Bedtime Rituals
Posted on Mon Jun 25th, 2012 @ 12:48pm by Anaia Viel (Halliwell) & Captain Elsie Halliwell
2,418 words; about a 12 minute read
Mission:
Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Location: Anaia's Quarters
Timeline: Current
ON:
The doors to Anaias quarters breathed open as Elsie stepped gently through. Her head peered beyond the threshold first as the rest of her slight body followed. It had been a tough day, for both Elsie and Anaia. So much newness to contend with as well as the daily duties her role as captain burdened upon her. At times during the long day even Elsie second guessed her own ability to juggle.
She stepped through and called out in a soft, quiet voice, unsure of where the little girl was, or how her day had developed. As she encroached further into Anaias quarters, a soft, lulling sound could be heard coming from within the bedroom. Intrigued, the captain ventured through and stood just beyond its door.
Ritual had always been an important part of daily life for the little girl currently perched cross-legged at the end of her bed, facing towards the doorway that afforded her some glimpse of the viewport in the living area. Routines brought the comfort of familiarity and brought shape to her days that might otherwise seem rather aimless and unstructured. Rising in the morning had its own set of procedures, as did most meals, but it was perhaps the night-time ones that brought the most solace if only because they included elements that allowed for proper privacy and reflection. Anaia had never slept alone in her life but the rooms she had inhabited had housed sleeping alcoves that provided some shelter from the prying eyes of her bunkmates and the little girl had always cherished the time right before sleep as an opportunity to let her mind wander. It had been during those times that she had thought most about her mysterious ancestry and it seemed poignant indeed to now be following the same routines so far from home with so many of those questions finally answered. In some respects, it almost seemed ridiculous but she hadn't known what else to do.
And so she sang.
It was a quaintly old-fashioned song adopted long ago as a way of settling restless young children who didn't view sleep as a major priority. The Nursery had started a lot of the little habits that would later become normal parts of their daily lives but of all of them, the simple little song was probably the one Anaia held most dear. Her fond devotion to music made it an understandable preference but perhaps her pitch-perfect rendition gave an even deeper meaning to her affinity for the practise of singing her heart-felt prayers for guidance. She never sang loudly, her quest wasn't to draw attention to herself, but the earnestness of her expression was evidence enough of how deeply the girl felt the meaning of the words. Even with her expressive eyes closed, the message was clear; now, as had been the case every night since she was old enough to lisp the words, Anaia looked outside herself for direction.
Lead us to a place, guide us with your grace, to a place where we'll be safe.
The simplistic arrangement of the situation is what affected Elsie most: A young, unchallenged youth surrounded by her innocence, calmly and tunefully speaking up to the gods above, asking solely for guidance. Elsie had no way of knowing whether this earthly request, from the mouth of babes, held any religious meaning to the child. And yet, also, she didn't much care. If the child clung to a framework of organised religion to structure her life, then more so the better. But the question of its holy significance was secondary to the request itself. Guidance. The child had had little by way of support and direction in the Nursery. Surely she had guardians who cared for her wellbeing. But no one by way of an authority of life and emotional care.
It suddenly struck her. Anaia, despite her strong, underlying character, was just a lost and emotionally vulnerable sheep who needed love and care. Her care. A warm yet haunting smile broke across the careworn face of the woman as she looked on at the spectacle. And a motherly instinct to cradle the girl washed over her unstable emotions. But she resisted, and instead stood further in the room, a flood at the edge of her eye pooling into a tear, to make herself known.
"That's beautiful, Anaia," she said as she released the stability of the doorframe with her hand and stood between the its supports. "Who taught you that song?"
Struggle as she might all day with the unfamiliarity of having such a large space to herself, Anaia still hadn't grown accustomed to the vast and overwhelming silence that came from not sharing a room with at least one more person. Ironically enough, though interruptions were certainly a staple part of her normal life, the voice at the doorway had still made her jump and embarrassment had painted her cheeks a bright scarlet as she scrambled off the bed and turned to present herself, rather haphazardly, to the ship's captain, her mother. Being overheard ought not have been so mortifying, the hymn was sung daily back home after all, but there had always been other voices to blend with. Being one, solitary voice seemed to suggest everything that Anaia most definitely was not but there was nobody to rescue her this time, nobody to jump in and explain so that she didn't have to. She swallowed once.
"They would sing it to us in the Nursery and then later we learnt the words for ourselves. We sing it every night, we always have."
Elsie's face softened as she gently reached out and touched the girl's cheek, just below her left eye. Her smile widened into one of wonder and pride. "Then you taught yourself," she replied, reassuringly. Snaking past her, Elsie took her hand in her own and lead her to the bed where they both perched on its edge.
"How are you finding it here, Anaia? Now that the dust has settled and it's not so daunting..."
Her question was genuine, if a little leading. Attempting alleviate the assured pressure her child much inevitably be feeling. "Have you settled a little?"
After a timid, thoughtful silence, the little girl nodded. Then, because the older woman seemed to be waiting expectantly for more of a response, Anaia wet her bottom lip nervously and murmured, "The ship is bigger than I expected, I didn't go too far. I met the master-at-arms though," she added bashfully, a faint smile gracing her lips. "He was very kind. He taught me how to reassemble phasers."
Elsie's whole body surged forward in an almost mock convulsion as her eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?" she barked, her frustration directed at Shepherd but the physical target, naturally, being Anaia. "What do you mean 'reassembled phasers'? When?"
Unknowingly to the captain, another strong and powerful maternal emotion washed over her entire body. Unprepared and now shaking with both fear and anger, she attempted to quash her physical manifestation and placed her hand on her daughter's.
