Date: Sat, 04 Apr 1998 01:44:52 +0800 From: JSA Subject: "ST. ELMO'S FIRE" 1/3 Sender: owner-tales@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu X-Sender: jsa@curricula.net To: tales@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu Reply-to: tales@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu X-Mailer: QUALCOMM Windows Eudora Light Version 3.0.3 (32) X-MIME-Autoconverted: from quoted-printable to 8bit by mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu id LAA13221 My first actual long story for seaQuest. It's a Tim/Kim story, and not for all audiences. *** ST. ELMO'S FIRE, Part 1 by Jessi Albano Disclaimer: Help, I am being held at arrow-point by this strange person with wings who claims to be an ancient mythological god and who refuses to let me go until I finish this story. Genre: SeaQuest 2032 Gore Factor: Any damage incurred in this story was purely to the author's image of herself as a serious writer. Smut Factor: For the unimaginative, minimal. For Tedites, who knows? Mush factor: About 85%. Maybe 90%. Okay, okay, 100%!!! Rating: PG-13, as usual. a seaQuest 2032 story based on characters from seaQuest DSV and seaQuest 2032 Prologue In his dreams she was wild, demanding -- holding on to him with desperate hands, refusing to let go. There was heat, firelight, and a frantic hunger, yet also an innocence, a sweet, artless yearning. In his dreams he was in control, and because he was, because there he could trust her, he dropped his shields and told her how much he loved her, how he had always loved her. In his dreams she loved him back. In her dreams he was gentle, sensitive -- vowing eternal love, swearing unending fealty. There were sweet words, tender looks, and a soft light in his eyes. There was moonlight, sure, capable hands and an inevitable, confident seduction. In her dreams she was helpless, and because she was, because here she had no choice, she dropped her guard and told him how much she loved him, how she had always loved him. In her dreams he loved her back. But the morning always came. *** "Tim, we've been here an hour," complained Ensign Lucas Wolenczak, shifting from one foot to another in boredom. "Yeah, Tim," said Tony. "We're wasting a perfectly great day in this station. And it isn't often we get a week's leave while we're docked for repairs. We could be doing this town. I mean, I know this is supposed to be a garden colony, but there's gotta be a decent nightclub here somewhere, right?" "Look, I'm sorry," said Lt. Tim O'Neill, "but I promised my Mother I'd meet this shuttle." "Why?" asked the blonde ensign. "What's on it?" "She said it was a surprise," said Tim, gloomily adding, "I hate surprises." "Well, we all know it can't be cookies, so whaddaya say we just leave a note or something and have the concierge or whatever it is they have out here forward whatever it is to seaQuest?" "Concierge?" asked Lucas, amused. "Since when did you start using words like 'concierge'?" "Since I started hanging out with a putz like you," returned Piccolo good-naturedly. "I'm sorry, guys," O'Neill apologized again. "I can't. My mom left specific instructions that I wait here for whatever it is. And believe me, specific orders from my Mom are not to be ignored. You can go ahead if you want, I'll catch up." "Nah," shrugged Tony, shooting Lucas a meaningful glance. "We'll wait." The last thing Tony wanted was to leave his friend alone with his thoughts. Tim alone these days was a dangerous proposition. Since Kimura came on board he'd become more and more withdrawn, more and more stoic. These days Tim seemed totally focused, totally on guard. He was, in fact, now the very picture of a military man -- precise, distant, fully in control. Nothing fazed him, nothing disturbed his calm. Tony seriously doubted anything got through that shell he had built around himself. Tony knew that Hudson and Ford applauded this change -- Ford had even gone so far as to say that this shift would probably save Tim's life someday. At the very least, it had saved his career. But Tony missed the easy-going, worrisome Tim of the old days. He missed Tim's constant babbling about things that were beyond his comprehension. Heck, he even missed the old Tim's endless anxiety attacks. Tim had always been the sensitive one, the one with the conscience. He had always been the one who took things so seriously, so personally. Wendy had tried to explain it to him once, how Tim felt things much more deeply than the normal person, how he always saw things from a different point of view and consequently took things harder. How Tim was much more precarious than the rest of the crew. How Tim was much more thoughtful. He had been so worried that Tim would be broken by Kimura's betrayal. They all had been. But Tim had surprised everyone. He had gotten up, brushed himself off and gotten on with his life, as if writing the entire episode off. But it seemed to Tony that now there was a large part of Tim missing. Something vital, something bright and shining. This Tim was as closed to him as to the rest of the world. He looked at Lucas, who was trying to amuse himself by working out a problem on his portable computer. The same could be said of the young genius, he thought. He remembered how Lucas used to jokingly insist that it was his job as a kid to be hyper, to be a wise-ass. Now Lucas was cool, apathetic, as emotional as a statue. "People deal with loss their own way," Perry had advised him. "You have to let your friends work out their problems themselves." Tony sighed. What kind of world was this, he thought. As if it wasn't enough that they had to deal with the threat of Macronesia, Deon Enterprises and the Choadai, they had to guard against people wearing the same uniform. As if it wasn't enough that they had to deal with the loss of ten years of their lives and their friends, they had to mourn the living, too. As if dealing with hate wasn't hard enough. Now they had to be afraid of love. *** Their moods picked up as a shuttle was announced, followed a few moments later by a deluge of people passing through the entrance of the port. "Tim!" shouted a beautiful feminine voice from somewhere inside the throng. In seconds a young woman with blonde hair and bright green eyes had separated from the crowd and launched herself at Tim. Tim's arms closed around her instinctively, and he stood shock-still as the beautiful girl lifted her face to his and kissed him passionately. A loud clearing of the throat reminded them they were not alone. The girl ended the kiss reluctantly, grinning at O'Neill at giving him a hard hug. "God, Tim," she said breathlessly, "I am so happy to see you!" She looked askance at Tim, who was still staring confusedly at her. "You're looking at me the way you did when I dyed my hair red," she laughed. "Close your mouth, Tim, people might decide to drop coins in it." Suddenly everything registered. "Selena?" asked Tim in disbelief. "Selena Matheson?" "In the flesh," she dimpled back at him, her green eyes sparkling. And it was impossible to tell who was the most surprised when Tim hugged the girl, lifted her off her feet and spun her around laughing joyously. *** They'd been friends forever. To the twelve-year-old Tim, the baby girl next door had been an endless source of delight. He hadn't been doing well in school -- the public school system being too rigid, too