I have written hundreds of ficlets/drabbles for A/R, and have decided to post a few here. This 'story' will be the stand alone/individual ficlets/drabbles I've written (that is, not series of ficlets or ones with sequels etc), each posted as an individual 'chapter'. I will keep all the fics of the same ratings together, therefore, this 'story' will not go beyond the T rating. All ficlets/drabbles are 300, 200, or 100 words exactly. Hope you enjoy.
This one I wrote for a 'write in the 1st or 2nd POV' challenge incorporating 'water'. It was a companion piece for a friend's fic which was set during He That Believeth in Me and explained MM's wardrobe fail of wearing her own wedding ring in the hangar deck scene of that episode. This should, hopefully, still make sense without having read that original fic. And this one is set after the Six of One argument.
Title: The Ring
Three cups of coffee in the galley kitchen, a cold shower in the Officer's Head, and two hours later, you walk back into your quarters.
She's in your rack, facing the bulkhead. Her entire bearing screams 'leave me alone'. If this was a house, you'd be heading for the spare room. Instead you head for the couch.
As you pass the table, you see the ring, lying forlorn in the middle of the wooden surface.
She takes it off, slips it into her pocket, only when she leaves your cabin. Tonight there it is - reflecting mockingly up at you.
You snatch it up, stride to the drinks' cart and pour yourself a water.
"More?" Her voice bites out through the semi-darkness.
"You want one?" You're being a smart-ass but you can't help it. You should just tell her the glass only contains water and not more alcohol. You should just apologise and not deliberately provoke more angry words. You would, if not for the band of gold you are caressing with your thumb.
You gave her the ring as a simple gift, but it meant more than you'd admit at the time. You wait for her love to grow as intense as yours. Like she said all that time ago, you never give up hope. But now…
"Bill?"
She's standing next to you and you jump, startled.
She never flinches as you raise your fist towards her. You rotate your wrist and unfurl your fingers. She grimaces, picks up the ring from your palm and slips it onto her finger.
"I was sick."
Her words remind you of why the argument started in the first place.
"I didn't want to drop it down the toilet."
She flexes her hand, causing the ring to glint up at you. There's still hope.
The End
