The little AU: Winter Hopes: Rest
The little AU: Winter Hopes: Rest
slashfairy
~~
Rest is where you get it, he thinks. If it's in poring over proofs of this year's new books, as Viggo is, then that's rest. If it's in looking at scripts and reading up on humanitarian and world-compassion projects, as Orlando has been, then that's rest.
And if it's in dressing up in a Star Fleet medical uniform and speaking in flat Mid-Western next-century accents, and working, now, 16-hour days, then that's rest, too.
It's what lets you get the next breath: draw it deeply and fully in, appreciate it for what it is, and let it go unfettered by regret and resentment, making room for the next one, and the next, as many as are granted.
Whatever rest is, it's something to be treasured, to be sought and delighted in and enjoyed, and in the sloughs of despond and arduous journeys and frenetic chases between moments of rest, to be remembered- to remember that rest is right here, just one step over, off the rat-cage wheel- that's the most important aspect of it, he thinks, as he waits while they re-set the lights and he joins in the laughter over what signature lines are being sprinkled here and there for the fans, for the history of the story, for themselves.
Damnit Jim, I'm a doctor, not a basket-ball hoop! he shouts as the ball descends into his space, giving him split seconds to respond- which he does with a soccer head-butt which sends the ball caroming off his head back to Captain Kirk, who, Pike-like, dissolves in laughter at the sight of the good doctor saving the side like that.
Rest is where you take it, he decides, as make-up and hair come over to tsk over his forehead and hair, and the lighting's reset, and they return to deep space for some more of the adventure of breathing in and breathing out.
previously: Grace
next: Good Night, and Good Luck
slashfairy
~~
Rest is where you get it, he thinks. If it's in poring over proofs of this year's new books, as Viggo is, then that's rest. If it's in looking at scripts and reading up on humanitarian and world-compassion projects, as Orlando has been, then that's rest.
And if it's in dressing up in a Star Fleet medical uniform and speaking in flat Mid-Western next-century accents, and working, now, 16-hour days, then that's rest, too.
It's what lets you get the next breath: draw it deeply and fully in, appreciate it for what it is, and let it go unfettered by regret and resentment, making room for the next one, and the next, as many as are granted.
Whatever rest is, it's something to be treasured, to be sought and delighted in and enjoyed, and in the sloughs of despond and arduous journeys and frenetic chases between moments of rest, to be remembered- to remember that rest is right here, just one step over, off the rat-cage wheel- that's the most important aspect of it, he thinks, as he waits while they re-set the lights and he joins in the laughter over what signature lines are being sprinkled here and there for the fans, for the history of the story, for themselves.
Damnit Jim, I'm a doctor, not a basket-ball hoop! he shouts as the ball descends into his space, giving him split seconds to respond- which he does with a soccer head-butt which sends the ball caroming off his head back to Captain Kirk, who, Pike-like, dissolves in laughter at the sight of the good doctor saving the side like that.
Rest is where you take it, he decides, as make-up and hair come over to tsk over his forehead and hair, and the lighting's reset, and they return to deep space for some more of the adventure of breathing in and breathing out.
previously: Grace
next: Good Night, and Good Luck