Date: Sun, 7 Dec 1997 00:51:36 -0500 (EST)
From: Gwendolyn Brophy <gmbst15+@pitt.edu>
Subject: USS PEGASUS--The Long and Winding Road
 
Great Barrier Reef, sunset
 
	Amelia Harding sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap,  
fondly gazing at her son and new daughter-in-law as they kissed before
the assembly.  Feeling her eyes watering over, she clenched her hands
together more tightly and glanced at the horizon.  The sun had dipped out
of sight, but long washes of red and orange seared the sky.  
 
	On the edge of twilight, she felt as if Heaven was an arm's
reach away.  That sensation always made her feel a melancholy that mingled
with joy.  Somewhere, she believed, her husband watched over her, never
more closely than at the time that hovered between night and day.  
 
	For the second time that day, she thought of what Magellan would
think of all of this.  He would be so proud.  And, he would love Samantha
tremendously.  Amelia had known from the moment she met her son's love
that she was perfect for him.  She patted herself on the back for having
raised the boy so that he recognized that.
 
	The cool sea breeze lifted her sunbleached hair away from her
neck, ruffling the curls.  Returning her gaze to the dais, she watched
while Sam and Pierce began the march back up the aisle.  As they passed,
she caught Pierce's eyes.  He tipped her a wink.
 
	"They look great together, don't they?" Lydia asked.  She and
Amelia walked together after the attendants.  Linking her arm with
Amelia's, Lydia continued, "You know the cliche about not losing a
daughter, well in my case, niece, but gaining a son?  I can see how it
would be true."
 
	"I've been told that I was flooded with daughters," Amelia
answered, eyeing the bevy of Hardings clustered around their tall, blond
brother.  "But, I always have room for one more."
 
	"The chances are pretty good that they'll be happy," Lydia said,
turning to smile at Amelia.  "Especially with us looking after them."
 
	"That's all we can ask for, isn't it, Lydia?  Our job is done.
The rest is up to them."
 
			***********************
Beach, after sunset
 
	Side by side, they received the congratulations of the guests who
had come, many from far away places, to witness their wedding.  Hands
joined, fingers threaded together, Pierce and Samantha began their
transition from lovers to husband and wife surrounded by family, both 
blood and otherwise.
 
	More than once, as there was a pause between people before
him, Pierce simply watched her as she spoke. It amazed him still that even
after all the time he'd known her, just watching the way she moved in
conversation was enough to make him happy.  The light in her eyes when she
spoke of something emphatically, her graceful gestures used to punctuate
her words, they were familiar to him and endeared by him.  Pierce looked
at her, wondering not for the first time, what he had done to deserve her.
 
	"I have always wanted someone to look at me that way," a voice
said in his ear, dragging his attention away from Samantha.  Sable Sloane
Cantari was smiling at him, standing next to Brad, a very knowing
expression on her face. "I finally found him after years of searching,
true, but the expression on your face, Pierce, could tempt a girl."
 
	"I hope you're right, Sable," Pierce said, glancing at his wife.
He truly did intended to turn back around and continue conversing with
Sable but a thought seized him that reduced him to gaping at Sam.
 
	Good God, she's my wife, his startled brain realized.  As if she
heard him, Samantha turned to face him.  The other people faded away as he
reached up to trace a finger along the curve of her cheek.  A long errant
curl of her brilliant red hair trailed over her shoulder.  In a motion of
long habit, he twined it around his fingertip, caressing its silkiness
with the pad of his thumb.
 
	"What are you thinking, Doc?" 
 
	"I was thinking that if I died today, I would have no regrets
except all of those years that I wasted looking for you, before I even
knew who you were."  He stopped, his green eyes dropping to her mouth, and
then back to her eyes.  Samantha shook her head, lifted the hand that
wasn't holding his and brushed at his wayward hair.
 
	"That makes no sense," she said, softly.
 
	"I know," he agreed, catching her wrist and placing a kiss above
her pulse, inhaling her scent.  Samantha flicked a look at Sable and Brad,
but Sable only tipped her a wink and moved off.  Seeing the very familiar
expression on Pierce's face, Sam stepped a little closer, enjoying the way
his eyes narrowed at her.  
 
	Never a coy miss, Samantha used no fluttering eyelashes to seduce
him.  Her gaze was direct, forthright, and affected him like a fist in the
gut.  His stomach tightened, and he wondered how scandalous it would be to
just make love to her right there.
 
	Very quietly, she confessed, "I'm worried, because I understood
what you meant."
 
