LtCmdr. Shayne: All Good Things Must Begin (DS26/Blackwell)
Quinn Friedl
((Corridors, Deep Space 26))
Shayne: Lead on.
::He was not lead. This was a fact of his personality. Though he was not a “tough guy”, though he had no problem taking advice or following superior officers, it was always of his own volition. He decided whether he obeyed these commands, or proceeded along the same path as he or she that beckoned him to fall in line. It was, in his experience, the quiet ones that demanded their course, however short or wracked with pain, be set by them and not defined by anyone else’s insistence or expectation.::
::And yet, he trusted this stranger, this soul mate, to guide his direction, to decide where he stepped. Small matters to a socialite, to those that mingled and gossiped and shared themselves endlessly, but for people with such crippling fears and demons as Shayne (and indeed MacKenna), this simple act was like taking the whole of reality, and placing it directly in the hands of another.::
::It didn’t help that his reality was now almost exclusively MacKenna herself.::
::It wasn’t like he could stop it. Not that he would if he could. This wasn’t entirely his choice. This needed to be. Some part of him longed for what only MacKenna could provide, and it was a part of him that he’d denied for as long as he could remember. When part of the heart went dead, it was best to leave it that way. He had been perfectly content to maintain that mindset. Well, happy was as improper a word as humanly possible. The fact of his discontent had rather been the point. And now, without his volition or permission, that neglected, forlorn section of his psyche was swelling with new purpose and life. It was painful, and it was superb. If things fell apart now, in this most vulnerable of times, he was sure the descent of events would snag his remaining capacity for trust and drag it down into the
inescapable pit of What Might Have Been.::
MacKenna: I understand how you feel. I’ve been there once. But it gets better.
::His mindset had been slammed out of its funk by her mere presence, and their interaction had only stimulated the finest sensations of trust and affection in him. But days of perpetual anger, misery, hatred and loathing for everything and everyone (principally, himself), had ingrained a defensive, confrontational mindset. The two opposite reactions warred slightly, before they settled on a compromise on how to approach. The message of the anger, and the delivery of the joy.::
Shayne: I trust you. But… does it? They’ll not ask me again- not if they’re in their right minds.
::If it had been anyone else, he might have thought they were patronizing him, shoving tired platitudes down his throat only to make themselves feel better about his revulsion. But with this flame-haired goddess, every word was imbued with an honesty and a truthfulness, to the point where no alternative motivation could fit into the spaces between. Each expression was a force, a fact, and a prayer, and Shayne found himself hanging onto every word.::
::He was impatient, and he had all the time in the world. Each second was caught in the ecstacy of preparation, of bracing oneself to enjoy a fact of the universe that presented itself only reluctantly. He could wait. Shayne didn’t even notice when the dark, glittering green tiles of DS26 gave way to the uniformly grey familiarity of the Blackwell.::
MacKenna: They would be crazy not to.
::His eyes refused to look away from her. A response could not possibly build on the moment. This was what he’d craved without wanting to admit the need- approval. Approval from someone that seemed able to take him as he was, faults, errors, wrongs and all, and then still render a judgement of his worth. His counselors- indeed, almost every counselor he’d ever met- enjoyed reiterating the importance of the pyramid of needs, and how more than half of it was dedicated to the sensations of acceptance and fulfillment. Well, Shayne, ever dedicated to throwing psychologists for a loop, had done everything in his power to prove them wrong, to be an exception to their meddling philosophies. Only now, though, was he understanding the harm he’d done to himself.::
::MacKenna had, in one instant, done more for him than countless degree-awarded, Federation-approved shrinks.::
::They stopped.::
::The change was abrupt, and yet subtle, like an end to a string of hiccups. He looked around. The corridor was familiar, and yet not quite recognizable. He looked to the side. A set of quarters returned his stagnant gaze.::
::To Shayne, on any other night, with any other person, this invitation would leave him a quivering mess. Intimate relations of any sort were definitely outside his particular skill set. But now, whatever MacKenna had in mind, he was prepared for. He felt elevated, purer, and he was confident her sensations and impressions were likewise above such considerations. Whatever happened now, he would gladly follow. But not before he made his love- his untouched, unassailable love- clear.::
::Wrapping her soft hand delicately in his, he said what he’d wanted to say for what felt like years.::
Shayne: From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
Shayne: oO You need only give a sign. I am here for you. Oo
::For the first time in his life, he wished someone was telepathic. Most days, that particular quirk of biology was a source of concern at best, and downright terrifying at worst. And yet, now that he was possessed only of thoughts that he wished to share, his priorities had changed.::
MacKenna: ::Quietly.:: For you, any time.
::She leaned in. The same thing that would be rendering him a total, inept mess was now holding him erect, firm, and ready to provide the gentle, true affection her encircling arms sought. As she enveloped him back, he realized it didn’t matter who might spot them. It didn’t matter what they’d say. They had this- they could mock if they wished, but nothing short of time travel could dispossess them of the joy and affection they’d experienced today.::
::As strong as he felt, as motivated as he was to remain like this for the next century, his body, his head, his heart itself felt on the edge of catastrophic failure. He was exhausted. He’d pushed himself too damned hard.::
::It came with precisely no surprise that MacKenna picked up on that a moment later- he’d become accustomed to her vaguely telepathic abilities. But the way she expressed it left him reeling as a new surge of joy at unexplored possibilities flashed inside him.::
MacKenna: You don’t have to be alone. I have plenty of space.
::He truly didn't want to impose. That would be catastrophic. But he didn’t want to be without her, especially now. It was irregular. It was incredible. It was beautiful. They were both of the same rank, both of the same heart. There was nothing regulation-wise that could stop them. And even if there were, he didn’t think he’d care.::
::And… as she went to retrieve blankets for him, he wondered if he’d actually have the strength to get back to his own quarters, all the way across the Blackwell.::
Shayne: Are you sure?
::Much of his gratitude was lost in the slight slurring of the words, but he didn't worry. She knew just how touched he was. The absolute trust of absolute communication.::
MacKenna: Sleep easy tonight. I’ll be here when you wake up.
::His eyes had already began to slide closed, the traitorous sensing organs finally losing the struggle. In his last moments of coherence, he inelegantly descended until his head hit the pillow. He was in a stranger’s quarters, without prior plans or intentions. And he wasn’t freaking out wildly.::
Shayne: ::Whispering through the exhaustion.:: Thank you.
::And with that, he finally surrendered to sleep that had been denied him. The last realization before he lost consciousness was that, for the first time in recent memory… he was happy.::
END
Lieutenant Commander Randal Shayne
Ops Officer/Second Officer
USS Blackwell
NCC 58999
G239202RS0