An Evening Ritual

Posted on Fri Feb 6th, 2009 @ 6:19am by

1,441 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Restricted Independent Operations
Location: Quarters of the Executive Officer, USS Archimedes
Timeline: Current

It had been a rather long day for Lieutenant Commander Arkham -- she had been all over the place trying to get this ship going, and getting things off on the right foot. She'd met some of her staff, and had been somewhat pleased with the results -- they needed work, of that she was certain, but it wasn't as bad is it probably could have been.

Arriving in her quarters after a long day, she began the same ritual that she had always performed, night after night, since she was an Ensign aboard her first posting. Removing her uniform and showering, she changed into civilian clothing -- a wine colored dress shirt and well-ironed slacks; she was always ridiculously formal even when no one was watching. From there she went into her bedroom, removing from a night table her violin case.

Rowena Arkham had been playing the violin for forty-two years; classically trained and in possession of a solid and most impressive level of discipline, Arkham had been offered positions in orchestras and music conservatories in her youth -- she'd given all of that up to join the fleet in her eighteenth year. However, the violin was never something she'd been able to give up. It was her first love, and it would almost certainly be the last thing she had left, as the great obsidian grandfather clock counts down the seconds until oblivion.

She began with Ride of the Valkyries -- it seemed rather appropriate for the time and the place she was now; all the more impressive, Arkham hadn't needed sheet music in years-- she could recall the pieces from memory, could play flawlessly these works that had enthralled her from the time she was fifteen years old. She'd always had a soft spot for the works of old Richard Wagner.

Though the Ride of the Valkyries had been a great work, of that there was no denying, but it as not his greatest--not in Arkham's mind.

They say that old Wagner had found his inspiration, in his later years, in the form of his lover, Mathilde Wesendonck. He'd stopped writing the Ring Cycle by that point, and work on that would not resume for twelve years. But Mathilde had inspired him to greater things -- to Tristan und Isolde, Arthurian legend brought to life. Despite the state of Vienna and the world at the time, and that after over 70 rehearsals it had still not gone on--and that when it finally was performed it took over seven hours to sing and three members of the company died--he was able to tell the woman he loved, the woman he'd made love to on the mezzanine of his own theater, everything he felt. Every last heart-exploding word.

Arkham doubted that he'd ever regretted it, even if it had ended his twenty-two year marriage with his then wife after she intercepted one of his letters to her, and even if Mathilde had eventually ended the affair, not wanting to ruin her own marriage.

As she continued to play, she couldn't help but think back to that work.

Isolde had once said, "Wenn die Dinge sich anders entwickelt hätten. Wenn wir an einem Ort ohne Verpflichtung lebten... Wären Sie zusammen mit mir?"

"If things were different. If we lived in a place without duty...would you be with me?"

Arkham chuckled at such things, a hollow bark of cold laughter. There was always duty, always commitments...always things that got in the way. It had happened to Wagner in the form of his wife and his lover's husband, and it had happened to Arkham in the form of the Fleet.

But enough of that. Enough now, she thought, continuing on.

"Good evening, Commander," said a soft female voice, lightly accented and sultry in tone. Arkham paused, hearing the woman speak -- in the doorway stood Dr. Catherine Halsey, her slightly graying black hair tied back in a tight bun, and clad in a dark turtleneck and a charcoal colored skirt.

Arkham smirked a little, but the action caused her a good deal of pain -- she simply placed her head back down, continuing to play.

"Wagner, huh?" Catherine said, smirking a little, and savoring the music the Commander was playing. "When we get back to Earth, we should go see Tristan und Isolde again. You remember when we saw that? Must have been--what, eight years ago now? I still thought you were such a monster back then! I hated you--loved your money, but I hated you."

"Nice to know," Arkham muttered, focusing on the music, but putting Halsey's comment in the back of her mind.

"No offense, dear, but you don't exactly tend toward making friends and influencing people," Halsey said quietly, smiling a little and sitting down in a chair. "I thought you a monster for so long. I stayed because the money was good--because I liked the travel. But one night, checking in on you in your quarters after releasing you from my care after a procedure...I heard you play--and nobody who could play with such fire, such...eloquence...could possibly be as bad as they were made out to be. You were playing Itzak Perlmann's 'Remembrances'...I'll never forget that song as long as I live, Commander."'

"So you say," Arkham said, continuing to play, but more softly, so she could speak over it. "Everything is eventually forgotten."

"Not this," Halsey said, smirking. "You let your guard down that night--and I saw you for what you really were. None of this nasty, barking gristly old war veteran nonsense, but...as a human being. I saw you in a different light, and I'll never forget it."

She blushed a little, drawing close to Arkham. Wrapping her arms around the woman, Arkham sighed a little. As they stood there, Halsey rested her head on Arkham's shoulder, whispering quietly, "Wenn die Dinge sich anders entwickelt hätten. Wenn wir an einem Ort ohne Verpflichtung lebten... Wären Sie mit mir zusammen?"

"If things were different. If we lived in a place without duty...would you be with me?"

Arkham grimaced. "Diesen Ort gibt es nicht, Catherine."

"That place does not exist, Catherine."

The doctor pulled away, much to the officer's chagrin. This was the way it had been for years -- every night, Halsey would propose the idea, and each night, Arkham would turn her down. Arkham was an officer with a good deal of prestige to her name; it was not unexpected that she would turn down the relationship simply for the sake of both their reputations. It certainly would reflect poorly on her, sleeping with the hired help. "I'm sorry, Rowena. It's always been unfair of me to...put you in this position--you've given me so much over the years, and it's rather selfish of me to expect more of you--when I know you're only doing this to protect my reputation and yours within the Fleet."

Halsey paused, reverting once again to the German, in case anyone was listening. "Ich weiß, dass wir, wenn die Zeit kommt, zusammen sein werden. Bis dahin ... Ich werde so tun, als ob Sie es sind, Commander Arkham.

"I know that when the time comes, we will be together. Until then ... I will pretend it's you, Commander Arkham.

"I--" Arkham began, but pausing as her jaw cracked.

Concern crossed Catherine's features--moving over to the officer, she lightly palpated her jaw. "You've dislocated the artificial joint again--you really need to be more careful Rowena. I'll work on it tomorrow, first thing. Until then, why don't you do lie down in the bedroom, and I'll make you a cup of tea?"

Arkham snorted a little, and packed up the violin, heading into her bedroom. Relaxing for a moment, she shut her eyes, lying back and breathing in a deep sigh of relief. Within a moment or two, Catherine reappeared, tea and saucer in hand--she placed the cup and saucer in Arkham's hand, and then went over to the other side of the bed, lying down beside her. Arkham took a sip of the tea--her jaw clicked once more, and she grimaced, trying not to let the doctor know she was in pain.

But there was no getting anything past Dr. Halsey. She smirked a little, putting a hand against the left side of her face and rubbing Arkham's jaw, and said quietly, "You poor old devil."

Arkham wondered for a moment, what her 'Tristan und Isolde' would be, and wondered if when the time came, it could encapsulate all that she'd ever wanted to say.

 

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