TITLE: The Long and Winding Road (Note: work in progress)
RATING: PG-13
CHAPTER: TEN
AUTHOR: L. C. Brotherton
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any portion of Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda. I just like to bring some of these characters out to visit my playground and promise to put them back when we've finished our game. No money has been made as a result of this fan's creation.
REVIEWS/FEEDBACK: Yes, please!
ARCHIVING? Fine by me. Just email me and let me know where my work will be stored.
SPOILERS: At this point, anything from Season One, Episode One is fair game as a spoiler.
The Long and Winding Road: Chapter Ten
Rhade waited a full minute until his enhanced hearing could no longer detect Beka's and Trance's quiet footfalls and conversation echo down the corridor. With a smug look of satisfaction, he moved silently back into Medical and paused just inside the entryway.
She was asleep, curled onto her side with her back to the corridor. There was a subtle hint of some pleasant botanical fragrance hanging in the air that grew stronger with each careful step toward his objective. His smile was almost paternal as he crouched near the bedside, gazing at the woman lost in deep slumber. He glanced up and was relieved to see that the monitor told a satisfying story of continued rapid healing and recovery, hastened by Nietzschean physiology and medical nanobots.
Some of her hair had fallen over her face. As he cautiously lifted it away, he fought a growl when he saw the fading bruise on her cheek, a harsh reminder of her very recent history. He leaned over and kissed the bruise. She made a small sound and shrugged the blanket off in her sleep. He tucked the blanket back under her chin, his hand lingering for a moment on her shoulder, and time held no further meaning for him. Eventually, he moved soundlessly to a nearby supply cabinet and removed a pillow.
Settling back on the deck, he shoved the pillow between his back and the bulkhead, took a long drink from his hip flask, crossed his arms and watched Stasia sleeping. He contemplated the subtle expressions crossing her face, the faint flickering of closed eyelids, and knew she traveled through the misty world of dreams. He wanted those dreams to be so very gentle and pleasant, a peaceful respite from whatever demons had recently pursued her.
He absently twisted and untwisted the silver flask's cap, his hands as agitated as his thoughts. The questions he had were beyond number. How in the Progenitor's name had she wound up here? What was this insanity about the Matriarch telling her that he was dead? On Terazed, was his name engraved on the marble in his family's crypt? If that were true, did it mean he was dead? If this was death, then Seefra must surely be some variant of hell, but what had Stasia ever done to deserve damnation like this? If this was hell, since when did he start believing in an afterlife? He took a drink, and leaned his head back to consider that last thought, and then took another drink to keep the first one company.
Stasia murmured something in her sleep, bringing Rhade from his philosophical contemplation. Bundled in the blanket, she looked small, very small, almost as small as she was the first time he ever saw her. Remembering a morning years and years ago on a world he'd once called home, he smiled and slid into sleep.
After Rhade had been snoring softly for at least five full minutes, Trance suppressed a giggle and stepped from the shadows. She opened the supply cabinet door and removed a blanket, which she draped over the man sleeping in the floor. She pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. "Sweet dreams, Rhade," she whispered with a knowing smile.
Quickly checking her patient's vital signs, satisfied with the progress she saw, she stepped into the shadows again and was gone.