Angels Would Fall

Angels Dream

I wonder if she dreams. If her most human of fantasies come to life when she closes her eyes, and regenerates. I wonder if she thinks of her childhood, what little there was of it, and I wonder if she thinks of me. I dream of her, that is for certain. She haunts me with her white-blonde hair and ice blue eyes. I dream of her soft skin, and the taste of her lips. Of course, it is only speculation, for I have no idea how her breath tastes. . . but oh how I would like to. I know that she would be a beautiful sight to behold, and I know that everything about her would be perfect. I know this because she is more perfect to me than a host of angels. To say that I am in love with her would be just putting it mildly. I don't believe that there are words to convey what I feel with her. I will admit, I have always been a bit obsessed about her. Always trying to gain her trust and confidence, trying to make her become everything that she has the potential to become. At first I just wanted to see her succeed. To become something more than a drone. . . Now, she is something more than human. She is an angel. She is my angel. I love her without reservation, without hesitation, without remorse, and without doubt. And yet. . . I am afraid. Afraid of myself. I am a very stubborn person. I have qualities that make me an excellent Starfleet Captain, but a terrible lover, and sometimes even a terrible friend. I can't… I will not hurt her. I know that I am harsh on her at times, but to cross that line and to be hateful to her would tear me open just as surely as a phaser set on kill. I am content to love her from afar. To love her from a safe distance, for both our sakes. I know that I would surely fall into the depths of her eyes and never return, finding a home within her comparable to heaven, and making earth seems like a place I would never need again… So I dream.
I wonder if angels dream. . . I wonder if my angel dreams of me. . .


Angels Hope

I don 't understand what is going on. I can honestly say that I don't have a total understanding of emotion. I find it far easier to adopt Commander Tuvok's stance on emotions, and just not have any. So. . . Why is it not simple. Why do I constantly think of her, and hope that she thinks of me. Why do I get. . . Emotional. When she is around, I find that my heart beats at a faster rate than is required to sustain my life, and my palms. . . Sweat. I don't sweat at all, yet, I find an annoying dampness on my palms whenever she is in my presence. I strive to please her, and I do my best to keep her from harm. She is my friend, that much I know, but I am confused. I find myself wanting to connect with her, to know her on intimate levels. I want to know what she thinks of before her sleeping cycle, and what she thinks of first upon waking. I want to share with her the greatest joys of her life, and the most profound sorrows that she has ever known. I do little things to let her know that I am thinking of her in this way, but I do not think that I'm successful. I have reached a standstill because I do not know how to proceed. I am. . . Uncertain. I can only hope that she understands me. I hope that she finds my adaptation to the human standards acceptable, and that she can return these feelings. I hope she feels the same. I hope she cares about me. I hope. . .


Angels Smile

She smiled at me today. Not one of those halfhearted attempts that we have all seen her do, but a real honest smile. She caught me staring at her during a meeting, and instead of looking away, or raising her eyebrow, she smiled. It was the most beautiful sight that I have ever seen. I could have wept at the sheer joy that her smile brought to me. It flooded my insides and I believe that I could comfortably live in the warmth of that smile forever if I had to. I was the first one to look away. I didn't want to, but I knew that if I continued to look at her face I would have crumbled into a thousand pieces of want, love, lust and any other number of feelings that she inspires within me. Captains can't crumble. Captains are invincible. Captains don't need anything. But Women. . . Women need caring, and support. Women need hot sex and even hotter love. I am a Captain, but I am also a woman. I am a woman that wants her. I want to be the reason that she smiles that like. I want to see that smile everyday for the rest of my life, and I want that smile to be the last thing that I see when I die. I want to bask in the warmth of that smile. That beautiful, wonderful smile. . .


Angels Dance

Today I studied human courtship rituals. I came across something very interesting. Dancing. It appears that the two participants engage in coordinated movement. The thing that intrigues me the most is that the participants were in a close proximity to each other. I believe that I would like to feel her that close to me. I would enjoy the sensation of her body against my own. I don't really understand the reasons that I would like to feel her body, or why I want to know what her hair would feel like on my fingers, but I have found that when it comes to the emotions of humans, it is far easier to just accept, than to question. I believe that when the time comes to engage in another one of our scheduled velocity matches, I will entice her to dance with me instead. I find that I am anticipating this with more vigor that I could have imagined. It is most unlike me, but I still find it pleasant. I hope that she will enjoy it also. I so much want to dance with her. I want to dance. . .


Angels Arms

I can't believe that I am here. I can't believe that I am doing this. She cradles me so gently against her. I can feel the heat coming from her body. I don't know where she got this idea, and frankly I don't care. I am in shock, I can't believe that I am dancing with her, with my angel. She makes me feel so safe, that I can loose control, and still be safe within the constraints of her arms. Her soft, strong-arms. We sway gently together in time with the music, and in this dance, she leads. I am not her superior, but her equal, and I am letting her take control. It feels damn good. I can't believe how complete I feel with her, how whole. I could give my life to her in this instant. My entire being, I would surely place into her hands if only I knew that she were willing. Oh how I want her to be willing. She tightens her embrace around me, and I feel my insides turn to jelly. This thing that we have is so big, I don't know if I can handle it for much longer. This was a wicked indulgence that I shouldn't have let happen, but she pleaded with me so sweetly, and got behind my resistance before I even knew what happened. One moment I was arguing with her about why dancing was a bad idea, trying my damnedest to stay away from her, knowing I would surely melt into her arms if I crumbled to her request, and then. . . Then she grabbed me, and took me somewhere that I have never been before, within the safety of her glorious arms. I feel so safe and secure here, I don't ever want to leave these arms. My angels arms. . .


