The Pretence
By Carol Sandford
Disclaimer in force
Set: when they are together sometime

Deanna flipped over in the huge bed, refusing to acknowledge just how many
times she had done that. Was it 10, 20, 100? It felt like thousands.

Her eyes hurt from the force she was inflicting on them to remain closed,
when all she really wanted to do was stare up at the ceiling in the
darkness and think.

And remember.

She turned again, steadfastly refusing to give into the urge to face that
ceiling. Who was she pretending to? That was the stupid question that went
through her mind, over and over. The rest of the time was spent pretending
that she didn‘t care.

Pretending that she didn‘t notice that he was missing from her bed and her

She turned again, opening her eyes to look longingly at the vast empty
space beside her. God, how she missed his presence, his body, even the
reassuring familiarity of his heavy breathing. But most of all she missed
his arms.

That was all she needed to fall into that deep dreamless sleep.

She turned again, punching the pillow angrily as she did so. It didn‘t make
her feel any better, it never did.

Deanna hated Will working the night shift.

She felt the pillow moisten beneath her cheek as a tear eased its way free
of her closed lids. God, how she missed him.

She wanted him home.

One hour passed.

Then two more.

And then suddenly she heard the feint hiss of the door.  He was home, her
Imzadi was home at last.

She heard him undress and slip into that vast empty space behind her. She
felt him slide over and slip an arm around her waist, gently and tenderly
pulling his body up against hers. She heard the smile in his tired sigh.

Within moments the pretence was gone as they slipped into blissful slumber.