The Bond

[JFarrington 0]

Jami, it's Atragon. I don't know when you'll get this, but I'm recording it on September 9th ::pause:: I've been thinking of you today, of course, and I hope you're happy. You know I'll always love you, but I think you'll agree that it's for the best that we are apart. I always said that you were my second wife and my last wife. I still feel that this is true. I will never marry again, even if we formalize our separate lives. I feel that I have hurt two women by trying to force them into a commitment to my unique career and I will never do that again. I'm betting that you will argue with me when I ask for your forgiveness, that there is "nothing to forgive," but we both know there is. I can never atone for all I have put you through, so the best I can offer is my apology and the desire that the rest of your long and wonderful life be exciting, fulfilling, fun and joyous. Be well and think of me kindly.

 

Sincerely and Covertly,

Atragon

 

Jami stared at the screen for several minutes before she regained her composure. She glanced at the calendar. September 9th. Thirteen years. Her wedding ring, as perfect as the day she'd received it, as perfect as the day she gave him its match, glowed in the light of her desk lamp. A few minutes later and she would have received his message on September 10th.

 

Turning back to the screen, she reread his message. She could hear his voice as she read, "Jami, it's Atragon." As though she wouldn't recognize him, his writing, his words, his touch....

 

Oh, dear God, how she missed him.

 

She took a deep breath and began:

 

Dearest Atragon,

 

I, too, have been thinking of you all day, as I do every day. Your presence in my life, though from a distance, is very real. Am I happy? Yes and no. I'm happy that you have the courage to follow your calling, as I am following mine. But an emptiness remains, one that can only be filled by you. Our paths met for a brief time, then they parted, but we remained joined and always will be. Such is the fabric of life; the warp and weft, together but apart. I miss you terribly and always will; we are one and always will be.

 

Forgive you? Of course I will argue that; isn't arguing what I do best?

 

Here she paused, tears welling so she could no longer see the screen. The chronometer, set to chime as a grandfather clock, rang 11:45 PM. She continued:

 

If you feel the need for forgiveness, I give it with all my heart. Unforgiveness is a great burden, more for the one harboring it than for the unforgiven. The truth is that I forgave you long ago, as I hope you forgave me for the many times I disappointed you, questioned you wrongly, or accused you of wrongdoing when the fault was mine.

 

Atragon, you never forced me into your unique career. I chose Manticore specifically because of its mission. And to further that truth, I must tell you something I've neglected to tell you for so many years. At the time I didn't believe it mattered, but now I realize it does.

 

Before Manticore launched, Gren tried to dissuade me from deep space covert operations. Several times he came to me, pleading, and he finally resorted to sweetening the pot by offering me a position as his second in command in the Medical Corps: Assistant to the Starfleet Surgeon General. Why, I do not know. There was no romantic connection between us, but for whatever reason he persisted.

 

Atragon, I turned him down because I believed in Manticore's mission, and especially because I believed in your ability as a strong leader to carry out that mission, to pursue it with vigor and serve the highest standards of Starfleet: to serve with honor. You did not lure me; the mission did. So don't flatter yourself, Atragon. Goodness knows your head is big enough.

 

My life is exciting and fulfilling, but fun and joyous? Not so much without you to share it with me. But I, as you, are bound to the mission. We are very much alike, Atragon: people of purpose, people of mission.

 

Think of you kindly? Never. I think of you with love and always will.

 

Happy Anniversary, My Love.

 

Jami

 

She pressed the send button and the clock struck midnight. The lights on the corridor dimmed to graveyard shift. Jami dimmed her lamp and stood, still staring at the Medical Corps logo, swirling on the monitor.

 

"Good night, Atragon," she whispered. "Be safe. See you in the morning."