DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of Bert and is copyright (c) 2002 by Bert. Rated PG.
Aged glass sang as it shattered against the floor. A waterfall cascaded onto the hard wood floor. Where Champagne fizzled as it seeped into the cracks between the planks, after flowing.
He glared at her. Moved to the closet without a word and pulled out a suitcase. Without looking back to the bed he threw it towards the foot. Giving no care a whom it might hit. After the closet door slammed shut he moved towards the dresser, stepping to the side as she tried to come between him and the antique. His eyes met hers a moment, then shifted to the opposite side of the bed. Shaking his head he moved again to retrieve his desired belongings.
"Leonard," her voice was soft, "talk to me."
He looked up, opened his mouth to speak and sharply closed it. No, there was nothing to say. More than enough had been said without the use of words. He continued his task.
Overcome with the sense of being rushed to complete his duty, he hurried his pace. Though in reality he had no need to rush, he was home. Again he looked to the bed, carefully looking at the mess he saw. Then he let his eyes shift up, to a picture of his family.
The joy he saw served its purpose for the moment. This woman, his wife, gave him a beautiful daughter, now three, and a son that was not meant to be. When the lad died following, his troubled birth it tore them both apart. Common pain was all that held them together at the time. Now there was no looking back on that.
Even now he saw the fruit of love ripening, not his love though. His wife was sowing the fruit of another's labor. A lasting tribute to her disloyalty to all he worked hard to give her. The long months spent in training across the vastness of the planet.
Tears streamed down a dirty face, as a heart shattered like fragments of a mirror. All the hopes and dreams he carried in his heart during his tiring shifts at the hospital, gone in a single moment. With that instant he was reminded who he was. The man his wife had made him as of late.
He thought a moment, laying down a neatly pressed shirt not worn in almost a year. Then he casually left the room, though there was no cause for concern. He for one was done playing her games.
The young wife looked at the far end of the bed and then up to the clouds out the window. As she faced the window and gripped her hands against the ledge, she yelled as he one last glance back at her, "I never loved you, you coward!" She returned to the bed she now shared with her future.