by Suz email@example.com
Disclaimer - Paramount own them. Which is something of a mixed blessing.
"Feel the wind," the siren said "from a soft breeze to a hurricane's gale the wind is our ally. For without the movement of air there would be no aroma."
- From the wall of Starbucks, The Strand, London
Her eyes were closed, her head tipped back in appreciation. "Can you feel it?" She whispered.
"Feel what?" He remembered to ask, far too enamoured with studying her face to concentrate on anything else.
"The wind," she answered softly, moving her head back down and angling it towards him. Raising her eyelids, she smiled at him.
He tried not to sigh, contemplating the way the early morning sun reflected in her eyes. She had never been a morning person, but there was always something that would stir her. She was holding a cup of that something in her hands right now.
The wind wasn't something he usually concentrated on in these quiet moments, though now that he began to at her urging it made him appreciate their time alone even more. It wasn't especially windy, nor even breezy. But he could see a few deceptively delicate-looking strands of her hair escaping from their restraint and moving gently against the side of her face. Speak, old man. Remember to speak. Try not to concentrate on the urge to touch her skin.
"I hadn't thought you as being particularly fascinated by nature. Always the scientist; isn't that right?"
Her smile matched his for good humour. "Proves what you know. The biological factors of nature are positively scintillating-"
"Of course." He responded, purely to see her smile again.
"-but I do...appreciate nature on occasion. For all that it lacks - a comfortable bed, a home-made bath - it is wondrous at times."
Surprised at her words, he felt his smile growing even larger. "I'm glad you're learning to appreciate it. It was only something I managed to do after my father died and sometimes I think I left it a little late."
Her eyes fell to her drink. "You don't talk about him much."
Shrugging easily, comfortably, he pondered an answer. "No one ever asked."
Nodding, her brow furrowed and she took a sip of the coffee.
"I have a theory..." He began.
That inquisitive look leapt into her eyes, just as he knew it would. Turning her head she swallowed the coffee and rose an eyebrow. "About..?"
Taking the prompt, he deliberately glanced towards the sky. "The only reason *you* like the wind is because it spreads around a certain aroma..."
"Absolutely. Sometimes in the morning I can smell coffee on the other side of the cabin."
Smirking, she shook her head. "That's only twenty feet from here."
"That's not the point," he teased, happy that he was able to make her smile.
Rolling her eyes, she lifted up her cup towards the sky. "So sue me! You're going to tease me about my one vice? You've got a lot to learn." Lowering the cup she took another sip.
"Perhaps," he responded although it wasn't what he wanted to say. "But then we've got plenty of time for me to take some Kathryn Janeway classes. Just warn me if I'm expected to get a distinction."
The expected grin didn't appear and he realised what he had done. "I'm sorry..."
"No." She whispered. "It's okay. Or at least it will be. It's just hard sometimes to imagine that I'm never going to see them again."
"You could always hope that they'll find a cure and come back for us," he suggested, trying to ease her pain.
A small smile played over her lips. "I seem to remember a wise old man once saying that it wasn't a good idea to sacrifice the present for a future that may never happen."
"Maybe he was right," she told him. Her eyes still a little moist, she reached out with one hand and touched his arm. "You know..."
"Yes?" He asked, disturbed by the tightness in his throat.
"I would like to hear about your father, Chakotay. Everything."
He covered her hand with his own. "I will. But can I just take a few moments to...feel the wind?"
Nodding, she tipped her head back and closed her eyes once more.
He watched a strand of hair play across her cheek.
Sign My Guestbook.
Suz's Voyager Fanfic