All Things Considered by Allison McDonnell

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It was well after eleven in the evening when Devon finally arrived home from another draining day at the office. She gingerly shut the front door behind her and began to carefully maneuver her way through the darkened living room, expertly avoiding bumping into the furniture or making any other noises which could possibly disturb the cottage's other occupants. She had just reached the base of the staircase when a deep voice penetrated the silence.

"Devon."

Devon nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound and she swung back to face the room. "Who's there?" she demanded, scanning the blackness for any signs of life.

After pausing long enough to regain her bearings, she was able to identify who the voice belonged to. "Danziger, is that you?"

"Yeah," came the reply. Devon could barely hear him and his tone had a slight echo-like quality to it. She quickly deduced that John was in a different part of the house, so she gave up her search of the immediate proximity.

"I'm in the kitchen," he added, confirming that she was correct.

Devon closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled an exhausted breath. As she slowly began to make her way toward the source of the voice, she inwardly chastised her selfishness for insisting that John move in with her after his resurrection and subsequent recovery. How could she ever have expected things to go smoothly?

She shook her head in frustration. The last thing that she needed right now was the additional stress of having to deal with Danziger. She decided that, whatever he'd wanted from her, she would make sure that he got it out quickly, so she didn't have to stick around for too long. She didn't want to risk broaching any subjects which she had no intention of discussing with him. Nothing good could come from that.

She halted a few steps shy of the room's threshold in order to straighten up her posturing and lift her chin. Once she was satisfied that she looked as though she was firmly in control and ready to take on any situation, she entered the room.

Unlike the rest of the home, the kitchen had several generous patches of moonlight streaming into it courtesy of the three windows which lined the opposite wall. When the additional brightness was still unable to provide Devon with any clues as to John's whereabouts, her gaze continued to pan the enclosure for his presence. Oddly enough, it never occurred to her to turn on the lights or to call out his name. Finally, she honed in on the kitchen table located just a few feet away from her. The table itself was bathed in light, yet everything around it remained cloaked in darkness. Devon squinted her eyes and was inwardly relieved to at last decipher a large silhouette sitting in the chair facing her direction.

"What on Earth are you doing, Danziger?" she demanded, purposely choosing an indignant tone.

"Waiting for you," he said evenly, obviously not affected in the least by Devon's attitude and making no attempt to move into the light.

Devon folded her arms in front of her in a defiant stance. "In the dark?"

There was a pause and Devon thought that she heard John emit a small sigh. "It was the only way that I could think of to make sure that you couldn't avoid me. The element of surprise is about all I got left."

Although she was careful not to show it, John's words were unsettling to her and she suddenly felt cornered. To add to her discomfort, although John's features remained hidden in the shadows, she could feel his stare upon her, boring into her very soul and trying to read her most private thoughts. Devon's arms fell back to her sides and she turned to leave before she could give anything away.

"Where are you going?" Danziger asked.

"I'm going to check on the kids and then I'm going to bed," she said over her shoulder as she started to march out of the room.

To Devon's surprise and to add to her continued uneasiness, John's voice remained unwaveringly calm as he relayed, "True and Uly aren't here. I sent 'em over to Yale's for the night."

She swung back to face him. "Why?"

"Because you and I are gonna talk this out."

Devon was absolutely terrified at where the conversation could be heading. Desperate, she decided to try a different tactic.

"I'm not sure what there is to talk about," she said, her tone suddenly appeasing in nature as she began to slowly edge her way backward out of the kitchen, "but it's been a long day and I'm very tired. I'm sure that anything that you have to discuss with me can wait until morning."

Devon heard the sound of John's chair being propelled backward as he shot to his feet. "You're not goin' anywhere. We're dealing with this tonight," he declared in a more forceful voice.

When his announcement only served to increase the speed of Devon's departure, John realized that he couldn't wait any longer. "I know the truth about the original future," he blurted out.

That stopped her in her tracks.

Devon could only stare in John's direction with her mouth agape as he continued, "I know that you and the others have been tryin' to protect me ever since I came back. I know about your guilt over the death of that Taggert woman. And I know why you barely acknowledge that I exist anymore."

Devon's knees felt as though they'd been transformed into jelly when a large hand reached out of the darkness and set a capsule-shaped VR chip on the table.

"I know everything, Devon," John said softly.

A tidal wave of nausea moved toward Devon's throat and she swallowed hard to force it back down. Almost dizzy at this point, her fingers fumbled to pry open the small pouch attached to her belt.

Danziger knew exactly what she was doing. "This isn't your chip," he revealed. "It's True's copy,"

Devon slowed her breathing as she attempted to contain the innumerable amount of feelings all warring for control inside of her. "They shouldn't have told you," she was barely able to sputter out.

"I disagree. I'm glad they filled me in," John said in a measured tone, doing his best to be a calming presence. He didn't want her to try to leave again.

He felt the need to add, "But I would've rather heard it from you."

Her eyes grew sad. "I didn't want to make the situation any worse than it was. You've been through enough." She let out a dispirited sigh. "My God, you've already had over two years of your life stolen from you."

She watched the silhouette of John's head cock to the side. "It wasn't stolen. I gave it away," he declared, bewildered at why she'd say such a thing.

"Because you had no other choice," she said unhappily. "You might as well have had a mag-pro pointed at your head."

Danziger didn't miss a beat and answered, "I got no regrets about what I did. And neither should you." The irony wasn't lost on him that, now that the truth was out, he'd been able to work through his feelings about their unique situation in a matter of hours when Devon still hadn't fully reconciled her emotions after more than two and a half years.