Blinking rapidly as her overly-sensitive emotions vibrated with her mother's barely concealed annoyance, Anaia sat with eyelashes flushing in silence for a good ten seconds before it occurred to her that she hadn't actually responded. Flustered and now dreadfully scared that the one thing she had enjoyed was actually something completely taboo, the little girl stammered, "I...um...I...I got lost. It wasn't his fault. He was cleaning phasers and I got lost and went into the armory by mistake. I only asked because I don't normally get to see weapons." Wide, blue eyes stared at Elsie as a glistening threat of tears made them unnaturally bright. "He showed me how to check them," she whispered.
"Anaia," Elsie softened, looking deep into her round face, "I don't want you playing with weaponry of any kind whilst you're on board with me, okay?" She inhaled, searched her daughter's eyes and then relaxed a little. "Mr. Shepherd is a fine officer and a competent instructor but the phasers we have on board are not toys. Do you understand me?"
This was the first time Elsie had been fully taken over by the stern maternal matriarch that was buried beneath her captaincy. But it seemed to suit her. And her to the emotion itself.
Well, there went the one thing she'd actually enjoyed so far. As much as Elsie sought to make eye contact with her daughter, it took very little time for Anaia to start avoiding it, eyes downcast to examine her fingers as she listened to the instruction she'd never even consider disobeying. She was used to be told what to do, there was usually someone who directed her in one way or another, but she'd never really found it to be as disappointing as this. The inherent indication that she'd done something wrong didn't help either; it only served to emphasise just how little she knew out here amongst the vast expanse of stars that had almost looked beautiful moments before. The little girl nodded her understanding and murmured, "Yes." There was a pause before it was followed by the inevitable, "I'm sorry."
Elsie too lowered her head and smiled softly. It was difficult for the woman to really put into direct thoughts how she felt about the entire situation. Protective, insecure and confident with how easy it sometimes felt. Her smiled widened and she took the girl's chin in her hand and lifted her head up to meet her.
"Let's not think any more about it," she offered, by way of an apology. "Why don't you get into bed?"
With a delicate ease that avoided tangling her legs up in her nightgown, Anaia scooted back and slipped underneath the covers, made heavy by the hand-stitched quilt she had brought as one of very few familiar keepsakes. She had been told to pack light, perhaps simply because of the eager anticipation of her impending return or perhaps, and possibly more likely, to act as a persuasive device to ensure her eventual return. She was a child of great sentimentality, after all, and grew attachments to the slightest thing provided she could attach a fond memory to it, or even a favoured imagining.
There was a slight chill to the sheets as she scooted down but the room itself was a pleasant temperature and would suit the young waif who had a tendency to drop body temperature quickly overnight. Rather dwarfed by the size of the bed in these guests quarters, her blonde hair lay strewn across the pillow, liberated at least from the braid that had tamed it all day, and her large blue eyes looked up expectantly at the woman beside her. There were so many questions and so little courage with which to give them voice but at the very least, this felt different than the other times they had been left alone in each other's company. Night-time rituals had always been a comfort and amongst all the other little things, Anaia had often used the time to reflect on the day just passed. In the shadow of night, nestled safely in bed, it seemed somehow less confronting to speak honestly of her thoughts and indeed, in the cloak of darkness, had often revealed things to her bunkmates that she refused to talk about in the light of day. Now, gazing up at her mother, the little girl smiled faintly and in her own curiously empathetic way quietly noted, "You look tired."
"I'm not," she lied, instinctively pulling the sheets tight across Anaia's shoulders as she keeled down beside the bed. It was still strange; to look so strangely on something, someone who should feel so familiar. "Once this mission is over, we can spend a few weeks somewhere if you like. Getting to know one another, making friends. Would you like that?"
Anaia nodded instinctively, slowly at first until her actual desire caught up with her willingness to agree. She would like it, just as she found herself increasingly hungry for what this strange new environment could teach her provided she could figure out what was likely to anger people. Being sent here had been confusing, not the least because she hadn't been able to ascertain whether it was likely to be permanent or not from what little she'd been told, but even as daunting as things seemed, curiosity was a vicious appetite. Even has her mind obligingly swung towards imagining the possibilities of seeing more of this vast, open landscape, the little girl's roving eyes took note of the hidden uncertainty in her mother's eyes and she wisely opted to simply accept Elsie's fatigue as an out-of-bounds topic. After all, who if not she could understand the mouth's tendency to speak something the soul did not exactly feel.
"What is the mission?"
It was a quiet question, not exactly timid but likewise uncomplicated in its intention. Even though Anaia had really seen very little of the ship, her time in the armory had given her an entire afternoon's worth of wonderings and the girl had started to consider for the first time, in earnest, what it was that her mother actually did. Already slated for the following day was whatever reading material she could access on the Federation and StarFleet but even after a day, the romance of living amongst the stars had started to affect the imaginative child.
"The mission," Elsie replied, now standing up and stepping back a little to more gain a vision of the girl lying in bed, "is a story for another bedtime." She sighed contently, and then softly smiled. "But we'll spend some quality time together once this is over..."
As the image of her daughter melted away, the words she spoke echoed about her ears as the familiar trilling of the bridge consoles started to prick. Commander Michaels' voice now cut through the daydream as the realisation of guilt took ahold of the captain. She hadn't spent ANY time with her daughter at all.
"Captain?" the Vulcan questioned again.
"I'm fine," she replied, shaking the memory from her thoughts as she held out a staying palm. Elsie then turned intently to her First Officer and smiled absently. "When we leave the system, I'm going to take a week's worth of absence, Commander. I'll be leaving you in charge."
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