Author: Vesper (Regina)
Category: ST:ENT, romance, angst
Summary: Every man in love tries it at least once.
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Paramount.
Archival: If you wish to archive, please link to my website. Please keep all my headers intact.
Notes: Because Georgia O'Keefe's "Red Cannas" made me think of Hoshi and because I wrote some awful poetry.
They're just words. Just words. If that's so, then why is it so difficult to make them say what he wants? How can he capture in cold, hard prose something that teases at him everyday in the glance of her eyes, in the fall of her hair, in her soft voice?
But it isn't prose and that's the problem. Every word he thinks of is beautiful, just like her, and every word he thinks of stays that way--only thought and never said.
Communication, she would say, is more than that, Malcolm. He smiles a little at her voice in his head. Just like her, always pushing, always willing to go through obstacles, no shrinking violet, she. He answers back, silently, I'm trying, Hoshi.
Two years and he still struggles to find the words. He has an image of her that is so fanciful, so romantic, it startles him sometimes to even consider it. Common sense would say she isn't this, but he still sees her as tall and strong and passionate in color and spirit as a red canna lily.
It is an image that makes him wish for an ability he's always admired, yet knows he'll never be able to achieve.
So many words to choose from. So many different combinations-- complicated, simple, intricate, straightforward. All in an attempt to say one thing.
The words, so expressive in his head, become flat and empty when he writes them down. He reads them over and reaches out. One press of the button and all the glowing words disappear.
She wouldn't want to read what he's written, anyway.