Fresh Air
by Melissa B.

Author's Note: I don't know quite what this is, or where it came from. I suppose it was born out of the JetC17 song challenge, but this isn't what I intended to write. But then again-is it ever?

Lyrics to "Fresh Air Waltz" copyright Howard Jones

Looking at you now, you seem just a shadow
You had the energy to recharge our batteries
I suppose your success became your security
Darkness is not what you need

This is not how I imagined it would happen.

I had it all planned out in my mind. Methodical. Calculated. Looking back I realize how futile it was to even consider doing that. If it was going to happen, it was going to happen all on its own. But despite that present realization, I still had it all planned out. We would get home. Your crew would be pardoned. We would all accept various commendations and commissions. And you and I-we would finally be together, away from the questions and problems of the Delta Quadrant.

When I tell you this, you will laugh. I will have to wait. You haven't laughed in weeks. You aren't ready to laugh.

I've never seen you like this. It frightens me to key in my override when you do not answer your door for two days straight and find you sitting silently in the dark. Not meditating, not sleeping-just sitting, and staring, your hands clasped loosely around the data chip. You haven't watched it yet. I want to be there for you when you do. Or with you, if you prefer, but I don't think you do. Your relationship with her-it was special. Private. We all saw glimpses of it at times, but the two of you were careful to not let too much show. It was her nature. Rank got in the way, sometimes, in public. But the feelings were there. They always will be, even now.

I realize four days after it happened that we will be together soon. I accept it quietly. She is gone. She will never be your confidant again. We no longer have the luxury of pretending we don't need each other. We do. The strained faces and red eyes we confront every day tell us that waiting out here, in this sea of uncertainty, may only lead us to regret. I never want to wake up and regret the decisions I've made about us. So I'm going to unmake a few of them.

You need me.

I need you too.

I know it was a long time coming, but I realize that now.

You were the one who refused to give up
You were the one who lifted us, lifted us off our knees
Now it's our turn to give you some help
Fresh air that's just what you need

We transport down to the planet. I watch you carefully from a few feet away. You breathe cautiously, as if the mere action is more painful than you can take. The sun washes over your face and you tilt your head back, your eyes closing. I see your fist clench and unclench once. You do not want to be here. Neither do I. But despite that, the sun feels good…and the air circling around you buoys your spirits slightly. Enough, perhaps, to allow you to make it through the day.

They are gathered several meters ahead of us. The instructions she left were very clear: she didn't want to spend eternity adrift in space. If she couldn't continue the journey with us, she wanted to be left behind. So we are here to honour that request. Even now, she rests in the ground in the simple container you made with your bare hands in the middle of the night. You had hoped to build a cradle for her first child-I know, I heard you teasing her about it when you talked to her about Tom. I saw your face when you walked away, though. You meant it.

She knew you did. I'm sure of it. She wanted it too.

Tom greets both of us quietly as we join the group. Your grief is heavier than his, somehow. He is strong enough for all of us. She helped give him that. So did I. We all did. It's uncomfortably ironic that we helped to make him a whole person so that he could survive the loss of her.

Not the stale bread from the failing bitter table
It's so hard
Where's the justice we cry
It's there and will follow us 'til the day we die,
'til the day that we die

Voices carry over the wind, one after the other. I speak of her early days with us, my voice full of unshed tears as I recall her defiance and, eventually, my pride in her accomplishments and in the woman she became. Tom speaks of love and the look on his face has more than one of us letting our control loose. When the mass of faces turns to you, you are silent for so long that I fear you will not be able to say goodbye, or that perhaps you are preparing to rage against the fates for allowing her to die out here with so many tasks and journeys incomplete. When you finally begin to speak, you tell a humourous tale of your early days in the Maquis. A tale of a raid gone comically wrong. You smile a little as the story unfolds, and one after the other I see the crew begin to do the same. Even in your grief you have managed to give us something to hold on to.

Surely I can do the same for you, if you'll still let me.

Tom sits on the ground after it's over. Most of the crew has gone back to the ship, but a few remain-her old Maquis friends, mainly. I see his lips moving and I wonder if he's praying. Eventually I realize that he is saying goodbye one last time. I watch you turn from where you had been staring at the setting sun. You walk over to him, kneel down on the ground. I watch you trace symbols on the ground over where she rests. I see Tom asking you questions and you answer. The pain on your faces binds you together in a way nothing else ever has. I avert my eyes and walk away, leaving the two of you alone with it. There will be time for what I have decided to do. Time enough, now.

Looking at you know, you seem just a shadow
Now it's our turn to give you some help
Fresh air that's just what you need

Back on the ship, you are silent again. I see you retreating back into the darkness and the sight of it is almost more than I can bear. You frown a little when I follow you into your quarters; in confusion, perhaps, or out of the desire to be alone. I won't leave you alone, though. Not now. I watch you walk slowly over to your desk and pick up the chip. Your fingers tremble slightly as you sit down in the chair, turning it over again and again.

When I come up behind you and place my hands on your shoulders, pressing a kiss briefly to the top of your head, you turn sharply and look at me. You don't look surprised, though, and your eyes warm slightly before the sorrow floods back in. With my fingers brushing your neck, you reach out and activate the chip.

Her image appears before you. One eyebrow is raised. She's smiling a little but looks distracted. It's a look we both recognize. You pause it, quickly, and turn, pressing your face into my stomach and encircling my waist with your arms tightly. Your chest rises and falls unsteadily and your breathing is harsh. I bend my head to yours and the tears that sprang up at the sight of her fall into your hair. Several minutes pass as I hold you, and a strange sort of peace falls over us both. The circumstances are far from ideal, but I've come to realize that there never would have been a perfect moment. When you turn back to her image I am there with you. Your hands pull me down to your lap and your head touches mine imperceptibly. Together, we reach out to say goodbye.

Together, as we shall be.

Now it's our turn to give you some help
Fresh air that's just what you need
That's just what you need

FINIS

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