Copyright ©1999, Tracey Harnack. All rights reserved.  No part of this story may be re-posted in part or in full without written permission from me. It's characters are used without permission, no infringement is intended.
Disclaimer: Gene Roddenberry's Earth: Final Conflict is copyright 1998, Tribune Entertainment Co.
Rating: PG.
Title: Almost Love

Author: Tracy Harnack

 

Almost Love

 

 

It was almost love. It was almost always. It was like a fairy tale, we lived out you and I. And, yes, some dreams come true. And, yes, some dreams fall through. And now, the time has come for us to goodbye.”

 

Two days before “Redemption”.

 

Siobhan shivered and rubbed her arms. “D’ye suppose th’ snow will let up soon?” she asked absently. It was snowing so hard that visibility was almost nil.

            “Agent Beckett, I have no idea,” Sandoval replied with a sigh. “It will let up when it lets up, and not before.”

            “My, my, aren’t we irritable?” Siobhan replied with a smile, moving to sit down next to him on the bench in the Strandhill pub where they had taken refuge from the storm. There was no one else there; Siobhan had picked the lock when the blizzard had come up suddenly while they were investigating a possibly dangerous Taelon fanatic.

            Sandoval shifted uncomfortably away from her. “Yes, Agent Beckett, I am irritable. I have many things that need to be done, and I am instead sitting around do nothing of consequence.”

            “Well, as ye said, it will let up when it lets up, and not before. So ye might as well make the best of the situation.”

            Sandoval scowled. He hated it when she turned his own words back on him.

            Siobhan stood up and went behind the bar. “We have food, firewood, shelter, a cot in the back, and, of course,” she grinned wickedly, “plenty to drink. Can I get ye ennathing?”

            He shook his head. “No, thank you. I don’t drink.”

            “A teetotaler, ye?” she asked in surprise, fixing herself a whiskey and sitting down, this time across from Sandoval, not next to him. He was visibly relieved.

            “Agent Beckett, I do not choose to imbibe because there is no reason do so. It is in no way beneficial, and it causes a myriad of damages that the Protector of a Taelon should try to avoid.”

            Siobhan leaned forward. “Why, Agent Sandoval, d’ye have nothing t’ escape from?”

            Sandoval looked askance at her. “Of course not. I am quite happy with my life, and my work.” His answer was sound, but just a bit too quick for Siobhan to believe. She was about to press the subject, but he asked her hurriedly, “And do you have something you need to escape from?”

            Siobhan leaned back casually. “I do believe that was a personal question,” she commented.

            He looked slightly flustered. “Of course not. I was simply trying to make sure there is nothing that would interfere with your work for the Taelons.”

            “Of course.” Silence. Siobhan sipped her whiskey. After a moment she said, “Well, mayhap I do have something I need t’ escape from. A horribly guilty conscience from some sin committed in a past life, perhaps, or even some great loss I experienced ages ago.” She smiled sadly, with an unnamed pain behind her green eyes. “Trouble is, I cannae seem t’ remember what it is.” She drained her glass.

            They settled into an uneasy silence. Finally, Siobhan shook herself. “Well, it does nae appear t’ be letting up, and it’s not getting enna warmer in here. We’re both soaked. I know the owner of this place, and he keeps some clothes in the back room. I’ll start a nice fire, while ye go get changed.”

            “No thank you, Agent Beckett, I’m fine,” Sandoval replied tersely.

            “Oh, dinnae be stubborn, Sandoval,” Siobhan said, getting up and pulling him to his feet. “You’ll catch cold and end up with a wrinkled suit ennaway. Now get in the back, and dry off.”

            Technically, they were of equal rank, though this was Siobhan’s home turf. But her tone brooked no arguments. Before Sandoval realized what he was doing, he found himself in the back room, doing exactly as she had told him. It was the “mother” tone he realized, the one that no one, young or old, was fully capable of defying. He wondered where the childless agent had learned it.