	Knowing full well that he was being manipulated, and loving
every minute of it, Pierce cupped her chin and ducked in to kiss her.
Hovering over her lips, he said, "You don't play fair."
 
	Samantha eased back, just enough to have the last word.
 
	"You've accused me of that before."
 
	Unmindful of her dress, he pulled her to him.  His last coherent
thought was that he had a wife and that was a pretty wonderful thing after
all.
 
	"Get a room!" someone finally shouted, loud enough to sink in.
Amid laughter from their guests, they parted.  
 
	In a dry tone, Samantha said to the shouter, "Jealousy is an
unbecoming trait, Cantari."
 
			*******************
 
	The beach was illuminated by torches, the organizers having  
decided to go with old-fashioned firelight.  A pitying light that was not
as cruel and revealing as artificial, it also cast a very alluring,
romantic tone over the evening.  And, considering all things, that was an
effect that was suited admirably to the event.
 
	A pit sizzled at the edge of the tide-line, and the breeze wafted
mouth-watering scents over the guests.  Tables groaned under the weight of
the food and drinks that were distributed with a liberal hand.  On the
firmer ground farther back from the beach, some couples took advantage of
the natural evenness of this patch of terrain to dance to the music whose
origin no one could identify.
 
	"Well, Mum, you did a magnificent job," Pierce said, twirling his
mother around.  Amelia kept up with her son, who towered over her by at
least a foot, with no trouble.  She ran a ranch, after all.  It would 
take more than an informal waltz to wind her. "This is a terrific
reception."
 
	"Oh, you mean, you tore yourself away from Samantha long enough to
notice?" Amelia inquired, tartly.
 
	Pierce gave his Mum an unabashed, unrepenetant lopsided grin.
Adding to it a pair of soulful green eyes, he mourned, "It's a hard life I
lead, Mum.  I'd like to see any man try to resist her.  Actually, any man
better damned well resist her, or I'll have to pick up murdering rivals as
a hobby."
 
	"I have the notion, love, that Samantha will do quite well in
thwarting those rivals herself."
 
	"Tell me," Pierce answered, injecting a wounded tone into his
voice.  "My white-knight genes are atrophying."
	
	He spotted his wife--he automatically picked out her molten hair
out of a crowd--dancing with Aerik LeCroix.  Grumbling, he muttered, "That
crawfish is holding her too close."
 
	Amelia laughed at her son, patting his cheek, affectionately.
"She is so good for you, Pierce."
 
	"What do you mean, Mum?  Do you mean giving me the opportunity to
have my manly self taken advantage of at regular intervals?"
 
	Having been the one to discussion sex with Pierce when he was
younger, Amelia was not at all flustered at his comment.  In fact, she was
rather proud at having raised her boy to be honest in that respect.
Realizing that she'd taken credit for Pierce's attributes twice in one
day, she smiled at herself.  Of course, his faults were all his own doing.
 
	"I mean that you used to worry me when you were younger.  Out of
all of my children, you were the most even-tempered.  You may have noticed
that the female Hardings, with the possible exception of Penny, were born
with a considerable temper."
 
	"Ugh, please let's not discuss all of the times when I was on the
receiving end of that emotion," Pierce begged, but he was frowning
slightly at his mother.  She'd never mentioned this to him before.
 
	"Yes, well, you never seemed to let anything ruffle you.  Except
that time Autumn locked you in the closet."
 
	Pierce shuddered involuntarily.  He still woke up in cold sweats
on occasion over that incident.  And, he didn't need his degree to tell
him that the source of his claustraphobia came from that one, exceedingly
long afternoon.  With difficulty, he re-focused on his mother.
 
	"It worried me that you never lost your temper.  I began to wonder
if you could feel anything deeply."  She held up a hand when he started to
speak.  He subsided into silence, allowing her to finish.  "I knew that
you loved us all with everything you had, but I never saw you love
anything passionately.
 
	"Until today.  She's good for you, Pierce.  I am very happy for
you both.  I'm very happy to know that those fears were ungrounded."
	
	Pierce mulled over what she said before answering.  He spoke
slowly as he said, "If you truly want to see me lose my temper, you'll
have to talk with Sam.  She's managed to make me angry several times."
 
	"The Lord be praised, she's a miracle worker."
 
	"She's irritating, is what she is," Pierce retorted, but he said
it witha smile.
 
	"And, she's all yours."
 
	"And, she's all mine, indeed."
 
			*********************
 
	"You have come a long way, cherie," Aerik told her, giving her a
completely undisguised once over.  Approval writ clearly across his face,
he continued, "You belong with the stars this evening.  I think love
treats you well, no?"
 
