Summary: A short story about Kesí first reaction to Harry. K/Kes. Rated PG.
Disclaimer: Paramountís characters. My story.
Archiving: Please ask first before putting any of my stories elsewhere.
By Daffnie (email@example.com)
He doesnít know how much I used to hate him. That was so unusual for me...I never actually hated anyone in my life. Not the Kazon, not Tieran, no one. But that look he gave me...that ĎMy, Youíre Gorgeousí look that reminded me of how my slavers once stared at me when they wanted me. I was afraid then, and Iím afraid now. I donít know what to do about him. Heís sweet, yes, but heís a little...strange at times. I canít explain it.
I donít know how long it took for me to actually talk to him like the civilized person I thought I was. Apparently, I never was the kind soul everyone saw beneath the childís face. I am not as innocent as I look. I crave adventure, I crave knowledge, I crave danger.
And I find I also crave him.
Why him? Of all people, I had to fall for the one I immediately hated. That look he gave me, I can still see it. Now that I know him a little better, know him as the competent Starfleet ensign that he is, it seems unlike him to do something so...appraising. Maybe he has a dark side, just like me. I donít want to admit that I have more to me than the elfin appearance and the small frame and the sweet words. But Harry, he even looks mystical and concealed with his dark hair and his dark eyes, like he is hush-hush about something inside of that complicated mind of his. He has a secret, and I want to know what it is.
I was conditioned my entire life to be accepting of people, those different and those the same as myself. I try not to judge a book by its cover, but with him, my instincts kicked in right away. They screamed to me that he wasnít what he seemed. So I went and talked to him. I asked him what made him tick, what gave him his edge.
He instantly looked suspicious. ďMy edge?Ē he echoed.
Why did I ask that? Why did I ask anything when I could just search someoneís mind for something, for anything I ever wanted to find out? Those are the advantages of my species. I take it for granted.
Instead, I asked him about his life. What his story was, and as he talked, I searched.
What I found scared me.
Blood, screaming, fire, anger, pain...pain...
I saw his hands around a throat. I saw phaser fire coming from a weapon he held, making several beings fall. I saw his tears, their tears. I heard the screams and the sizzling flesh and the fires burning. Those things that I saw and heard were hidden because of shame. At first, I thought it was because he was afraid that he would be discovered, that someone would find out that he had killed people sometime in his past. And then, for no apparent reason, I was suddenly aware of the truth. It was more comforting than my fear that I was looking into the mind of a morbid assassin... Harry was guilty for their deaths not because he was a killer. He killed them in self-defense, and he was sorry. I saw it all.
And...I also saw love. Love for his job, love for his family.
Love for me.
It was a light amid the blackness of a mind that kept secrets from spilling out. Harry was much, much more than I had thought. I still hated that damned look he gave me, but I realized it was a side affect from loneliness.
When he finished the story of his life, and I stopped searching for more veiled secrets, I was able to smile at him.
He smiled back, and I knew that I couldnít hate him anymore.
This was the beginning to something more.