything but Tim's condition. "Doctor?" he queried. "Some cultures," began Perry quietly while continuing with her examination, "believe that fate, destiny -- luck, if you will -- can be shared. That like a disease it can be contagious. That luck, both ill or good, can overflow into the other people around them -- and that these people can be caught in a metaphysical crossfire of sorts." "So?" asked Lucas. "By taking her shadow back," explained Dr. Perry, "Commander Kimura severs all connection between herself and Lt. O'Neill." "Severs all connection?" repeated Lucas indignantly. "He's dying and she disowns him?" "Something like that," agreed Dr. Perry. "But why?" asked Tony, confused. "Why would she do something like that?" "Well," speculated Dr. Perry, "it could be that she's trying to protect herself. That she's afraid Tim is will die and she'll have bad luck. Or that Tim's ghost will follow her around, haunting her for her sins." "That sounds like her alright," agreed Lucas, disgust written plainly on her face. "And she deserves everything that's coming to her." "Or," continued Dr. Perry calmly, "it could be that she intends just the opposite. It could be that she's trying to protect the Lt. by shielding him from _her_ luck. It could be that she feels responsible for Tim's illness and she's cutting ties to try to save him." "But that's stupid," argued Tony. "That's crock." "Mr. Piccolo," said Dr. Perry, "as I've already said, that belief, that 'crock' as you call it is found in many cultures. Cultures older than you can imagine. I wouldn't dismiss it as superstition just because you don't understand." "Believe me, all that woman cares about is covering her ass," argued Lucas stubbornly. "God, that woman is cold." *** She was cold. Colder than she'd been in a long time. But that was alright, the cold was an old enemy, easily faced, easily conquered. Finding her way to the C-Deck as she always did before she retired to her quarters for the night had become a habit of sorts. A ritual that helped her calm down and clear her brain for sleep. Watching Darwin swim always soothed her, gave her a sense of comfort. Someday, she knew, she would have to give this up, too. When the pleasure became a need, when the comfort became a crutch. But for now it did no harm and helped her gather strength for what she had to face. Forty-eight hours, Dr. Perry had said. Either way, it would be over in forty-eight hours. "Commander?" She turned to see Dagwood watching her as she watched Darwin. Again she marveled at the quiet strength of the GELF. What a waste, she thought, warrior-born, warrior-bred. But then again, things didn't always go the way they're planned, did they? Children didn't always grow up to fulfill their parent's dreams. The echoes came again. Softer this time, but just as undeniable. Mother. Father. "Yes, Dagwood?" she asked kindly, shaking the voices away. "What's wrong?" "Tim is very sick." His voice, like a child's, carried a note of helpless worry, of uncertainty. A long time ago she had decided that Dagwood was the one person on seaQuest she couldn't use, and consequently, the only one who was safe from her. And the only one she allowed herself to feel safe with. Up to a certain point, of course. "I know, Dagwood," she answered softly. "They won't let me see him," he mourned. "They're afraid you'll get sick, too," she explained quietly. "Hepatitis is very contagious." "But I want to see Tim," he protested, "he's my friend and he's very sick." "Tim wouldn't want you to get sick, too, Dagwood," she said softly. "You can see him when he gets better." He hung his head, wringing his hands. "I'm very sad," he announced needlessly. He looked up. "Are you sad, too?" he asked. She turned away and continued to watch Darwin. "Yes, Dagwood," she answered in a quiet faraway voice. "I am." "Tim's my friend," he repeated stubbornly. "I love Tim. Do you love Tim, too?" She could feel him looking at her, waiting for her to answer. In her mind she saw Tim, lying so still, so silent, his spirit flickering weakly inside his tortured body. Did she dare? *You are nothing to me. No part of me touches you. My fate is mine alone. * Finally, very deliberately, she turned to look Dagwood straight in the eye. "No, Dagwoood," she answered, again very quietly, very softly. "I don't." He gave a small nod, accepting her answer without question, without any sign of anger or condemnation. "Do you think he'll be okay?" he asked instead. "Yes, Dagwood," she answered, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'm sure Tim will be fine." After all, she thought, again turning back to Darwin. What's one more lie? Suddenly Darwin gave a high squeal and jumped up in the air, landing in the water with a loud splash. "Darwin?" a sudden inexplicable fear gripped Kimura, on top of other fears. "Darwin?!" "Look, Darwin's happy," commented Dagwood, the beginnings of a smile appearing on his face. Happy? Thought Kimura, confused. How could Darwin be happy? How could anyone ---. "Dagwood! Kimura!" A breathless Lucas ran through the C-Deck doors. "He's awake!" he announced triumphantly, giving Dagwood a hard hug. "Perry says he's gonna be okay!" He leaned down the pool and shouted down into the water. "You hear that, Darwin? Tim's gonna be okay!" Darwin surfaced chattering excitedly. "He already knew," whispered Kimura in awe as Darwin swan close enough for her to pet him. He sprayed her with water, giving her a legitimate excuse to smile, to laugh. "I don't know how," she said, the slightest hint of triumph in her voice, "but he already knew." *** "Henderson," Hudson's voice rang across the bridge, "report?" "All levels acceptable, Captain." "Commander Kimura?" "Just everyday babble, Captain," Kimura answered. "Nothing out of the ordinary." Only she was close enough to hear the Captain's contented sigh. "Glad to be back?" she asked. "Oh yeah," he answered, giving her a tight grin. "My ship is intact, and all hands accounted for. Can't ask for more than that." Matter-of-factly, he added, "You run a tight ship, Commander," "Good work." She nodded, accepting his words without comment. "Lt. O'Neill should be back on duty soon," he observed. "And everything will back to normal." "Aye, Sir," she agreed. "Everything will be back to normal soon." Epilogue She sat in Tim's chair, at Tim's station. She sat there because there was no one who even came close to filling his place; no one had even tried. Briefly she wondered if Tim even knew this. If Tim even had an idea of what he was to this deck of cards. It wasn't only the languages, or the technical expertise. It was something deeper, more vital than anyone could put into words. And he was so blind, he was the only one who couldn't see. But she did. Clearly. How every time something bothered one of the crew Tim would always be the one they sought out. Not the technical problems, of course, nor those of a military nature. No, what they brought to Tim was the important questions. Those dealing with life and death, right and wrong, love and hate. They came to him, in distress or indecision and he met each one squarely, doling out concern, reassurance, advise and sympathy with free and open hands, refusing to take anything in return. Tim had told her, in that long-ago charade, that he was glad he had found her, glad that he wasn't alone anymore. And of all the things he had told her, all his wistful, weak and pathetic mutterings this was the one she had found most laughable. And the most tragic. im thought he was alone. No, Tim, she thought, you're not alone. You never were. You could never be. She wondered they could miss it, miss seeing how the seaQuest was like a living being, each person fulfilling a part, creating a cohesive whole. Hudson was its head. Lucas was, perhaps, its heart. But Tim, Tim was its soul. She saw, even if no one else did. That as alone and as lonely as Tim may have felt, no one else on seaQuest felt the same. No one else felt alone. Because they all had Tim. Even her. For a while. Even her. It would be hard going back, but she could do it. She should have known better than to go against fate, to go against destiny. Hell, Tim, she thought wryly. What do you know about being alone? Some things were just meant to be. THE END ========================================================================== Copyright Jessi Albano 1997 26 August 1997