Things you do not wish to...
An Alpha Centauri fan fiction by Shade
I say this only once before beginning. I don't own Alpha Centauri, though I am interested in owning Zakharov (giggles). I intend no harm. Now that we're clear about this, let us begin...
12) Suppress.
Zakharov awoke from the sound of a closing door: slowly opening one eye, he looked up and saw a tray laden with food items stand on the table: there was tea, orange juice, three sandwiches, a few slices of cheese, some jam, a hardboiled egg and a spoon, and a small piece of chocolate. 'She's spoiling me!', his mind voiced gleefully as he awoke immediately and set himself down in front of the plate. He ate slowly, taking his time – his watch told him that it was only eight thirty, so he would still have plenty of time to get ready. In the meanwhile, he was listening to the occasional wisps of conversation that were carried his way from the living room.
"...usual dream, when... ...introduced as... 'planetvoice'... ...told of a 'growth dream'... ...voice grew... high-pitched and... ...woke up with..." He quickly put on his lab coat over his pyjamas and went to return the now-empty tray, silently wondering who it was that Deirdre was talking to. As he entered the living room, he immediately saw who it was – and it also solved the mystery of there being no answers. Deirdre, dressed in a luxurious-looking robe over deep green pyjamas, stood with her back to him, in front of a holoprojection that obviously served as her new assistant.
"...the day will progress smoothly, I hope."
"Okay, Lady. I'll leave you now, maybe take a walk in the Paradise Garden... You have a visitor, by the way. Looks like a scientist... Bye!" The holoprojection faded from view and Deirdre turned around.
"Hello, Prokhor! ...Was the breakfast good?", she said, motioning for him to set the plate down in the kitchen, which he did.
"It was the best I've had yet.", he replied, truthfully – he pleased himself at University Base with two plain cheese sandwiches every morning, thus he could count his breakfast in Gaia's Landing as a feast. "How long do we still have?"
"Well... I have to be at the city hall at about eleven, so we've still got an hour and a half. I'm going to take a shower now – yes, again...", she said as he raised an eyebrow. 'I thought she had taken a shower yesterday...', he thought, keeping the images of her in her bathrobe out of his mind with sheer willpower. "I had a rather weird dream..."
"Not about something that called itself 'planetvoice' by any chance?", he asked, remembering both his own dream and the wisps of conversation that he had heard earlier.
"How do you know!", she asked, her expression bewildered. Zakharov chuckled lightly, enjoying her obvious amazement before filling her in.
"I had the same dream. The voice called me 'earthzakharov'..."
"It called me 'earthdeirdre'...", Deirdre said slowly, her expression one of deep thought.
"...and it spoke of a 'growth dream' that would end our hurting this planet. Then, when I asked why it warned me..."
"...it immediately spoke of a 'dream song' and kept repeating 'why'...", Deirdre finished his sentence, looking at him intently – and for a brief second, there was a spark in her eyes, a glow that illuminated the very depths of her eyes... "Well, we have similar dreams...", she suddenly spoke, averting her eyes shyly. Zakharov thought he saw a blush spread across her cheeks, but deemed it a figment of his imagination as her voice sounded the same as always. "I'm going to take that shower now. I'll give you a shout when I'm done, okay?" She went to her own room again, while Zakharov sat around in her living room, idly reading a bit to try and get his mind off the other part of the dream.
He showered and got dressed fairly quickly, wanting to get himself into his best outfit as fast as possible. His suit – 'I didn't even know I had it until Tamar helped me go through my wardrobe...', he silently mused as he put on his shirt – consisted of a dark blue vest and trousers over a light blue shirt. He had always heard it made him look much more serious, though he was rather hoping he'd look younger in it. 'Deirdre'll love me in it...', his heart's voice said in an unguarded moment, and he had to wrestle to suppress the grin that had crept onto his features. He walked into the living room, expecting he had to wait for Deirdre a bit more...
