Author's Note: At last I wanted to do it. I wrote a "fiction", a small, small, small "fiction". I have been capable? I know very little the English language... And how it is this "fiction"? Beautiful? Bad? Mediocre? Ingenuous? Intelligent? Stupid? ... I do not know it. But, please, be kind and, if you think that it is better if I am only a reader, you should say it.
Note. The words in italic between *___* represent the thoughts.
The noises and shouts are ended.
I continue to embrace protectively my newborn babies and to little by little they calm down.
Slowly, I lift the head and listen, scared of what I could hear.
A noise, beyond the door.
I stop the breath.
I feel the fear.
Someone opens the door.
Phlox appears and stand in the opening.
He is filthy and torn, but he smiles, with difficulty and relief at the same time. I can see that, I can feel that.
He come near to the bed where I be, enfolding the twins in my arms, with maternal care. With maternal love.
He places his left hand on my arm and then with the right he delicately strokes the head of both the small children, who now are sleeping, at last.
"It is ended” Phlox says. “The death not does threaten us more”. His voice become lower and more sweet. “The death and the blind hate of the men not does threaten more you, nor the children.”
I close the eyes, without to speak.
“Yes, It is all ended “. Commander Reed (*No, Malcolm, Malcolm my friend*) is appeared in the opening of the door. “No one of those worms is surviving, Human or Vulcan, Terra Prime operative or Terra Prime … friend. The information arrived just in time. HE sent the information just in time. And the Admiral sent us here, in your home, to protect your children and you, just in time”.
“We arrived before the Vulcan ship” he adds with a slight smile.
He does some steps forward.
We stare one another.
He appear very weary and bleeds from a bad wound on the forehead.
Again, I close the eyes, without to speak.
Suddenly, Malcolm’s communicator start beeping. He speak into it. “Reed here”.
“HE will be arriving within ten minutes.” Hoshi’s familiar voice says.
“On my way.” Malcolm end the transmission.
I am listening to that exchange of words, I open the eyes and look at him, intensely, hopefully.
“HE succeeded to take the control of that Romulan drone-ship, which disembarked here those damned Terra Prime operatives” Malcolm says. “I do not know how hell HE have done it. And from where hell HE have done it. But HE did it and so HE allowed our ship and the Vulcan ship sent from T’Pau are not hit from the fire of the drone”.
“It is difficult to think that a dead man can do this kind of things” The words of Phlox are sweet to my ears, but those words also provoke in me an anxiety that gives almost pain. And I am tired to hide my emotions. I cannot do it now. Surely not now.
“A choice was necessary, I believe”. Malcolm looks at me. “HE could have chosen to continue to conceal, or HE could have chosen...”
*…to protect me*. I lay down the head on the cushion, breathing deeply. *Again, he protected me. And protected the children. Distant, injured, I know it. And yet he protected me. He always will protect me… He always will protect us.*
Malcolm shyly lifts a hand, as he is greeting me. “It is better that I go. You and the twins should rest”. He turn and leave.
I look at Phlox. He smiles, with his immense smile. “I follow Commander Reed, it is better. Really you all should rest, and then I would not want to be of too much”.
I grasp and squeeze his hand. I know my eyes are moist.
He was beside me for all this time. He assisted me in my solitude and in my … fear. He made the birth of my children . He always gave me the hope.
Phlox still smiles, a little uncomfortably. He returns my grip and then goes out from the room, closing the door.
Again, I lay down the head on the cushion. I look at my children, who are sleeping, finally peaceful. And I await.
A noise of steps, in the hall.
I stare at the door. I see the handle is moved. The door is opened and … I can see him.
He slowly move forward, dragging an injured leg and looking at me. He stops his laborious walk near bed.
A black scarf tied behind the nape covers his hair, a black blindfold on his left eye, like a pirate. But he is not a pirate and I do not dare to think… why he wear those things.
He approach to bed, his blue eye, his sole eye, gazing on the children he never saw.
I know what he is staring at.
* “Those beautiful pointed ears…”*. These words are ringing in my mind. They are the words that he sweetly whispered in my ears in our moments of intimacy, his teeth teasing the points, his tongue softly stroking the lobes, while my heart melted, my eyes closing, the pleasure shouting through me.
He reach out, but suddenly he puts down the hand along the hip. I observe that hand, … a crippled hand. I feel a lump in my throat.
I lift my head and I grasp that hand.
I approach his hand at my lips and I kiss his tortured fingers. That hand will not be more able to be used in the job that he loves, but always that hand will know how to stroke me, always that hand will be capable of to arouse in me shudders of delight and of pleasure.
And I will know how to give solace him.
While I continue to squeeze his hand, I look at him and he too looks at me, with … his eye, which shines and sparkles.
Suddenly the little girl give a sound, she opens the eyes and sees her father. She stare at him and then she smiles. Peaceful, she close the eyes. It is like if she understood that now anything can happen neither to her, nor to brother, nor to me.
And next to her, the brother get a move and, without to open the eyes, he smiles.
I gaze my bond-mate, my husband. He open his lips and sweetly whisper my name. Slowly, he kneels, while I sit in the bed, huddling the legs. Our faces are very close and we look one another, almost incredulous of the moment.
With a sudden motion, I am embracing him and he returns my hug, enfolding me with his arms . I hide my face in his chest and finally I feel tears of joy, yes… of joy, on my cheeks.
Finally words go out from my mouth “T’hai’la, ashal-veh, ashayam,… my beloved…”. I lift my head, looking at him in ecstasy. He's back. His long lonely journey, my long anxious wait are ended.
Then, I snuggle my head into his neck and, while my lips caress his skin, I murmur “My love, my love, my love! … MY TRIP!!!”
The End (or the Beginning?)
Like it? Hate it? Just want to point out a typo? Join the discussion now.
Disclaimer: Star Trek in all its various forms and its characters are the property of CBS/Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended by the authors of this site, which is solely for the purpose of entertainment and is not for profit. This site is owned by CX and was opened to the public in February 2008.