            When he came out, wearing a pair of pants that were far too large and a shirt the same size, Siobhan had a hot fire blazing merrily away. Sandoval looked so comical, she could barely contain her laughter.

            “I smell like alcohol,” he said, unhappily. Siobhan raised her eyebrows and began to lay his wet clothes out to dry on the bench, which she had dragged over to the fireplace.

            After an awkward pause, Sandoval spoke up. “Um…Agent Beckett, perhaps you should also go change or dry off.”

            “Are you concerned for my welfare, Sandoval?” she asked slyly.

            “Agent Beckett, your welfare is directly related to your Companion’s welfare, therefore it is my concern.”

            “Well, in that case, I’ll take my leave of ye,” Siobhan said, heading for the back room. Sandoval stared after her for a moment. He never knew what to make of her.

            Siobhan was gone for a long time, and when she returned she was wearing neither oversized clothes nor wet militia uniform. Instead, she had taken one of the quits from the cot and wrapped it around her like a sari. Her brilliant auburn hair was down and lay in damp clumps about her long, elegant neck.

            She drifted languidly over to the fire and, stretching out like a cat, lazily began to dry her hair in front of the flames. Sandoval watched her for a moment, and then he began to feel very uncomfortable. He tried, unsuccessfully, to look at anything but Siobhan.

            Finally, she was satisfied with her work. She drew her knees up to her chest and looked intently at him. “Why are ye so jumpy, Agent Sandoval? I do nae bite.”

            “Uh, no…no, of course you don’t, Agent Beckett.”

            She smiled. “We’re going t’ be in here for quite some time, if I know ennathing about storms. Why do we nae drop the formality and get t’ know one another?”

            Sandoval stiffened. “I prefer the formality, Agent Beckett.”

            “Siobhan, please,” she said firmly. “And what are ye so afraid of that ye cannae relax for one moment and simply talk to another human being?”

            “I am afraid of nothing, Beckett!” Sandoval replied, too vehemently.

            “Well, ye are obviously afraid of something, or ye would nae be having such difficulty simply talking with a person who is both your colleague and a woman!” she returned, sharply. She almost instantly regretted speaking so harshly, but she did not apologize.

            “Perhaps I am,” Sandoval conceded stiffly, turning away from her. Siobhan felt the temperature in the room drop, and she readjusted her makeshift dress. Tentatively, sensing that Sandoval was just on the edge of control; for some reason close to either a breakdown or lashing out at her in blind anger, Siobhan got up and put her hand on his shoulder.

            “Let me help,” she said softly.

            “You cannot!” he whispered hoarsely. 

            As she sat down next to him, her arm brushed his. Their skrills touched. Instantly, Siobhan was deluged by random images and impressions, and both she and Sandoval clutched their heads. Skylark was frightened and disturbed by even that brief contact. Pain lanced through her head, and she stumbled backwards, reeling.

            The pain ebbed quickly, leaving only the memory and a dull ache. She felt something slippery and warm on her fingers. Blood. She was bleeding from her ear. So was Sandoval, wiping the side of his head with a handkerchief with one hand and stroking Raven reassuringly with the other.

            Siobhan slowed her breathing and consciously lowered her heart rate. “What,” she said finally, “in hell was that?”

            “I…don’t know, Beckett,” Sandoval said, bewildered.

            “I saw…inside your mind,” Siobhan said, her emerald eyes darting around. “Just for a second…so cold.” She hugged herself.

            “Perhaps when our skrills touched, they became a conduit for our thoughts,” he suggested.

            “That must be it,” she agreed, looking into the fire. Skylark seemed to be trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t quite—

            “Ye!” she exclaimed suddenly, her head snapping around violently and fixing Sandoval with a piercing gaze. “Ye are no longer under control of the motivational imperative, are ye?”

            Sandoval’s black eye grew wide with fear and he seemed to shrink within himself. He said nothing.

            Meanwhile, a battle was being waged inside Siobhan. Her first instinct demanded that she go report this fact to the Taelons the moment she was able. But something blocked that plan of action from locking itself into place. Skylark. Thank ye, wee one, she thought, relieved and scared at the same time. The little skrill was trying with all her might to again block the MI.

