Threshold Logs written by RanDoM Flight Members

Note :
This story was originally printed in the 'RanDoM' fanzine.

Kes walked toward the door, her footsteps a soft hollow sound in the now silent sickbay.

"We will have to perform an autopsy on the lieutenant's body in the morning. I suggest you get some rest."

The words were spoken with calm efficiency, direct as always, yet listening now with her heart, she heard a note of regret in the Doctor's voice. Reaching the door, she leaned heavily against the bulkhead, her thoughts a fragmented jumble. Too quickly. It had all happened too quickly. There hadn't been enough time to react, to study, to find a solution to whatever was killing him. A sudden, wracking sob caught in her throat, stifled by the hand that flew to her mouth.

The rustle of fabric caught her attention. Steeling herself she turned, watching silently as the Doctor covered his lifeless body with a dark, sterile sheet. The lights in the examination area dimmed to a sepulcher glow. The body beneath the sheet was so still, yet she half expected him to sit up, to laugh his wry, cynical laugh, and declare it all an elaborate joke to taunt the jokeless doctor.

"Kiss me."

"Not, you. Her."

"Consider it a last request"

"I'm sorry, Tom, if we let down the force field you'll suffocate."

"Oh, what's the difference, I'm dying anyway."

"I'm dying anyway."

"I'm dying anyway."

And all he asked for was a kiss. A kiss she could not give until it was too late. A kiss she would have gladly given months ago had this brash, charming, utterly vulnerable young man only asked.

"I'm sorry, Tom"

The tears coursed freely down her cheeks now, splashing against the hand still held tightly to her mouth. Rolling through her mind in endless crushing waves was the sound of his voice as he ranted, the ramblings of a dying man, poignant, piteous, alone. So totally alone, with no one to touch, no one to hold him as life slipped swiftly through their grasp. Aching with the need to be accepted, by his crew members, by his father.

But he need not have been alone, and need not be alone now. Retracing her steps, she walked back to the side of the biobed on which he still lay, scrubbing away the tears, fighting the choking knot in her throat. She lay her hand on top the sheet, a hint of warmth radiated through the thin covering. Her other hand rested against her own chest, where the coolness of a delicate golden locket lay against her skin, beneath her tunic. His gift to her.

Reaching out, she carefully peeled away the dark cover. His pale face was calm, the mottled discoloration barely discernible in the blue tinged light. She brushed a stray lock of sweat soaked hair from his forehead, then gently caressed the side of his face with the tips of her fingers. Taking his still warm hand in hers, she stayed with him, silent tears sliding unbidden and unnoticed down her cheeks, until the last human warmth.

THE END