By Maureen J. Long
He returned to consciousness gradually, aware of a faint drifting feeling, like he'd spent all day in the surf and his inner ear was still trying to recover. Alan had always found the sensation pleasurable, but the current hangover was making every muscle ache and his head throb. He'd obviously had way too much last night.
Someone sat on the edge of the bed and Mel's voice said, "Wake up, sleepyhead."
He smiled slowly, eyes still closed. With a pilot's reflexes, his arm snaked around her and he rolled her over him and onto the bed beside him. He nibbled her ear, "I've got a terrible headache, love. I need the cure."
His hand moved from her waist to squeeze her breast then down to her thigh. He pressed against her, letting her know how much he wanted her. "Open wide, honey, I'm coming in fast." His mouth moved to cover hers and he kissed her deeply, savoring her taste.
This wasn't Melissa.
He sat up quickly, eyes open, intense pain shooting from wrapped ribs. "Helena! Oh my God!" The pain forced him to roll over onto his back and he lay gasping for breath, tears coming to his eyes. "I thought you were Mel. I am-- so sorry." He gasped and shut his eyes tight, fighting unsuccessfully to stop the tears. She had looked so much like her sister, lying beneath him, blond hair spread out on his pillow.
He felt Helena sit up in bed beside him. "Well, I see your reaction time is just fine." Her voice was calm and collected and sounded nothing like Melissa. He felt the grief deep in the pit of his stomach, still unable to control his tears. "How do you feel otherwise?"
"Like shit." He growled. "I was dreaming. I thought I was on the boat."
"I noticed."
Alan noticed that Helena hadn't moved to get off the bed. He felt her palm against his forehead. He rubbed his eyes.
"What's the matter with me, Helena?" He didn't mean the ribs. He remembered that now, and all the events leading up to it with crystal clarity. And he knew that Melissa was long ago and far away.
"It's the pain killer I gave you, Alan. It's very strong, and sometimes induces vivid dreams. It also frequently relaxes any tight hold you might have over your emotions. Do you remember what happened?"
He nodded and opened his eyes to look up at her. "Maya got sick. And beat the crap out of me-- us," he corrected, noting the black eye she was sporting. He reached up to touch it gently. She looked so much like Melissa.
"That would be correct. Now promise to remain a gentleman while I check to make sure your ribs are still okay?"
"Of course," he answered, relaxing as she untied his pajama top. "I'm really sorry, Helena."
"It's okay, Alan."
He closed his eyes again as her fingers gently pressed against his chest and side. "Is John back?"
"John and Tony got back a few hours ago." She closed his pajama top and gently touched his face. "Open your eyes."
He opened them to a bright light which shone in first one eye, then the other.
"No concussion. You'll do fine. Good thing I sent you to your quarters instead of keeping you in medical center. I wouldn't want my staff to see me necking with a patient."
He smiled weakly. "I'm so sorry," he repeated again. "I don't think I want any more of that pain medicine." It had been two years. Sometimes he could concentrate on his life here and not think about Earth or Melissa for days at a time now. Other times the grief and the homesickness were as raw and overwhelming as if they'd just left. Nothing-and no one-could replace the void in his heart.
"Really, it's okay. I want you to take it really slow for the next couple of days. And if the pain gets too bad, let me know and I'll give you something that's not quite as strong. Promise?"
"Yeah. Promise."
"Think you could go back to sleep?"
"I think so." Helena moved to stand up and he reached for her hand. "Helena? You won't tell John, about-"
"You feeling me up?" she finished with a laugh. "No. He doesn't need to know." She patted his hand.
Alan relaxed. "Thanks. I wouldn't have-I mean, you're not-"
"I'm not Melissa. I know." She sat still for a moment. "I miss her too, Alan."
He nodded and they sat together in silence, remembering.
"Do you want me to stay for a while?"
"Would you mind?" Alan asked softly.
"No. Go to sleep." She shifted around so she was sitting next to him, her back propped against the wall.
With her hand still in his he sighed and relaxed, the floating sensation returning. Maybe he'd dream he was sailing again.
Maureen J. Long
June, 2000