...and all the air seemed to leave his immediate surroundings as he saw her standing in the living room, slowly turning to him as she noticed he had joined her. Her deep green dress, one that complimented her eyes marvellously, swept a bit as she walked over to him... it wasn't revealing at all, it was plainer than any other dress he had ever seen, and yet it gave her the appeal of a goddess... 'Speak, Prokhor! Say something, for the love of God – anything!', his mind called out, and slowly Zakharov came out of his stupor.
"You look ravishing...", he complimented, hoping that his self-control would hold. He had to swallow as she did a small turn in front of him, showing off her dress. 'Great God, I'm going to be lucky if I'll last even half the day without... well, without losing my mind completely.'
"Thank you... you look pretty smart yourself. Trying to seduce one of the bridesmaids, hmm?", she said with a small twinkle of pleasure in her eyes. 'Only if you're one of them...'
"I doubt it there would be bridesmaids close to my age... You look like you're trying to seduce someone yourself, though – maybe the best man?" She blushed when she heard it, and suddenly he remembered...
"You're the best man, silly!" She giggled a little, but her eyes suddenly seemed to be sad. Zakharov wondered if all he had thought was false briefly, but then her eyes regained their usual lustre and she smiled again. "Come on, let's go. If I get there early, I can still take care of a few last minute things calmly..." Zakharov abandoned his worry as he stepped into the elevator, helped in part by the soft and silky feeling of Deirdre's dress as it brushed against his hand.
The civil wedding had been very swift: there weren't many present, just the closest relatives and some close friends – which meant Deirdre, Eliza's parents and siblings, and a few of their colleagues, one of whom was witness for Eliza. Deirdre, as city governor for Gaia's Landing, was the one to marry them, and she managed to do so without shedding a tear – though Zakharov noticed she had occasionally had a very emotional undertone in her voice. But when the church service began, it became apparent that she had saved her tears for the religious ceremony. She shed a tear or two when Eliza walked in the church, her moist cheeks reddened for some reason. Sean stood before the altar with a very fitting expression of disbelieving awe – and Zakharov couldn't blame him, for the sight of Eliza walking down the aisle at the arm of her father was certainly one that was heart-stopping. Even the older scientist found himself momentarily dazed by the picture of perfection that was Eliza in a wedding dress – and then he found his mind wondering how Deirdre would look in a wedding dress, as she walked to the altar, looking at him with nothing but pure love radiating from her face... He quickly looked to Deirdre to see if she had noticed the blush that now adorned his cheeks, but she seemed to caught up in her emotions to have noticed anything. He found himself become oddly proud and emotional himself as he heard Sean and Eliza promise eternal love and faithfulness to each other – Deirdre had collapsed on the shoulder of the person sitting next to her, crying in joy. Zakharov fought the sudden jealousy that had arisen inside him only half-heartedly.
After the wedding, a reception took place: Zakharov found himself standing amidst people he didn't know and felt even more left out as Tamar and her husband suddenly grew immersed in the conversational topic and joined in the chatter. He walked over to another, more distant table in order not to feel awkward – and was promptly joined by Deirdre.
"Hello... you don't mind if I come stand here and talk a bit? ...I promised Sean no politics, but everyone that sees me near Sean, keeps assailing me with questions whether Sean will follow in my footsteps. Ugh, I can't stand it anymore... So, how're you doing? Where are your assistant and her husband?"
"Well, they joined in a conversation about teenagers a bit further over to that side, and I decided to back away a bit before people started to ask me what teenagers were like on Earth." He smiled as he saw her dreamy expression as she probably thought back on her own years as a teenage girl – and then it struck him that it wasn't a century ago for her. "I keep forgetting that you were barely twenty-five when we left...", he said suddenly.
"Well, I keep forgetting it as well. I'm over a hundred now when counting the cryosleep. I should look like your assistant, but I still look like the girl that they took on board because her father..."
"No, the young woman they took on board because she was the best ecologist-biologist there was on the entire planet. Your father had nothing to do with it, he didn't even think it necessary to come with you. It was your own merit."
