Title: A Sudden Cessation of Sleep
Author: Grey
Rating: PG
Contact: garcher@go.com
Summary: What wakes you in the middle of the night?
She is curiously aware of her lips.
Stars seem to be hurtling past her, but this is an illusion based on a faulty perception. It is they who are hurtling past the stars.
The universe is slowly but inexorably expanding, dissipating into heat.
Somewhere, most likely the bridge, Ensign Sato is working on a very important translation, honing a speech that will slice through the awkward knots of first contact.
Yet, none of this seems to matter as much as this sensation. This combined numbness and tingling and warmth and heaviness that forces her lips apart, her jaw dropping lightly of its own volition.
Was she asleep? It seems that she was, and that something has suddenly awakened her. Dancing around the edges of consciousness are bits and pieces of what might be the answer. She can't seem to make them stand still, can't make them coalesce into a definable shape.
Lying here in the dark, stilling her mind, slowing her breaths, she tries to define the moment.
It's almost as if something had pressed against them. Something as soft and strong as a memory. But she has no memories of anything like that. There are no past experiences of that sort on which to draw.
So she breathes deeply, meditations kicking in, and turns her mind towards rest.
She ignores the possibility that her imagination could supply her with the sensations that her experience lacks. She denies that she dreams.
But later, deep in sleep, she sighs and murmurs his name into her pillow.
Author: Grey
Rating: PG
Contact: garcher@go.com
Summary: What wakes you in the middle of the night?
She is curiously aware of her lips.
Stars seem to be hurtling past her, but this is an illusion based on a faulty perception. It is they who are hurtling past the stars.
The universe is slowly but inexorably expanding, dissipating into heat.
Somewhere, most likely the bridge, Ensign Sato is working on a very important translation, honing a speech that will slice through the awkward knots of first contact.
Yet, none of this seems to matter as much as this sensation. This combined numbness and tingling and warmth and heaviness that forces her lips apart, her jaw dropping lightly of its own volition.
Was she asleep? It seems that she was, and that something has suddenly awakened her. Dancing around the edges of consciousness are bits and pieces of what might be the answer. She can't seem to make them stand still, can't make them coalesce into a definable shape.
Lying here in the dark, stilling her mind, slowing her breaths, she tries to define the moment.
It's almost as if something had pressed against them. Something as soft and strong as a memory. But she has no memories of anything like that. There are no past experiences of that sort on which to draw.
So she breathes deeply, meditations kicking in, and turns her mind towards rest.
She ignores the possibility that her imagination could supply her with the sensations that her experience lacks. She denies that she dreams.
But later, deep in sleep, she sighs and murmurs his name into her pillow.