The Abscence of Reason Brings Forth Monsters

Posted on Tue Feb 2nd, 2016 @ 8:03am by Captain Charybdis MacGregor & Captain Patrick O'Connor

0 words; about a 1 minute read

Mission: Taking Chances
Location: USS Bonne Chance, Deck Five, Captain O'Conner's Quarters
Timeline: 2265
Tags: Patrick,1stlove,flashback

The two lovers lay in bed after another passionate expression, one of many over the course of the week. Thus far, no bloom had been lost from the flower that was their relationship. In fact, the bond only seemed to be growing stronger if anything. He had asked her if she missed her own quarters and she had laughed musically and pushed him down to try to tickle him... since he had invited her to his bed she had yet not wished to leave, not had he wanted her to. The lights were out, and only the glow of the stars streaking by at warp from outside the ship gave the room any illumination.

With his passionate and beautiful love snuggled tightly against him, Patrick began to wonder when might be the right time to share with her his deepest and most closely guarded secrets. He didn't want to frighten her away with some of it, but he was beginning to suspect that she could not be driven from him in such a manner. As he mulled it over in his mind, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

He had not dreamed while sharing his bed with his Lady of Vulcan, though he had not noticed... for often dreams were unremembered, as so many paraded through the sleeping mind. But tonight was different... he dreamt, and his dreams were a torrent, a whirlwind of images and snippets and scenes that were not his own, yet somehow he knew with a surety born deep in his soul that they were in point of fact from the mind of the woman in his arms. And as they unfolded there was no singular story he could construct from them, but there was definitely a tale to be told...

The dreams were strange, of things that he knew he had never done before, never seen, never even considered. He saw flashes of things, of places and experiences; nothing solid to keep in his mind as a linear tale. Many images were of Vulcans, or at least that is what they appeared to be to his mind. But so much was in the shadows.

A person was speaking, someone important, an admiral perhaps, but the uniform was unlike anything he had ever seen. A child, tortured, beaten; another looked down upon as being inadequate. Quarters that were just a cell, almost spartan in nature, dark and dank and cool. Then another cell, ochre sandstone and bright, always so very bright, and so stiflingly hot. And then flashes of Charybdis, so young yet still possessed of the origins of the beauty she would become, standing before him, but just out of reach as he hung in restraints, in so much pain.

He felt the blow as the Klingon warrior shattered his nose, green blood fountaining out as the beast laughed while his compatriot grabbed him from behind and wrestled him down to the floor. A boot struck his chin and stars swam before his eyes, and he could not rise as they tore at his clothing and struck him again and again...

He felt the rains falling on his face as he skipped though the puddles and laughed with another child, pointy-eared and gleeful, carefree and innocent. He felt the dry winds of the desert blow as he took one last look from the spaceport and spat upon the ground of Vulcan, vowing never to return. He felt an axe kick nearly shatter his sternum, and saw the blonde cadet smirk at him from above.

The studies were difficult, and he labored with the problem, knowing that time was running out, yet it was important that he do well. He was the last to finish, as always, and he knew that punishment would await him for being so mentally deficient. He felt the electricity race through his nervous system, the pain of the procedure as every nerve came alive to scream, but he held fast for it was his duty.

The Vulcan in the black robes came again, and he could taste his bitter hatred for the man. He looked down on him dispassionately and threw the bowl of meager broth down to him, never enough. A woman's face who shared those nebulous violet eyes, her smile soft and gentle, and his heart filled with pride and longing for her. The look of horror and surprise in his only friend's eyes with his neck horribly snapping in his hands.

He winced a bit in his sleep as he felt heartache and suffering and pain, so much pain. Hearing people argue, people he cared for that seemed to stop once they noticed his presence. And then the pure unholy agony in his mind, like someone taking a laser torch to fry each synaptic pathway, one at a time in methodical order, while someone in the shadows watched on. Finally the pain was too much and he let loose a blood curdling scream that would not stop...

He awoke in a panic, drenched in a cold sweat, the remnants of memories in his head, but he couldn't keep hold of many of them for very long. Charybdis was still as she lay there, looking almost like a statue as she slept. He was happy he had not awakened her... his heart hammered in his chest and it felt so loud to him that he could not imagine how she could still be asleep... yet the staccato drumbeat of her own heart was somehow nowhere near as fast as usual.

It was, in fact, in perfect time with his own.

He slowly rolled out of bed, being careful not to disturb her. He walked over to his water basin to grab the glass he kept there and got a drink of cold water. It helped to soothe him and bring him back to a normal state as he mopped the sweat from his brow. He wasn't certain what all the crazy images in his dreams meant, but he assumed he was just processing things with Charybdis... and obviously she was reaching out to him in her sleep.

Things were moving fast, and he certainly had no shortage of fears as things moved closer and closer to him doing something monumental, something he promised himself to do only once. He finished the water, then splashed his face with a bit. He dried off, and then moved to slip back into bed just as she whined piteously in her sleep, her hand moving in search of him, his absence noticed by her that quickly.

He was barely back into the bed when she had grasped him, pulling her to him with a strength that he tended to forget that she possessed, as she was always so very gentle with him. She squeezed him to her as she murmured in a nonsensical sleeper's tongue, and he noticed a tear rolling down her cheek. He traced the tear to wipe it away with his thumb, then rolled over to softly kiss her on the forehead, and laid back to close his eyes once more.

She held him to her as a drowning woman would hold to salvation, then in a moment her muscles relaxed and her breathing evened out, and he knew that she was sound asleep once more. Sleep came easily to her in his arms... when she was awake and frisky she was perfectly happy, but when they curled up to sleep she was always out almost instantly. He had been surprised by it at first, but it delighted her, so he was happy for it.

Sleep eluded him however, as the chaotic jumble of images remained in his mind, not fading as dreams do.

He wondered what it all meant, but not everything in the mind was always clear. Perhaps he would sleep and everything would be clear to him in the morning, or perhaps it would be just as confusing and hazy. It was a strange phenomenon, these shattered reflection flashes of imagery.

Looking down he saw his proud beauty, peacefully asleep and looking to all the world like the goddess Venus herself, her long mane of hair spread across their bed like a dark halo and he smiled... then in her sleep, she smiled as well and cooed gently, as if she had heard his thoughts.

If this was what he had to endure to be with her, so be it... she was worth it.

Sleep was overrated anyway.

 

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