Confessions and Revelations

Sydney Alexis

[Challenge #141:] Write a piece that starts with the line "Kiss me."

"Kiss me," Michael whispered into my ear.

I found that all I could do was stand there and be revolted by the idea; Michael was merely responding to the subtle hints my body language was giving off. How had I convinced myself to fall in love with a hologram? He was merely forcefields and protons...a set of calculations that I made to fit my image of the 'perfect' man. The computer even managed to place a lustful stare in his eyes, but it was as hollow as his matrix was.

"Computer, remove holodeck character Michael Sullivan."

The computer chirped with recognition. He fizzled then disappeared. I buried my face in my hands. I had let things get too far. Somewhere along the line, I knew I would have to face the facts. The attention that he lavished upon me was what I thought that I wanted. A human connection is what I was really yearning for. I could not live the life I had thought that I had wanted, but I knew I couldn't go on as I did before. Michael had seen to that. He opened my eyes to just how lonely I truly was. Admiral Paris would say that it goes with the position, but I don't think that Starfleet regulations ever considered my current predicament.

I was drawn from my reverie by the familiar creaking of the entrance door. Why hadn't Michael fixed that little problem? I guess, in this case, it was better. I glanced over to find Tom Paris standing awkwardly right inside the bar, bouquet of flowers in hand.

"I..uh...am sorry. I didn't know anyone was in here."

I smiled at him, hoping to disarm his obvious discomfort.

"Don't be silly. This program is designed for everyone's benefit." I paused for a moment and motioned towards the flowers. "Meeting anyone special?"

"I thought I was. It would appear that she stood me up," he said, approaching me at the bar.

"Tom Paris stood up for a date? Now why do I not believe that?" I said, taking a sip of my coffee.

"Believe it," he said, slipping into the seat beside me. He threw the bouquet on the counter with disgust. His glance turned from the counter to me.

"Have you ever been in love with someone that didn't love you back?"

I let the initial surprise of his blunt question pass before responding. My present situation seemed to fit his definition, but it would not be appropriate to respond. I merely nodded my head slowly to encourage him on.

"You watch her from a distance, too afraid to approach her about the subject. She sits at a table, in a group, smiling sweetly as another person seated with her tells her a story. Your heart leaps every time she smiles and all you can do is wish it was you sitting across from her.

"More often then not she eats alone though. Reading over the latest reports, scrutinizing every line. To her, perfection is key. She comes to expect it of herself and others. Without it, in this environment, people would die.

"There is a certain sadness to her as well. She distances herself from the crew. Though I don't know why. I suppose it is to hide her emotional side, afraid to tarnish the image that we have of her. Not wanting people to know that she is fallible. We all are."

I stiffened in my seat. His words hitting close too home. The image he was painting sounded remarkably like my own. Still I didn't say a word. I stared down at my coffee, unable to meet his gaze. An odd sort of quiet fell upon the room. It was Tom the broke it.

"I heard you speaking when I came in. Who were you talking to?"

I cleared my throat and looked up at him finally. The look in his eyes had changed since he first came in. I found the expression hard to read.

"I was talking to Michael."

"Oh," he replied evenly. "What happened to him?"

"I removed him from the scene."

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you? I thought he was your...," he stopped, mid-sentence.

"Boyfriend," I said, completing his thought. "I suppose I finally wised up, and realized just what he was."

I tried my best to mask what I was feeling. It wasn't like me to pour my heart out to anyone, let alone Tom Paris. Tom cleared his throat, the look on his face was classic..somewhere between wanting desperately to escape this line of questioning and intrigued at the idea that the Captain would be bored with a creation of her own making.

"Was there something about the program you didn't like?"

"Oh, on the contrary, he was everything I could ever hope for."

"Then what was wrong with him?"

It was legitament enough of a question, but one that really should not be answered, especially to a subordinate. However, there was something cleansing about talking to someone else about my problems. Something told me by his expression that he was feeling pity for me. Something that I loathed. Perhaps his shock at my reasons would be enough to silence him. Going against my better judgement, I plunged ahead.

"He wasn't real," I finally said, just above a whisper.

It was Tom's turn to be stunned into silence. It suited him. I managed to force myself to look at him, surprised at the fact that he was actually blushing at my admission. I touched him gently on the upper arm.

"I think that we have already said enough for one night. Good night, Tom," I said, standing.

He reached out to stop me.

"Captain."

"Yes, Tom?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you this, but the person I was describing earlier...was you."

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