Title: Memory's Song (1/1)
Author: Andrea (abc3969@juno.com)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: While I might explore the potential of other duos on occasion, my heart will always return to Horatio/Calleigh; and so, to my own muse I must be true.
Disclaimer: Me no profit; you no sue.
Archive: Is anybody archiving these? If so, just say so. I'll come visit. Eve, Laeta, be my guests.
Spoilers: None (as long as you have a general knowledge of the second-tier characters).
Author's Notes: My muse still isn't cooperating with me at the moment, but she gave me this and promptly informed me that if I didn't write it, she would 'thump' me in the back of the head, so to avoid bodily injury, I acquiesced.
Marianne, I wish in no way to encroach on "Private Burial," but I absolutely HAD to write an introspection piece, and this is the result. Many thanks for the inspiration (and so much more).
Kdeb, I appreciate your "fresh eyes"-they helped tremendously. Thank you for keeping my secret.
Summary: And as the music floats free into the space around me, I close my eyes and remember.
Feedback: If you please. Be gentle.
~~~~~
My mother's piano sits in the corner of my living room beside the fireplace, a remnant of my past, a reminder of her that I could not part with after her death.
The two things Mother always insisted on were that Raymond and I read voraciously to develop an appreciation for classical literature and that we both take music lessons. Raymond chose the guitar, I, the piano.
From time to time I open the lid, slide onto the bench, and lay my hands on the keys, a long-ago learned melody flowing from my fingertips.
Tonight I feel the pull of the music calling me to play the instrument rather than just to sit in front of it and brood. I set the metronome in motion, its soothing, unwavering rhythm never failing to transport my mind back in time, back through the days and events that shaped me and made me the man I am today.
Regardless of where my thoughts roam, they turn eventually to people, those whom I have loved, or who have dared to love me, and even some who have brought me face to face with evil.
And as the music floats free into the space around me, I close my eyes and remember.
With every tick of the timepiece another face appears in the ether of remembrance, each one accompanied by a tinge of emotion unique to itself.
Mother, her aristocratic beauty surpassed only by her stern manner. A determined spirit unlike anyone before or since. A life cut short through no fault of her own. The wellspring of my quest for justice.
I can't yet smile at her memory; tears come more easily, even to this day.
Her visage disappears into the mist to be replaced by another.
Raymond, his tormented soul so familiar to me and still a stranger. A keeper of secrets and purveyor of lies. A brother, husband and father trampled by life and taken too soon. The fuel on the fire of my existence.
I grimace at the vision; anger and frustration are more readily available than joy at the thought of him.
But the awkward feelings fade away as my brother's face slowly transfigures to reveal a more pleasant apparition.
Ray, Jr., his short life marked by questions and sadness. A boy longing to be a man beneath the shadow of the father he could never really know. A treasured gift. The only tie to my past not worth severing.
I smile to think of him; he will one day be all his father was not.
I feel my mood lighten as the grin spreads slowly across my face and I am momentarily brought back to the present, the metronome continuing to beat out its lonely rhythm. So encompassing is my introspection, though, that I drift easily back to the daydream world of before.
It is impossible for me to think of Ray, Jr. without also bringing to mind his mother.
Yelina, her mission in life to create a future for her son outside the horrible reality of the past. A woman of strength and vulnerability. A person naïve to so much, yet wise to the ways of the world. The one link in the chain of my family that I feel obligated to shield and defend.
I offer a crooked half-smile at the image, unable to be all she wants me to be.
With the shifting of my emotions comes a faster, more powerful touch to the keyboard, the intensity of my thoughts now reflected in the song.
Madison, her wide-eyed innocence still intact despite circumstances wildly beyond her control. A child so obviously my brother's own. An undeniable extension of her father. The tiniest victim in a sordid, tragic tale.
I smile always at the thought of her since she sees so few smiles otherwise.
Pain and regret now pouring from my soul into the music, I am reminded of the more unsavory characters who have crossed my path and left their indelible mark on my life.
Drake Hamilton, his celebrity having glowed brightly from atop his self- created pedestal, its light extinguished at last. A sinister figure sheathed in smoke and mirrors. A pathetic excuse of a man. The albatross finally lifted from my neck.
I shudder at the sight; his is a face I'll not miss for a moment.
At war with myself and with evil incarnate, my hands banging out a tormented tune onto the slats of ebony and ivory, I can't help but recall.
Stuart Otis, his scarred hands raised in defeat, all his former bravado now erased. A mind without a conscience. A body without a soul. The monster who tried in vain to defile yet another child and destroy me in the process.
I scowl at the picture my mind conjures up. He is not worth any further consideration.
When the force of my playing causes stinging pain to rush through my arms, I still my movements, drop my hands to my lap. I say a simple prayer for the soul of Ruthie Chrighton, then open my eyes and stretch my arms, flexing each finger until I am rewarded with a satisfying 'pop'.
Infused with renewed energy, I return my hands lightly to the keys and close my eyes once again, a feeling of bitter-sweetness coming over me almost immediately.
