Revelations & Accusations - Part I

[Victria 0]

It was late. Late enough that he should be going to sleep, but thoughts of the trapped pilots, the science team, and other things kept him from any rest. Instead he sat in his chair, strumming his guitar, trying to find something that sounded right. Annoyingly, the door chimes rang, providing a discordant tone that one couldn't help but notice. Without waiting for his permission, the doors opened and she slipped inside, out of uniform and in her usual black. She was restless, he could tell, her body radiating unease. The doors slid closed, but Mark sat still for a moment, watching Victria in the darkness around his entryway. He knew it was her, how could it not be?

 

"Come in." His voice was soft, but had a small amount of sarcasm to it. Half asking her to make herself at home, half remarking on her uninvited entry.

 

"You were taking too long," she replied, moving to make herself comfortable on his couch. "I could tell you were awake. Am I interrupting?" She indicated the guitar on his lap with a raised eyebrow.

 

He glanced down at the instrument, putting it down and resting it against his chair. "No, not at all. I haven't gotten a chance to play since the Excalibur launched; I was beginning to feel a little rusty." He quickly looked over to her. "Can I get you something to-" He paused mid-sentence, his brow furrowing. "Can you drink liquids?"

 

She smiled at his inadequate phrasing. "Physically? Yes. But I find most humanoid drinks revolting." Her eyes had grown dark with hunger, but she hadn't come with the intention of feeding. "You don't have to stop playing on my account. I'm curious to know what the creation of music provides for your kind."

 

A small smile formed in the corner of his mouth as he picked the guitar up again. Few humans had taste for the device anymore, and fewer aliens had any desire to listen to human musical instruments. "I actually wrote this myself...but it's been a couple years since I played it, so you'll have to forgive any sloppiness."

 

His fingers lightly grazed the strings before he began. It was a slow and deep tune. His face held deep concentration, but his eyes and other body language gave away his emotions as he played. Sorrow, anger, but most of all regret. He played for several minutes before stopping abruptly. "Sorry, it's not finished yet. Still a work in progress."

 

She frowned at him; confused by music and the effect it had on him. "This... composition has some sort of deep meaning for you? Your emotional state changed drastically while you were playing."

 

"Yeah..." He trailed off, glancing down at the guitar, his features still somewhat depressed. "Music can often be a medium for telling stories, or an outlet for emotions. I wrote this after my father was diagnosed with Irumodic Syndrome."

 

"I am not familiar with that disease." She was still frowning, studying the nuances of his features. She could "taste" his emotions as his chemical makeup changed, though she could not always discern what he was experiencing. This one she had felt before, however, from many of the humans on the ship. It tasted of defeat.

 

His face scrunched up slightly, trying to find the words. This was something he rarely talked about. "It's.... It's a neurological disorder. In simplest terms...the brain literally decays away. The person experiences memory loss...loss of cognitive and reasoning abilities..." He paused, a sharp sniff pulling though his nose and clearing his throat. "Tobias Garrison was a spectacular officer, a great man, and an even better father. But now...he lies in a bed on Earth, slowly losing what is left of his mind."

 

"And there is no cure?" She found it difficult to empathize with him, as she had never known disease or illness. Death was a daily constant and with that she could relate -- death of someone with whom she had bonded, death of those in her clan, and the needless deaths of her people. "It is difficult for you to see him in that state?"

 

He didn't say anything, the look on his face said enough. "It's not a fitting end. Before I joined the Excalibur...I had left Star Fleet for a year to care for him. I watched him slowly change from my father into a man who screamed and threw things at me, because he couldn't remember I was his own son. I wonder now if he even could remember his own name."

 

"And you left him because there was nothing you could do for him?" She shifted on the couch, the intensity of his emotional outpouring somewhat unsettling. "That was wise. It is better that you be engaged in your own future than be forced to helplessly watch his come to an end." It wasn't the most comforting thought, but it was painfully truthful.

 

He let out a small chuckle, unsure as to why the moment he did. If it had been anyone other than her he probably would have done something about the comment. "Sad thing is, you're right. My father died when he was first diagnosed. His mind is simply waiting for his body to catch up." He looked at her, into her eyes for the first time since he began the song.

 

"But why play the song if it only reminds you of your pain?" Her uncanny eyes remained fixed upon him, holding his gaze as he glanced up. "Is it not customary for your kind to seek out pleasant experiences and shy from those that cause hurt?"

 

"For some humans yes. The way I see it, to deny the pain, to deny the memory would be to deny part of yourself. It would dishonor him to deny him in such a way."

 

"A valid point. We must always remember the fallen, if only to pass their stories to the next generation. Their wisdom is ours to know, by book or blood." Her meaning didn't quite translate to the human existence, but the sentiment was the same.

 

He smiled at her, being that was the only thing he knew he could do at the moment. "I almost forgot, why'd you stop by this late anyway?"

 

"It wasn't important. I was mostly restless and, as I require little sleep, I thought you might be good company." In truth, she had been up thinking about some of Segami's decisions and wanted to rant to someone that would understand. Her anger had faded in reaction to his mood, but she was still restless, searching for something she couldn't pinpoint. "Your heart rate was too irregular for you to be asleep and as I heard no one else with you, I chanced that you wouldn't mind."

"Of course I wouldn't." He sensed there was something more than a simple desire for company, Victria was hardly known as sociable. "I've just seen that you rarely do anything without reason, or purpose."

 

"You are observant in that regard." Brows drawn together, she looked away for the first time since she had entered his quarters. Leaning back on his couch, she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. "There are many things that trouble me in the dark hours of the night, but I am not accustomed to sharing my private life. Anger is a different matter, as it needs an outlet lest I do something the Captain might regret. You will often find me prowling the ship during this shift as I have few other distractions to keep my sanity intact. Being ever surrounded by those that rouse my natural instincts does not make it any easier."

 

"You could always come here." His tone was careful and controlled. She'd already called him out on his attraction for her, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin their friendship, if it could be described as that. "If something's bothering you, and you don't wish to speak about it, I can understand. But if you do, just find me. Anytime, day or night."

 

"I shall keep that in mind." She paused as she glanced back to him, mulling over exactly how much she should reveal about the blood pact he had so lightly made. "There is something particular about which I wished to speak with you, but was not certain that I could explain in ways that you would understand.”

 

Her eyes narrowed. “Do you remember when we first met -- the pact that was made?"

 

"Yes, I do." His eyes betrayed him, and glanced down to the wrist she had used. Though completely healed over now, he could still see in his mind's eye where the bite mark had been. As he glanced up, he wondered if he should be worried about her expression.

 

"What about it?"

 

 

Continued...