"Why thank you!", Deirdre said, her face filled with contentment. "Well, and you were just the genius scientist that no one ever really stood a chance against. I looked up to you, you know, I thought you were this unreachable wise professor that I'd never be able to even get to say one word to. And look at me now.", she added with a wink. "I'm associating with a genius..."
"Well, I'm not really a...", Zakharov started, but was cut short by Eliza's voice issuing from the speakers.
"Okay, I'm going to toss my bridal bouquet now! All eligible – unmarried! – young women to the stage, please!" Zakharov turned back to Deirdre, who suddenly looked struck dumb.
"That means me, too... I'll be right back.", she said hesitantly as she moved to the stage. He watched her go with an odd feeling in his chest. 'Watching Deirdre walk away may actually be a health hazard – I think my entire body stopped functioning...', he mused as he saw her stand behind a giggling group of teenage girls (the result of a second baby boom). Eliza stood on stage, with her back to the small group of young women. She threw back the bouquet: Zakharov watched it sail through the air, over the heads of the teenage girls before landing softly in Deirdre's hands. Deirdre was startled, and bowed her head as a violent shade of scarlet crept onto her cheeks – she slowly started to raise her head but then seemed to reconsider, shaking her head furiously. She still blushed profusely as she rejoined Zakharov, after having given the bridal bouquet to Eliza's mother for safekeeping.
"Well, you know what that means… You just have to find an eligible young man and marry now!", he said as she didn't dare look at him.
"Well, I just don't see it happening, tradition or not… and besides, if I would marry…", she said as she lifted her head, her voice growing soft and her eyes directed at him, peering at him intently, "who says it has to be a young man?" She suddenly bowed her head again with a new blush. "…I mean, age is relative to me… Oh, excuse me – bathroom…" She slowly stepped back from the table a bit and left, dashing to the toilets.
And Zakharov found himself wondering silently how she would look in a wedding dress for the second time that day.
By the time Deirdre rejoined him, the people were already being ushered to the table. She only vaguely seemed to be aware of things during dinner, and every time he smiled her way – he sat opposite her at the table – she only gave a response smile after five minutes or so. Judging by her blush, however, Zakharov could only conclude that she was lost in thought. He felt a bit sorry for embarrassing her: he hadn't known she would react the way she did. When the tables were being cleared and the musicians were beginning to set up for the actual party, he walked over to her. 'She looks so soft and innocent… Oh, great, I think I lost control over my heart…', he thought as she slowly turned to him and blushed again, albeit very softly.
"I'm sorry for running away just then," she said, her eyes soft and her voice apologetic, "but I… I'm a bit touchy and emotional lately…"
"Don't apologise: I should be the one excusing myself. I didn't know it would upset you that much." It had been easy to see the obvious signs of tears as she had returned from the bathroom, and it had shocked him. "Not lovesick, are you? …I'm just guessing, because you got upset about the topic of marriage…"
"Oh, well, I doubt it that this man I was thinking of, would return the feeling… You're a wonderful friend, Prokhor – I really should tell you how much I value your friendship more often." She stopped speaking when she heard the musicians test their instruments. "Oh, yeah, that's right. Since you spoke of tradition earlier, you'll probably know another tradition. You have to dance with Eliza…" Zakharov smiled softly: he did know that bit of tradition as well. "Now, just so you know, you don't have to worry that much. Eliza and Sean took dancing lessons over the last month, so they can dance – well, Eliza can, at least…", she said with a small chuckle. "Is it a genius thing, not being able to dance?", she asked him, turning her green eyes at him again, and he swallowed. 'So easy to fall…'
"I told you before, I'm no genius so I don't know."
"Well, I think you're a genius so I'll be testing that theory later…" He blinked – 'she's asking me to dance with her?' – but wasn't given much time to ponder it as the musicians were done doing their sound check and asked for the newlyweds to step onto the floor. Sean gently held Eliza's hand as they walked to the centre of the dance floor: they danced to a romantic ballad, not one that Zakharov knew – but he thought all ballads sounded alike. They were immersed in the music, looking at each other intently and lovingly – they exuded love, it touched everyone just to behold them. Then, the second dance was announced and Zakharov stepped towards Eliza. Despite the difference in height, they moved quite well together, he thought: though Eliza had taken the lead from him almost instantaneously – he guessed she had been leading during the first dance as well. As the song came to an end and other people started occupying the dance floor as well, he felt someone tap him on the shoulder.
