The night was a relatively quite one for Soma, but since they had reopened, they had all been quiet nights for the most part - except the weekends. The weekends were always busy. All the damage from the last battles were finally repaired and no band was performing, so only patron selections were being played. A woman sitting in a dark corner finally went to the music panel and selected a few tracks. As they began to play, she moved to the bar and took a seat.
"Bartender, another rum and cola. Make it half and half," she said with a smile.
She'd had a couple of drinks already and Troy thought twice about serving her another . . . But he relented. She wasn't boisterous or a troublemaker and he couldn't think of a reason not to server the attractive brunette who looked vaguely familiar. As he placed the drink before her, he smiled.
"There you go," he said.
"Thanks!" she replied, taking a deep drink of the beverage.
The song of a 20th century Earth band began to play - Goldfish Bowl by a group called Stereophonics. It wasn't often requested. But since this woman had been coming to Soma every night over the past week, the song had been played several times more than usual. He took in her countenance carefully. She was very familiar. She looked Terran, about mid to late twenties. She had light brown hair and eyes that were a combination of green and brown. The one thing he noticed was that with each drink she consumed, the happier she seemed to be. Suddenly he remembered her. He had noticed her from the very first night she had come to the establishment, which had been some time before the battle had broken out. He seemed to remember getting her name at one point, but could not seem to recall it now. A lot had happened. But he remembered that she had always been surrounded by an aura of sadness and separation . . . until she began drinking . . . But even after a few drinks he didn't get the feeling that she was truly happy . . . Just that whatever she was feeling was sufficiently suppressed.
"I've seen you in here for the past week. In fact, before that," he said above the din of the appealing lyrics. "So what's your name? I can't seem to remember it."
"Kitara," she replied. "Kitara Mallory. My friends call me Kitty . . . And you are again?" she smirked.
"My name's Troy," he replied.
"Nice to meet you . . . again, Troy," she smiled, gazing into his dark eyes, framed by brow-ridges. "Just keep the drinks coming and we'll get along just fine!" She laughed at that. As long as she had credits, why would the barkeep care, she thought.
"Yes, ma'am." he replied with a smile, as she finished the drink she had. He immediately replaced it with another.
She giggled softly as she picked up the drink and downed half of it in one gulp. As the liquor hit her system, she sighed and she closed her eyes to listen to the music. It seemed to take her somewhere other than where she was.
Troy didn't know what it was about this woman, but he seemed drawn to her. He had been the first time he'd seen her. Toward the end of his shift, he could tell she was in her usual state after all her drinks. When she would arrive at Soma, there was always something profoundly sad about her countenance. But after a few strong drinks it was as if she were the happiest person in the world. Or that, at least she could smile and laugh . . . However, this night it seemed she was drinking even more than she had before. Having been a bartender for many years, he had grown to learn when someone was at their limit. She was there, as she could barely finish the drink she had.
His conscience wouldn't let him leave her, as he saw her leaning against the bar, her head on her arm, eyes closed against the pounding beat of the music.
"Kitty," he said, trying to reach the part of her that wasn't totally lost to the alcohol.
She looked up at him and smiled. "Yeah, Troy?" she smirked, looking into his dark eyes.
"Would you like me to escort you to your quarters?" he asked.
She looked him over with a smile. His dark eyes beckoned to her. "Sure," she replied, "I was about ready to head to my quarters anyway," she explained.
He helped her off the stool and had to put his arm around her waist to keep her steps steady. She closed her eyes several times on the walk to her quarters and sighed. His touch brought out something in her she hadn't felt for a long time, and she liked it. As they reached her quarters she leaned toward him and kissed him passionately. He didn't resist.
"Spend the night with me, Troy," she whispered into his ear as he held her close. But she could sense his hesitance. She kissed him with all the passion she could contain within herself, and ran her hands through his soft, dark hair.
"It's not right," he said, as he gazed into her eyes trying to decide their color.
"Yes, it is . . ." she pleaded as she kissed him. "You and I together tonight . . . No other worries . . ." she said as she caressed his face. "Please . . ."
Gently, he took her hands in his and held them, as he matched her gaze. "No . . ." he said, firmly, yet with tenderness. "I can't . . ."
"Don't you want me?" she asked, a well of pain opening up in her, from an old wound not quite healed. Tears misted her eyes.
He reached for her and caressed her face. "It's not a matter of not wanting you," he said, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his finger tips. In fact, she was beautiful to him and under other circumstances things would had been different. Gently, he allowed his fingers to trace the curves of her face as if committing each nuance to his memory.
She closed her eyes and lost herself to his gentle touch. Suddenly, she began to sway and he grabbed her before she completely lost her balance. He held her close to steady her again and her green brown eyes bore into his.
"Would it make any difference if I told you I wanted you . . . " she asked, longing and desire evident in her eyes.
"I don't know," Troy said. He took her by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. "It's nothing personal--like I said, it's not a matter of not wanting you. I just have to wonder about your judgment right now."
