Title: Eight Months Ago
Author: Emily and Becky
E-Mail: [email protected]
Archive: Sure... just tell us where
Rating: PG, but with LITTLE spots that COULD be considered PG-13 if you're really picky
Category: General/Humor/Romance/Drama
Codes: T/T'P, A, S, R, Ph, M, Porthos, Several Vulcans (I can't tell you who without giving it away)
Summary: I can't say much without giving it away, but basically, someone on the ship tells the story of love, loss, and loneliness.... well, sorta.... anyway, it's REALLY long, and we will type up the story a bit at a time... we will type a chapter per week until it's done, so keep coming and catch the whole thing....
Author's Note: In the prologue, the character is going crazy, and is nearly insane, so I attempted to write it as if he was. If you think I did I bad job at that, then well, you can skip to Chapter One... reading the prologue is not necessary to understand the rest of the story...
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AUTHOR'S NOTE #2--IMPORTANT (at least to me)
THis poor fic had 89 reviews on it, and now it's down to one... could we at least TRY to get it back up to where it was.... aka... please R&R.... this is why i didn't want to make a new name cuz now people will look at this and think it's no good (only 1 review on 29 chapters)... so please R&R... not that i didn't want you to BEFORE....lol... just review!!!!
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Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything..... well, not the story idea.... that one's ours..... I WISH I owned it, cuz then I'd have lots of money..... but, well, I don't
Prologue
"...under no conditions are you to spend any off-duty time together, or any on-duty time alone together. On away missions, you will each be paired with different crewmembers, and you may not leave the ship at the same time otherwise. Finally, you may not send any transmissions to each other unless I review them first and send them for you. Any violation of these orders without direct permission from me, I will personally send both of you to the brig while I wait for a ship to come get you. Is that understood?"
The flashbacks were the worst. The Captain's words echoed inside his head as he remembered first the speech, then the rules, and finally the consequences. Then he remembered why this had all happened in the first place. Then he thought of how stupid he'd been. It hadn't even meant anything, at least not at the time. But then, how did the saying go... "You don't know what you have until it's gone", or something like that.
Well, that saying was all too much the case, and all that he could think about. He tried to distract himself with work, games, movies, and even his favorite food. But nothing seemed to work. Something always reminded him of the Captain's orders, and of what he was now without.
He just wished that he could talk to someone about this- about her, but no one knew what had happened. They thought that they did, but they really didn't. No one knew of the Captain's orders except the one person who he couldn't talk to.
Instead, he had to relive that moment over and over; had heard the Captain's words so many times that there was no longer an echo, but simply a constant tone. A constant tone that couldn't be stopped. It was there with only one intention-- to torture him until he gave up and just forgot about her. But he refused. He fought back against the tone and refused to give in to the part of his brain which told him to forget it ever happened. And every time he fought it, it fought back, increasing its intensity just enough to make it necessary to fight harder. And then the cycle would continue until it nearly drove him over the edge. Then, having completed its short term cycle, it would surrender to his control and he could finally relax enough to go to sleep.
But it wouldn't stop there. It seeped into his dreams, too. And he now not only heard, but also saw the memory as well. Again and again it would play-- first his stupid mistake; then the lecture, the rules, and the consequences; and finally, the agony of loneliness and memories being bottled up inside like a tiny ship that couldn't escape without breaking. It forced him to wake up and remember more.
She was gone. He could never again spend another moment with her because she was gone forever. She could never be in his life again; could never brighten his day with her every word. She was truly gone. And because he had made a stupid decision, he hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye. He hadn't been allowed to.
And now he was going he was going insane in the small part of the universe in which only his memories could torture him, and he could be alone. He sat in his room alone, never once leaving, never once making contact with another being. He sat alone, throwing things when he couldn't take it anymore; fighting the urge to simply end everything-- the torture, the suffering, the loneliness, and the sorrow.
But he did fight it, for what would come of that? Would it really change anything? Most likely he would continue to relive the same memory until the universe itself came to an end.
So instead he continued to suffer; continued to relive the same events. Many people had attempted to force him out of the cycle. "Just forget her," they would say. But they couldn't make him forget her. They would have to kill him first.