"Okay, let's test the theory…" It was Deirdre, and her eyes shone with delight. "May I have this dance?", she said as she extended her hand to him. And he gladly accepted.
The song played was a fast one with a jazzy feel to it, and Zakharov found that she was not only energetic, but a very good dancer as well: he could only hope that she found his dancing skills up to her standards – 'though I don't think they won't', he thought as she veritably beamed with joy.
And then the next song started – another romantic ballad – and suddenly he found he couldn't let go of her… They drew nearer, slowly moving in time with the music, and she looked at him – time ground to a halt – her eyes were now filled with the same glow that had filled them briefly that morning, though now it was a roaring fire that had sprung up in them…
…and all of a sudden, the moment was over: she let him go, turned round and virtually ran away. But it was too late already.
'I can't have made this up: it was definitely love that I saw in her eyes…'
An hour or so later, Deirdre still hadn't returned, and Zakharov grew worried – and tired. He decided that it was safe for him to leave, since he was only a guest, and turned to the hallway. The party had taken place in the building next to Deirdre's, but there was a small cellar hallway that connected the two and led to the elevators in the main hall of the lab part. He suddenly found that he couldn't remember the code for the elevator, however, and cursed as he realised he was stuck.
"The code's the same as her birthdate…", said a weary voice behind him. Zakharov turned around to find it was indeed Sean who was standing behind him. "Professor… I saw what happened back there, when you danced. I know you still love her, but give her some time to sort things out. She's been having a difficult month, something to do with love trouble according to Eliza. Maybe… well, maybe you'll win her over if you keep close to her. But for now… just be there for her. Don't push things."
"I will, Sean, don't worry. I'll support her. I didn't know… she hasn't told me she… Well, I shouldn't keep you here, Eliza might become worried… Good night." He winked at Sean and chuckled softly as a blush spread swiftly over the young man's cheeks. With a soft sigh, he turned back to the number pad and dialled '22042035': the elevator responded immediately, and he was back upstairs five minutes later. "Deirdre?", he called out softly – there was no answer, so he guessed she was either already asleep or not yet there. 'Love trouble… I had no idea…', he thought as he walked to his room, willing his heart not to cry out that it was him she was in love with. After having undressed, he lay down immediately and fell asleep almost instantaneously… hearing neither the soft sound of footsteps nor the soft opening and closing of his chamber door anymore…
Deirdre awoke relatively early and immediately put on her robe, tiptoeing to the kitchen to prepare herself her favourite breakfast and to cook up something for her friend as well – 'I know he said a simple breakfast would do, but I just have to spoil him.' As she ate her own scrambled eggs with toast, she was silently thinking of the dream she had had: it had been bizarre to say the least. 'I should record it…', she thought, and absent-mindedly pressed the DPA button on her laptop. Immediately, the digital female appeared, looking fresh and very awake even though it was still only eight AM.
"Good morning, Lady Deirdre, aren't we looking ravishing this morning?"
"Oh well, I guess we are…", Deirdre said softly, silently hoping that Zakharov would think she looked ravishing. "I've had a rather weird dream tonight…"
"I'll note it down for you. Speak away!" The digital aide had conjured up a pen and notebook from out of nowhere and now patiently waited.
"Well, I was having the usual dream, when suddenly it started to change into another dream. An invisible entity was present in the darkness, and it was introduced as something called 'planetvoice'... It spoke to me, asking me my name and then it told of a 'growth dream'. When I asked for an explanation of that term, it spoke of us – 'earthbeings' – hurting the planet and it... When I asked it why it warned me, it spoke of a 'dream song', which was clearly just a chanting of the word 'why'. The voice grew increasingly high-pitched and persistent, and it continued until I woke up with my hands clapped to my ears, bathing in sweat."
