AN: Sorry for the wait, but writing this story is taking more time than I originally thought, and I also haven't decided how it's going to end yet.
My admission hurts, but not as much as the truth itself. I allow myself to slide down slowly until I'm sitting on the floor with my back still against the screen. There is a long silence between us.
"I had no idea," he says quietly, "you always seemed so," he stops and appears to be searching for the right word. "Fine," he finishes weakly.
"You don't realise how hard it is, do you?" I start, though I wonder, is it possible he really didn't or doesn't know? Somehow I always assume if there is one person that can read me like a flexi, it's him.
An odd look flashes over his face, and he's just about to answer but decides against it and remains still.
How am I going to make him see? Do I even tell him? I'm not sure I want him to know, on the other hand, maybe then he'll understand and go – seems unlikely though. There is just so much and I hardly know where to start.
"I—" the icy nervousness welling up inside stops me. I can't help but smile despite myself. I am about to die, and here I am, nervous and afraid that what I'm about to say will ruin what little we have left.
He is still looking at me, and the concern in his eyes sends that familiar feeling gushing up in my chest again that only adds to my nervousness. I close my eyes tight, and two unshed tears run slowly down my cheeks.
"I love you," I nearly choke on each word and swallow hard, "I love you. I never stopped loving you. You mean more to me than anything, or anyone. I'd die for you, not just because you're my captain or my fellow High Guard officer or my friend, but because I couldn't live with myself knowing something happened to you that I could or might have prevented."
Lately I've been wishing more and more that a situation might present itself for me to do just that, at least then my death would have meaning, instead of this senseless oblivion. Tears flow freely now, but I don't care, the words at least come more easily.
"You mean everything to me. When I'm walking down a corridor or sitting in my quarters I find myself saying your name out loud, hardly a minute goes by that I don't think of you.
"It's worse because so much reminds me of you, of us. Even some of what used to be favourite places of mine, I don't want to see anymore because of the memories I have of our times there." Thoughts of Sualocin or O'Connell Drift settle in my mind for a moment before I try to banish them from my thoughts, along with the memories associated with them.
"And that's without the constant reminder of having you inside me every second, I can't go to Obs. Deck without wanting to take my forcelance and shoot myself in the head, let alone your quarters." Even my own, even after redecorating them - the painting he gave me that I can't bring myself to take down, the plant he insisted would brighten up the room, among other things.
"And it hurts, being apart from you with you so close sometimes seems unbearable, but so does being with you when there's so much I want to tell you and can't. When every so often all I want to do is hold your hands and kiss you. I've never felt so alone."
I shiver at the thought, and even more when I realise just how alone I really am right now, and even more so when Dylan leaves. I hug myself close though I don't really know why. For a second I wonder how pathetic I must look right now, and the thought only sends a fresh surge of tears streaming down my face.
I try to calm down a bit, but I can't seem to be able to. With everything I have held on to all this time out in the open I think that this is the closest I've ever come to actually feeling sick, apart from that afternoon he broke up with me, of course, and the following days and weeks. It's surprising though, that in a sense I am relieved, as if a weight has been lifted, and for a moment I even get my wailing under control. I keep my eyes closed and take a few calming breaths, at least I hoped they would calm. I can feel more tears building and I continue quickly, before my will to get it all out leaves me completely.
"It's more than that, it's—" I stop, that sentence won't make any sense. "I—" I try to start again, I feel what little control I had slip und tears start coursing down my cheeks again. I imagine Dylan reaching out to me, to wipe them away, but when after a few seconds I can't feel his hand touch my face the stabbing pain of disappointment is almost more than I can cope with. I struggle to keep going, "I'm afraid, I'm so afraid," I say through the tears, everything is coming out in ragged sobs and I can only hope he understands me nevertheless.
"Every time you're invited to a party, a meeting, anything, or I route a private communiqué to your quarters or your office. I imagine this is the one you meet someone else, the one I finally loose you forever. And I can't even stand the idea.
"And even if that never happened, it seems the only thing in my future is your death, be it sixty years from now. And I know if the pain and fear haven't killed me by then, I'm sure that will." Even imagining it seems too painful to bear.
I considered all the hurt as a penance, atonement. "I can't stand it anymore, I just want it to end. And when it does, I—" For the first time I feel her circling the border of our minds, "we don't want to feel any pain, when the sun goes nova, the ensuing shockwave will tear through me in a nanosecond. My sensors won't have time to record, let alone relay anything to my cores. I won't feel anything. The only important thing now, is that you leave."
TBC