structured for the boy he'd been. His peers had found him too serious, too boring, and his teachers had found him too precocious, too knowledgeable, too curious. Every hour spent in that hell had been painful.. Each day all he could think of was escape, and escape he did, every afternoon, into the Mathesons' backyard. The baby grinning toothlessly at him each time he came into view was like a balm to his soul, healing the ache that seemed to be a constant companion. Selena's mother was an archeologist, who, though she loved her daughter dearly, had been bewildered by the demands of the only non-intellectual person in her life. She'd been glad enough to surrender her daughter into Tim's care for a couple of hours everyday, giving her a chance to delve back into her books, her artifacts and her maps. Rhea Matheson's library had also been a haven for Tim, full of incredible books that the public library had never even heard about. Books on mythology and ancient cultures, legends, tales and history. As soon as he had put the baby down for her nap, he would join her there and together they would explore the secrets of the ancient world. It had been Mrs. Matheson, he was reminded now, who had spoken to his parents about sending him to a school for gifted children. His father had been violently opposed at first, but her gentle coaxing had finally swayed his decision. He shuddered to think about what could have happened to him, what kind of person he'd have grown up to be if Mrs. Matheson hadn't cared enough to interfere. Or if Selena hadn't been there to make him smile. He'd watched her grow hair, grow teeth, grow up. He'd been there as she took her first steps, grinning in delight as she learned to open the door and run to meet him when he'd come for his afternoon visits. He had laughed, the first time she had rebelled against being made to nap, leaving her bed to bang on the library door, demanding to be let in. He'd treasured her wonder, her delight as he read fairy tales to her, taught her to read her first words, taught her to write her name. They'd been so close. Closer than brother and sister. He had taken care of her, watched her, kept her safe. And she, she had listened to his troubles, made him laugh, made him feel important, needed, special. She looked at him with wonder and love, and in her eyes he could do no wrong. She was the one person he could talk to about anything, the one person he was sure wouldn't judge, wouldn't condemn. Selena. She'd been his best friend and he, hers. She had been the best part of his childhood. The best part of him. *** "Dammit, Selena," said Tim when they were finally alone. "Where have you been?" The restaurant had been crowded and impossibly noisy so they had opted to wander around the garden colony and enjoy the sights. It wasn't working though. For all the beautiful flora surrounding them, the only thing Tim could see was Selena. Selena, the little girl next door, his friend. He stared at her, unable to reconcile the beautiful woman walking beside him with the child she'd been. He had asked his mother about her when he got back but received a vague story about losing touch after she graduated from college. He tried to ask the Mathesons but all he'd gotten were sad, pained looks in their eyes. He couldn't blame them. He'd missed her, too. A lot This woman walking beside him was poised, serene, peace and light shining through her eyes, through her face. Yet there was an almost visible core of strength tempering that peace, as if the peace had been hard-earned, and well-deserved. "Where have I been?" she laughed. "You were the one who disappeared for ten years. Where have you been?" How could he answer that, thought Tim. What could he say? 'I've been lost in outer space for about ten years and don't ask me about it because I don't remember anything?' Yeah. Right. "Sorry, that information is classified," he answered, wincing slightly as he remembered the countless times he had droned that same response. He wished he could tell Selena the truth, wished he could explain that he had had no choice in staying away. "Well," she said solemnly, "just don't ever do it again. Don't ever scare me like that again, Tim." "Don't worry," he grinned. She didn't smile back, just looked at him seriously. "I mean it, Tim," she said softly, steel edging her voice. "Don't leave me again." He stared at her, wondering if she meant what he thought she meant. She had said the same thing when he left for college, and again when he joined the navy. 'Don't leave me,' she had said in that wonderful voice, looking up at him tearfully with those big green eyes. He had laughed and told her he'd be back before she even missed him. Even that last time. "Don't worry," he repeated softly. "I won't." "Good," she said seriously, and then gave him a brilliant smile. "I love this place," she said, glancing up at the trees they were walking under. "Isn't it wonderful how they were able to grow them under the ocean, without the benefit of sunshine?" Tim laughed. "I try not to think about it," he said. "We've had less than pleasant experiences with experimental hybrids on the seaQuest. And I think I'm starting to forget what sunshine looks and feels like." "Maybe you should take a leave of absence and visit my house," she offered. "I bought this sweet little cabin in Skye." "Scotland?" he asked, surprised. "That's where you've been all this time?" She nodded. "My studio's there, too. I was closeted with my band for eight months working on my next album." She laughed. "I wanted to kick myself when I learned that the seaQuest had been back for months and I hadn't heard anything about it. Took me another three months to track you guys down and arrange this trip." She shook her head in mild exasperation. "You're a hard man to get hold of, Timothy O'Neill." "Yeah," he retorted wryly. "Life in the navy is kind of... complicated." "Life anywhere is complicated," she answered, laughingly. "I can't believe it's really you," commented Tim wonderingly after a brief, pregnant silence. "I mean, look at you, you're all grown up!" "Well, you've been gone a long time," she commented, pain flickering briefly in her eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to meet you when you got back," she said. "I came as soon as I could." "I know," Tim answered softly, smiling wryly. "I know." "I've missed you so much," she whispered. He stared at the beautiful woman standing in front of him, and then impulsively pulled her into his arms. "I've missed you, too," he whispered back. "I'm so glad you're back," she continued. "So am I," he responded. "For the first time since we got back, so am I." *** "Don't you got beer in this joint?" asked Piccolo. "Yes, we do," answered the pretty waitress patiently. "Several kinds, in fact." "Look in your menu, Tony," said Ford. "There are at least 6 kinds of beer listed there." "Where?" asked Tony. "I don't see nothin'." "Look under 'lager,'" advised Lucas. "Dammit," said Tony, after the waitress had taken their orders. "This is the first time I've ever been in a bar that had a menu." "It's a lounge," corrected Lt. Lonnie Henderson. "A music lounge." "A lounge," ribbed Tony. "I'm tellin' ya Tim, you owe us big for this. An evening in a 'lounge' drinking 'lager' and listening to ... what did she call it again?" "Alternative music," supplied Lucas. "And what the