"Indeed a disturbing dream…" The digital assistant looked worried, and for a second Deirdre was left to wonder whether or not Sean had programmed it for emotions or not. "When you say 'the usual dream', does that mean the one about your friend the Academician?"
"Yes…", Deirdre blushed as she said it. "Now, today is Sean's wedding. Will you be present?"
"Oh, no, I haven't got a decent enough dress! Maybe you should ask Sean to program me a larger wardrobe. I would hate to miss the next grand occasion. But apart from that… Your friend is visiting, isn't he? Will you be able to handle it?"
"I have no idea, but the day will progress smoothly, I hope." She smiled, albeit a bit shaky: she had no idea at all what to expect when her heart was just as liable to betray her emotions as break into a million pieces. E-Liza saw, however, and decided to go for the diplomatic option.
"Okay, Lady. I'll leave you now, maybe take a walk in the Paradise Garden... You have a visitor, by the way. Looks like a scientist... Bye!" Deirdre turned around.
"Hello, Prokhor! ...Was the breakfast good?", she said as she motioned for him to set down the tray in the kitchen.
"It was the best I've had yet.", he replied. "How long do we still have?"
"Well... I have to be at the city hall at about eleven, so we've still got an hour and a half. I'm going to take a shower now – yes, again...", she said as he raised an eyebrow, suddenly feeling oddly uncomfortable under his gaze. "I had a rather weird dream..."
"Not about something that called itself 'planetvoice' by any chance?", he asked. Deirdre turned around in disbelief.
"How do you know!"
"I had the same dream. The voice called me 'earthzakharov'..."
"It called me 'earthdeirdre'...", Deirdre said slowly while trying her best to remember the details.
"...and it spoke of a 'growth dream' that would end our hurting this planet. Then, when I asked why it warned me..."
"...it immediately spoke of a 'dream song' and kept repeating 'why'...", Deirdre said, finishing the sentence he had begun, not taking her eyes off him – and suddenly she felt her heart surge, making her insides flutter. "Well, we have similar dreams...", she spoke shyly, turning her eyes away to make sure he wouldn't see the inner struggle reflected in them.
"I'm going to take that shower now. I'll give you a shout when I'm done, okay?" She turned away after having given him a smile and went to her own room, desperately wishing that no harm had been done. 'If he noticed anything, it could destroy our friendship and… gods, I don't even want to imagine that…'
The shower took her mind off things for a while, the feeling of the warm water running across her skin soothing her over-wrought nerves: she felt reborn as she stepped out of the shower. Returning to her room after having called to Zakharov, she dressed very slowly, relishing the feeling of the cool underwear against her skin – which felt like it was on fire because of the rather rough towel. After making sure that her friend was in his room, she went to the living room to search for the shoes that matched her dress, a simple but stately silk dress in a shade of green that complemented her eyes according to Eliza. Just as she had located them, she heard movement behind her and she turned around…
…and time slowed down as she saw Zakharov in a marvellously sharp outfit, a dark blue suit that made him look less like a scrawny scientist and more attractive than he already was. 'He's so handsome in that… this will not be easy…', she thought and looked upon him in awe.
"You look ravishing...", he said, which made Deirdre's heart leap in joy: with a broad smile, she did a little turn for him. 'I hope you like what you see…', she found herself thinking while she kept her eyes on him – it felt like betrayal to look away, and she found herself unable to do so.
"Thank you... you look pretty smart yourself. Trying to seduce one of the bridesmaids, hmm?", she said, her heart sending jolts up and down her spine. 'Not as if I'd let you, though…'
"I doubt it there would be bridesmaids close to my age..." 'Thank God for that', she found herself thinking as he gave her all his attention apparently. "You look like you're trying to seduce someone yourself, though – maybe the best man?" This made Deirdre blush profusely and giggle nervously.