Eugene Thomas Walters, his purity of spirit never faltering in light of all he experienced. A beacon of truth and innocence. A heart of compassion and caring, even for those who would ridicule him. The 'partner' who gently led me to open my heart after so long a time it had been barricaded shut.
I think of him and smile, moisture clouding my eyes before I can stop my reaction.
A single tear drifts down my cheek and falls noiselessly toward my hand, but I can no longer track its progress when it disappears between two keys.
My mind and heart haven't figured out just where Eugene fits on the landscape of my life, but the music I play for him is lilting and carefree, as I envision his soul must be now.
Until we meet again, I'll cover for you, my partner.
And with that thought, I am instantly awash in a jumble of feelings all battling for prominence in my head, but my heart knows only one simple fact- this overwhelming array of emotions reduces down to pure, life-altering, complete love, love for the one woman who is my everything, my foundation, my strength, my purpose, even from a distance.
Calleigh, her unchallenged skills eclipsed only by her beauty-not merely superficial, but soul-deep, my missing half. So much more than a colleague to me, our potential still unexplored. My touchstone, the most vital part of my existence. The reason I can never stop being who I am.
I smile openly as echoes of her float through my imaginings.
::poised at the rifle range, her unresisting target annihilated after receiving several rounds dead-center::
::that drowsy, unguarded grin when I offered her coffee with *sugar*::
::her singsong voice crooning in my ear, "There you are, Handsome."::
::a vision in black, exhausted but exhilarated, approaching with Gilley suite in tow::
::those totally disarming soulful eyes assuring me of her well-being::
After my earlier emotional crescendo, I choose to bring my song to a quiet, proper ending, the final note just as sweet as my most recent ethereal vision, but still my reflections linger.
The simplest suggestion of her presence suffuses my body with heat. The slightest hint of her nearness starts my heart to racing and sets off a firestorm of desire in me I often have to force myself to keep in check. There is no earthly name for this degree of need.
But our connection goes far beyond the physical-from the day I met her, it was as though our souls recognized each other and resolutely interlaced themselves to form a delicate, yet indestructible bond.
In no time at all the walls around my heart were breached effortlessly by a deceptively tiny, formidable woman who had never really been trying; and as quickly as I abandoned my defenses, I surrendered my heart.
We've never spoken the words, but I see them in her eyes. We share the same feelings, but we also share the fear of acting on them; and so we settle for quick glances and tender smiles, a passing touch now and then.
We can't be together yet-it's not our time-but soon, I'll get my chance to hold her and love her and with a virtuoso's touch, create with her a love song our hearts will remember forever.
~fin~
Author: Andrea (abc3969@juno.com)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: While I might explore the potential of other duos on occasion, my heart will always return to Horatio/Calleigh; and so, to my own muse I must be true.
Disclaimer: Me no profit; you no sue.
Archive: Is anybody archiving these? If so, just say so. I'll come visit. Eve, Laeta, be my guests.
Spoilers: None (as long as you have a general knowledge of the second-tier characters).
Author's Notes: My muse still isn't cooperating with me at the moment, but she gave me this and promptly informed me that if I didn't write it, she would 'thump' me in the back of the head, so to avoid bodily injury, I acquiesced.
Marianne, I wish in no way to encroach on "Private Burial," but I absolutely HAD to write an introspection piece, and this is the result. Many thanks for the inspiration (and so much more).
Kdeb, I appreciate your "fresh eyes"-they helped tremendously. Thank you for keeping my secret.
Summary: And as the music floats free into the space around me, I close my eyes and remember.
Feedback: If you please. Be gentle.
~~~~~
My mother's piano sits in the corner of my living room beside the fireplace, a remnant of my past, a reminder of her that I could not part with after her death.
The two things Mother always insisted on were that Raymond and I read voraciously to develop an appreciation for classical literature and that we both take music lessons. Raymond chose the guitar, I, the piano.
From time to time I open the lid, slide onto the bench, and lay my hands on the keys, a long-ago learned melody flowing from my fingertips.
Tonight I feel the pull of the music calling me to play the instrument rather than just to sit in front of it and brood. I set the metronome in motion, its soothing, unwavering rhythm never failing to transport my mind back in time, back through the days and events that shaped me and made me the man I am today.
Regardless of where my thoughts roam, they turn eventually to people, those whom I have loved, or who have dared to love me, and even some who have brought me face to face with evil.
And as the music floats free into the space around me, I close my eyes and remember.
With every tick of the timepiece another face appears in the ether of remembrance, each one accompanied by a tinge of emotion unique to itself.
Mother, her aristocratic beauty surpassed only by her stern manner. A determined spirit unlike anyone before or since. A life cut short through no fault of her own. The wellspring of my quest for justice.
I can't yet smile at her memory; tears come more easily, even to this day.
Her visage disappears into the mist to be replaced by another.
Raymond, his tormented soul so familiar to me and still a stranger. A keeper of secrets and purveyor of lies. A brother, husband and father trampled by life and taken too soon. The fuel on the fire of my existence.
I grimace at the vision; anger and frustration are more readily available than joy at the thought of him.
