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“Why didn’t anything ever happen between us?” “Good god, Lemon. If you’re trying to conjure my mother’s ghost, you could just shake a jar of coins while praising Jimmy Carter.” “No, I’m not saying I wanted something to happen. But why didn’t something happen? We’ve spent a lot of time together. We’ve been drunk together and day-drunk together and on the rebound at the same time. And, also, you’re kind of a slut.” “I did sleep with Jenna a lot during Season Three.” “… If I were a different person, would you have hit on me?” “I understand what you’re getting at, Lemon. There was a particularly youth-oriented priest in my childhood parish who went after everyone but me – even Fat Ralph, and he ate his boogers. I felt so unpretty.” “No, this isn’t about appearance, Jack. Did nothing ever happen between us because I’m not fun?” “Good god, Lemon. Obviously, our relationship, however you definite it – mentor/mentee -- ” “—Sister-ployee/work oracle-- ” “-- Is more interesting than some dating scenario. And obviously, to ruin what we have with a tawdry, yet expert sexual encounter would’ve been a mistake.” “Obviously! But is it the kind of mistake that I should have made? Tracey told me I haven’t lived.” “You’re allowing Tracy to criticize your life choices – Tracy Jordan?” ... The chaos of the festivities faded away as Camille took in the sight before her. How her mother knew of her love for Richard, she would never understand. But there he was, sitting at a table for two, read ing a book, and seeming… at peace with the world. For once. “Camille?” He, at least, seemed to be just as surprised as she was by the arrangement. “Oh! Good lord, you look stunning.” “Thank you.” A shy, almost flustered remark breezed into the air. A highly unusual response for the Detective Sergeant. “Um… this is a bit of a surprise. I, er, I wasn’t expecting…” “No. Quite.” A sheepish shrug came forth out of his momentary stammers. “It was your mother’s idea. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she’s quite difficult to say no to.” An amused scoff came from this remark. “Yes, I have.” Well, who was she to say no to her mother’s scheming? “Um, I think I’ll have a cocktail.” “Oh, right! Have you got time?” What? “Excuse me?” “Only I—I thought you had a date.” “Yes, but, er…” “Are you ready, sir?” “What’s going on?” “Well, your mother arranged for me to baby Rosie for Fidel and Juliet so they could go for a romantic meal together and I agreed, subject to certain conditions, such as they were home by 10:00 and she sleeps the whole time I am there. So, basically, less babysitting, more reading a book in someone’s house.” “Haven’t you had enough work for one day? It’s rude to keep your date waiting.” “Well, er, we’d better be going. I, um, hope you… you know, have a nice time.” “Yes.” “See you tomorrow? “See you.” … “What do you think?” “A boat!” “You said you wanted to explore the river? I think I could build this.” “We could go on a camping trip.” Peals of laughter began to trickle into the room, filling the warm mood with even more light. “I’m not sure we could fit the bathtub in the boat.” Silent snickers emanated from the pair as distance seemed to close between them. “Well, that’s all right: I’ll have the river.” Total comfort dripped into the space when, suddenly, the crackling of civilization came forth. “Do you hear that?” “Yes.”
“… to Captain Janeway. Do you read me? This is Tuvok calling Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay. Please respond.”
Laughter diminished into melancholic silence. “This is Janeway.” The Captain’s tone was back.
“Captain, it’s good to hear your voice. We have news.”
“What is it?” Smiles faded into bemusement.
“We have medicine which we believe will effectively treat your condition. We plan to be in orbit within 30 hours.”
Total control was back. ... “How long will he be asleep, Doctor?” “Between the emotional strain and the attack of bends, he’s in pretty bad shape.” Like every other damn mission we get ourselves into. And if it’s not him, it’s you.
“I’m not criticizing your action, Doctor. On the contrary, I’m quite grateful for it. The Captain will be spared the strain of making so difficult a decision. You’ve simplified the situation considerably.” “How?” “While the Captain is asleep, I am in command. When the Vians return, I shall go with them.” “You mean, if I hadn’t given given him that shot--” “Precisely. The choice would have been the Captain’s. Now, it is mine.”
You green-blooded son-of-a— Leonard hastily cut off that thought, too shocked for thoughts. He could only give a delayed double take as realization flooded him. But every time he observed this scene, he was reminded of the others: green blood splattered on a desert’s floor, the forced submission to Platonian power, Jim stepping forth to challenge Spock, time after time— Enough. The doctor glanced back at his companions, a plan quickly concocted and a hypospray at the ready. He trekked back, a determined glint in his eye. “Your action is highly unethical.” But already, the sedative was already beginning to take effect. “My decision,” Spock’s voice, much like his body, was already beginning to sway. “Stands.” The doctor watched his friend unwillingly plummet into sleep. This is how it was supposed to be. “Not this time, Spock.” …
“Bonsoir, Madam Ferraud,” A stilted nod forced the Belgian detective out of his reverie. “I was just saying to Jean Louis that he was always… the most fortunate of men.” She was a heavenly sight. Pale skin glowed in the light, elegant eyes held his gaze, and a smooth hand gently reached out for a proper greeting. He almost couldn’t hold back the tears. She was married now. The years had taken that opportunity away, not that he would’ve allowed himself to pursue such a life. All he could allow himself was a watery smile. But he would not cry. …
“Now, Frasier, I know you’re going to go crazy convincing yourself that you’ve got some big complex, but couldn’t it be simpler than that? Maybe you just miss your mother. I know I do.” They were all in the old room. One sprinkled in dust, structured by wood, and coated in memories. “I do think about her a lot.” “We all do.” Drinks were being passed around, a way of easing the pain being offered. “Thanks, Niles.” “You’re welcome." “Thank you.” “Mhmm.” The weekend’s fantasies, and nightmares, seemed to dissipate from the air as a contemplative silence filled the room. “Hey, I think we’ve talked about all this enough for one night. So, this is still my birthday, I want to watch the rest of my movies.” “Ooh!” “That’s a great idea, Dad.” Niles nodded in agreement as he went to the TV. “Check.” Chuckles whispered through the air as the crackle of their home videos sounded in the cabin. “… Well, there certainly are a lot of us fighting.” “You know, Dad, I wish there were more shots of you in it.” “Oh, no, no. I liked being the cameraman. I got to focus on the things I liked.” A few more scattered chuckles swept into the space as they focused on the screen. But the light-hearted atmosphere soon gave way to a heavier one. I love you. His eyes momentarily averted their gaze from the TV and a bemused smile appeared as painfully wonderful memories of Hester came forth. I love you. …
It was stifling to breathe. So much life. She was already growing so cold.
So much potential for growth.
A breathtaking, unexplored landscape as far as the eye could see.
So much potential for understanding.
And yet,
So much potential for change.
Her death was far too high of a price. …
“Wait, are you sure this is the right place?” It was getting harder to breathe, but even he was starting to put the pieces together. “Yes. This is where you’re supposed to be.” The right place. Not the correct place. That’s what she agreed to. “No, none of these dishes are capable of transmitting to a Molniya orbit. This is the wrong building!” In the hazy state created from blood loss and exhaustion, half-formed questions swirled around his brain. Why did this feel like John--
“Right building, Finch. For you.”
No. This is not how it's supposed to go, John.