Your Face Again

by Suz

Disclaimer - Paramount own them. Yeah.

Inspired by 'The Drugs Don't Work' by the verve.


I walk by the street where you lived today.

It's not on the daily route I need to take, but I always manage to find myself standing at the end of the street, looking at the familiar homes and apartments.

The old fashioned home on the right.

The tree with the leaves that shimmer like gold in the Autumn.

The young girl who has somehow miraculously transformed into a teenager. When did that happen?

Your functional yet attractive house on the left.

The grass outside that always prompts a smile at the memory it dredges up. You, wearing white and covered in grass stains, laughing at some stupid joke I can't even remember.

I wish I did.

I seem to forget so much.

But this street...every part of it is indelibly etched into my memory. If I ever lost that...

Some days I don't even want to come here, but I guess it's stupid of me to assume that I'll ever be able to stop being drawn to the memories of you. They're all that I've had, sometimes. When I've lost everything and everyone...I think of our time together, a memory that seems to grow hazier with each passing day. I told Tuvok what I could remember one day, two...three?...years ago, knowing that at least in that way they'll be known after I go. He's always been ridiculously sentimental for a Vulcan.

He expects my message now, every few months, asking for the details. So I can remember. He always tells me. He must have told me so many times now, but each time he recites the memories, probably verbatim.


I don't know what I'd do without them.

I almost make it down the street today. Standing at the end of the street is one thing, but walking along it is something I've never been able to accomplish by myself - I have a good idea of how I'll react. The last thing that teenager needs is to see is a strange old man falling to his knees in front of a house that's been uninhabited for the last ten years.

I've actually heard that they've turned the house into a shrine of some kind, in your memory, which is why no one lives there. Displaying your bravest and most famous moments. I'm curious as to what's there, but I know that mostly I'll be disappointed by what's missing.

I see crowds of people occasionally, eager for details. But mostly it's as it is today - just the normal neighbours going about their normal lives, seemingly oblivious to the extraordinary person who used to live next to them.

"Excuse me?"

The voice belongs to a woman who suddenly appears behind me. I hadn't realised my hearing was that bad.


She seems a little hesitant. "Are you okay? I think that I've seen you here every day that I can remember. Is there something you need?"

Of course there is. Of course there is. "No."

Nodding even though she doesn't understand, she starts to turn away before quickly turning back. "I'm sorry sir...but that tattoo on your forehead...he had one just like it, I think. Are you a relation?"

I'd almost forgotten it was there. I haven't looked at my reflection for so long... "No. I'm not a relation."

This time she nods knowingly. "Ah. I heard he died shortly after she disappeared."

True enough, I suppose.

The once-little girl laughs at something that the boy who wasn't there yesterday says, and they fall over on the grass.

Saying nothing I move away, my journey continuing.


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