            And it was working, to Siobhan’s great shock. Under the pressure of the little skrill’s fury, she watched in amazement as the thing that had controlled her every thought for three years melted away and dissolved until it was almost unnoticeable. In fact, it appeared to be nearly gone, and what was left was fading rapidly.

            How did ye do that? she asked her small savior.

            Skylark responded (not in words, but in a montage of thought/impression/image) that, while she had acted as the catalyst, it was not her doing.

            What, then?

            The skrill told her sadly that her CVI was breaking down. The MI was the first thing to begin to go, because the human will was constantly fighting the constraints, always an inch from breaking free, so that the slightest impetus might allow it loose. She also said that it might be a matter of months, or a matter of days before the rest of the CVI broke down.

            Will I die, wee one? she asked, fearfully.

            The impression she got said, more clearly than any words, “I don’t know.”

            Her attention was turned to Sandoval, who was as near to a panic as she had ever seen him. “Beckett,” he said. “You cannot report this to the Taelons.”

            “Oh, and why not?” she asked, testing him.

            “Because the future of humanity may rest with what happens to me.”

            Siobhan snorted. “I’ve heard that one before. But dinnae worry. I have no intention of reporting ye.”

            The Filipino man’s almond eyes widened. “You mean…”

            “Aye,” she agreed. “I’m free, too. Though I dinnae know for how long. But I’d appreciate an explanation as t’ what is going on with ye.”

            “I would prefer not to talk about it, Beckett.”

            “My name,” she hissed. “Is Siobhan. Please call me that. And while ye are at it, what ye prefer is not the issue. I am going t’ need to know where ye stand. I know your CVI has broken down, but there’s something else going on, isn’t there? ”

            Sandoval’s eyes narrowed. Finally he sighed. “I might as well tell you. Sit down, Beck—Siobhan.”

            A brief smile played on Siobhan’s lips. Then it faded, and she moved to the bench by the fire, seating herself at a distance she judged her unwilling companion would find comfortable. “Tell me,” she said, endeavoring to be gentle, and failing because of her headache and her growing fear of her own fate.

            “The Taelons came five years ago,” Sandoval began tightly. “My parents were both scientists—geneticists, actually. So was my brother. They were almost immediately commissioned by the Taelons for some secret project. A year later, they disappeared.”

            Siobhan’s green eyes widened. “Disappeared?” she asked warily.

            Sandoval nodded bitterly. “Disappeared. I was just beginning to do some…sensitive work for the FBI at that time, so I made it my business to find out.”

            “What happened?”

            “They were murdered,” he said coldly. “The official story, once they got around to making one up, was that they were killed by some anti-Taelon fanatic. I knew the truth.” He broke off and stared expressionlessly into the fire.

            Siobhan slid over to him and laid a hand on his knee comfortingly. Sandoval jumped, but didn’t say anything. “Which was?”

            Sandoval looked straight at her, his gaze so piercing that she imagined it drilling a hole right through her. “The Taelons killed them. They used them to find the answer to something that had been eluding them for years, a matter with the skrill, and then they killed them. It was too much of a risk to keep them alive.”

            Siobhan swallowed. “Ron, I am so—”

            Sandoval cut her off. “Don’t say it. I don’t need your pity.”

            “But why did ye become an Implant, then?” she asked, confused. “They killed your family, I would have thought ye would have joined the Resistance.”

            “Don’t you get it?” he growled. “The Resistance may be alright at what they do, but they don’t have the resources, organization, or the guts to do what really has to be done. What needs to be done can only be done from the inside, from someone who is so completely and totally trusted by the Synod leader that he has access to information that no other human could ever hope to get his hands on.”

            “Ye mean, ye allowed yourself to be implanted…”

            “So that I could destroy them,” he said fiercely. “I knew what it would do to me, and I accepted that. I knew everything that would happen and I took that responsibility on myself, because I knew that one day, I would be free. And then, it would all be worth it. I did what I did,” he gazed at her with fire in his eyes, “for the knowledge to destroy them.