	"Yes," Samantha replied.  The Cajun was so indiscriminate with his
flirtation that it was very hard to be insulted by his appraisal.
 
	"I beat my fists to my brow to think that I allowed such a beauty
to go by me.  Alas, my mistake was another's gain," Aerik said, gravely.
He sighed, melodramatically.  "Forever will I be haunted by this idea.
J'etais stupide."
 
	"I won't argue that," Samantha said, loftily, chuckling when he
appeared crestfallen.  "Come now, you know we would never suit, Aerik.
Besides, would you honestly want to disappoint all of the lovely ladies
who depend upon you?"
 
	"C'est vrai, cherie.  So many beautiful women in this galaxy and
only one Aerik.  Ah, but I see ma chere Jordana and she prevents me from
satisfying those women.  She uses a spell, je crois."
 
	Samantha, with admirable restraint, refrained from commenting on
Jordana Galit's presence at her wedding.  She'd half-expected her, anyway,
knowing that Aerik would be coming.  Reasonably certain that she could
avoid the SFIA witch for the rest the evening, Samantha turned the topic. 
 
	"You've returned to SSE1, I hear?  No more Steele?"
 
	"Non.  When the belle Mademoiselle Avalon left, she took with her
my friend Brad and my agent Javert!  How could I run any operations
without them?  I ask her this, and she laugh.  She is a cruel one," he
moped, again heaving a sigh.  This time, he changed the subject, asking,
with rare seriousness, "You are happy, ma cherie?"
 
	"Yes, I am," Samantha answered, puzzled.  "Why?"
 
	"I remember those days long ago when we first met, Captaine.  I
hurt for the pain I saw in you.  But, I see it no longer.  This is why I
say you have come a long way.  I would not wish to see you return to that
state, cherie."
 
	"I have never felt farther away from those days than I do now.
Tomorrow, I'll be even better.  I'm done with the past."
 
	"Bon!" Aerik said, swooping to buss her.  "For this, my heart is
glad.  But, if the paysan you have married does hurt you, come to me,
cherie.  I will cut his heart you for you."
 
	"If he ever hurts me, Aerik, believe me, I'll be the one doing the
the cutting."
 
	Aerik LeCroix laughed uproariously at this, enjoying the mental
image he received from her words.  He had always liked Samantha Hennessey.
He liked her even more now.
 
	"I believe you, cherie.  Completely."
 
			******************
 
	It was another two hours before Sam and Pierce were able to speak
to one another.  The blame for that fell mostly to his sisters.  There
were so many that dancing with each of them took a huge chunk of time.
>From Becky to Penny, though, Pierce did his duty, wincing at the insults
dished out to him and blandly accepting their well-meaning advice.  He was
very fond of his sisters, even if he did have more than one memory of
being shoved into a dress when he was too little to rebel.
 
	He and Sam tried hard to blend into the semi-darkness on the edges
of the area, but were failing miserably.  For the moment, however, pity
was taken and they were left alone. 
 
	"Did I mention that you look beautiful?" Pierce asked her, in an
effort to distract himself from thinking too deeply on the notion that he
had his wife right here, in his arms. 
 
	"No, you didn't.  Did I mention that you look very handsome?"
Samantha countered, running a finger along his lapel.  Resisting the urge
to tug at his cravat, he plunged onward with conversation.
 
	"No, you didn't.  We probably should save up such comments,
though.  We've got a whole lifetime together and if we use them all up
tonight, what will we say in thirty years?"
 
	"How about, 'How's that rug burn healing, love?'"
 
	Pierce tilted his head back and laughed, delighted.
 
	"You'll kill me before I reach that age.  But, ah, what a way to
go, hm?"  He bobbed his eyebrows upward in a leering expression that was
so eerily similar to the one Penny had flashed at her earlier that
Samantha spoke quickly onto a new subject.
 
	"I don't think it's quite sunk in that I've got a husband now."
She looked over at her left hand, resting near his shoulder.  In the
firelight, the gold band and diamond engagement ring glittered.
 
	"Yes, well, I'm having trouble grasping that you're my wife.
Makes me feel like I should be a grown-up or something."
 
	"Or something," she agreed.  "At least now you have a legitimate
reason for being in my quarters at all hours."
 
	Recalling the early days of their relationship, when even the
merest mention in public of what went between them would make her
uncomfortable, Pierce grinned.  She'd eased up a bit during that long
time. She still wasn't quite at his level of unconcern, but he had faith
in her.
 
	"I had a legitimate reason before.  Being hopelessly in love with
you.  No court in the galaxy would convict me."
 
