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Conversations with Dead People
Oct. 29th, 2010 09:09 amSan Francisco hasn't seemed to change much since he last saw it. He finds himself strolling along the ancient Golden Gate Bridge, still an engineering marvel centuries after it was made. A breeze is up, bringing the wild salty smell of the ocean into the bay and pushing the morning's fog away, but it isn't loud enough to muffle the sound of footsteps beside him, sharp against the concrete. Today is too beautiful to waste walking alone.
"I did miss it here, you know." She says, her long dark hair disarrayed by the wind, made slightly frizzy by the moisture in the air. "The ocean, the green hills, all the people. Bob always did pick the most dreadfully dusty and lonely planets." It's easy between them, just like before. It was once always like this, when they could steal time to spend together - strolls through the Golden Gate Park or the Presidio under the cover of enveloping fog, wandering along the piers with a shared umbrella on a rainy Sunday morning, spending a rare free afternoon enjoying even rarer summer sunshine. It used to always be like this, before they went their separate ways.
"You didn't have to leave." He points out, to make things fair, studying the view from the bridge as they walk along. The infamous Alcatraz Island, Angel island, Treasure island off in the distance, the green coastal ranges stretching away to the north and south, San Francisco glittering the in the afternoon sun. "You chose to transfer to Carter's mission, as their medical officer."
"Yes... yes I did." She sounds so sad and wistful, and soon she stops to lean against the waist-high railing, staring out at the golden sun-baked land far-off to the east, across the bay. He settles in alongside her, studying her profile, partially obscured by her hair in the breeze.
"I had to leave because the man I loved was still in love with someone else." He can barely make out the words, she's speaking so softly. "I couldn't be second like that, not forever." She looks at him, side-long, her dark eyes serious and... accusing, he realizes, after a moment of study. "And you weren't giving me any hope, Plum."
He splutters in protest - sure, their relationship never became serious, but it never really had the chance to. They had known each other from before his marriage, back in Georgia, and finding her here had been as much a surprise to him as anyone else. He'd only just started with StarFleet General when they'd run into each other in one of the biometrics labs, and the powers that be had been busy running him ragged, and she had been equally focused on her own career. But she doesn't let him argue his case, as she goes back to studying the distant shore.
"You were still in love with Susan, no matter how much she hurt you. And so I had to go - I couldn't spend my whole life waiting for you to come to your senses."
And then, finally, she turns to face him fully. He starts back in surprise and horror, his heart suddenly crammed into his throat. Part of her face has been eaten away by the dessicated sand of that miserable planet she died on, years ago.
"So I spent my life on a planet that doesn't have a proper name any more, replaced by the creature that killed me." She cries bitterly, all the warmth gone out of her voice, and when he retreats again, expecting to get fetched up against the railing at any second, his feet meet open air instead. Then there is only loss, and falling.
"I did miss it here, you know." She says, her long dark hair disarrayed by the wind, made slightly frizzy by the moisture in the air. "The ocean, the green hills, all the people. Bob always did pick the most dreadfully dusty and lonely planets." It's easy between them, just like before. It was once always like this, when they could steal time to spend together - strolls through the Golden Gate Park or the Presidio under the cover of enveloping fog, wandering along the piers with a shared umbrella on a rainy Sunday morning, spending a rare free afternoon enjoying even rarer summer sunshine. It used to always be like this, before they went their separate ways.
"You didn't have to leave." He points out, to make things fair, studying the view from the bridge as they walk along. The infamous Alcatraz Island, Angel island, Treasure island off in the distance, the green coastal ranges stretching away to the north and south, San Francisco glittering the in the afternoon sun. "You chose to transfer to Carter's mission, as their medical officer."
"Yes... yes I did." She sounds so sad and wistful, and soon she stops to lean against the waist-high railing, staring out at the golden sun-baked land far-off to the east, across the bay. He settles in alongside her, studying her profile, partially obscured by her hair in the breeze.
"I had to leave because the man I loved was still in love with someone else." He can barely make out the words, she's speaking so softly. "I couldn't be second like that, not forever." She looks at him, side-long, her dark eyes serious and... accusing, he realizes, after a moment of study. "And you weren't giving me any hope, Plum."
He splutters in protest - sure, their relationship never became serious, but it never really had the chance to. They had known each other from before his marriage, back in Georgia, and finding her here had been as much a surprise to him as anyone else. He'd only just started with StarFleet General when they'd run into each other in one of the biometrics labs, and the powers that be had been busy running him ragged, and she had been equally focused on her own career. But she doesn't let him argue his case, as she goes back to studying the distant shore.
"You were still in love with Susan, no matter how much she hurt you. And so I had to go - I couldn't spend my whole life waiting for you to come to your senses."
And then, finally, she turns to face him fully. He starts back in surprise and horror, his heart suddenly crammed into his throat. Part of her face has been eaten away by the dessicated sand of that miserable planet she died on, years ago.
"So I spent my life on a planet that doesn't have a proper name any more, replaced by the creature that killed me." She cries bitterly, all the warmth gone out of her voice, and when he retreats again, expecting to get fetched up against the railing at any second, his feet meet open air instead. Then there is only loss, and falling.
