bridge2sickbay drabbles of 2010-01-31 :)
Tonight the challenge was about poetry, and I was moody, so have some serious gen stuff.
Spock Prime - Not a Dream (All that we see or seem)
They say it's Bendii.
Not that he cares about the information. Emotional control is overrated, he knows today.
Information is too.
Years, dates, names, places… it's all one river through time and space, layered, bent and twisted.
And with every step he makes, with every face he sees, there are the memories, the past of another life, the future of another death. Dark-blue like the Earth night, red-hot like Vulcan's sky at midday, the quiet of space, the songs of whales.
He smiles as it all comes together.
They say it's from the Bendii that his memories overtake his reality, but really, what do they even know about his existence? They are so small, so short-sighted - just one life, one death, one universe.
He's been dead, he's returned. He's crossed the threshold between universes.
He wouldn't be surprised if he lived forever.
Somewhere in his life, something magical had happened, and he had been bestowed with a fate beyond that of mere mortals.
They say it's Bendii and he's becoming delusional.
He says he just starts to understand it all.
Spock, McCoy (TOS) - Beautiful, also, is the sun.
"They're not that bad, after all." McCoy's voice is rough, a little breathless. "Got to know some great people over the years. Not counting T'Pau, of course." He's sitting in a chair on the balcony, looking over the city of Shi'Kahr. "And I even started to like the planet a little. Still too hot, mind you, but I've been to worse places."
"Yes, Leonard," Spock says from the inside where he fills juice in glasses for them. He carries them outside, giving one to his old friend.
"I should've come earlier," McCoy says. There's some regret and sadness, and something Spock can't decipher yet.
"You'd always have been welcome."
"I know. Just never wanted to be a burden for anyone." McCoy sips from his glass. "I've got a flight booked for tomorrow."
"So soon? You had planned to stay for a week. Do you have any urgent plans?"
"Well, yes." McCoy gets up, the weight of his years bearing down his past agility. Today, his movements are slow and a little painful, his shoulders bent, his hair white. Only the sharp voice and the blue eyes never lost any of their former life.
Though on second thought, the eyes might be a little less bright than the last time Spock had met him, but this could be attributed to the red of the sun that throws a filter over everything this afternoon.
"You know what they say, it's best to leave when it's still fun." McCoy smirks at Spock's confused look. He walks over to the Vulcan, patting his shoulder. "Not that we had any fun yet. It's really too darn hot here. Come on, let's go and sit down in the library, speak about the old times a little."
Spock nods. "As you wish." After a last glance at the sun, he follows him inside.
Pike, Kirk - We real cool. We/Left School. We/Lurk late. We/Strike straight.
There was a reason Christopher Pike knew Jim Kirk needed a dare. Because twenty-five years ago, it was him lying on a table with a bloody nose, and another officer standing next to his head, challenging him. And Pike didn't have the handy excuse of a dead hero as a father for having become a loser.
His father was alright, not particularly good, not particularly bad either. His mother cooked quite well, gave him a hug when he went to school. He was okay, not too stupid, not too bright (he told himself). Just an ordinary kid from an ordinary farm in an ordinary small town.
No good excuses to hang around in the large city, drinking too much and fighting too much without even knowing what for.
Just an ordinary kid who couldn't get rid of the feeling that he didn't belong where he was, an eerie current beneath everything he did.
The officer challenged him and Christopher Pike took up the gauntlet and did something with his life, in the first organization that felt like home to him.
He had sit on the death bed of his father ten years later to learn he'd been adopted by the couple after the death of their own kid. He'd never know if knowing it would've changed a thing but he really wished they'd told him before.
So much for ordinary lives, he thought as he watched James T. Kirk wiping the blood off his nose, and envied him a little for his perfect reasons to be fucked up.
Pike, Chapel - Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking
"You should sleep," Chapel says softly as she notices his eyes following her.
"You should probably sleep too," he says. His gaze is rather focused, more than she's used from patients under such a strong medication as his.
She draws close to him. "Are you feeling well, sir?" she asks.
His lips draw into a smile, sardonic and edgy, before he starts chuckling. "Well? I wonder what they teach at med schools today -" He starts coughing, and she supports his head as the sounds turn painful. He takes a deep breath as she helps him back into his flat position.
"You want me to sleep? Help me to turn onto my side."
"That's not advisable -"
"Will it kill me?" he states sharply. "If not, then please, help me turn."
"I can't."
"Fuck," he says, looking away from her. There's anger and frustration, and something else, something brittle underneath. She reaches for a hypo.
"Don't you dare," he snaps as he notices her movement. "I need to know what's going on. I need to find out what's happening. It's driving me crazy not to know… even Nero told me more than Spock and Kirk do."
"He wanted to hurt you - they want to protect you," Chapel finds herself explaining. As if she knows anything of what happens outside the medical bay right now.
"Fuck protection," he snorts. "I need to get out of here, nurse. That's an order."
"I really wish I could help you, sir…" She quickly takes the hypo and presses it against his neck, exhaling deeply as his eyes close and his head sags a little to the side. "But that's all I can do for you right now, captain," she adds quietly and leaves to inform McCoy.
