Trouble sleeping

Posted on Thu Nov 25th, 2021 @ 12:36am by Lieutenant JG Damien Blackford

Mission: MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Location: Da
Timeline: A few days after the attack
807 words - 1.6 OF Standard Post Measure

Damien sighed as he lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was pointless. He just couldn’t sleep. He’d been struggling to sleep properly ever since the attack. He was constantly plagued by nightmares and his own self-doubts. “Computer, lights on.” He called to the empty room. A few seconds later, the computer complied, bringing the lights back. Sitting up in bed, he glanced across to his bedside table, where the book he’d been attempting to read earlier lay. Reaching across, he picked it up and flicked it open to where he’d left off, starting again.

But it was no use. The words just weren’t going in. Marking his place, he put it back down, before climbing out of bed, grabbing the dressing gown that was slung over the back of a nearby chair, pulling it on. Stretching slightly, letting out a soft sigh as he heard his back crack slightly, he headed out the bedroom, and into the small ‘living room.’

“Computer, play some soft Jazz.” A second passed as the computer processed his request, before the sound slowly filtered into his quarters. Walking over to the sofa, he sat down, leaning his head back, and closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him.

He stayed that way for a few minutes, wondering if maybe the music would help him to fall asleep. But, no such luck. Opening his eyes, he sat back up, looking around the empty quarters. Vira had stayed over the last couple of nights, but tonight she’d decided to sleep in her own quarters. She had the early shift in the morning, and Damien wasn’t on until the afternoon, and she didn’t want to risk waking him up when she woke in the morning. Maybe that was why he was struggling to sleep. Every time she stayed around, he slept peacefully. Maybe it was because when she stayed round, he knew she was safe. It was silly. The odds of anything happening to them now were astronomical. But still...

Running a hand through his hair, he stood up again, heading into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. Stepping back into the living room, he glanced around, his eyes falling on his desk. Biting his lip, he slowly walked over, setting the glass down, glancing at the various pieces of paper scattered on the desk. Most people in this day and age preferred to use PaDD’s to record messages. Damien preferred the personal touch that came with handwriting a letter. Obviously, being on board a Starship, he didn’t have much of a choice. If he wanted to send anyone a message, he had to use a PaDD. But, for whatever reason, he still chose to handwrite the message first, then scan the words into the PaDD and send it that way. A little bit longer, but it still allowed him to retain a slight personal touch.

Sitting down at the desk, he started sifting through various sheets of paper, organizing them slightly, when he came across something he’d forgotten about. Putting the other sheets to one side, he picked up the small sheet of music that he’d replicated before the attack had happened. He hadn’t had a chance to play it before everything happened, and he hadn’t felt the urge to play since. But, maybe now was the time.

Heading into the bedroom, he emerged a few minutes later holding a violin case. Setting it down on the sofa softly, he opened it, before gently taking the instrument out, ensuring it was all okay, tuning it, before placing it against his chin, picking the bow up, giving it an experimental run along the strings, making sure it all sounded okay, before starting to play.

As he played, he allowed his attention to drift, keeping his focus just enough on the sheet of music in front of him, but otherwise allowing himself to get lost in the music he created. His fingers moved almost of their own accord, and the bow moved swiftly in his hand. He’d missed this.

When he finished, he closed his eyes, allowing the final notes to linger in the air, before they slowly vanished. Smiling to himself, he let out a soft sigh. Placing the instrument back in its case, he quickly finished off his glass of water, before heading back into his bedroom, placing the violin back in his closet, shedding his dressing gown, and climbing back into bed, feeling more like he’d be able to sleep now. “Computer, stop the music and turn out the lights.” The computer quickly complied, the music fading and the lights shutting off, leaving him in darkness once again. Sighing to himself, he lay back down, shutting his eyes once again.