She shook her head, her eyes almost pleading. "I haven't wanted someone . . . anyone . . . in a very long time . . ." She caressed his face, wanting to feel him once again.
"I don't know what to say," Troy said. "I'd like to, but I don't want to put you in a position you'll regret later."
"What if tomorrow didn't exist?" she asked.
"Tomorrow does exist, one way or another," Troy replied. "I don't want to take advantage of you while you're drunk. I can't do that."
She looked away and sighed, nodding to herself. Resigning herself to his decision. As she met his gaze again, she took his hand. "Would you at least stay with me . . . Just so I'm not alone?" Tears misted her eyes. Pain she had managed to push aside earlier began to resurface, just like it always eventually did . . . But the alcohol kept the full pain from reaching her, as long as it was in her system. She swayed again as the liquor coursed through her body.
Troy took her in his arms, not sure what to do. "I'll stay with you," Troy said. "No one should have to be alone. Just talk to me. I know something's bothering you."
He lead her to the couch. As they sat, she allowed his arms to engulf her again. She closed her eyes and rested against him, relishing the comfort he offered.
"There's too much pain to talk about . . ." she said. "It's been three years and it still hurts . . . Why doesn't it ever go away . . ." Tears misted her eyes.
"Three years since what?" Troy asked, holding her hand tenderly. "You can tell me... if you can't talk to your bartender, who can you talk to?" As Troy said this he took notice of her quarters for the first time. Pictures of happy children, baby toys, and other indicators that at one point this woman had been a very happy mother gave him an inkling of what might have been the problem. Troy may not have had his adopted sister's psychic abilities, but the picture was starting to form.
As he stroked her hands, trying to offer comfort, he felt something along her wrists. It was possible that the raised linear markings may have been a species-specific trait, but immediately Troy's thoughts turned to things more ominous. His suspicions were confirmed when she pulled her hands away from him.
"What happened?" was all he could ask.
A tear escaped from the corner of one of her eyes as images of her children played through her mind . . . Her son and daughter . . . They had been the lights of her life . . . "My children . . . They . . . were taken from me . . ." she said as the pain coursed through her for the millionth time. She turned her eyes away from his. Unable to look at him. "I miss my babies . . ." With that a soft sob escaped her lips.
"You can get them back," Troy said. "There are ways--legal recourse..." he began to say, until it dawned on him that perhaps her children were taken from her in a way no court could overrule.
With that, he put his arm around her shoulders and held her as the tears came.
"No judge can give them back to me . . ." she said, softly, as she tried hard to get her tears under control. "Not even the gods could return them . . . "
"I don't know what to say," Troy told her. "I wish there were some way I could help. You've been alone for quite a while, haven't you?"
She nodded. Since her kids had died, she hadn't been with anyone. She had been completely alone. All she could do was nod. "Hold me . . ." she said. "Just hold me . . . Please . . ."
Troy was silent as he pulled her in closer, gently rocking her. "Is there anyone you can talk to?" Troy asked, finally.
"The official counselors at Starfleet tried to help . . ." she answered. "But . . . they don't understand . . ." The tears still trickled down from her eyes, but her mind was losing its grasp on consciousness. The alcohol and the surfacing of her memories were taking their toll. Her eyes closed. "No one understands . . ." she said in almost a whisper, as her head lulled.
"Perhaps there's someone who could help," Troy said. "My sister is a counselor, and a pretty good one! She doesn't have the benefit of Starfleet training in counseling, but from what I've heard the training may actually be a liability. But it sounds like what you could use is a friend. I'm here for you."
"Friend . . " she whispered. She leaned in enough to kiss him once again, but before he could react, she went limp.
Troy was almost smothered as she fell against him. "Uhhh...okay..."
Carefully, he moved himself out from under her. Then tenderly, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. As he laid her down on the bed, readying himself to leave her sleep, her hand reached for him. She didn't want him to leave.
Okay, Troy told himself. I'll stay with her until she goes to sleep. He got onto the bed with her and put his arm around her shoulders again. She snuggled in close to him.
Her consciousness returned to her slowly as it always did on the mornings after her regular drinking binges . . . Only this time there was something different. She took a sharp breath in as she felt an arm around her waist. Only, she felt she was still in her clothes . . . As a minute passed, memories of the night before began forming in her mind . . . Soma . . . The bartender . . .Troy . . . His eyes is what she remembered most . . . and his gently voice . . . He had walked her to her quarters and she had . . . A red tinge immediately flushed her cheeks. What exactly had happened last night, she wondered . . . She remembered him holding her . . . But she remembered little else except wanting him and him having enough integrity to say no . . . She wasn't sure how many other men out there in the universe would have turned her down. She moved gently, but as she did, she felt him stir. His arm around her waist felt so good though, she thought.
Troy felt her stirring and woke up quickly, though he decided to feign sleeping for a moment. He wasn't sure how she would react. Keeping his eyes shut, he listened for what was sure would be a shocked outburst.
