Light Years Between Us

Disclaimer: Space: 1999 is the property of ITC. This story was written for entertainment purposes only. I own none of their characters or situations. This is, after all, only for fun.

Note: If you are a firm believer that Koenig and Russell are destined only for each other, until the end of time, you may hate this story. Likewise if you're a die-hard sci-fi fan who expects space brains, things with tentacles, or deep philosophical arguments. This time, I'm afraid, it's all about the characters.

As the first light of dawn crept through the tiny bedroom window, Helena Russell gave up on sleep. Dawn. She still couldn't get used to it, the same way she still couldn't adjust to sleeping alone again

She smiled wryly as she slipped on a robe, thinking of a country music song her late husband, Lee, had sometimes warbled in the shower. "Sleeping single in a double bed." She hadn't heard that song for years – she was sure it must be in Alpha's music library, somewhere, but for a long time the idea of hearing it had been too painful, and now she was too far away from the library to access it anyway. Either way, she wasn't about to expend any extra effort to hear Crystal Gayle or Tammy Wynette or whoever it was, just to dredge up another old memory.

Helena showered, dressed, and decided to take a walk before opening the infirmary for the day. The nurse, Patty Harkin, had the day off, and Helena clipped her comlock securely to her belt before she left, just in case someone needed her. She was, after all, the only doctor around for miles.

As she followed her favorite path, away from the tiny settlement and into the woods that sheltered them from the wind and snow, she wondered again how long it would take her to get used to breathing fresh air and seeing sunrises. The Alphans had settled the planet two years before, abandoning their moon base for the promise of abundant resources. They had been lucky – as part of the Command staff and head of Life Support, Helena had been aware that their chances for survival on Alpha had become extremely limited. The decision to "abandon ship", although it brought with it the frightening prospect of failure, had been the right one.

Establishing a new community had not come without its personal costs. Though for the most part the Alphans were hopeful about their new lives, some had been gripped with fear and despair – Helena and her medical staff had spent months counseling technicians who now faced lives as farmers, people with doctorates who were paralyzed with the sheer volume of hard physical labor their survival suddenly demanded. She had counseled women who desperately wanted children, but who were terrified of condemning them to a life of drudgery.

And she had seen her own relationship disintegrate, worn away by the demands that this new life had placed on both her and John Koenig, once Alpha's Commander.

The transition had been easier for her, Helena reflected. After all, everyone still needed doctors – now more than ever. But the order of things had been disrupted. Alphans had shed their uniforms, and with them, their desire for their old ways. They were as hard working and dedicated as ever, but they wanted – and needed – to establish a new way of life. John had understood and accepted that, and was willing to give up command to a council, but it seemed the rest of the community did not want to let him go as leader.

So between building houses, tilling fields, healing the sick and establishing a government, John and Helena somehow lost each other. She wondered now if their relationship had been born out of fear, the need for physical comfort in the face of constant uncertainty. It certainly seemed that way – that once the uncertainty had gone, they were struck silent and numb, unable to connect and unwilling to figure out why. Everyone had thought they would marry – indeed, a brush with an alternative universe had deemed it their fate – but they hadn't, and now there were light-years between them, even when they slept side by side.

Faced with that, Helena had jumped at the chance to help establish the infirmary at the new mining settlement. It was only a six-month tour, mainly to give Patty in-depth medical training, and Helena knew it would give her the time she needed to clear her head and let the gossip die down. Alpha had always been a tightly knit community – with everyone living in such close quarters for so long, it could be no other way. Her fellow doctor, Bob Mathias, had once jokingly called it the smallest town in deep space.

Now, as she followed the path back along the edge of the woods, toward the infirmary, she thought of the last time she'd seen John. He'd come to see her off, his face a mixture of misery and weariness as he drew her away from the others.

She had waited for him to ask her to stay, but the words that came out of his mouth surprised her. "Be careful," he said.

"Of course," she said lightly, trying to smile at him. "You too."

He nodded. She waited again, but he was silent.

"I have to go," she said, drawing away from him, and as she stepped back, he reached out for her hand. His fingers squeezed hers once, firmly, before she turned away and climbed aboard the Eagle, too afraid to look back at him.

She had spent the entire flight trying not to cry, and the entire first night crying. And then, as was typical for her, she filed her conflicted emotions away and threw herself into her work. Not the healthiest practice, she knew, but the one she was used to, the one that got her through the days.

As she approached the infirmary she could see a figure standing near the building, shoulders hunched in the cool morning air, and her steps slowed as she recognized Tim Mendelson. He turned and lifted an arm to wave at her, and she smiled at him.

"Hi," she said. "Are you waiting for me?"

"Yeah, sorry. I'm out of aspirin." Guiltily, glanced at his cigarette, then down at the doctor. He shrugged. "Stress reliever."

Helena shook her head. "Honestly, Tim. I thought you'd given that up."

"I had. But only because I ran out of cigarettes in deep space. And then someone started growing that tobacco…"

Helena sighed. "Just keep in mind that I can't treat lung cancer very effectively."

Tim chuckled. "I'm pretty sure the mine will get me before this does."

"Let's not speculate about that, okay?" Helena opened the door to the infirmary and ushered Tim inside. She liked him – she always had. On Alpha, he had kept a low profile but offered up solutions to some of their most pressing resource problems. Some of his ideas had even enabled them to expand Life Support. Here, he headed up the mining operation, duties that encompassed everything from prospecting to providing moral support.

"Headache again?" she asked, as she unlocked the dispensary. Since her arrival he'd been in several times, always with the same complaint.

"Yeah. They're crazy, these headaches. Not bad. Just…annoying."

Helena nodded, handing him a bottle of aspirin. "They're probably due to changes in barometric pressure," she said. "Or – " she smiled suddenly – "those disgusting cigarettes."

"Let's go with the barometric pressure," he suggested, pocketing the bottle. He leaned against the doorframe. "Tell you what."

"What?"

"I'll quit smoking if you have dinner with me tonight."

Helena stared at him in surprise, feeling a blush creep over her cheeks. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then smiled a little. "I don't think that's a good idea," she said, softly.

"Why not? Do you already have a date?"

"Hardly."

"Then what's the problem?"

She was silent for a moment. "I'm not very good company these days," she said, finally.

"I find that hard to believe." He crossed his arms over his chest, his dark eyes twinkling. "Come on. I'm tired of inventing headaches. And I bet you're tired of eating upstairs, in that poky little room."

"What makes you think it's poky?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I built it. I know it's poky." He shifted on his feet, reaching for the door. "You're not a nun," he said. "You should stop living like one."

"I'm not living like a nun," she said, her voice cool. "And it's none of your business."

"No," he said, "you're right. But it is just dinner." He shrugged, stepping through the door. "You know where to find me if you change your mind."

When Helena checked her e-mail at lunch, she found two messages: one from John and one from Tim. She read Tim's first, intrigued by the subject line. It was to the point, very much like him. "Sorry about this morning," she read. "But at least I went down in a blaze of glory. Offer still stands."

Helena read John's next. Also short and direct, John had a way of asking how she was without revealing anything about himself. In the months she'd been away, he'd never let on that he missed her. She wondered if he actually did, or if he was contacting her out of habit. And then she wondered what they were holding on to.

She took a deep breath and went back to Tim's message. Helena hit "reply", and typed five quick words before she could change her mind. 7:00 okay? Meet me here.