But the awkward feelings fade away as my brother's face slowly transfigures to reveal a more pleasant apparition.
Ray, Jr., his short life marked by questions and sadness. A boy longing to be a man beneath the shadow of the father he could never really know. A treasured gift. The only tie to my past not worth severing.
I smile to think of him; he will one day be all his father was not.
I feel my mood lighten as the grin spreads slowly across my face and I am momentarily brought back to the present, the metronome continuing to beat out its lonely rhythm. So encompassing is my introspection, though, that I drift easily back to the daydream world of before.
It is impossible for me to think of Ray, Jr. without also bringing to mind his mother.
Yelina, her mission in life to create a future for her son outside the horrible reality of the past. A woman of strength and vulnerability. A person naïve to so much, yet wise to the ways of the world. The one link in the chain of my family that I feel obligated to shield and defend.
I offer a crooked half-smile at the image, unable to be all she wants me to be.
With the shifting of my emotions comes a faster, more powerful touch to the keyboard, the intensity of my thoughts now reflected in the song.
Madison, her wide-eyed innocence still intact despite circumstances wildly beyond her control. A child so obviously my brother's own. An undeniable extension of her father. The tiniest victim in a sordid, tragic tale.
I smile always at the thought of her since she sees so few smiles otherwise.
Pain and regret now pouring from my soul into the music, I am reminded of the more unsavory characters who have crossed my path and left their indelible mark on my life.
Drake Hamilton, his celebrity having glowed brightly from atop his self- created pedestal, its light extinguished at last. A sinister figure sheathed in smoke and mirrors. A pathetic excuse of a man. The albatross finally lifted from my neck.
I shudder at the sight; his is a face I'll not miss for a moment.
At war with myself and with evil incarnate, my hands banging out a tormented tune onto the slats of ebony and ivory, I can't help but recall.
Stuart Otis, his scarred hands raised in defeat, all his former bravado now erased. A mind without a conscience. A body without a soul. The monster who tried in vain to defile yet another child and destroy me in the process.
I scowl at the picture my mind conjures up. He is not worth any further consideration.
When the force of my playing causes stinging pain to rush through my arms, I still my movements, drop my hands to my lap. I say a simple prayer for the soul of Ruthie Chrighton, then open my eyes and stretch my arms, flexing each finger until I am rewarded with a satisfying 'pop'.
Infused with renewed energy, I return my hands lightly to the keys and close my eyes once again, a feeling of bitter-sweetness coming over me almost immediately.
Eugene Thomas Walters, his purity of spirit never faltering in light of all he experienced. A beacon of truth and innocence. A heart of compassion and caring, even for those who would ridicule him. The 'partner' who gently led me to open my heart after so long a time it had been barricaded shut.
I think of him and smile, moisture clouding my eyes before I can stop my reaction.
A single tear drifts down my cheek and falls noiselessly toward my hand, but I can no longer track its progress when it disappears between two keys.
My mind and heart haven't figured out just where Eugene fits on the landscape of my life, but the music I play for him is lilting and carefree, as I envision his soul must be now.
Until we meet again, I'll cover for you, my partner.
And with that thought, I am instantly awash in a jumble of feelings all battling for prominence in my head, but my heart knows only one simple fact- this overwhelming array of emotions reduces down to pure, life-altering, complete love, love for the one woman who is my everything, my foundation, my strength, my purpose, even from a distance.
Calleigh, her unchallenged skills eclipsed only by her beauty-not merely superficial, but soul-deep, my missing half. So much more than a colleague to me, our potential still unexplored. My touchstone, the most vital part of my existence. The reason I can never stop being who I am.
I smile openly as echoes of her float through my imaginings.
::poised at the rifle range, her unresisting target annihilated after receiving several rounds dead-center::
::that drowsy, unguarded grin when I offered her coffee with *sugar*::
::her singsong voice crooning in my ear, "There you are, Handsome."::
::a vision in black, exhausted but exhilarated, approaching with Gilley suite in tow::
::those totally disarming soulful eyes assuring me of her well-being::
After my earlier emotional crescendo, I choose to bring my song to a quiet, proper ending, the final note just as sweet as my most recent ethereal vision, but still my reflections linger.
The simplest suggestion of her presence suffuses my body with heat. The slightest hint of her nearness starts my heart to racing and sets off a firestorm of desire in me I often have to force myself to keep in check. There is no earthly name for this degree of need.
But our connection goes far beyond the physical-from the day I met her, it was as though our souls recognized each other and resolutely interlaced themselves to form a delicate, yet indestructible bond.
In no time at all the walls around my heart were breached effortlessly by a deceptively tiny, formidable woman who had never really been trying; and as quickly as I abandoned my defenses, I surrendered my heart.
We've never spoken the words, but I see them in her eyes. We share the same feelings, but we also share the fear of acting on them; and so we settle for quick glances and tender smiles, a passing touch now and then.
We can't be together yet-it's not our time-but soon, I'll get my chance to hold her and love her and with a virtuoso's touch, create with her a love song our hearts will remember forever.
~fin~