Kitara rolled over to face him and gently caressed his face. "I know you're awake," she said. "Thank you for staying with me . . ." she said as the embarrassment tinged her cheeks. "You didn't have too . . . I'm sorry about that . . ."
"I didn't know what else to do," Troy said simply. "I wanted to help, and this was all I had to offer."
She smiled softly through the pain that hit her every morning she woke up. "Thank you . . ." she said, "For a lot of things . . ."
"If you ever need to talk, don't be afraid to come to me. And don't substitute liquor for comfort. It doesn't work!"
A seriousness entered her eyes, as tears misted them. "I know no other way," she replied, sadly. "It's the only thing that gives me an escape . . . You're a bartender . . . You know what a good drink can do . . ." She looked away. "It's what's kept me from going over the edge . . .again . . ." She said quietly, obviously not proud of the fact . . . but it was a fact of her life . . .
"That's a sign you need to start backing off. I've also seen a lot of good people destroy their lives with booze. Don't do this to yourself--please. There is a tomorrow..." Troy replied, maybe more stridently than he intended, but he could see something in Kitara that she wasn't letting herself see. "What happened to your children, anyway?"
"I was married at one time . . ." she began. "I thought he was someone wonderful . . . Turned out he wasn't . . ." she replied, quietly. "It took nine years for me to finally give up my dream of making things work with him . . . But . . . by that time, we had an eight year old son and a two year old daughter . . ." Tears began trickling from her green-brown eyes. "He tried taking them from me . . . kidnapping them . . . Only . . . Only something went terribly wrong . . ." She couldn't finish as she remembered seeing the surveillance footage of the shuttle exploding . . . There had been no survivors . . .
"I'm sorry," Troy replied. "To have lost everything like that..." He thought back to the loss of his own family. That had been by choice, and a well-considered one at that. But something like this made Troy want to rage at the indifferent universe.
"Everyday since then has been a struggle . . . Just to get up and face the day . . ." she admitted, though she still couldn't meet his gaze. "Living without them is something . . . I haven't figured out how to do yet . . . How . . . how does a mother live without her children?" She remembered the first day when Zachary had learned to ride a bike without his training wheels . . . And several days when Arianna would bring her books to read over and over again. Her heart felt as if it was going to break again . . . How many more times would this happen until there was nothing left of her heart, she wondered. "I'm sorry . . ." she said. "This isn't your problem . . .It's no one's problem . . . Just mine . . ."
"Someone once told me that what hurts one of us, hurts us all... I don't know how to answer your questions. I don't know if anyone does. But I'm sure your children would not want to see you hurting," Troy replied. "They'd want you to be happy and to continue to live. I know that's harder than it sounds, but you've got to keep trying!"
She smiled bittersweetly. "You're right . . ." she replied. "But the problem is not wanting life anymore . . . Don't get me wrong . . . I am beyond wanting to take my life," she said as her hand subconsciously ran over the raised scar on her opposite wrist. "But there is no joy in my life, Troy . . . What brought me joy is gone . . . I live to work and to drink . . ." She was honest with him. More honest than she had been with anyone else in a long time. "I'm sure that's not what you want to hear . . . But it's where I'm at . . ." Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his finally. "I do thank you for staying with me, though . . ." she said. "Most men that I have known would have taken advantage of last night . . ." Again pink gently flushed her cheeks. "Not that I would have minded terribly . . . But . . . thank you for thinking of me . . ."
"Your children," Troy said, "Would want you to find joy again. No child likes to see its mother unhappy." He took her hand. "And I would never have dreamed of taking advantage of you while you were drunk. I've had to keep drunken men from taking advantage of my sister; I'd never do anything like that to you. You can trust me."
She smiled softly, though the sadness remained in her eyes. "Thank you . . . For everything . . ." she said, as she leaned toward him, kissing him tenderly. "Thank you for being so generous and caring . . ."
"I'm glad I could help," Troy said, blushing uncharacteristically. "If there's anything I can do for you, don't hesitate to let me know. You know how to find me."
"Computer, time," she called out.
<<It is 0632 hours.>>
"Would you stay with me for another hour?" she asked tentatively.
"Of course. I work nights," Troy said. "I don't have to be anywhere until 1600."
As his arm pulled her closer, she closed her eyes. For the first time in almost three years she was accepting comfort - and from a man . . . And it was welcomed . . . She couldn't explain it to herself, but there was something about Troy that was different from any other man she had met. He was sincere and genuinely cared about her . . . She could feel it almost as soon as she had entered the bar the night before. As her eyes drifted closed once again, she snuggled closer to him. She didn't know what the future would hold for her, but one thing was certain . . . she was going to remember him . . .
Troy thought about this woman in his arms. It's not like anything I've experienced before, he thought. Perhaps it is time for me to move on and start thinking about my own life. But I don't know... she seems so vulnerable, so troubled. I could just be buying myself trouble but I'd like to get to know her better. With that, he relaxed, letting her snuggle into him and lowering his own guards.
In minutes, they had both drifted back to sleep, encompassed in a warmth and feeling they had not known before.