Angels Touch

She is soft, just like I predicted. My senses are overwhelmed with the simple presence of this woman. . . This single woman. I can feel her body relax against my own as we sway in time with the music I have selected. There are so many facets to her that I have yet to see. She is gently rubbing her fingertips against the base of my neck and I find that this sensation makes strange things happen throughout my body. My respiration has increased, and my stomach is quivering. I possess the knowledge of thousands upon thousands of species, I have the experiences of millions upon millions of individuals at my disposal, and yet. . . This is different. She is different. As a Borg, we searched for perfection through assimilation, but now I know that I have found perfection in this one, single, flawed, human creature. I believe that the word for this experience is ironic. She gently scrapes her fingertips against my neck once again, and I find that it is hard to keep my present line of thought. I find that I can no longer control my body. I must touch her, consume her. . . My thoughts are consumed with one thing. I must touch her, I must become one with her. . . I need to touch her…


Angels Fly

This is real. This is happening, and I have no power to stop it. She kisses me softly, sweetly, and it's like nothing that I have felt before. She touches me surely, if not with naïveté, and I marvel at the fact that her unpracticed touches invoke feelings within me deeper than that of a more experienced lover. She sets me on fire, and I am powerless to stop it. She smiles sweetly at me, and asks me to help her, to help her love me. I don't deny her this. . . or myself. It's been so long. She is perfect, beautiful. . . . There aren't even words to describe her. My world explodes upon its self, and everything that she is, and everything that together we can be washes over me in powerful waves, brought on by her hands, and lips, and tongue. I am flying. She has wrapped me in her angel arms, and flown me to heaven. I weep at the beauty that she invokes within me, and blindly call her name as we plummet downward, together. My angel has made me fly, higher than I have ever been. I have seen and felt things within her loving embrace that most people don't see in a lifetime. I want to share this with her. I want my angel to fly. . . .

Angels Live

I cry. I do not believe that I have cried like this before. I have heard it said, that humans cry sometimes when happy, but I did not understand how that could be when I perceived crying to be such a painful experience. But this, this isn't painful, this is wonderful. She sleeps next to me in her bed, I can feel her fragile weight next to me, and I am profusely grateful that this has happened to me. I still don't know what to call this. . . what we have between us. I know that there is a word for this, and that somewhere in my eidetic memory that I should know this, but I don't. No word that I have ever encountered could accurately describe what I am feeling. I lick my lips, and I can still taste her. I shudder as emotions rampage through me. Something deep inside me cracks open, and I cry harder. I love her. As surely as anything in this universe, I love her. She makes me feel. . . Alive. Because of her I live. She is my life, and because of her, I am alive. . .

Angels Love

"I love you, Kathryn."
She loves me. She says it verbally, and I can see the compassion within her blue eyes. She means it. How do I respond to this? I know that it's wrong for a Captain to be involved with a crew member, but I look at her, and cant' help it. She is my everything. I know that I love her, so why am I so afraid to say it back? Even now, seconds after she tells me, my heart fills with dread. I will hurt her, I will abandon her, I will hurt her, I will hurt her. . . The phrase just repeats itself over and over in my head. I look down as my eyes fill with tears. I can feel her hand on my chin, forcing me to look up at her, at those blue, eyes. I must not look; I must be strong for both of us. . . I cannot help it. . . My eyes open of their own volition.
She smiles at me, and looks deep inside. She can see my dreams, my hopes, they are reflected within her eyes. She sees me, and I am powerless against her. I stop fighting with myself and give in. . .
"I love you, Kathryn."
"I love you with all my heart, Annika."

Angles Would Fall

The rope that's wrapped around me
Is cutting through my skin
And the doubts that have surrounded me
Are finding their way in
I keep it close to me
Like a holy man prays
In my desperate hour
It's better that way

So I'll come by and see you again
I'll be such a very good friend
Have mercy on my soul
I will never let you know
Where my mind has been

Angels never came down
There's no one here they want to hang around
But if they knew
If they knew you at all
Then one by one the angels
Angels would fall

I've crept into your temple
I have slept upon your pew
I've dreamed of the divinity
Inside and out of you
I want it more than truth
I can taste it on my breath
I would give my life just for a little death

So I'll come by and see you again
I'll be just a very good friend
I will not look upon your face
I will not touch upon your grace
Your ecclesiastic skin

I'll come by and see you again
I'll have to be a very good friend
If I whisper they will know
I'll just turn around and go
You will never know my sin


Melissa Etheridge
From the album Breakout
1999

Fin