If That's What It Takes

If only I knew what your problem was. If only you would let me help you. But since I know you I'm aware that you won't say a word. You'll let whatever you're afraid of eat you from the inside out. And nothing I say or do will change that. You're barely sleeping at night anymore because you're haunted. By what? I honestly don't know because you won't tell me.

It hurts me.

It hurts me to see the dark circles under your eyes. It hurts me to see that the sparkle in your eyes is gone. It hurts me to see you slipping away from us . . . from me.

But I won't give up on you.

Once, I've sworn that I would stand by your side, doing whatever I could to make your burdens lighter. I can't and won't break my promise now, especially not when you're hurt. It makes me sad to see you slowly breaking up inside. If only I knew what to do, how to reach out to you. There must be a way to ease your pain, but I can't find it.

I won't stop searching, though.

I could ask you straightforward what is wrong, but somehow I doubt that would get you to talk to me. On the other hand, I need to do something. I can't allow you to break down. You mean way too much to me to even consider that an option. You've always been there for me, although you might not have been aware of it. Yet is it like I've told you on New Earth. You've given me peace and although we've been occasionally fighting since our return that's still true.

I need to see you.

Now.

I've made up my mind and I'm going to see you. Of course, it's quite late, but I know that you're awake. I can hear you pacing your quarters. How do I do it though? I don't know whether you let me in . . . Yet it doesn't matter. The least, but not last, I can do is try.

You answer your chime at once. Apparently, you don't give a second thought as to who might be outside.

Or maybe you do.

I enter your quarters and the first things I see are the tears streaming down your face. My heart breaks at the sight of you standing before me in nothing more than your nightgown. Without thinking I cross the room in two powerful steps and take you into my arms. I'm a little surprised that you don't do so much as stiffen. Instead you cling to me, soaking my shirt with your tears. But I don't care.

Still, I don't know what's causing you so much pain. I also don't know what else I can do but run my hands soothingly up and down your back and tell you that everything's going to be fine.

It sounds hollow. Even to my ears. Here I stand, holding the woman I love in my arms, and still I have no clue what I can do to ease your pain.

You don't seem to mind.

No, you don't seem to mind at all.

Eventually, you pull away from me and I can't help wondering whether you'll put up your command mask now. I expect it of you. It's your usual way of dealing with your problems, with keeping others, especially me, at bay. I really expect you to find a way to get me out of here. After all you've shown me more of Kathryn tonight than in the last couple of months.

You don't try it, though.

*

You look like I feel. Helpless. I can understand it of course. You're unsure of what has happened and how to proceed.

As am I.

As usual, my mind's telling me to get away from you. It's no good to have you around because I'm the captain.

I ignore my mind.

My heart's telling me to make sure that you stay. I'm so sick of being alone. I've finally come to the conclusion that I can't make it alone anymore. But I'm not that sure of your feelings. It's been a long time. I don't know whether you're standing before me as a friend or as someone so much more.

I want you to be more.

I have no idea how to tell you, though. After all this time I simply can't say these three little words and expect you to burst of joy. I simply can't for fear that your feelings have changed.

I notice that I'm still holding onto your hands. You notice it, too. But I'm tired, physically and emotionally, and can't stand any longer. So I lead you over to my couch.

You follow willingly.

A good sign.

Suddenly, it occurs to me that neither of us has spoken a word since I've given you permission to enter. And because I can't form the words I watch you instead.

I wonder how you can appear so calm, but then I see the worry in your eyes. I know then that you're wearing a mask just as I'm used to.

But not tonight.

I won't put it up tonight. I've already shown you my distress. I won't pretend now that I never did because you're here . . . With me . . . Just what I wanted.

I open my mouth.

No words come out.

*

I wish you would tell me whatever you wanted to say. Yet you closed your mouth again. I don't know . . . Shall I leave? Shall I stay?

"Stay," you say.

I don't think I've spoken loud, but you seem to understand me better than I though you'd do.

I see the relief in your eyes when I don't make a move . . . and I see something else. Something I thought I'd never see there. It's so unbelievable that I'm not sure whether it was there at all.

I whisper your name.

*

I know that I'm crying. Again. I feel the tears spill forth and stream down my face. It might sound odd, but it's a good thing. Finally, I feel again.

Thanks to you.

You're such a loving person and suddenly I'm no longer afraid to show you what you mean to me. What I feel for you.

Still, I can't form the words.

My throat is dry. The words won't come. But I don't need to say them. You see what I can't tell you and I can see it in your eyes as well. You have no clue what that means to me.

There's a chance.

A chance of happiness. For you. For me. For us . . . So I don't resist you as you once again take me into your strong arms.

I need you.

I love you.

*

You fit into my arms nicely.

That's the first thing I notice.

You don't try to resist my embrace.

The second thing.

You enjoy it.

The third.

I'm happy now. Even though you still haven't told me I know that you return my feelings for you. But more importantly, you're no longer afraid of them.

And I promise, here and now, that you'll never hurt again. And if I have to lay down my life to prevent that, I'll do it.

If that's what it takes . . .

THE END

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