faithfully dreaming
Sorry I'm late, the recurring TNG muse (muses?) just now inspired me.
Title: Faithfully Dreaming
Author: chanter
Series: TNG, post Aquiel
Characters/pairings: Geordi-Aquiel, Geordi-Leah
Rating: PG
Summary: Written for the writers_choice sentimental challenge. Geordi realizes that admitting things to yourself is one thing, but when you’re flirting with a telepath...
477 words
I catch myself, when I’m walking with her, and when I’m laughing with her, and when I’m trading snippets of elegant language with her--I catch myself wanting to call her by a name that doesn’t quite belong.
And I tell myself, over and over maybe on a subconscious level, maybe not to stop comparing her voice to that other one that’s playing through my thoughts the entire time.
I swear to myself that I’m not making a mistake, not reacting on a rebound and making the most of a situation that distance spawned and that I’ll regret later. And I know I’m wrong, and I know I am, and I know I will but I’m drawn in anyway.
Think of me, she says, and I try, but with her emotions echoing and reflecting off mine into infinity things get confused, and even though it’s dark hair I’m imagining and it doesn’t take a blind man to hear the similarity in the voice trying to romance me and the one running through my head I’m thinking of someone different. So I don’t open my mouth, not even when we’re walked in on, because I’m afraid that if I do I’ll call out the wrong name, shout out the wrong name, confess my thoughts of long conversations and work in concert, antique sailing vessels and wild Terran flowers to the wrong woman. I don’t say it, even though it’s all I can do to keep myself quiet. I’m hearing Aquiel, but I’m not dreaming her.
Think of me, she says and I swear I try, but in the end the hopeless romantic in me is talking to someone else, weaving flowers in someone else’s hair, singing to and hell maybe even speaking Halian to someone entirely different from the somebody controlling this situation. Think of me, she says, but it’s impossible. I’m thinking, and I’m hearing, and I’m sensing and for the moment I’m wanting Aquiel, but it’s not her in my long-term.
So I’m a romantic. And I suppose that’s pretty obvious anyway. I’m also hopelessly devoted. I like to think I’m not as easy to read when it comes to that.
I don’t use people, and I swear I wasn’t. It’s just that whoever said you can’t run away from yourself probably had no idea just how completely dead-on right they were. Sometimes things… just get admitted, out loud or otherwise.
Aquiel was the short-term, enthralling and maybe there were feelings there once, but in any sense that mattered, it was never Aquiel. It was an entirely different dark-haired woman. It was her. It’s always been her.
I hope to God the telepath in Aquiel didn’t hear me. Because all the time I was listening to, talking to, tangled with one woman, even if I didn’t acknowledge it I was faithful, and I was dreaming Leah.
Title: Faithfully Dreaming
Author: chanter
Series: TNG, post Aquiel
Characters/pairings: Geordi-Aquiel, Geordi-Leah
Rating: PG
Summary: Written for the writers_choice sentimental challenge. Geordi realizes that admitting things to yourself is one thing, but when you’re flirting with a telepath...
477 words
I catch myself, when I’m walking with her, and when I’m laughing with her, and when I’m trading snippets of elegant language with her--I catch myself wanting to call her by a name that doesn’t quite belong.
And I tell myself, over and over maybe on a subconscious level, maybe not to stop comparing her voice to that other one that’s playing through my thoughts the entire time.
I swear to myself that I’m not making a mistake, not reacting on a rebound and making the most of a situation that distance spawned and that I’ll regret later. And I know I’m wrong, and I know I am, and I know I will but I’m drawn in anyway.
Think of me, she says, and I try, but with her emotions echoing and reflecting off mine into infinity things get confused, and even though it’s dark hair I’m imagining and it doesn’t take a blind man to hear the similarity in the voice trying to romance me and the one running through my head I’m thinking of someone different. So I don’t open my mouth, not even when we’re walked in on, because I’m afraid that if I do I’ll call out the wrong name, shout out the wrong name, confess my thoughts of long conversations and work in concert, antique sailing vessels and wild Terran flowers to the wrong woman. I don’t say it, even though it’s all I can do to keep myself quiet. I’m hearing Aquiel, but I’m not dreaming her.
Think of me, she says and I swear I try, but in the end the hopeless romantic in me is talking to someone else, weaving flowers in someone else’s hair, singing to and hell maybe even speaking Halian to someone entirely different from the somebody controlling this situation. Think of me, she says, but it’s impossible. I’m thinking, and I’m hearing, and I’m sensing and for the moment I’m wanting Aquiel, but it’s not her in my long-term.
So I’m a romantic. And I suppose that’s pretty obvious anyway. I’m also hopelessly devoted. I like to think I’m not as easy to read when it comes to that.
I don’t use people, and I swear I wasn’t. It’s just that whoever said you can’t run away from yourself probably had no idea just how completely dead-on right they were. Sometimes things… just get admitted, out loud or otherwise.
Aquiel was the short-term, enthralling and maybe there were feelings there once, but in any sense that mattered, it was never Aquiel. It was an entirely different dark-haired woman. It was her. It’s always been her.
I hope to God the telepath in Aquiel didn’t hear me. Because all the time I was listening to, talking to, tangled with one woman, even if I didn’t acknowledge it I was faithful, and I was dreaming Leah.