by Suz

I'm not sure what I was trying to accomplish with this. Ambigious, nothing is really resolved...but I wanted to write it.

Disclaimer - character's belong to Paramount :P

Dedicated to - anna. In fact I was asked to write this story by her, or more specifically, a story that contained one of the quotes I used in my sig for a little while. If you don't know what it is, ask me.

So, to anna. For her constant support and friendship. I love you girl.


Small beads of rain clung to her face like gentle fingers, the light shower covering everything in a muted blanket. She hadn't bothered to put a coat on - there didn't seem much point. It was hardly the fiercest storm that she had ever witnessed, and she knew it wouldn't escalate into one either. The Earth's weather control system wouldn't allow it.

In her hands she held a single daffodil. She had intended to place it on his grave, but now her damp fingers clutched onto the green stalk of the flower, trying to decide if there was some kind of symbolism between her life and the yellow petals. By letting go of them, would she be letting go of him?

Part of her hoped so. He had deserved so much more than she was capable of giving him. She even understood why he had managed to move on. They both had. hurt. She couldn't deny that. He was a part of her past; a part of *her*. She'd been closer to him than almost anyone she'd known.

Kathryn felt cold, immobile. As if with no effort at all she could remain in one spot for the rest of her existance, the rest of eternity itself.

A rustle from behind her, the sound of leaves brushing on clothes reminding her of the way he used to run his hand over her skin.

She didn't turn. She didn't need too.

Speaking softly, quietly, her voice carried across the sharp morning air, somehow a contrast to the weather.

"There were times you know...times when he would look at me...and he had to have known that I wasn't thinking about him. That something...someone else was on my mind." Shaking her head she looked down and fought against the vaguely familiar burning sensation in her throat. "The guilt was the worst thing. He was so loving, so giving. I never said a word about how I really felt. I couldn't. But then, he didn't either." She chuckled with no amusement whatsoever. "We were both stupid I guess. Ignorant."

He wrapped his arms around her then, his own shirt damp from the rain, but his body heat warmed her. Her eyelids closed and she spoke urgently, whispering, afraid she wouldn't have the courage otherwise.

"I knew, I mean I always knew that there could never be an *us*. We knew that it would never work out. Too many variables, too many things that could go wrong. But I managed to find solace in believing that somewhere - another universe, another lifetime - we would be together. Ironic, don't you think? That I of all people would be desperate enough to believe in reincarnation?"

They remained in silence for a few moments, concentrating on the feel of each other and the small puffs of white air they exhaled. His hands eventually moved downward until they reached the edge of her top. Once there, they quickled moved under until they were resting on her bare skin.

She gasped. Not as his audacity, but at how cold his hands were on her warm stomach.

His head bent down until he rested his forehead on her hair and they remained that way until the rain began to dissipate.

Glancing up, they watched as a murky cloud moved, slowly revealing the sun. He sighed heavily, his fingers digging lightly into her body.

"I miss your tattoo. I miss your smile," she whispered and he sighed again.

"Sometimes say things that make me close my eyes."

His hands moved from her then, leaving room for air to circulate under her top. He walked away slowly, and she knew he kept looking at her until eventually the distance between them became too great.

Looking up again at the brightening sky, and without knowing why, she smiled.

Rays of sunlight clung to her face like gentle fingers and she tipped her head back further, absorbing the heat as if it had some kind of cathartic property.

Becoming aware again of the gentle pressure on her hands, she looked down at the daffodil. Bending, she placed the flower on his grave and patted the fresh soil.

"Sleep well, Mark."


Well, after finishing this story I was contacted by Ghostwriter who wanted to read more. I was happy with it the way it was, but challenged her to write a sequel. She gladly here it is:

Our Gentle Heart

e-mail // voyager fic