Welcome to the Journal of Now and Forever. This Journal is a collection of my Star Control and Star Control 2 fiction. Note: Some of this material is, by necessity, extrapolation from the slim information provided by canon sources.

New fiction is posted first at My Livejournal before it appears here. This story is in response to First Lines 1000's Challenge #4.

This always happens.

I plan everything out in my head, and then I actually open my mouth and none of the right words come out.

He's standing there looking at me like I just grew wings. People are staring at us. So of course after he asks "What are you doing here?" I forget to say anything I've planned and instead blurt out "I need you."

Which is about the stupidest thing I could ever say. I can see it in his face: Oh man, Nick's gone off the deep end. So I've got to say something else: "Can we talk about this somewhere private?"

I'm choking down the scream of rage and frustration. I just know this is going to go public. It's all going to come out. And there's nothing I can do.

~ ~ ~

Oh man, Nick's gone off the deep end. Nick's statement scared Dean a little. They'd been roommates for years now and even Nick grumping about whatever was bothering him didn't impact the gene splicer much anymore.

Outright neediness, though – that was frightening. Dean's gaze flickered around the lander embarkation area in hopes that nobody was paying attention to him and his roommate. Some people were looking curiously in their direction, but –

"Can we talk somewhere private?" Nick asked.

Dean tried to figure out how to read Nick's expression. It wasn't one he was used to, but Dean would be first to admit that reading body language and facial expressions were not his strong point. Back on Earth it had actually been a good thing, since he'd unknowingly avoided some embarrassing situations that way. But right now....

"Um, I think we're the only ones going back down in the lander. Is that okay?" Dean hoped it was. Because he wasn't sure he wanted to be completely alone with Nick, at least until he knew what was going on.

"Fine, fine."

A whole minute of awkward silence followed. Nick refused to meet Dean's gaze. The PA system refused to announce lander boarding.

At length, Dean asked: "So, what'd you pick your name from?"

~ ~ ~

"Uh? What?" Great, I have no idea how to salvage this. They're gonna overhear us in the lander unless we sit in the very back, and even that's no guarantee. The lander isn't that big.

"It's... I mean, it's nothing much. I was surprised nobody had picked it when it was my turn to name myself." I'm babbling, but it's a safe topic. Smart of him. "It's... not very special or anything. Nick... short for nickname." My cheeks are on fire. I was limited for my name by the four-letter rule. At least Nick isn't too bad.

"Oh." Dean's eyes are back to that half-sleepy look. "I thought it was from the Anglo-Saxon for an evil water spirit."

I stare at him. "You're making that up."

Dean shakes his head. "No, it's where we get nixie. I know you were in the desert republics, water is scarce there, you're usually in a bad mood... it all seemed to fit."

It does. "If anyone else ever asks, you tell them that. Okay?" 'Cause it sure sounds better than the truth. "What's yours from?"

"My last job before the Exodus." We both look up at the ceiling as the PA system chimes: "Boarding call for lander at docking station 1." "The doc there was interesting to talk to and it was challenging work. Guess we'd better load up."

"Yeah." We don't walk in matching step or anything like that, but we do walk side by side to the hatch.

~ ~ ~

They took the seats farthest in the back. Dean wished Nick weren't so strangely wired; he made it much harder to act normally. The lander crew didn't seem interested in the two of them, at least, past what appeared to be token commenting on such a light load.

Nick sat staring at his hands, twisting them together, and after a while Dean watched too, while the preflight business was finished and the lander finally left the starbase.

"What's that from?" Dean pointed at one of the white scars on Nick's hands.

Nick paused his hand-wringing for a moment to look at the jagged line in question. "That one... Riyadh." He met Dean's eyes at last. "We don't, um, you never asked before."

Dean shrugged. "It's your business. Figured you'd birch at me."

"Yeah..." Nick sighed and looked at the window across the aisle. "Look, Dean, I... I'm sorry about... what happened. And how I've been. I didn't realize how hard it was to live with me." Nick exhaled noisily and, Dean thought, looked relieved about saying the words, before narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "You didn't become a spacer, did you?"

"No," Dean said. He'd toyed with the idea of saying Yes but I'll give it up if you ask nicely during the split second after Nick asked, but didn't feel like it much, since it was a hard lie to back up. "Just kinda came up here on a whim."

"Oh. Good." Nick's hands started twisting again. "Dean – are – are you willing to give me a second chance? I don't want you to leave. Really."

Dean sat back in the hard seat and looked forward. "Thought you didn't like anyone. That it's in your genes."

~ ~ ~

Just when I start calming down he throws that back at me. Suppose I deserved it – why wouldn't he say that if I hadn't said it myself so often? "You're the one who says I can overcome my DNA. I need a chance to do that. I," deep breath here, "I want you to stay as my roommate. Okay? We'll get the belyaev if it's so important to you. I'll try to be less grating." It's grating me now to have to say this, but if he doesn't come back, I'll be in much worse trouble.

"I forgot about the belyaev," Dean says, his head on one side as he chews the inside of his cheek. "It wasn't that important, I guess."

The lander's almost back in the time it's taken us to talk. "Dean? I need to know –"

"And there's some stuff you need to know, but we're not gonna talk about it here. Wait until we're out of here, then we'll get something to eat. I'm starved."

Why is he doing this? Why is he dragging it out? Is he trying to screw with my mind? My hands start twisting again. Better start planning what to say, just in case.

Comments? Email me: laridian at aol dot com