            “I would do anything, anything to accomplish that.”

            Siobhan withdrew her hand from his knee and looked at him uncertainly. “I…I don’t know,” she said. “I’m a little…disoriented, still. I think I need t’ go lie down…” she got up as quickly at her garments allowed and headed for the cot in the back.

            Sandoval followed at her heels and moved himself between her and the cot. “Siobhan…” he said softly. “I would never hurt you.”

            She looked at him, searching him. At last she said, “I care about ye, Ron. Very much.”

            “I care about you, too,” Sandoval said after a brief pause. He stepped closer to her, and she half-smiled tentatively. They leaned forward simultaneously and their lips met. An electric shock ran through Siobhan, and she shivered at the sensation.

            “What’s wrong?” Sandoval asked when they parted.

            Siobhan smiled. “Nothing,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “Nothing at all.” Their kisses and caresses began shyly, but soon gained confidence. Not only confidence, but urgency, a need for closeness. Both had been trapped inside themselves without affection for a long time. They craved human contact.

            Before Siobhan knew what was happening, Ron had her in his arms, still kissing her face, her hair, her neck. He carried her as though she was feather, murmuring softly to her and caressing her back, shoulders, arms, and cheeks. He set her down gently on the cot and took her chin in his hands, tipping her head back and kissing her almost desperately on the lips, while tracing her delicate jaw line with his finger.

He started to slide the quilt that was serving as her clothing off her shoulders. It took every once of willpower in Siobhan’s mind to put her hand on his chest and say, however weakly, “No.”

            If Sandoval had continued, if he hadn’t heard her or ignored her protest, she never would have found the strength to say it again. But he did stop, just before things went too far. He looked at her with his dark, inscrutable eyes, with one hand on the back of her neck and the other on her now-naked shoulder. He didn’t say anything.

            “I…I’m sorry,” Siobhan stammered, her slim body slipping out of his grasp. She ran from the room, pulling her sari back together and leaving a very confused Companion agent in her wake.

            Siobhan was just as confused as he, as she sat down on the end of the bench nearest the fire, her legs hugged tightly to her chest and Skylark trying desperately to console her.

            Sandoval gave her a few moments to collect herself before coming after her. He came into the main room slowly, afraid he would startle her. She was rocking back and forth slowly in front of the fire. Tears were streaming silently down her pale cheeks from her emerald eyes.

            He had never been comfortable around emotional people, especially females, but he even he was no so hard hearted as to be able to sit there and ignore tears. He made his way over to her and sat down at a distance that he judged unthreatening.

            “I thought that was what you wanted,” he said at last.

            Siobhan looked mournfully up at him. “It was,” she said sadly. “And…and it is.”

            His brows drew together in confusion. “But, I—”

            “I’m so sorry, Ron,” she said, wiping her face at last. “I know I led ye on, but something just was nae right…” She took a moment to compose herself and began again, her accent thick and heavy with emotion. “What ye told me…earlier. Ye really would do ennathing to accomplish your goals, I can see that. It’s the only thing that important t’ ye.

            “Ye may care for me, even when ye are out there, trying to play both sides. But ye will nae let that get in th’ way of ennathing ye have to do. There simply is no room for a relationship, for ye cannae and will nae afford it.”

            She smiled ruefully. “In here, when we might as well be th’ only two people in the universe, ye are free to be warm and loving, ye can even let your guard down for an instant or two. But the moment ye step outside that door, I will become a distraction.”

            Sandoval winced at her use of that word, but she continued. “You cannae let your feelings for me show through, and I cannae give me heart to someone who will never give his to me. Your heart is already given, Ron, to revenge. There is nae room for me as long as the Taelons are here.”

            She fell silent and stared intently into the fire. Sandoval thought his reply over carefully. “You’re right,” he said at last. “I’m sorry.”

            “Do nae be sorry for what ye are. For good or ill, ‘tis all ye have.”