"You're the best man, silly!" 'I wish I could…', she added mentally as a sadness swept over her temporarily – she had, for one blissful minute, forgotten that it wasn't possible… She shook off the feeling swiftly, however, and resumed her cheer. "Come on, let's go. If I get there early, I can still take care of a few last minute things calmly..." She motioned for him to follow her, which he did – but she couldn't help but wonder why he was suddenly looking so morose… 'Did he notice something? Oh no…'
Luckily for her, he didn't seem to have noticed anything. His pensive mood was already over by the time they reached the ground floor, and they talked on their way to the city hall about little things. Deirdre quickly checked the room one last time and then she took her seat. The civil marriage was short, which was a stroke of luck for Deirdre, who felt moved and nearly cried but tried hard to hold her own and remain calm. It worked: she was able to perform the civil wedding without a problem, and the people gathered seemed not to have noticed.
And then it was time for the church service. Deirdre felt a lump in her throat as she saw her younger brother stand in front of the altar, waiting for his bride. And when she entered, Sean seemed to be left breathless and enchanted – which Deirdre couldn't blame him, for Eliza looked ten times as beautiful in her elaborate wedding dress. She felt one tear run over her cheek from pure happiness for her brother and best friend, and then another – but suddenly her heart took advantage of her emotional preoccupation and she found herself thinking how she would look walking down the aisle, to her beloved Prokhor… She felt a blush quickly spread across her cheeks and willed her heart to stop doing things like that to her. A quick glance over to her friend proved that he hadn't noticed a thing. With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the service and became immersed in it. She grew more and more emotional every passing minute, and by the time that Sean and Eliza spoke their wedding vows, she had started leaning onto the shoulder of the person next to her, crying her eyes out. For the first time in that past month, Zakharov was not at all on her mind.
After the wedding, the guests went to the congress building next to the lab building, where the reception and feast would be held. Deirdre had helped set up most of what was present – she had been working for days in order to make sure everything would run smoothly, and it was pleasing to see her work pay off. Many of the guests commented on the beautiful decorations, which made her especially proud.
Unfortunately, many of the guests were apparently interested in politics and thought that Sean's marriage had political significance. They were constantly badgering the newlyweds with questions about it, and didn't stop until Deirdre told them to keep their political plotting until after the celebrations. She sighed as they instantly started an airy conversation with her and hastily excused herself before they started insinuating what they had said out loud before. 'Great God, don't these people have anything else to think about?' She wandered around a bit, avoiding those that troubled her, and ended up walking towards Zakharov, who stood oddly alone in the crowd.
"Hello... you don't mind if I come stand here and talk a bit?", she asked tentatively, and continued as he made no objections: "...I promised Sean no politics, but everyone that sees me near Sean, keeps assailing me with questions whether Sean will follow in my footsteps. Ugh, I can't stand it anymore..." She groaned, then turned her attention back to him. "So, how're you doing? Where are your assistant and her husband?"
"Well, they joined in a conversation about teenagers a bit further over to that side, and I decided to back away a bit before people started to ask me what teenagers were like on Earth." Deirdre smiled softly as she heard: she could still remember vividly what it was to be a teenager – plus she'd had to handle one for about ten years herself not that long ago… "I keep forgetting that you were barely twenty-five when we left...", Zakharov commented off-hand, and Deirdre realised that she must have drifted off into thought.
"Well, I keep forgetting it as well. I'm over a hundred now when counting the cryosleep. I should look like your assistant, but I still look like the girl that they took on board because her father..."
"No, the young woman they took on board because she was the best ecologist-biologist there was on the entire planet. Your father had nothing to do with it; he didn't even think it necessary to come with you. It was your own merit.", Zakharov cut her off, his eyes filled with a fire that made her head swim…
"Why thank you!", Deirdre said quickly, feeling her self-restraint slip. "Well, and you were just the genius scientist that no one ever really stood a chance against. I looked up to you, you know, I thought you were this unreachable wise professor that I'd never be able to even get to say one word to. And look at me now.", she added with a wink. "I'm associating with a genius..."
"Well, I'm not really a..." She knew he was going to say he wasn't really a genius, just extraordinarily lucky, but he was cut off by Eliza's voice issuing from the speakers.