heck does that mean?" asked Piccolo. "Basically it just means it's not electronically based," explained Tim. "Like folk music." "Aw gad," moaned Tony. "Folk music. Please don't make me listen to folk music." "Shh, Tony," admonished Henderson. "Be nice. It was very… sweet of Miss Matheson to invite us all." "Yeah," agreed Ford. "Besides, it hasn't actually been proven that folk music is fatal." He grinned. "Painful, yes. Fatal, no." "I like music," Dagwood said slowly. "I sing sometimes." "She was planning to study classical music when we... when we left," Tim mused. "I really don't know when she shifted to alternative music." "Selena Matheson has released four albums in the last six years," Kimura supplied from her end of the table. "All went double platinum in the first week." "You've heard her?" Tim asked in spite of himself. "The Choadai scan all unsecured radio channels," Kimura answered tonelessly. "And some secured ones. Miss Matheson is very popular. Though she doesn't usually give live performances." "That would explain why this place is packed," said Piccolo. "But I'm telling ya, Tim, I hear one accordion and I'm outta here." "So where did you two go off to after you disappeared yesterday?' asked Lucas, winking wickedly. Lonnie kicked him under the table, throwing a quick meaningful glance in Kimura's direction. Lucas blinked innocently and then grinned at Ford, who shook his head in mild censure. Tim was too distracted to notice all the elbow-jabbing and surreptitious glances that the others at the table were exchanging. But not Kimura. She saw every raised eyebrow, heard every whisper, caught every covert gesture. However, the Choadai warrior refused to acknowledge anything. She kept her eyes alternately on the stage, and at the people around. They were mostly young people, she noticed, mostly in pairs. "We went to the park," Tim answered absently. "We found a nice tree, sat under it and talked -- catching up on family news, that sort of thing." "So how come you never told us about her?" asked Lonnie. "Yeah," added Tony. "How come you never said you knew such a hot babe?" "She was only sixteen the last time I saw her," protested Tim. "She was like a baby sister -- we sort of adopted each other a while back since we were both only children." "None of my sisters look at me the way she looked at you," ribbed Tony. "And believe me, none of them kiss me like she kissed you, either." "She was just happy to see me," said Tim, still distracted. "Oh yeah," winked Lucas, "I'll say she was. Very happy, in fact." The loud applause prohibited any further conversation. The lights on the stage went up, soft shimmering lights, with one single spotlight shining on an old-fashioned bar stool and a microphone. Selena came on stage and the applause became even louder, with whistles and shouted compliments, but stopped as soon as she took her seat on the stool. "Look," whispered Tony, impressed. "That's a Martin she's carrying. It must be a hundred years old. I wonder where she got it?" "I gave it her," said Tim, proudly. "For her 12th birthday. I found it in this pawnshop in Detroit. Spent a week restoring the thing. I can't believe she still has it." He shushed the others as Selena began to talk. "Hi everybody, " Selena easily greeted the audience. "Before I begin I'd like to let you know that a very good friend of mine, one who I haven't seen in a very long time is in the audience tonight, and I'd like you all to help me welcome him back. So Tim," she continued through the applause, throwing a brilliant smile in his direction, "let's see if those lessons paid off, shall we?" Tim sat spellbound as she started to sing. Her voice, in the years since he'd heard it, had grown, matured, acquiring a power it only used to hint at. He remembered the sweet uncomplicated songs she used to sing to him, only to him. Now she held an entire room spellbound with that voice and he didn't doubt that she could do it every night for eternity. And the songs she sang, they all sounded so familiar, and yet so new. And they went straight to the heart. She sang songs about the earth and the sky, the stars and the sea -- about life and death. But he heard other meanings within the songs, about surviving loss, about hearts lost, then found. She sang of promises that never had a chance to be kept, and hearts that still believed. And then she sang about an endless waiting, an endless love. He never took his eyes off the stage, noted Kimura. He never took his eyes off Selena. A hush went through the crowd as she began to play the introduction to her last song. "This last song is an old one," she said, smiling at the audience. "It's the first song I ever wrote, ever recorded, and it's very special." She began to sing and if her previous songs were beautiful, this one was pure beauty, pure magic. Tim listened in awe as the words turned his world inside out. Farewell, my sweet love I watch you go from me, eager to brave the darkness With sails full unfurled, your eyes upon some star I try to tell myself -- maybe it's for the best -- But I know I'll never love this way again Never again be so young, so free It all seems so distant now, like a story I once read Who was that laughing girl, was it me? Farewell, my sweet love Once upon a time, we met under stars and danced But now the dawn has passed, now the wind blows high Chasing away remembrance I will always hold thee pressed between the pages of my heart Secretly taken out to warm me on cold nights Your name will ever grace my mind's store of regrets And the tally of my souls' delights... "It's called 'Tim's Journey,'" supplied Kimura tonelessly. "I hadn't made the connection before." Selena continued to sing and for Tim, the world seemed to stop. "My God," he thought, "she wrote this for me. For me. And I never realized..." Farewell, my sweet love Know that as you go from me, I leave the best behind All the faith and the folly, all the fury and the fire All the treasure that I could ever have and hope to find. But if someday you look behind you, and if someday you chance to want The closed door re-opened, the candle burning bright, Know that I am here for you, know that you will ever be my love As long as stars name the night. ... Know that I wait for you, you'll always be my love As long as stars name the night... When the last note had died away, she looked straight at their table. "I'm glad you're home, Tim," she said softly, her heart in her eyes. Tim stared back at her, looking like he was under a trance. There was a moment of silence and then the room erupted in rapturous applause, and the spell was broken. Selena smiled at the audience, thanked them and then left the stage, despite the fact that the crowd clamored for more. "Dear Lord, Tim," Ford whispered in disbelief, awed by the emotions that charged the air. "You joined the navy and left that behind?" "You know, Jonathan," said Tim musingly, craning his neck to see where Selena had disappeared to after the song. "I was just asking myself that very same question..." *** TBC - ******************************************************** "The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his." - General George Patton The Goddess of War Homepage http://www.geocities.com/TimesSquare/1730 The ESCAPED/TALES Archive http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Zone/7124/ ******************************************************** Date: Sat, 04 Apr 1998 01:45:10 +0800 From: JSA Subject: "ST. ELMO'S FIRE" 2/3 Sender: owner-tales@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu X-Sender: jsa@curricula.net To: tales@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu Reply-to: tales@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu X-Mailer: QUALCOMM Windows Eudora Light Version 3.0.3 (32) X-MIME-Autoconverted: from quoted-printable to 8bit by mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu id LAA13228 ST. ELMO'S FIRE, Part 2 by Jessi Albano They all went out for drinks afterward. Tony watched Kimura closely for the first few minutes, but relaxed as he noted that she was maintaining that cool controlled look that was her trademark. There was a brief awkward moment as Tim introduced Selena to Kimura, but it went unnoticed by everyone. Kimura smiled and calmly took Selena's hand when it was offered. She listened politely as Selena and Tim joked together, noting Tim's pleased embarrassment as Selena told story after story about their childhood together. She watched silently as the alcohol loosened their tongues and the crew in turn supplied Selena with fresh stories about their adventures. She looked on emotionlessly as Tim first reached for Selena's hand, then placed his arm around her in unconscious intimacy. She smilingly refused every offered drink, stating that she was the designated driver and that she didn't drink anyway. She never drank. She put a premium on her self-control and would never compromise it. It was too dangerous. The only reason she was still alive, that she was still sane, was because she never let down her guard. She didn't drink. But tonight she wished she did. *** "Mr. O'Neill," commented Captain Oliver Hudson as he signed yet another shuttle pass request for the Communications Officer, "I see that the Hesperides colony continues to hold you in its thrall. How do you explain this sudden interest in horticulture?" Tim looked blankly at Hudson. If he didn't know better he would have thought that the seaQuest Captain was joking with him. "A friend of mine is staying at the colony, sir." he answered politely. "I wanted to spend time with her." Hudson sighed. He guessed it was too much to ask that the crew actually consider him to be a person, capable of humor and compassion. "Very well," he said, dismissing Tim. "And Lt.?" "Yes, Sir?" "I hope this works out for you." "I'm sure it will, Captain," smiled Tim, saluting smartly and leaving the room. It occurred to Hudson that he had never actually seen the Communications Officer so lighthearted, so happy. Whoever this woman was, she was good for Tim, that much was clear. He only wished he didn't have such a bad feeling about the entire situation. *** "Why did you leave Detroit?" Tim asked as they walked through the apple tree farm. "I got accepted in Julliard to study music," Selena answered, "and when I was done, there didn't seem reason to go back." "How can you say that?" he asked. "Your family is there." "So is yours," she countered softly. "And your mom says you've only gone back once since you returned." He had no response to that so he remained quiet. "It was just too hard to go back there after... after you disappeared," she answered, smiling sadly. "It didn't seem like home anymore. And there were too many memories." "It wasn't so bad at first," she added after a few moments. "That first few years, I mean. The worst time was when they stopped looking. And when… after the seventh year." Tim was quiet. Seven years. He thought. They would have declared him legally dead. All of them. For the first time he considered what his parents, his other friends may have felt. To him those years had passed in a flash of light. To Selena, each day had been real. It made his head spin just to think of what she had been through. If it had been the other way around, he thought, he would have gone mad for sure. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's not your fault," she responded quietly. "Do you remember," she asked suddenly, "when my dog died?" "Genoan?" he asked, surprised. It had been so long ago. "Yes," she nodded. "He'd been so sick. And the vet wanted to put him to sleep. I kept refusing. Just kept telling him he'd be okay. And Genoan tried so hard. He was in so much pain but he kept trying because I kept begging him to." She smiled wistfully, reminiscently. "Then you came and talked to me. My Mom had your Mom call you home from college. And you told me that if I really loved Genoan I'd let him go. Do you remember?" Tim nodded. "I lost it," she continued. "I just broke down and cried. All I could think about was that if Genoan died I'd have no one. I'd have no one left to love me." She turned her green gaze at Tim. "And do you remember what you said to me? You said 'that's not true. I'll be here.' And then you held me while the vet put Genoan to sleep." She was silent. "And then on my birthday you bought me my guitar." "After seaQuest disappeared," she went on, "I thought I'd go crazy. For the first time in my life I couldn't see a future. I used to have such dreams, Tim, do you remember? Such plans. I could close my eyes and have them come alive. When you disappeared it was as if every one of those dreams disappeared with you. It was as if I stood at the edge of a darkness that had no end. I wanted to end it all then. It, life, didn't seem worth it anymore. " She smiled at Tim's startled, worried look. "Well, obviously I didn't go through with it. Don't look so worried, Tim. Do you know what saved me?" Tim shook his head. "It was the music. Do you remember what you said to me when you gave me that guitar?" "I said that maybe someday you'll write a song for me," he remembered. "Then you joined the navy. For years all I could think about was how angry I was at you for leaving me." She smiled. "Then you disappeared and all I could think about was how I never wrote you that song. So I did. Then I wrote others. That's what kept me alive." "It's a beautiful song," he whispered. "Thank you." "It's your song. If it's beautiful it's because of you." She considered her next words carefully. "You were gone, but I had what you gave to me. The music that you gave to me. And you were right," "I was?" he asked. "About what?" "You were there. In every song, every note." She let go of his hand, and turned to the trees. "I never was any good at letting go," she whispered. "You don't have to," he said quietly. He took her by the shoulders and turned her towards him. "I'm here," he said, looking into her eyes and then pulling her into his arms. "I'll always be here for you." "I never told you," she whispered brokenly, wrapping her arms around him. "I let you leave without telling you." "Telling me what?" he asked softly, feeling her tears seep into the fabric of his shirt. For some reason he felt like crying himself. "I love you," she said. "I've always loved you." Tim stood still, shocked by the emotions that suddenly coursed through him. She loved him? She loved him! "Don't say anything," Selena begged after she made that astonishing declaration. "I just wanted to tell you. All these years I promised myself that if I ever got the chance I'd tell you." He'd stared at her, looking for the child he'd left ten years ago. He couldn't find her. What he held in his arms now was a woman, and