            Sandoval nodded at her words, but felt compelled to pursue something. “What you told me that night in your hotel room—about how our paths were destined to cross, how our lives were entwined. What was that, then?”

            Siobhan chewed her lip. “I…I dinnae know. Ever since that incident with Ha’gel, I’ve felt that, somehow, that has past. That the destiny we shared has been fulfilled. I do nae understand it, but I know, deep down, that for us to make our paths one now would not only be folly, it would be peril.”

            Sandoval gave her a skeptical look and she shrugged. “Ye did nae believe it before, why should ye believe it now? I tell ye only what I see and what I believe to be true. Our task together is done…everything is telling me that. Our CVI’s, Major Kincaid,” a frown flickered across her face at Liam’s name, “my runes, and your story.”

            “What does Major Kincaid have to do with us?” Sandoval asked. Again, that frown at the mention of the young man’s name.

            “I do nae know,” she admitted. “Perhaps he is only a symbol, but I feel something when I see him that I cannae understand.”

            They were both quiet for a long time. Sandoval noted that the snow had stopped falling and that someone would be coming to dig them out soon. Siobhan nodded.

            “Will ye…” she began tentatively.

            “Yes?”

            “Will ye just hold me, for a bit? I have the most curious feeling of dread that we will nae be alone together again in the foreseeable future. I know we cannae have anything more, but I would like to be close to ye for a little while at least.”

            Sandoval was taken aback. “Well…I…”

            “Please?” she said. “It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone hold me, even just a friend. I’d like t’ be friends, even for one evening. And…” she struggled for words here. “I’m afraid for some reason…”

            He could tell the admission cost the usually tough woman, and it hurt him to see her in so much pain. He did care about her, and as long as she knew not to expect anything from him once they went back to their regular lives…Well, even he had to admit that the feel of someone he cared for in his arms would feel pretty good.

            Unsure of himself, he slid over on the bench until they were touching. Awkwardly, he put one arm around her slender shoulders. She sort of melted back against him with a sigh. She gave him a brief smile of thanks, and put the loose end of her sari over his lap to keep them both warm.

            Sandoval had never been much of a cuddler, and he hadn’t sat like this with anyone in more than four years. It felt good, but it scared him. Allowing himself for the first time to forget, for just a moment, about anything other than the here-and-now, he held Siobhan tightly in front of the fire and stroked her lovely auburn hair. A drowsy smile crept over her face and she, too, forgot her fear and everything else except the present.

            That was the way the rescue team found them three hours later, half asleep. They both jumped up, startled, when the door swung open to a mixed team of Siobhan’s militia officers and Volunteers. They both recovered their aplomb rapidly, Sandoval smoothing out his beer-stained, borrowed clothes and Siobhan gathering her quilt modestly about her and excusing herself to go change.

            They were ready to leave in fifteen minutes, each now properly attired in their own (slightly wrinkled) clothing. They left a note for the owner on the bar, telling him that he would be reimbursed for whatever the Protectors had used.

            “We have a shuttle waiting for you, Agent Sandoval,” said a clean-cut young militiaman. “Agent Beckett, we have a car outside to take you to your apartment. “

            They followed the man in the snow. There were drifts up to the level of Siobhan’s head, and the average depth seemed to be three feet. The rescue team had cleared a path for them to the road, which had been recently plowed.

            When they reached the road, they faced each other awkwardly, with the others a discreet distance away.

            “We almost—” Sandoval began, but Siobhan lay a finger firmly across his mouth.

            “Don’t,” she said. “Almost is th’ third saddest word in th’ English langauge.”

            “What are the other two?” he asked.

            “If only.” With that she leaned forward impulsively and kissed him lightly on the cheek. It was a thoroughly inappropriate gesture in front of the subordinates, but she was never one to stand on ceremony. Before he could say any one of the hundred things running through his mind, She turned, and rubbing her arms to stay warm, picked her way over the ice to the car.

