A TOUCH OF CLASS
(PG)

by Delta Story

May 2003

~*~ Both the doctor and Tom said that writing about my feelings would be good therapy. Write her. Even if you never send the letter, just putting your thoughts into writing will help. Those were the wise words from someone who I never thought I’d be going to for advice – Tom Paris, reformed playboy of the universe, now wizened advisor. So – write about things I will. Even if you never read what is here, Kathryn, at least I have committed my thoughts to something. So I’ll begin… I’m sure you’ve heard that it’s over between Seven and me. Our relationship – affair – never should have been. How foolish of me to think that another beautiful, intelligent woman could ever replace you in my heart! Yes, she – like you – has both those qualities; but she does not have, nor will she ever have, your spirit and love. Her eyes never glowed with the inner light of her soul like yours do; they could never grab me and shake me up and mesmerize me like yours could. Her eyes never had the depth of your pools; they were mere puddles after a quick rain, lacking substance or ability to sustain life. Nor did she have your touch, Kathryn – no one could ever replace that. Your hands, your fingers – communicating what words could never say. A pat on the shoulder, a touch to the forearm, a lingering stroke on my chest – every time transmitting nuances of emotion through your fingertips, giving encouragement or acceptance or even love. Whatever it was, it was you sharing yourself with me, allowing the energies from our inner beings to readily flow from one to the other, allowing us to give each other strength and hope and life. It’s those touches that I remember the most – how free and genuine you were with them; how you used them to say whatever was in your heart. I backed away from them – and you – and with that; I severed all that had been between us. Yet you remained a friend, supportive in my choices and accepting of my decisions. Did you know then that I would later realize my error? Were you remaining my teacher by allowing me to learn from my mistakes, as horrendous as they might be? Once you told me that ‘we had all the time in the world.’ How quickly we both forgot that; how quickly the time flew by, as well as all the other changes and events shaped our lives. Once our hearts had been on the brink, waiting for that final push over the edge of the precipice of friendship and into the infinity of our love. But we always retreated, didn’t we? Was it courage that we lacked or did fate just lead us in other directions? Up until almost the end of our wayward journey, I thought that we would find our way back to the old spot and finally make the jump together. Almost… I almost told you these things back when Voyager was broken into all those different time line fragments: "Just how close do we get?" you asked. It took every ounce of my being to keep from telling you how close we should have been; how many times we almost… almost… But, instead, I said, "Let's just say there are some barriers we never cross." Then, as you readjusted to the now from the has-been, I could sense it in you – your mind, your heart, your touch. You knew, didn’t you? You saw through me then, even as you always have. Did I feel that I had betrayed you… us… when I didn’t follow through on such a golden opportunity? Was that why I allowed myself to be seduced away from everything that I had hoped for throughout those long seven years? What would you have done if I had allowed that we could have been so much more if those barriers hadn’t been between us for so long? Maybe I thought that by returning Seven’s attention and admiration I could assure myself of steering clear of having to remember anything about you in the years to come. By creating a new world… a new life… I could bury the old. I didn’t know that the only life there ever was for me was with you. With her, it rapidly became cold and mechanical, just like her old life. I felt my own life quietly becoming as frozen and cold, slipping into the nothingness of the abyss of lost emotion and callous care. I was dying and I had to find a lifeline before it was too late. Strangely enough, it was she herself who became that lifeline. She was the one who felt stifled by the day-to-day sameness of our togetherness. Having mastered the lessons of love, she lost her challenge; I became boring and status quo to her. She could not find pleasure in simply sitting quietly with one another, sharing by just being together without showing a gainful end to the time spent together. Music, reading, art – all were subjects to be learned and used as stepping-stones to the next road in life. One day, she looked at me as if she were seeing me for the first time and I could see that she abhorred that which she saw. Disgust and repugnance seeped from her; my touch and even my presence seemed to repel her. I offered to go and she made no move to stop me. Her only words were that she thought that might be for the best. Well, I’ve learned the lesson all too well, Kathryn. I should have seen that I was only another experiment for her, just another set of information for her to add to her database. She never was nor will she ever be totally human. Perhaps the Borg stole that spark of humanity from her forever; perhaps it never was there to begin with. Never like you… you who are the essence of my being, the keeper of my soul. You have been with me since the very beginning and I have no doubt that you will be with me at the end, in spirit if not physically. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about you, wondered what it would have been like with you – to hold you, taste you, touch you… to love you. The hour is late and my mind is launching into flights of fantasy, filled with visions of irrationality. The time has passed when anything more than friendship could come of our togetherness. But this very absurdity gives me the courage to reach out in hope. I love you, Kathryn; can we start all over again? ~*~ I read my words once… twice… and again. They really don’t make much sense. But Tom was right; I do feel better. I’ve finally admitted to what has been buried inside me for so long. It’s been cathartic and I do feel rejuvenated. Now – to delete all of this; to purge it from all data records. Yet there’s the ‘transmit’ button. It would be so easy. One slip of the finger, from the left to the right. Consider the consequences, Chakotay; don’t be a fool for the second time. Think, Chakotay; that’s right; you know which button you must hit… ~ THE END ~