her eyes were full of love. For him. "Dammit, Selena," he said again angrily, achingly. "Where have you been?" Then he lowered his head and touched his mouth to hers. It was infinitely sweet, this kiss. If love had a scent, Tim thought, had a taste, it would be like this. Of flowers and promises. Of springtime and healing. It shouldn't smell of sandalwood. It shouldn't taste of danger. The kiss blossomed, went deeper, and Tim hoped it would never end. He wanted this. He wanted to forget. To lose himself in Selena's arms, in Selena's love, until the world made sense again. Until he felt whole again. The kiss ended but neither made any move to separate. "Dammit, Tim," Selena shot back softly, resting her head on his shoulder. "Where have you been?" "Lost," he whispered. "I got lost. But I'm back now. I'm back." "Thank God, Tim," she said, holding him even more tightly, "Thank God you're home." *** "I'm worried," Ford said to Lonnie as they were having dinner. "Whatever for?" asked Lonnie. "This is the fourth night Tim's been out with Selena." Lonnie laughed. "And that worries you? You always say that a nice girl is just what Tim needs." "I know. But..." He threw a surreptitious glance to where Kimura was eating dinner. "I can't help thinking about what this could do to our team." "It's his decision to make, Jonathan," she said, touching his hand. "You can't hold him back. Not if this is what might make him happy." "But what about --?" "That's not your decision to make, either." Lonnie was quiet. "You're not responsible." "You think I'm crazy, don't you?" he asked quietly. "For wanting this? For them?" "If it's right," she answered gently, "it'll happen. It happened with us, didn't it?" "We weren't so stubborn," he smiled. "I wasn't. You were." she laughed, leaning over to give him a quick kiss, making sure that no one was looking. "Stop worrying, Jonathan. We ship out in two days. Everything will be back to normal soon." "Maybe," he conceded. And maybe nothing ever will be again, he added to himself grimly. *** Today they were on a picnic in the rose sector, recreating one of their favorite rituals from that long-ago life. "Your friends seemed really nice," she commented as she opened the picnic basket and investigated its contents. "Yes, they are," he agreed, smiling lazily. "They really care about you," she added, offering him a piece of chocolate cake which he accepted eagerly. "They watched me like a hawk that night." "Hmmm?" he mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate, making her laugh. He swallowed exaggeratedly, making her laugh harder. "What do you mean?" "Your friends," she said, still laughing. "They acted like I was going to turn into a werewolf at any moment and bite you, or something." "I'm sure they didn't mean to make you feel awkward," he said slowly, making a mental note to sound the guys out when he got back to seaQuest. "I thought it was sweet," she smiled. "I was happy to know you've got such great friends. That you weren't alone all those years." "Were you?" he asked seriously. "Alone all those years, I mean." She smiled. "No, I wasn't," she said softly. "No?" he asked suspiciously. "I told you," she answered, rubbing away his frown with her thumb, like she used to do. "I had you." He smiled, and their lips met in another tender kiss. "God, Tim, this is like a dream," Selena whispered. "A beautiful, unbelievable dream. And I'm so afraid any minute I'll wake up and you won't be there." "I'm here," Tim assured her, stroking her hair. "I'm here." And he wished with all his heart he wasn't also afraid of that very same thing. *** Slowly, painfully, Tony made his way to the launching pad. "What's wrong?" said Kimura, materializing from the shadows, startling the warrant officer. "My stomach hurts," said Tony, smiling wryly. "I think trying the paella was a little too ambitious." "Then why aren't you in bed or in sick-bay like a sensible person?" she asked curtly. "I gotta go pick up Tim," he said, his face contorting as another cramp hit him. "Don't worry, I'm fine," he smiled reassuringly. "Go to medbay, Piccolo, " Kimura ordered. "I gotta go pick up Tim," he protested. "We ship out at 0800 tomorrow and if he ain't here Hudson will have a fit." "Maybe he doesn't want to be here," she said flatly. "Tim's not like that," Tony protested. "He doesn't just disappear. If he was... going, he'd at least say good-bye." She stared at him silently and then nodded. "Go to medbay, Tony. You're in no shape to pilot a shuttle anyway. Give me your shuttle pass, I'll go pick Tim up." Tony was startled at the offer -- startled, touched and vaguely suspicious all at the same time. In the months they'd been together he'd formed a grudging respect for Kimura, not only as a fighter but as a woman. Of all the people at seaQuest, he knew better than anyone how Kimura felt about Tim. And he knew how Tim felt about Kimura. And he wasn't sure it was the best thing for either one. "You don't have to do that," he said. "Look, I'll go wake up Lucas..." "No, I'll do it," she said with finality. Tony looked at Kimura seriously. "You know where he is, don't you?" he asked cautiously. "You know who he's with." Kimura smiled wryly. "I'm not a child, Tony." She held her hand out and Tony reluctantly handed over his shuttle pass. As she curled her hand around it, she voiced the fear that was lurking in Tony's heart. "What if he's not there?" "You have to wait. He'll be there." He turned to face Kimura and the pain on his face did not come wholly from his cramps, and was not wholly for himself. "Promise you'll wait." Kimura nodded solemnly. *** Tim and Selena walked together like children, hand in hand, matching steps. As they reached the door of her hotel Selena started to let go of Tim's hand. She was surprised when his grip tightened, and he looked solemnly, tenderly into her eyes. "I don't want this night to end," he whispered. "But we ship out tomorrow and I guess I should go." "Not yet," she whispered back. "Come up to my room for a while." He stared at her, and she looked back at him. He'd never seen eyes so clear, so open. Her soul was in her eyes, and there was nothing in them but the truth. All he could see was the light in them and all if it was for him. All he could see in her eyes was himself. "Are you sure?" he asked softly. She smiled again, that sweet loving smile that he now knew so well. "I've always been sure, Tim," she answered, and gently took him by the hand. *** She stood in the shadows, fighting off the burning sensation in her eyes. The sight of Tim kissing Selena had been like a knife to her heart, and now she was in shock. She was drowning upon a wave of truth, caught helplessly in an undertow of pain. She watched them disappear through the hotel doors and it was all she could do to stay on her feet. Tim and Selena, she thought. They were so perfect together, so perfect for each other that it was all she could do not to weep at the sight of them together. Selena made Tim happy made him smile and laugh. Selena knew all the songs he loved, all the people, all the places. Selena made him feel strong and safe, made him feel... good. Selena was someone he could trust, he could talk to, someone he could love without giving up his soul. And Selena loved Tim, she could see it in the other woman's eyes. She would never hurt him, never cause him pain. She would