	"Hopelessly?"  Finely arched eyebrows slanting upwards, Samantha
waited for his answer.
 
	"Helplessly," he came back promptly.
 
	A devilish spark lit her face, and with exaggerated innocence she
suggested, "Helpless? Hmmm, that gives me the irresitable urge to exert my
power over you."
 
	"Please," Pierce beseeched. "Exert away."
 
	"What concerns me is your use of the past tense.  You are no
longer hopelessly in love with me?"
 
	"No."
 
	That wasn't the answer she expected.  She was about to demand an
explanation when he said, "I'm no longer hopeless.  Just in love with
you."
 
	She slapped his chest lightly with her hand. "I was about to
become angry, you louse."
 
	"I know," Pierce told her, sounding slightly more smug than could
be tolerated.  "This vein starts ticking right here"--he touched a
fingertip to the hollow at the base of her throat--"when you get angry or
excited.  Like when we're..."
 
	"Excuse me?  Pierce, it's time," Penny appeared at his elbow,
looking far too innocent for it to be authentic.  No doubt she'd been
eavesdropping and had chosen just that moment to interrupt.  With a scowl,
Pierce said, "Run off, brat."	
 
	"Uh-huh, not when I've got the keys to the buggy!" Penny said,
gleefully.  "Now, come and say goodnight to everyone."
 
	"Why don't you give me the keys now and we'll leave now, because
if we say goodnight to everyone, we'll be here until dawn," Pierce
suggested, moving ominously towards his sister, who only stuck her tongue
out at him.  It was so easy to slip back into their childhood roles,
Pierce thought to himself, holding out his hand.
 
	"Mum will kill me if I let you slip off."  She dangled the keys in
front of his nose, jerking them away when he made a grab for them.  "But,
I may be persuaded to look the other way...for a price."
 
	"What do you want, brat?"
 
	"You and Sam to be the godparents to Number Two," Penny announced,
patting her flat stomach.  Samantha smiled, especially when Pierce burst
out, "You're pregnant again?  Mary, mother of God, you just had Mattias
seven months ago!"
 
	"Yep.  I'm bucking to break Mum's streak.  Poor hubby doesn't know
that yet."  With a mischievious twinkle in her eyes, she cast her eyes at
Sam and said, "Fertility runs in the family, don't you know.  If you ever
decide to mingle genes with this oaf, you'd better be prepared."
 
	"Thanks for the warning.  I'll take extra-precautions."  Sensing
that Pierce had been struck speechless for the present, she continued,
"Pierce and I would be delighted to be godparents.  I only hope we can get
back to Earth for the ceremony."
 
	"Well, we can do it by comm channel.  Reverand Rowland won't mind
a bit.  Here you go." She dropped the keys into Sam's hand.  Giving her
older brother a nudge, she stage-whispered, "Get going before someone
notices."
 
	Shaking himself out of the pensive reverie in which he was once
again forced to confront the notion of his baby sister being a grown
woman, Pierce realized he was excited at the thought of being an uncle.
For the seventh or eighth time.
 
	"Bye, Pen," Pierce said, kissing her cheek.  "Thanks."
 
	"Enjoy yourself...don't do anything I wouldn't...well, nevermind."
Whistling, Penny strolled away.
 
	"Let's go." Pierce grabbed her hand, plucked a torch out of the
holder and tugged Samantha away from the people still clustered on the
beach.
 
	As they went deeper into the shadows, and gradually disappeared
from view, the guests who had pretended to not notice them slinking away
began a round of ribald jokes that came at the newlywed's expense.  No one
seemed too bothered that they weren't there to defend themselves.
 
			*****************
	
	"Where are we going?" Sam shouted above the roar of the ocean and
wind.  They were in a dune buggy, zipping along the shore line, leaving
the reception area far, far behind.  One hand was on her head to prevent
her tiara from whipping away.  The other was braced on the windshield--not
very effective--which also served as a dash.
	
	"To where my family used to holiday when we came here," Pierce
shouted back.  He'd asked his mother not to stage the reception there.
Amelia hadn't asked for an explanation; she thought she knew why.  She was
right.
 
	Finally, he turned away from the ocean and headed back towards the
vegetation line.  A distint pin-prick of light caught her eyes, and
Samantha squinted at it, keeping it in view, realizing that it was towards
that light that he was driving.  When he did eventually stop, she could
make out one single light shining brightly.
 
	Pierce twisted around and pulled out a high-powered flashlight
and a mini-torch.  Flicking on the flashlight, he stepped out of the dune
buggy, came around and offered a hand to Samantha.  "My lady."
 