"Okay, I'm going to toss my bridal bouquet now! All eligible – unmarried! – young women to the stage, please!" Deirdre was suddenly hit hard by the thought that she, too, was one of those 'eligible young women'.
"That means me, too... I'll be right back." She felt shy as she moved through the crowd and stood in the back of the group of girls, where she was sure she wouldn't catch the bouquet. Eliza stood on the stage, her back turned to the group, and she tossed the bouquet backwards elegantly – but with enough force to sail clear over the group and landing, as if ordained by fate, right into her hands. 'Oh no… no, no, no…' She remembered her thoughts earlier that day, in church, and felt her cheeks glow as if they were on fire. 'No, no!' She willed herself not to look at her friend, not to meet his eyes – for she knew what he would see in them. Instead, she dashed away to Eliza's mother, giving her the bouquet for safekeeping, and hoped that no one would notice how shaken she was by it. She then returned to Zakharov – but only after having made sure she could face him again.
"Well, you know what that means… You just have to find an eligible young man and marry now!", he said as she rejoined him. She didn't dare meet his eyes yet, but knew she had to answer him.
"Well, I just don't see it happening, tradition or not… and besides, if I would marry…", she said – and suddenly, to her great horror, her voice grew silken and she lifted her head to look him in the eye, "who says it has to be a young man?" 'No, Deirdre, get a grip on yourself!', she mentally scolded herself as she bowed her head, suddenly feeling uneasy around him. 'What if he noticed!' "…I mean, age is relative to me… Oh, excuse me – bathroom…" Muttering a vague excuse, she practically ran away from him, trying desperately to control whatever damage she may have done. 'What if I ruined it?'
After her visit to the bathroom - which had consisted of crying, splashing her face with cool water so that no one would see the marks of her sadness, and reapplying her makeup – she returned to the hall just in time for dinner. Her mind was preoccupied all through dinner, and she failed to notice Zakharov's friendly smiles in time to answer them. She saw him look worried, though, every time she chanced to look at him, so she assumed that she needed to give him a proper explanation for her behaviour. 'But how will I be able to do that? I can't tell him why I'm upset with all this…' Once dinner was over and the tables were cleared away, she saw him wait for the opportunity to rejoin her. She mentally sighed. 'Well, here goes nothing…', she thought as he walked her way.
"I'm sorry for running away just then," she said, trying her best to look neutral, "but I… I'm a bit touchy and emotional lately…"
"Don't apologise: I should be the one excusing myself. I didn't know it would upset you that much." She mentally sighed, but this time in relief: 'he hasn't noticed anything!'. "Not lovesick, are you? …I'm just guessing, because you got upset about the topic of marriage…" '…or did he? What now?'
"Oh, well, I doubt it that this man I was thinking of, would return the feeling…", she said ruefully, deciding to go for the indirect approach. Her heart gave a painful squeeze when he didn't respond, confirming her fears. "You're a wonderful friend, Prokhor – I really should tell you how much I value your friendship more often." It was then that she heard the sound of instruments and realised that the musicians were already setting up. "Oh, yeah, that's right. Since you spoke of tradition earlier, you'll probably know another tradition. You have to dance with Eliza…" His soft smile made her smile as well. "Now, just so you know, you don't have to worry that much. Eliza and Sean took dancing lessons over the last month, so they can dance – well, Eliza can, at least…", she said with a small chuckle. "Is it a genius thing, not being able to dance?" To her relief, she felt the unease ebb away to be replaced by the routine of their friendship again.
"I told you before, I'm no genius so I don't know." She suddenly felt mischievous and decided to reply to that.