            He watched her go, and she turned back to glance at him before she climbed in. Her last glance was one of regret, tinged with guilt, though he knew the guilt had little to do with him. Then she was gone. Having nothing else he could do, Sandoval went home.

 

Two days later:

The end of “Redemption”.

 

            Sandoval looked out from a corner of the cave into the occupied cavern. The sunlight from the hole in the roof illuminated the Liam Kincaid and Siobhan Beckett like a spotlight. She lay in his arms, wracked with pain and barely breathing. A pool of blood surrounded them, trailing from Siobhan’s ear, and there were tears of agonizingly intense pain in Liam’s eyes.

            Sandoval had tracked Siobhan here as soon as he realized what was happening. He should have known as soon as he discovered that her MI was deteriorating, he should have known that the rest would good soon. He’d caught a lucky break, a one in a thousand chance that the CVI breakdown hadn’t killed him. But he’d been too damned self-involved to put two and two together.

            He wanted very badly to run to her and hold her and be with her during her last few moments. But there was something between her and Major Kincaid that not only did not invite intrusion, but that absolutely forbade it. There was a wall between them and him that he could not have crossed no matter how hard he might have tried.

            They were speaking to each other now, in whispers. He could not hear what was passing between them. There was a palpable bond between them, he realized, as strong as if they had always been a part of each other. It was…love, he identified with surprise. A pure, deep, abiding love than Sandoval could never understand.

            Just then, Siobhan stiffened suddenly. Sandoval heard the death rattle in her shallow breathing, and then saw her go limp. Liam began to weep loudly and unashamedly. “Guide my soul until morning,” he cried, looking up to the sky at though trying to follow the course her spirit took as it winged heavenward.

            It was almost as if…but, no, that was impossible he told himself. Perhaps they were just distantly related. They were both from Ireland, originally.

            Just then, Skylark set to tolling a skrill death knell. Liam seemed oblivious to it, but Sandoval felt/heard it through Raven, who joined in. It was music, an exquisitely beautiful song of unbearable sadness, combined with a prayer to the skrill deity. The grief was for Skylark’s lost mistress. The prayer seemed to be somewhat of a blessing over her soul and a request for Skylark’s own peaceful departure, as she would die scant moments after the body supporting her ceased functioning.

What Sandoval could translate came out roughly as, “The angel/alien/friend/mistress had been kind to this child of Skrill, give her spirit peace and her soul no fear, as she travels into the Void. Watch over this small one as my journey ends/begins. I fear many things ahead. Keep me brave in the face of Unknown, allow me to bring honor to my hive/clan/family as I leave/die/transition, and draw your small daughter to your loving/caring/strong arms.”

Raven echoed with what seemed like a ritual response/blessing that was too lovely to put into words. Then Skylark’s cry died away sharply, and Raven’s increased in intensity for a moment and then faded away. All this took less than a minute.

            Liam glance flickered towards where Sandoval was standing, and he had barely enough equilibrium to step deeper into the shadows before the younger man spotted him. Liam’s gazed returned to the dead woman in his arms, and he crumpled her to him and cried into her shining hair, everything about him begging her to come back to him.

            Sandoval felt a sickening sense of loss as it finally sunk in that Siobhan was dead. I… he thought to himself, I almost loved her. I could have loved her, if I had let myself. I was one step away from falling in love with her. But I didn’t. He realized this with a pang of regret. I will…miss her, though. Very, very much. And I will avenge her death, I swear. They killed my family, my wife, and my…and a beautiful, vital, unique woman who deserved a life and a family and her freedom. And who knows how many others.

            Goodbye, Siobhan, he thought, taking one last glance back at her. I’ll make them pay for this, for you. For the woman I might have loved. Raven sent a ripple of sadness through him, and he stroked her reassuringly. And for what they did to you and your people, my sweet one. I won’t rest until I know they will never be able to harm anyone, ever again, they way they have us two and those we cared for.

            With that Sandoval turned and walked out, without another backward glance. He did not linger to see Liam gather his dead mother into his arms to take her to her final resting place.