Someday you will open this door in the middle of the night,
You will look into my eyes
And then you will see the truth.
All the things I never said to you will be mirrored there
In a painting that you have seen long before you ever saw me.
Her quarters were lightless. Sometimes darkness was a comforting cocoon that she could wrap around herself like an invisible blanket. She had chosen a few melancholic songs and a glass of campamnillo, her favourite red wine to keep her company tonight.
It wouldn't take long for her to be mesmerized by the soft music, the slowly spreading warmth of the wine and the starlight's reflection in the scarlet mirror. It was so easy to get lost in the music. To surrender to the feelings she repressed in the clear light of the day. But in the privacy of her quarters her strength was fading with every sip she took from the glass in her hand.
Soon the words of musical poetry would invade her mind, conquer her last thought and she would be stripped, exposed and vulnerable.
And then she would think of him.
Would imagine his hands touching hers, just like the soft crying of the violin was touching her heart now. Slowly he would warm her much too cold skin. She could feel his fingers moving over her arms, higher and higher until his palm would cup her cheek. His thumb would softly trace over her sensitive features, wander lightly over the smooth skin under her eyes and finally rest on the fine curve at her cheekbones. He wouldn't say a thing. He would just look into her eyes, studying the expressive sadness that dwelled in blue-grey depths. A smile would grace his handsome face before his own eyes would reflect her silent grief.
His thumb would travel to her mouth and this time he wouldn't move away. He would contour over the warm lips and not allow them to open and destroy the moment with words.
For once she would be the instrument and he would play her. Only under his touch Kathryn would come alive. Every touch would remove more than her clothing. Every kiss would release a soft moaning that would be the sound of sadness' drowning in passion.
The moment felt so real that her heart was hammering wildly in her chest.
The pain of realizing for the hundredth time that all this was just an imagination, inflicted by music, wine and her longing for him was overwhelming. She felt tears in her eyes, tears that she would not cry. Still she would not call off the music.
Under the sounds of a guitar's prelude her eyes closed and she surrendered to the emotional pain it was causing her.
A different sound broke into this most private moment.
But she ignored it and ordered the computer to repeat the last song. She had made it perfectly clear earlier that she didn't want to be disturbed tonight. After 38 hours without sleep she needed desperately to relax, even when it was in just a solitary dream of something she probably would never have on this ship.
She must have been asleep, for she was dreaming again. This time his touch felt so real that she couldn't keep the tears from falling. They spilled from her closed eyes, released by melancholic melodies and the hands that graced her skin. Warm breath kissed her lips and she moaned like it was hurting her.
She needed to voice the pain and said into the darkness.
"I wish we could share this openly."
His lips closed over hers, enfolding him into the dream that was the love between them.
"Someday we will, Kathryn."