I am Harry's Clarinet (a companion piece to "I am Seven
 of Nine's Regeneration Alcove")
by Celestia (celestia@innocent.com)
 
I seem to be having a wee bit of an identity crisis...a 
clarinet and a regeneration alcove in the
same 24-hour time span? scary.....
hmmm....who to kill for this one? I think it was Lesa,
 on the RiFt list, who brought this up...don't
worry. I'm not serious....*trys to remember the last 
time she was seriously serious, and can't*, It's
just that it's 2am and I'm starting to believe that I 
*am* Harry's Clarinet.
DiSCLAiMER: Paramount composes the masterpieces. I just 
throw in notes where I feel they
should go.
This takes place at pretty much the exact same time as 
"I am Seven of Nine's Regeneration
Alcove." But that one explains more, so I suggest you 
read it first.
 
     I am Harry's Clarinet. Yep! That's me! I give 
voice to his wonderful musical pieces which
express his emotions to the fullest. Which cause others 
to experience similar emotions. Which
causes them to cheer and throw various species of 
flowers and inspires them to go and replicate
their own clarinet, which means wonderful music 
forevermore...
     Ahem...sorry. I get a little carried away 
sometimes. Now, where was I?
     Oh yes. I am Harry's Clarinet. And also his first 
love. Yes, you heard me correctly, first
love. He's loved the clarinet (meaning me) since he was 
a mere child. His lips have touched my
mouth-piece in kisses which have lasted for symphonies. 
Well, I suppose he doesn't consider
them kisses. It's the only way to get any sound out of 
me. But I think even he considers playing
me an act of love.
     But recently, I've felt as if I was being used. He 
seems to play me rarely, often only in the
prescence of that Borg, Seven of Nine. She comes by twice a week for music appreciation
lessons. I'll have to admit, they make a fairly cute 
couple, but why does he need her when he's
got me?
     Not that I'm indicating they're a couple in any 
way, shape, or form. They're not. At least,
not yet. But he's obviously attracted to her. He's even 
composed a few pieces either dedicated to
her or named for her. He'll play these for her, 
sometimes. Of course, he'll never tell her they were
by him, let alone written about her. He'll say it's by 
some unknown composer who's name was
never revealed, or some lie like that. I think she can 
tell it's a lie, though she never says anything
about it. Sometimes she seems so cold...
     Hah! Listen to me, ranting on and on. I'm the 
biggest sucker for a love story, but,  when a
really juicy one's unfolding right under my bell, I 
pretend it doesn't exist. Geesh! I suppose it's
about time Harry got a love interest besdies me...it's 
hard to dance with a clarinet.
     I hear they've been spending nights in the 
holodeck together. When he comes back from
one of these 'meetings', he'll write happy, bouncy odes
 which represent his joy. When he plays
one of those, I can't help but feel joy right along 
with him...
     Tonight's one of those nights. He'll come back, 
smiling his face off, and compose an ode
to something or another. Wonder where they spent time 
this evening. Well, he should be coming
back right about...
     Now.
     He bursts through Door, who barely has a chance to 
open before Harry comes through, a
smile brighter than the stars themselves lighting up 
his face. He quickly grabs some ancient paper
out of a nearby drawer, then finds a pen and grabs me 
off the desk. He seems really excited...I
wonder what kind of song we'll compose this evening...
     He quickly scribbles a title at the top of the 
page.
                    YOUR LIPS ON MINE
     If a clarinet had eyes, mine would be wide with 
surprise right now. Whoa! Wait an awful-
sounding wrong-note tootin' minute here! They kissed?!
 That seemingly cold-hearted
emotionless Borg let him kiss her? Or was it the other 
way 'round?
     There's more to this than I thought.
     He composes for almost an hour. I watch in 
amazement as his fingers fly gracefully over
the paper.
     Then we get to play. Melodious music that's 
positively sinful flows through me and into
the rest of the room. I can hear every object in the 
room sighing happily.
     I sigh right along with them. Happiness. A 
fantastical love story, unfolding right under
my bell. It may not be me whom he's in love with, but 
as long as the music continues, I'll be in
heaven.
     And love songs like these last for a very, very 
long time. Maybe even...forever.
 
*~*FiNi*~*
 
awwww.....