	Just before they got close enough for her to make out what
surrounded the beacon, he drew to a halt, turned her away from the light
and said, "Stay just like that.  I'll be right back."
 
	"Pierce," Samantha began, but he'd already moved off.  She heard
the faint click-click of the mini-torch and deduced that he was lighting
something.  Giving up at guessing, she looked up.  The Australian sky at
night was one of the most breathtaking sights on earth.  Clear, unmarked
by clouds, and not dimmed by the moon, which was in its dark phase, the
view almost rivaled that of deep space.
 
	But, not quite, Samantha thought, a smile tugging at her lips.
She wasn't certain anything could compare to looking out of the viewscreen
of the PEGASUS and seeing so many stars that it almost seemed as if there
were no empty black between them at all.
 
	"Okay, it's ready."  His warm breath drifted across her cheek as
he leaned over her, speaking softly so as not to startle her.  She turned
around and allowed him to lead her towards what she could now see was a
circle of fire torches.  Whatever the initial beacon had been, it was
doused now.
 
	There were five of them, marking the boundaries of a small
clearing in the short undergrowth.  In the center, on the clean swept
ground, was the skeleton of a tent.  She could see the supports because
the tent was made out of thin, see-through netting.  Inside lay a pallet.
 
	He pulled her forward, lifting up one edge of the netting and
ushering her through.  Curious, Samantha stooped, reached out a hand and
poked at the pallet.  A feather mattress.  Satin sheets.  "You're such a
romantic, Pierce."
 
	"Guilty," he admitted, helping her up into a standing position.
With careful hands, he extracted her tiara, setting it down.  He plucked
out the hair clip she'd struggled with earlier, not even watching as he
tossed it aside.  "I hate it when you bind your hair."
 
	"When did you do all this?" Samantha asked, untying his cravat.
She gave it a careful consideration, then decided that without bed posts,
it wouldn't be of much use.
 
	"Yesterday, before the, er, yesterday.  Brad and Aerik came by
during the reception to make certain everything was still okay.  We put up
proximity fences to keep the wildlife out, but there's always room for
error."
 
	"It's very nice."  Wrapping her long arms around his neck, she
said, "Now, shut up and kiss me."
 
	Not waiting for him, she hoisted herself up, capturing his mouth.
Soon that intimate caress failed to satisfy the hunger in both, so they
tugged at the restrictive clothing that seemed to have but one purpose in
life: cause as much frustration as possible.
 
	Pierce shrugged out of his jacket impatiently.  His hands circled
around to her back, dancing along the long row of tiny buttons.  Repeating
the litany that he could at least try to save the dress, he moved as fast
as he could, shoving the small pearl buttons into miniscule holes.
 
	Samantha's fingers tugged at his shirt, having no inclination of
preserving it for future generations, sending the studs bouncing to the
ground without second thought.  She was undoing the button in the
waistband of his trousers when he gave a cry of triumph.  Stepping back,
he slid the dress off of her shoulders and down over her hips.
 
	She stepped out of the billowing material, clad only in
underthings that competed with the tent netting for transparency.  He
reached for her, saying, "You are beautiful, Mrs. Harding."
 
	"I love you, Mr. Harding," she replied, moving forward to finish
undressing him.  Pliant, he allowed her to do just that while divesting
her of the amazingly flimsy things that graced her body.
 
	And, just before they reached the point beyond endurance, they
finally tumbled into the soft, embracing bed below, moving until their
hearts seemed to beat as one.  They melded together, flowing continuously
with the infinite heat of the billions of stars and galaxies that burned
overhead.  The flames of the cosmos seemed paltry to the febrile emotions
of the two, for it seemed nothing could survive the scorching fire that
consumed them.  Nothing save one thing, which glowed more intensely than
even the most luminous sun.
 
	Love.
 
Cmdr. Pierce Harding, MD
Research Specialist, USS PEGASUS
 
NRPG: Working into the wee hours of Sunday morning, I can't tell if this
came out right. :)  If it didn't, I apologize.  Matt could have done it
better.  Blame him for not writing it. <G>
 
No, seriously, Pierce and Sam have always been a trip to write for, but
getting them right is difficult and I'm sadly out of practice.  I don't
mind...as long as they have their sunset. :)
 
 
|Gwendolyn Brophy       http://www.pitt.edu/~gmbst15    gmbst15+@pitt.edu|
|------------------------------------------------------------------------|
| "Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifing through my open mind,       |
|    possessing and caressing me.  Jai Guru Deva." ---the Beatles        |