"Well, I think you're a genius so I'll be testing that theory later…" 'I suppose a little swing is allright, when the appropriate song is played that is…' The musicians announcing the first song and calling for the newlyweds to take the floor ended her thoughts rather abruptly. It was a romantic ballad – not one that Deirdre knew, so it had to be one originating on Planet – and Sean and Eliza danced to it as if they were the only two people in the room, moving everyone with the sheer love they displayed. When the song was over, a few more people went onto the dance floor – and Zakharov walked over to Eliza. Deirdre was amused to see that Eliza had gradually taken over the lead from her friend – it was an odd sight to see the tall man being led skilfully by a young woman a foot shorter than him. She chuckled merrily and felt happy again. To add to her glee, the next song was a song that suited her dance with Zakharov perfectly: she walked over to him as he let go of Eliza and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Okay, let's test the theory…" She smiled broadly as surprise was clearly visible in his eyes. "May I have this dance?" He nodded and swept her across the dance floor. Deirdre immediately found out that it was certainly not true that a genius can't dance – and the thought brought a grin onto her features.
And then, as the song ended and Deirdre was going to let go, the next song – another romantic song, now one that she did know from Earth – made her mind slip up and her heart take over fully. She didn't let go; she wasn't able to and certainly wasn't willing to, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed to her that he didn't want to let go either… As the song progressed, she got closer and closer to him until his proximity was so overwhelming and intoxicating that she looked up – and to her utter amazement, she found that his eyes were filled with a love that was as deep and overpowering as the love she felt for him…
…and then, her mind got back in control. She knew at once what had happened and, horror-stricken, turned around, not daring to look into his eyes again – and she ran for it. She ran away, to the bathroom – 'anywhere, anywhere I don't have to face him…' – and collapsed when she arrived there.
"Oh god, what have I done…", she whispered. "It must have been an illusion, or a reflection of what he saw in my eyes… Oh gods no, what now! I can't face him anymore! I can't… I've ruined it…" But in her heart, the voice that she had grown so accustomed to was speaking up again: 'But he didn't let go. He didn't back away. He was willing too. It was there – there's no use in denying it…'
"Lady Deirdre? What are you doing here!" Deirdre looked up to see Eliza stand in front of her, looking incredulous and worried. "You ran out of the hall so quickly… what's the matter?" Deirdre didn't speak, and apparently there was no need to say anything, for Eliza continued: "Oh, I understand… you were dancing with the Academician before you ran away… Did he do anything to hurt you?" Now she was looking even more troubled.
"No, no… it's just… Oh, Eliza, I'm so afraid I messed it all up!", she said, collapsing in the arms of her new sister-in-law and explaining what had happened. "…and that's why I ran. I don't think I dare face him anymore tonight…"
"Lady Deirdre…" Eliza looked at her with sympathy, and then sighed. "You know what I think. I don't think you have the right picture. But if I can't convince you… you have to do it your own way. If you feel that showing him that you feel more than just friendly towards him is putting your friendship at risk, then you have to act upon that. But still…" The young woman's voice grew softer and she continued in a whisper: "Sean never looked at me like the Academician looked at you – and that's saying something…"
"Hmm…" Deirdre shook her head, seeing her sad countenance reflected in the mirror. "My poor heart… but I can't give in. I'm afraid to lose his friendship: it means the world to me. He means the world to me…", she finished. She straightened her dress and looked at herself in the mirror: her eyes were a bit red but she looked fine otherwise. "I'm going back to my quarters. It's just been… too much to bear…" She sighed as she dreaded the night to come and the dreams of Zakharov it would bring. "Tell your mother I'm sorry to leave her to do the cleaning-up by herself, but I…"
"I'll tell her. She'll understand.", Eliza said as she moved aside to allow her to pass. "Have a good night's sleep…"
"I will. Have fun tonight…" Deirdre smiled again as she saw her new sister-in-law blush, and decided not to wait for a response. Instead, she moved to the elevators and went to her quarters swiftly, trying desperately not to think about what she'd do the next day…
The soft sound of Zakharov's voice, calling her name ever so softly from the living room, awoke her again an hour later. She listened for a few minutes to the muffled sounds that issued from his room and went to see a few moments later: putting on her robe, she swiftly exited her room and listened at the door. After making sure that he was asleep – she only heard even breathing – she softly opened the door and gazed at his still form, a serene expression on his face while he slumbered.
'Oh, Prokhor, if only I had seen it sooner…', she thought before returning to bed herself.