take care of him, soothe his worries, smile away his anxieties. She could give Tim her heart, whole and unscarred, and fill his days with laughter and song. She would give him children. She would not place him and all he loved in danger for a vendetta. She would not drive him out of his mind demanding that he choose. It was over. She'd been a fool to even consider the possibility. And she'd wasted enough time on this silly useless dream. Maybe it was just as well. She couldn't afford any more mistakes, any more displays of weakness. Maybe Selena was the gods' way of telling her it was time to get back to work. Tim would be fine. Selena would take care of him. Maybe she'd even convince him to leave the navy and settle down somewhere peaceful and safe. That would be good. She would concentrate on that. Tim would be safe. Tim would be happy. And she could finally get on with her war. Her war. She was tired. So tired. What kind of world was this that she had run to, full of wants and dreams, riddled with temptations? She'd been whole once, a long time ago. Even caged she'd known exactly who she was, what she had to do, and there had been no questions, no doubts. Just one single certainty. One purpose, one beat. Not anymore. Maybe now she could forget. Maybe now she could stop being afraid that one day he would turn to her and demand she give up her vengeance. Maybe now she could stop being afraid she wouldn't be strong enough to say no. She looked at her hands, at the characters carved into her palms. Life. Death. The coin of the Choadai. She curled her hands, hiding them. Life and death, she repeated to herself, not love. Not love. Resolutely, she turned and walked back to the docking bay. *** TBC - ******************************************************** "The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his." - General George Patton The Goddess of War Homepage http://www.geocities.com/TimesSquare/1730 The ESCAPED/TALES Archive http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Zone/7124/ ******************************************************** Date: Sat, 04 Apr 1998 01:45:28 +0800 From: JSA Subject: "ST. ELMO's FIRE" 3/3 Sender: owner-tales@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu X-Sender: jsa@curricula.net To: tales@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu Reply-to: tales@mcfeeley.cc.utexas.edu X-Mailer: QUALCOMM Windows Eudora Light Version 3.0.3 (32) ST ELMO'S FIRE, Part 3 by Jessi Albano "You're trying too hard," Selena commented, ending the kiss. "What do you mean?" Tim asked, confused. "Am I doing something wrong?" "No," said Selena, moving out of his arms. She turned away, walked further into the hotel room. "I think you should leave now." "What?" he asked, bewildered. "I think it's time for you to go," she repeated quietly. All of a sudden he was angry. Furious. "If you don't want to do this, just say so," he said. "If you decided that you made a mistake, that you don't love me after all, then for God's say just say so." "I love you," she said softly. "I've always loved you. But you're right. I don't want to do this." "Why not?" he asked, hurt. "Because you don't love me," she answered calmly "Who is she?" she asked sadly. "Who?" asked Tim, no longer confused and stiffening in reaction. "The one that put those shadows in your eyes," she answered gently. "What did she do to you?" "I don't know what you're talking about," he responded coldly. "Oh yes, you do." She took his face in her hands and tenderly looked into his eyes. "You're not here. You're still lost, aren't you, Tim?" He had to look away. "Don't do this," he begged. "Don't ask these questions. Give us a chance." He looked again into her eyes and he could see her pain, and her understanding. "You're everything I've ever wanted," he said softly. "I'm everything you think you want," she corrected gently. "I make you feel safe. I'm your tie to a past you lost. And yes, I know you care about me. But it's not enough." She was silent, then. "Who is she?" "She has nothing to do with this." he protested. Selena turned back towards the window, hiding her face. "How can you say that?" she asked harshly, pain roughing her beautiful voice. "When I can feel her there, between us? When I can't reach your heart because she's already there?" He was silent for a long time. "It's not like you to lie to me," she said quietly. "You never lie." "I never used to," he corrected, tiredly. "Maybe I've changed." "Not that much," she answered quietly. "Nobody changes that much. What happened, Tim? Why have you shut yourself away like this? Why won't you give yourself a chance?" "Why are you asking me this?" he asked harshly. "What purpose does it serve?" "Just tell me," she requested quietly. "I'm your friend. I want to understand." He stared at her, and then told the truth. He was tired of denying it. To everyone and to himself. He started with that first letter, how he had sat in front of his computer, wondering if he should answer a letter so obviously sent to him by mistake. How surprised he had been when she answered that letter, and how it had continued until he found himself first intrigued, then fascinated, and finally utterly bespelled by a girl, by a woman he had never met face to face. He told her about how her letters made him smile, made him laugh, made him feel. That had been it, he explained, he had felt so lost, so detached from everything, until this farm girl made him feel again. Made him look forward to something, made him hope that this new world actually held something special for him, that this new world actually made sense. He told Selena about how he felt when Jim died, and how Kimura had been the only thing that had kept him sane. Her voice had kept him anchored, had kept him from getting lost in the pain. He revealed the triumph he had felt when she had reluctantly admitted that she had feelings for him, too. The rising excitement as they finally set that date, and the utter, total devastation when he realized that she had been using him, that she had been lying all along. A lie. He had loved a lie. The truth was she had never cared, had never even thought of him as a person. He had been a way out, a means to an end. He had given his heart to a phantom, had put everything on the line for a woman who didn't exist. "Remember my Don Quixote fantasy?" he said, laughing bitterly, humorlessly. "Well, she was my Dulcinea. I wanted to protect her, keep her safe. I wanted to be her knight in shining armor. But none of it was real." He looked up and saw Selena sitting quietly in front of him, listening to his every word. "She broke my heart," he concluded softly. "She made me believe in love and then proved it didn't exist. She made me love someone who was never real." Selena continued to sit quietly, emotions panning through her eyes. Then she smiled gently, and took his hand. "You use the wrong argument," she said softly. Tim looked at her in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Weren't you the one who taught me that the truth is subjective?" she asked with a slight smile. "That the truth is whatever it is we believe, whatever we make it?" "There never was any Dulcinea, remember?" she reminded him. "It was always Aldonza. What part does the truth play in love? Was Aldonza the truth, or was Dulcinea? Who was real, who was the dream? Who did Quixote love? And who