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I am a fool.
What's even worse is that I'm an old fool.
I'm sitting here, stunned and confused, still staring at my wrist where tender lips have left their vibrant imprint. Odan's unique sign of affection ... enough to harden my nipples and send a surge of desire deep within me. My body is evidently smarter than my brain: it recognised Odan and responded immediately, but my mind is stubborn, insisting that this is not, can not be, the Odan I knew. And loved. Still love, unless I want to add lying to my list of faults. I don't think I could have been any more shallow when I said, “I'm glad that you are alright” to Kareel. Now that's a platitude for an insensitive doctor. I didn't know I could be capable of such casual cruelty.
I can't believe I was so narrow-minded, so shocked not to be able to accept the essential part of my lover – there, I've used the word – transferred into a female body. I don't know what got into me. I'd done it once before and that was even harder, because Will ... host Will ... became my lover and I'd had to overcome a very instinctive taboo in order to think of him as not a kind of a brother, but as a ... a man!
If Deanna hadn't talked some sense into me, made me see what was really important, I would have abandoned Odan when he was most desperate, so vulnerable, trying valiantly to prevent a war while battling against a host body that had not been prepared to accept him, on top of seeing me openly rejecting him. Just how many times did I pull away from his touch until I finally realised that I couldn't let it end there. I think a little of Will was in there, being doggedly persistent, while Odan was gracious in retreat. But I don't have time to deal with that or to ask Will about his experience. Not now.
I know I hurt Odan. Seeing the intensity of his desire for me through the fierce glitter of Will's eyes in Ten-Forward and still turning away from him, even though I was his only source of comfort, of safety, fills me with shame. If it hadn't been for the gesture of that rose – its steady presence reminding me that I was loved ... well, I don't want to think about the repercussions.
Repercussions. I dread the word.
But what about my heart? Where is it in all of my confusion? I apparently love someone in spirit whom I can't bring myself to love in person. This is idiotic, not anything like the person Odan believes me to be. If Wesley were here, he'd be rolling his eyeballs and whining for me to grow up. But, then again, children just automatically think that their parents are old-fashioned and incapable of change.
And what if Wesley had just beamed aboard with a young man in tow? Would I ignore the shy but adoring glances between them, the seemingly oblivious way their shoulders would bump together, too often to be merely an accident, the hesitant look in my son's eyes, seeking my acceptance, the reassurance that I loved him no matter what? And he would have it, even if his poor mother had never been aware of any such inclination on his part.
Oh, Jack, what happened to me? I wasn't this closed off when you met me and swept me off my feet. Is that what I remember most about you and can't imagine a woman doing that to me. Or is it that I was outnumbered by you boys so that anything considered too girly was rejected immediately. Would things have been different – would I be feeling differently - if we'd had a little girl instead?
Well, now I'm being scatterbrained, looking for answers in children that never were.
I'm deluding myself because the answer lies within me. Odan had been vulnerable. Now it's my turn.
I'm terrified and feel stupid about it. Almost too stupid to be Chief of Medicine aboard the Enterprise. Why should it feel any different to be caressed by a woman's fingers? If I close my eyes, will I recognise the difference? Supposedly, true love is blind. Do I dare test this theory?
I know all the statistics about women having a more fluid sexuality than men. Some of the papers at the Academy even have my name on them. But I don't think this has anything to do with orientation. I've known I've loved men ever since my little-girl crush on Stefan. But I did get the warnings at the Academy that I would have to expect anything on board the Enterprise. Why did I automatically think it referred to the beings I would meet? Especially on Risa. That's the doctor in me, always being analytical. I never expected it to be at all about me.
Whether I like it or not, Kareel knows every part of my body. The Odan within her gave her the key to unlock me - forever. I have no defences against her and I shouldn't need to have any. Odan cherished me ... no, still cherishes me. I can't imagine another being in the universe – in fact, I defy anyone – who could slide into me and make themselves so at home within me. Mind and body. And spirit. I have to keep reminding myself of that, despite my apparent inhibitions.
But I know absolutely nothing about Kareel. Odan and I giggled the first few times ... oh, alright, I admit it ... every time we made love, about the delicate nuances that separated the sexual responses of Trill males from those of Earth men. Who would have thought that those forehead bumps were so ... sensitive?
Yet, even with the venerable symbiote as a part of his body (now that I'm aware of it), the knowledge and experience carried forward through generations, Odan behaved as if he were the youngest lover I'd ever had. Playful. Impulsive. And yet respectful and supportive of me and my position. How did the two joined components achieve that effortless fusion between the desires of the flesh and the control of the mind that shapes the impulses around it?
As a scientist, as a doctor, and as a woman, I should be fascinated to get closer to Kareel, the Trill and the female. But she can't just be my little science project. I respect her – and Odan – too much for that.
So, it appears I have to approach her with all my protective shields lowered. Through Odan the symbiote, at least Kareel knows that I was telling the truth – well, my simplistic version of it – that we humans are not accustomed to constant and unexpected change.
But I want so much to love and be loved and this person already exists who loves me no matter what. I hope that knowledge is enough for Kareel to forgive me. To accept me, fears and all.
And what do I know? Perhaps Kareel as a host is not used to women either. Perhaps she loves me because Odan has willed it. If I concentrate on her potential vulnerability, perhaps I won't feel so uncertain.
I just have to acknowledge (if she says yes and there's no guarantee there after yet another rejection) that I'm about to embark on a relationship with a female alien – because, of course, multiple obstacles at a time are nothing new to me. Well, the Howard women weren't known for doing the easy or simple thing. I may as well live up to our reputation. Who knows, I may be blazing new trails for someone to follow in future generations. If not Wesley, then perhaps his children.
But I can't be thinking about grandchildren. That's a fantasy for another day. Or year. I'm too young to be a grandmother yet. There is still too much within me longing to be just a woman. To just love.
I bring the wrist that Kareel has just kissed up to my face. Can I still discern a faint trace of her? But it doesn't really matter. I said “some day” to Kareel, but the only some day I know is the day I create for myself. That day has to be today. Right now. I have to catch up to her. Catch up to my life. I'm relieved she's still on board, resting from the successful joining.
If ever the universe were on my side, sending me a message the size of a small moon, telling me to go for it, now is the time.
I just have to get ... one more thing.
I hope she'll understand that a red rose represents not only giving love, but also asking for it.