But of course they didn't realize that. The continued to come. One of them had just arrived, in fact. The annoying beep from the door chime kept repeating over and over as someone tried to gain access to his room. Usually they left more quickly than this. But this person was persistent. They continued to add to his torture by pressing the chime. He considered what to do. He could break the controls so that no one could enter. Or he could just ignore the chime and let the person behind it push until their fingers were too numb to push anymore. Or he let them inside. But nothing would be accomplished. They would just try to force him out. They would not succeed, and it would have been a waste of time. But the chime would stop.
Finally, he gave in. "Come in!" he yelled, angry at them for chiming so many times. The door opened and light flooded the dark room from the corridor beyond it. The person who been pushing the chime walked through the opening. They stopped once inside and the door closed behind them, making the room black once again.
A silhouette appeared inside the room, but the face was too dark to see since there was no lighting. He grabbed a weapon from the floor near him and aimed it at the figure which was now standing just inside the door. "Who's there?" he yelled.
"It's Travis, sir. Can I talk to you for a minute?" The voice was easily recognizable, and was indeed Travis Mayweather's.
"What do you want?" he asked, knowing that the Ensign would no doubt attempt that which everyone else had attempted. But he wouldn't let him succeed, just as none of the others had succeeded.
"I just want to talk to you... about what happened. I wasn't there, and no one else really knows the whole story. So I was hoping you could tell me... and get it off your chest at the same time."
He wasn't prepared for this. He didn't know how to respond. No one had ever come in without intending to try to force him out. But Travis didn't act as the others had. They had come in forcefully, trying to act as if they had good intentions. But Travis seemed more sincere. He didn't even suggest leaving the room. He lowered his weapon slowly. Perhaps simply telling the story would relieve some of his pain and remove some portion of the agony. It would also give him someone to talk to... someone else who would know the whole story. He decided that he would tell Travis his story. "Where do you want me to start?" he asked.
"The beginning would be nice," the Ensign replied.
"All right. Have a seat, Ensign." He saw the figure move to a chair and sit down. As soon as he was satisfied that the young man was seated and listening, he brought up the correct memory in his mind. Then he began his tale. "Well it all started about eight months ago..."
Author: Emily and Becky
E-Mail: [email protected]
Archive: Sure... just tell us where
Rating: PG, but with LITTLE spots that COULD be considered PG-13 if you're really picky
Category: General/Humor/Romance/Drama
Codes: T/T'P, A, S, R, Ph, M, Porthos, Several Vulcans (I can't tell you who without giving it away)
Summary: I can't say much without giving it away, but basically, someone on the ship tells the story of love, loss, and loneliness.... well, sorta.... anyway, it's REALLY long, and we will type up the story a bit at a time... we will type a chapter per week until it's done, so keep coming and catch the whole thing....
Author's Note: In the prologue, the character is going crazy, and is nearly insane, so I attempted to write it as if he was. If you think I did I bad job at that, then well, you can skip to Chapter One... reading the prologue is not necessary to understand the rest of the story...
**************************
AUTHOR'S NOTE #2--IMPORTANT (at least to me)
THis poor fic had 89 reviews on it, and now it's down to one... could we at least TRY to get it back up to where it was.... aka... please R&R.... this is why i didn't want to make a new name cuz now people will look at this and think it's no good (only 1 review on 29 chapters)... so please R&R... not that i didn't want you to BEFORE....lol... just review!!!!
**************************
Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything..... well, not the story idea.... that one's ours..... I WISH I owned it, cuz then I'd have lots of money..... but, well, I don't
Prologue
"...under no conditions are you to spend any off-duty time together, or any on-duty time alone together. On away missions, you will each be paired with different crewmembers, and you may not leave the ship at the same time otherwise. Finally, you may not send any transmissions to each other unless I review them first and send them for you. Any violation of these orders without direct permission from me, I will personally send both of you to the brig while I wait for a ship to come get you. Is that understood?"
The flashbacks were the worst. The Captain's words echoed inside his head as he remembered first the speech, then the rules, and finally the consequences. Then he remembered why this had all happened in the first place. Then he thought of how stupid he'd been. It hadn't even meant anything, at least not at the time. But then, how did the saying go... "You don't know what you have until it's gone", or something like that.