loved Quixote? Who needed him? For that matter, who was the real Quixote?" Tim remained quiet, absorbing her words. "You're a nautical man, Tim," Selena continued, "do you know what St. Elmo's Fire is?" He looked at her questioningly but she only smiled back. Shrugging he began to recite from memory. "St. Elmo's Fire, the glow accompanying the brush-like discharges of atmospheric electricity that usually appears as a tip of light on the extremities of such pointed objects as church towers or the masts of ships during stormy weather. Or on the periphery of propellers and wing tips of airplanes. St. Elmo, or St. Erasmus, is considered to be the patron saint of the Mediterranean sailors who regard the glow, or St. Elmo's Fire, as the visible sign of his guardianship over them. But of course, there's a lot of controversy about whether or not the glow actually exists or is just an illusion. Not to mention about St. Erasmus himself, being as there were two saints named Erasmus, and none of them actually was proven to be connected with sailing or the ocean ..." "How very precise," Selena laughed softly. "But good enough for the purposes of our discussion. Let's take the legend of St. Elmo's Fire. As you say -- was it an illusion? A miracle sent by a saint? Was it a purely scientific phenomenon -- electrical, chemical? Or was it a lie?" She turned to face him squarely. "Guess what? It didn't matter. Not to those sailors. They didn't care what the explanation was. All they knew was when they needed it, it would appear. And that if they had faith, if they believed, it would lead them safely back home." "So?" he asked, confused. "Love, Tim," she explained softly, "is like St. Elmo's Fire. You can't fully explain it. You can't even prove if it actually exists or not. You just feel it in your heart. But if you trust it, it will lead you home." "Those ten years you were gone," she continued softly, "were you real? If a tree falls in the forest and nobody is around to hear, does it make a sound? I thought you were dead, we all did. But it didn't matter, I still loved you. You, whatever you were -- a memory, a fantasy, a lie -- I still loved you." "Was that how you felt?" he asked quietly. "All those years?" "Yes," she said somberly. "I got lost, too, for a while. When they said you were dead I thought I'd go mad. But I found my way back. You know what led me home, Tim? It was you. It was the music you gave me. And the faith that somehow, somewhere I'd see you again." She smiled at him. "I love you, Tim, that's enough. Nobody ever said you had to love me, too." "I do love you," said Tim. "Not like you love her," she said sadly, quietly. "No," he admitted, just as quietly. He moved towards her, and she let him take her again into his arms. "I wish it was you, though," he said. "I wish it was me, too," she said into his shirt, her voice muffled. "I wish I didn't...," he began, after a while. "Don't," she admonished, stopping his words. "Love is too precious to ever wish away. Love is never easy, but that doesn't mean it's not right. All those years, no matter how hard it got, I never wished that." "You would have had an easier life," he said quietly. "Yes," she nodded, "but I wouldn't have wanted it." "She's the most wrong girl possible for me." he said. "Your heart knows better." She looked at him, tears glinting in her eyes. "If you love her, then she's the right girl. Tell her," she urged. "No." he said. This time he was the one who moved away. "She made her choice. I won't be second best. Not when it comes to this." "And who are you fighting?" "Her past," he answered. "Her hate." "Then give her a tomorrow that will make her forget," she said. "Give her a love that's stronger than her hate." "She doesn't want it," he said finally, flatly. "What she wants is to take the world to hell." "Then it's up to you to save her," she said. "It's up to you to bring her home." He was silent as he reviewed her words. It was up to him to save her, Selena said. He had tried that before, hadn't he? He had risked his life, his career and his friends because he thought she needed saving. But she didn't. She didn't need anyone. "You don't understand," he said. "She doesn't care about anything but her vengeance. You really think I'm going to give her a chance to destroy everything I care about?" "And will you stand by and watch her destroy herself?" she asked quietly. "None of us have forever, Tim," Selena continued quietly. "You can't afford to take your time." She smiled again, that sad sweet smile. "Just look at me, I dawdled in Scotland and I missed you forever." She shook her head, stilling the words that came to him. "It's okay. I'll be fine." "This life is hard enough, Tim," she added, and he could only wonder at the pain he saw in her eyes. "Believe me, you don't want to regret more than you have to. You don't want to spend your life alone." "But what about you?" he asked softly. "I won't be alone," she answered, smiling tenderly, "and whatever regrets I had are gone now." She lay her hand against his cheek, and looked into his eyes. "I have my best friend back, I have my music and I have Scotland. What more do I need?" Tim couldn't answer except to take her into his arms. How strange, he thought as he held her. All this time he had tried to protect her, all this time he had tried to keep her safe. Never in his wildest dreams did he even imagine he could hurt her like this, without even trying. He continued to hold her, in love, in friendship, in apology, whispering I love yous and I'm sorrys in an endless litany. Then he kissed her goodbye, and walked away, refusing to acknowledge the pain as the door softly closed behind him. *** Through the window she watched Tim go, her heart breaking. She had listened silently, as Tim had told her about Kimura. She had been afraid, so afraid that she would break into tears, or worse, that she would break down and ask him to stay anyway. But she had heard his voice as he told her of Kimura, and if there was anything she understood, if there was anything she knew how to read, it was the voice. There had been real love in Tim's voice, real pain. She would recognize it anywhere. She heard it everyday in her own. Six months, she thought to herself. She'd missed her window by six months. It was so damn ironic it she could weep. Once it had been years that had kept them apart. She'd been a child and him a man, and she hadn't even dared to dream that he would wait. But then he had disappeared, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. Six months, she thought. How fast does love start, anyway? How long does it last? Would anything have changed if she'd known sooner that he was back? No. If Tim loved her, if he was meant to love her, no amount of time would have mattered. Not those twelve years he had on her, not those ten years he had been lost, and certainly not those six months he had spent dreaming of an unseen face. Time didn't matter. Hadn't she proven that with her life? With her love? She had given up a long time ago. Like the trees in the colony, she had learned to live without the sun. All she had ever wanted was to see him again, to touch him, to tell him that she loved him. And she had done that. It was enough. It would have to be enough. She didn't have a choice. It wasn't her that Tim needed now. It was someone else. It was this Kimura that