Devon's gaze nose-dived to the floor and she made no further effort to continue the discussion. After several seconds of tense silence, John took two large strides forward into the nearest patch of moonlight allowing Devon to finally see his face. That is, if she ever took her eyes off of the ground directly in front of her.

"Devon, for God's sake, talk to me," he implored, no longer willing or able to hide his emotions. "Say something. Anything. Tell me what you want."

She continued to stare at the blackness surrounding her feet. "I want-" she started in a strained voice. She paused to clear her throat and to take another full breath. "I want you to be able to look forward to the future," she said so quietly that he could barely hear her. "I want you to feel safe when you walk down the street. I want you to see your daughter grow into a woman. I want you to live a long and happy life."

Devon lifted her gaze to John and proclaimed in a stronger voice, "And the best way-- maybe the only way-- to make that happen is for you to stay as far away from me as possible." Although Devon's expression was one of determination, as she spoke, John could see the glistening of a tear forming in her eye which she quickly blinked back into submission. And it practically tore his heart into shreds to see her like this.

"I don't believe that for a minute," he responded.

Devon shook her head in frustration, wishing that that she could somehow make him understand and accept the reality of their situation. The man could be amazingly bullheaded when it came to listening to reason.

"Everything is different now," she said wistfully; a phrase which she had uttered countless times over the past two and a half years to the simulated version of Danziger in her VR program.

But this wasn't another one-sided conversation taking place in Franklin Bennett's replicated ship with John entombed in a cold-sleep crypt. This time, John was standing before her in the flesh. And, finally, he could respond to her words.

"You're wrong, Devon," he replied, his eyes never leaving hers as he closed the distance between them until he was directly in front of her. He tentatively reached up with his right hand and began to tenderly caress her cheekbone with his thumb. Although Devon appeared uncertain, she didn't attempt to pull away.

John tilted his face downward until it was just inches from hers and whispered, "There are certain things-- certain feelings-- that won't ever change. It doesn't matter what happens to us or how much time passes, those feelings will always be the same."

His left hand joined the other one and his fingers began to delicately weave their way through Devon's auburn hair until they reached the base of her neck. He held her head in place and slowly leaned forward. The word 'always' escaped his lips once more just before he covered her mouth with his.

John closed his eyes, savoring the sensation and committing Devon's taste and scent to a memory which he would cherish for the rest of his life. Devon, on the other hand, reacted rather stiffly to the kiss, neither rejecting nor returning his embrace. Her eyes remained wide open as a monumental battle between her heart and her mind raged for ultimate control. It was only after her heart had claimed a narrow yet triumphant victory that she allowed herself to respond to his advances with equal force.

Devon's hands sank deep into his dirty-blond curls and her fingertips found and began to stroke the vertical surgical scar located on the back of John's neck. Invigorated by her touch, Danziger's arms curled around her torso to pull her tightly against him, evoking a muffled gasp from them both. Both of their emotions were quickly spiraling beyond their control as their kisses intensified and grew more passionate with each passing moment.

John's hands roamed over top of Devon's clothing before easing her shirt out of her waistband. But as he slipped his fingers underneath and started to explore the soft curves of her body, Devon's own hands suddenly migrated to his shoulders and she gave him a hard shove, abruptly breaking their kiss and all other physical contact along with causing them both to clumsily falter a step backward before regaining their balance. For several anxious seconds, they could only gape at each other with huge eyes while simultaneously gulping for air.

Danziger resisted the almost overpowering urge to lurch forward to take Devon back into his arms and continue what they had begun because, to his dismay, he was fully aware that the proverbial rug was about to be pulled out from under him. Devon was going to explain to him that what they had just done had been a terrible mistake, one which could never be repeated. She would tell him that their friendship was over and that it would be in everyone's best interest if he left the house as soon as possible.

He attempted to steel himself for the news that he had lost her forever. As such, he was completely unprepared when Devon said something decidedly different.

"My bedroom door has a deadbolt," she said calmly, after regaining enough breath to finally speak.

Danziger looked at Devon as though she had just spoken to him in a foreign language and he tried to decipher exactly what she was telling him. After all, her words could be interpreted in two very different ways. Was this a warning to stay away from her? Or was this an invitation to accompany her upstairs? The latter possibility was almost too much for Danziger's heart to wish for. He stared at her in puzzlement, uncertain as to how to proceed.

Devon found John's befuddled expression and lack of response to be disconcerting, so she clarified, "I don't want the kids to come home early and accidentally walk in on us."

Devon watched as Danziger's shoulders relaxed and his face transformed from one of confusion to comprehension.

"Yeah," he nodded with a subtle, but earnest grin. "Okay."

Devon returned his heartfelt smile with one of her own as she took a step forward and outstretched her arm. At first, John gladly accepted the offered hand. However, as his thumb brushed against Devon's palm, his eyes widened in surprise. He flipped over what was once an untarnished hand to reveal deep callouses and grooves in Devon's skin which rivaled his own scars, a permanent testament to the many hours of hard labor she had withstood in order to build the colony of New Pacifica from the ground up.

Danziger continued to marvel at the rough texture and lovingly traced several of the creases before bringing her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. Their eyes remet as John interlaced his fingers with Devon's and they slowly retreated from the kitchen hand-in-hand. Their grip on each other tightened a bit and they traded yet another smile as they reached the staircase. Devon and John's expressions were a mixture of anticipation, certitude and unbridled delight as they simultaneously ascended the steps leading to Devon's bedroom, all of which was accomplished in complete silence. Sometimes words weren't necessary.

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