Well, that saying was all too much the case, and all that he could think about. He tried to distract himself with work, games, movies, and even his favorite food. But nothing seemed to work. Something always reminded him of the Captain's orders, and of what he was now without.
He just wished that he could talk to someone about this- about her, but no one knew what had happened. They thought that they did, but they really didn't. No one knew of the Captain's orders except the one person who he couldn't talk to.
Instead, he had to relive that moment over and over; had heard the Captain's words so many times that there was no longer an echo, but simply a constant tone. A constant tone that couldn't be stopped. It was there with only one intention-- to torture him until he gave up and just forgot about her. But he refused. He fought back against the tone and refused to give in to the part of his brain which told him to forget it ever happened. And every time he fought it, it fought back, increasing its intensity just enough to make it necessary to fight harder. And then the cycle would continue until it nearly drove him over the edge. Then, having completed its short term cycle, it would surrender to his control and he could finally relax enough to go to sleep.
But it wouldn't stop there. It seeped into his dreams, too. And he now not only heard, but also saw the memory as well. Again and again it would play-- first his stupid mistake; then the lecture, the rules, and the consequences; and finally, the agony of loneliness and memories being bottled up inside like a tiny ship that couldn't escape without breaking. It forced him to wake up and remember more.
She was gone. He could never again spend another moment with her because she was gone forever. She could never be in his life again; could never brighten his day with her every word. She was truly gone. And because he had made a stupid decision, he hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye. He hadn't been allowed to.
And now he was going he was going insane in the small part of the universe in which only his memories could torture him, and he could be alone. He sat in his room alone, never once leaving, never once making contact with another being. He sat alone, throwing things when he couldn't take it anymore; fighting the urge to simply end everything-- the torture, the suffering, the loneliness, and the sorrow.
But he did fight it, for what would come of that? Would it really change anything? Most likely he would continue to relive the same memory until the universe itself came to an end.
So instead he continued to suffer; continued to relive the same events. Many people had attempted to force him out of the cycle. "Just forget her," they would say. But they couldn't make him forget her. They would have to kill him first.
But of course they didn't realize that. The continued to come. One of them had just arrived, in fact. The annoying beep from the door chime kept repeating over and over as someone tried to gain access to his room. Usually they left more quickly than this. But this person was persistent. They continued to add to his torture by pressing the chime. He considered what to do. He could break the controls so that no one could enter. Or he could just ignore the chime and let the person behind it push until their fingers were too numb to push anymore. Or he let them inside. But nothing would be accomplished. They would just try to force him out. They would not succeed, and it would have been a waste of time. But the chime would stop.
Finally, he gave in. "Come in!" he yelled, angry at them for chiming so many times. The door opened and light flooded the dark room from the corridor beyond it. The person who been pushing the chime walked through the opening. They stopped once inside and the door closed behind them, making the room black once again.
A silhouette appeared inside the room, but the face was too dark to see since there was no lighting. He grabbed a weapon from the floor near him and aimed it at the figure which was now standing just inside the door. "Who's there?" he yelled.
"It's Travis, sir. Can I talk to you for a minute?" The voice was easily recognizable, and was indeed Travis Mayweather's.
"What do you want?" he asked, knowing that the Ensign would no doubt attempt that which everyone else had attempted. But he wouldn't let him succeed, just as none of the others had succeeded.
"I just want to talk to you... about what happened. I wasn't there, and no one else really knows the whole story. So I was hoping you could tell me... and get it off your chest at the same time."
He wasn't prepared for this. He didn't know how to respond. No one had ever come in without intending to try to force him out. But Travis didn't act as the others had. They had come in forcefully, trying to act as if they had good intentions. But Travis seemed more sincere. He didn't even suggest leaving the room. He lowered his weapon slowly. Perhaps simply telling the story would relieve some of his pain and remove some portion of the agony. It would also give him someone to talk to... someone else who would know the whole story. He decided that he would tell Travis his story. "Where do you want me to start?" he asked.
"The beginning would be nice," the Ensign replied.
"All right. Have a seat, Ensign." He saw the figure move to a chair and sit down. As soon as he was satisfied that the young man was seated and listening, he brought up the correct memory in his mind. Then he began his tale. "Well it all started about eight months ago..."