judging from Tim's voice was as rooted in his being as Tim was in hers. And who needed Tim as much, if not more, as Selena used to. She was stronger now. She had thought he was dead once, and she'd survived. Survived the thought of never seeing him again, never again hearing his voice, never holding him in her arms. How much easier was this, knowing he was alive, knowing he still shared her world? And she was stronger now. She was strong enough to let him go. Someday she'd be strong enough to be happy. Until then she had her music to comfort her. Until then she'd get by. But until then she couldn't trust herself to see him again. She watched as he disappeared from sight. Then she picked up her guitar and played. She played for an hour. For two. She played until she was too tired to play anymore. Until her fingers ached enough to dull the pain in her heart. Then she picked up the phone and booked herself on the very next shuttle to Scotland. *** Tim made his way to the docking bay, his thoughts were occupied. Maybe Selena was right, he thought. Maybe he was fooling himself. But then, why was he feeling like he had lost something very precious, something he would never get back? Why did he feel like he'd been given a chance at something wonderful, and that he hadn't been smart enough to grab it? And why did it still feel like walking away was the right thing to do? He was surprised to see Kimura waiting in the launch, her head resting on the control panel. He realized that it was past midnight and experienced a small twinge of guilt. She looked tired, maybe asleep, her hair gleaming dully in the dim light. He wondered if her hair was as soft as it looked, or as hard as the rest of her. Her head shot up as he entered, and for a moment he thought he saw a flash of some undefined emotion in her eyes. But it must have been a trick of the light because her eyes were clear and cold as they looked at him. Just once, he thought, he wanted to see something else in those eyes. Something other than anger and cold determination. Something softer, something brighter. "Sorry I startled you," he said, noting the weary shrug she gave in response. "Scoot over," he ordered softly, "I'll bring us home." She must've been more tired than he suspected because she didn't argue, just moved to the other seat and let him take control. "Where's Piccolo?" he asked, just to fill the silence. "In sick bay if he knows what's good for him," she answered flatly. "He ate something that didn't agree with him." "Hhm," he said noncommitally. "Hope he's okay. Thanks for picking me up," he offered. "No problem," she said, lying back on the seat and closing her eyes. "Wake me when we get to seaQuest." Asleep she looked small, fragile, as if a hard wind could blow her away. Looking at her Tim felt a strange longing build in the middle of his chest. Why can't anything ever be simple? he thought. Why does everything have to be so hard? Ten years, he thought. Selena waited for him for ten years. And then because of some stupid quirk of fate she arrives too late. What kind of sick cosmic joke was that? If he had read it in a book he'd laugh. But here and now, it was just too incredibly real. Or was Selena right? Was it all part of some grand design no one could explain yet? Would this all make sense someday? St. Elmo's Fire, he thought, remembering Selena's words. A lie? An illusion? A chemical reaction? A miracle? A siren luring you to your doom? Or the way home? He felt as lost as those ancient sailors had been. As helpless, as frightened. He looked at Kimura once more. Which one? he asked silently. Which one are you? Neither she, nor the universe, answered. *** Kimura knew exactly when they docked at seaQuest. She'd been awake the whole time, she just didn't want to talk, didn't want to have to be a part of Tim's newfound happiness. "You go ahead," said Tim. "I'll take care of things here." Again, she didn't argue. Just gave a weary nod and went on her way. Almost by instinct she found her way to the moonpool, where she found Darwin still awake, chirping a greeting when he saw her. The vocorder was nowhere in sight, and for that she was grateful, for she had no strength, no desire to talk, not even to the single being that brought her any pleasure, to the single being that brought her any peace. She was surprised when Tim followed, for usually he avoided her like the plague when they weren't on duty. "Too bad Selena didn't get a chance to meet Darwin," Tim noted. "She loves dolphins. She once spent a summer on a dolphin preserve. She used to pump me dry for stories about Darwin." "She's a nice girl," she offered, just to have something to say. Usually she got away with ignoring him, but right now he was too near, and she was too tired. "Very nice," he agreed solemnly. "She always was." "Maybe next time you'll have more time to spend together," she said. "I'm sure she can't wait till your next leave." "I don't think so," he laughed hollowly. "I don't think she wants to see me anytime soon." "Why not?" she asked. He shrugged. "She doesn't think I love her. Not enough, anyway." "And did you tell her otherwise?" she demanded. "Did you tell her you did?" "No," he said softly. "Why not?" she snapped. "Because she was right," he answered, thinking it was what she wanted to hear. "I didn't love her enough." Tim never saw it coming. One minute he was standing and in the next he was kneeling on the floor, the breath knocked out of him by Kimura's lethal right hook in his solar plexus. He stared up at her in confusion. She was fighting mad, that was obvious. She would have hit him again if he hadn't moved out of her way. "What was that for?" he gasped. She leaned down and grasped the lapels of his jacket. "You stupid, stupid man," she hissed into his face, and he was fascinated by the fire in her eyes. No doubt about it, he'd royally ticked her off. But how? Why? "What's wrong with you?" he demanded weakly. "That was your future you just let walk out of your life," she snarled, and he felt a chill creep up his spine. She could have been an oracle prophesizing his doom, she was that cold, that certain. "That woman loved you," she bit out, shaking him. "That woman would have made you happy." She tightened her hold on the jacket and he felt like he was slowly being strangled. Suddenly she released him, and he fell back on to the floor. "You stupid, stupid man," she whispered again, and he could almost swear there were tears in her voice. But her eyes were clear, cold, as she stared down at him. Then she turned and walked away, leaving him in the darkness, leaving him alone. *** Epilogue In his dreams she was sunshine and laughter, soft hands and poetry. In her dreams he was warmth and safety, freedom and the future. Such dreams, such love, such utter obstinacy. Such are the quagmires of the human heart. The ocean itself is not so complicated. The ocean itself is not so dark, not so cold. Shaking my head, I silently swim away. The End Jessi Albano Copyright 1997 12 May 1997 - ******************************************************** "The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his." - General George Patton The Goddess of War Homepage http://www.geocities.com/TimesSquare/1730 The ESCAPED/TALES Archive http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Zone/7124/ ********************************************************