Spock Prime - Not a Dream (All that we see or seem)
They say it's Bendii.
Not that he cares about the information. Emotional control is overrated, he knows today.
Information is too.
Years, dates, names, places… it's all one river through time and space, layered, bent and twisted.
And with every step he makes, with every face he sees, there are the memories, the past of another life, the future of another death. Dark-blue like the Earth night, red-hot like Vulcan's sky at midday, the quiet of space, the songs of whales.
He smiles as it all comes together.
They say it's from the Bendii that his memories overtake his reality, but really, what do they even know about his existence? They are so small, so short-sighted - just one life, one death, one universe.
He's been dead, he's returned. He's crossed the threshold between universes.
He wouldn't be surprised if he lived forever.
Somewhere in his life, something magical had happened, and he had been bestowed with a fate beyond that of mere mortals.
They say it's Bendii and he's becoming delusional.
He says he just starts to understand it all.
Spock, McCoy (TOS) - Beautiful, also, is the sun.
"They're not that bad, after all." McCoy's voice is rough, a little breathless. "Got to know some great people over the years. Not counting T'Pau, of course." He's sitting in a chair on the balcony, looking over the city of Shi'Kahr. "And I even started to like the planet a little. Still too hot, mind you, but I've been to worse places."
"Yes, Leonard," Spock says from the inside where he fills juice in glasses for them. He carries them outside, giving one to his old friend.
"I should've come earlier," McCoy says. There's some regret and sadness, and something Spock can't decipher yet.
"You'd always have been welcome."
"I know. Just never wanted to be a burden for anyone." McCoy sips from his glass. "I've got a flight booked for tomorrow."
"So soon? You had planned to stay for a week. Do you have any urgent plans?"
"Well, yes." McCoy gets up, the weight of his years bearing down his past agility. Today, his movements are slow and a little painful, his shoulders bent, his hair white. Only the sharp voice and the blue eyes never lost any of their former life.
Though on second thought, the eyes might be a little less bright than the last time Spock had met him, but this could be attributed to the red of the sun that throws a filter over everything this afternoon.
"You know what they say, it's best to leave when it's still fun." McCoy smirks at Spock's confused look. He walks over to the Vulcan, patting his shoulder. "Not that we had any fun yet. It's really too darn hot here. Come on, let's go and sit down in the library, speak about the old times a little."
Spock nods. "As you wish." After a last glance at the sun, he follows him inside.
Pike, Kirk - We real cool. We/Left School. We/Lurk late. We/Strike straight.
There was a reason Christopher Pike knew Jim Kirk needed a dare. Because twenty-five years ago, it was him lying on a table with a bloody nose, and another officer standing next to his head, challenging him. And Pike didn't have the handy excuse of a dead hero as a father for having become a loser.
His father was alright, not particularly good, not particularly bad either. His mother cooked quite well, gave him a hug when he went to school. He was okay, not too stupid, not too bright (he told himself). Just an ordinary kid from an ordinary farm in an ordinary small town.
No good excuses to hang around in the large city, drinking too much and fighting too much without even knowing what for.
Just an ordinary kid who couldn't get rid of the feeling that he didn't belong where he was, an eerie current beneath everything he did.
The officer challenged him and Christopher Pike took up the gauntlet and did something with his life, in the first organization that felt like home to him.
He had sit on the death bed of his father ten years later to learn he'd been adopted by the couple after the death of their own kid. He'd never know if knowing it would've changed a thing but he really wished they'd told him before.
So much for ordinary lives, he thought as he watched James T. Kirk wiping the blood off his nose, and envied him a little for his perfect reasons to be fucked up.
Pike, Chapel - Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking
"You should sleep," Chapel says softly as she notices his eyes following her.
"You should probably sleep too," he says. His gaze is rather focused, more than she's used from patients under such a strong medication as his.
She draws close to him. "Are you feeling well, sir?" she asks.
His lips draw into a smile, sardonic and edgy, before he starts chuckling. "Well? I wonder what they teach at med schools today -" He starts coughing, and she supports his head as the sounds turn painful. He takes a deep breath as she helps him back into his flat position.
"You want me to sleep? Help me to turn onto my side."
"That's not advisable -"
"Will it kill me?" he states sharply. "If not, then please, help me turn."
"I can't."
"Fuck," he says, looking away from her. There's anger and frustration, and something else, something brittle underneath. She reaches for a hypo.
"Don't you dare," he snaps as he notices her movement. "I need to know what's going on. I need to find out what's happening. It's driving me crazy not to know… even Nero told me more than Spock and Kirk do."
"He wanted to hurt you - they want to protect you," Chapel finds herself explaining. As if she knows anything of what happens outside the medical bay right now.
"Fuck protection," he snorts. "I need to get out of here, nurse. That's an order."
"I really wish I could help you, sir…" She quickly takes the hypo and presses it against his neck, exhaling deeply as his eyes close and his head sags a little to the side. "But that's all I can do for you right now, captain," she adds quietly and leaves to inform McCoy.