Obsession - Prologue
by Angel Halfelven angelhalfelven@hotmail.com Rating: R Summary: Someone in the command crew has a terrible obsession. Warning: This story will not be for the feint of heart, so if you can't take lots of angst, do not read this. You've been warned. Disclaimer: Enterprise belongs to Paramount. Lyrics before each part by Project86, song Chimes. ~ "I hear a voice speaking soft amidst the breathing. An invitation to a place where hearts are beating. To a place where your dreams are made, where songs are played, where drinking never ceases, no dismay." It wasn't like he wanted to kill really. It was something else that drove him, whether a defect in his mind, a demonic possession or simply a personality flaw, he did not know, nor did he agonize over finding the answer. He knew only one thing - he was getting hungry for blood again. No, not here. Not again. He wanted to start a new life on Enterprise. Yet he found his eyes drawn more and more to the cabinet on the far side of the room. His hands shook as he looked there again, then forced himself to turn. How easy it would be to cover it up. He could do it, he knew, but he had to stop himself. He couldn't hurt these people that he cared for. He glanced again at the cabinet and shuddered. He needed to get out and away from that knife. And so he left his quarters for a time. Biting his lip he wandered the ship, nodding in greeting to those who passed and smiled. The urge was getting stronger, today being worse than he could barely stand, and he knew it wouldn't be long. He couldn't understand himself. Why was he so attracted to the awful flowing of blood caused by his own hand? His strength waned as he thought of taking a life again. Maybe if he killed just one? He closed his eyes and wiped a tear quickly from his cheek. What would they think of him if they knew? Oh, but the urge was so sensual and demanding. At that time in his weakness Hoshi Sato walked by and he almost whimpered in need for that he knew he shouldn't want. And the decision was made. He made his way sadly to his quarters and to the far cabinet, dreading the inevitable and yet knowing there was no escaping what he was. He was a killer. Without motivation he opened it and removed the knife he'd used many times. Crude, yes, but it would provide him with what he needed. Maybe it would be the last time he used it. Maybe he should use it on himself. Stuffing the blade in his sleeve, he left his quarters with purpose. The door buzzed and he waited in agony for her to reply. When she did, he entered upon her call and her eyes lit up. "Hello, Sir. Is there anything I can help you with?" she asked him and his chest felt heavy. "Hoshi," he said in a breathless voice as he closed in. "I came to see how you were." He didn't want to do this, but every fiber of his being cried out for it. Closing his eyes, he reached back into his sleeve and fingered the blade. Run, Hoshi, he thought, knowing she'd never question his actions until it were too late. He was going to do it. "Sir?" she replied at his odd demeanor. "I'm fine. Are you okay?" Hoshi backed away. Maybe she was frightened of him. He was frightened of himself. As he drew the blade she swallowed and looked into his eyes. "Sir?" she breathed again, covering her throat with her hand unconsciously. His breathing was labored as he advanced on her, holding the knife tightly. "Shhh," he soothed, clasping cold hands around her arms and backing her into a wall. She shivered in his grasp as he pressed the knife to her soft skin. "It'll be okay." He had to do this. He had to finish or she would tell someone. Maybe if he told her it was a joke? "Sir," she whimpered out, trying to get from his grasp, yet too frightened to really put up a fight. "Sir, don't hurt me, please." Swallowing, he leaned close, looking into her brown eyes. "This won't take long, Hoshi," he whispered, driven by unknown forces to do this evil thing that he had set in his mind to do. Her eyes were wide when he drove the knife into the flesh of her throat and cut her. He wasn't surprised by the familiar rush he felt as she struggled against him, then stopped. It gave him a high like he couldn't imagine anything else doing. Why, he wondered but couldn't fathom. A quick killing and now Hoshi Sato lay dead in his arms. What drove him to this madness? All he could do was shiver, holding her there against him. He touched her hair, wishing he could take it back. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he sniffed, gripping the knife and letting her fall. Wiping his face, he looked down at her as she lay in final silence. "Why have I done this?" he whispered, watching her unmoving state with a strange fascination. Rubbing the handle of his knife, he noted the blood on his hand. He took a deep breath and moved to a nearby mirror and saw the smears on his cheeks from wiping. Inevitably, with any killing, there came a cleanup afterwards. He would have to remove his presence from the room, hide his trail. He cursed himself for this sloppy work. Anyone may have saw him heading this way. Taking a deep breath, he went into the bathroom and began to wash away the blood from both his hands and face. He had a lot of work ahead of him tonight, erasing his prints, any sensor readings that could indicate him. Not any man would know how to cover his tracks so flawlessly, but he'd meticulously learned everything he'd need to know for such a wicked lifestyle. Except, sometimes a part of him wanted to be caught. Then the pain would end for them. And yet something kept him hiding, perhaps the hope of killing again? Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he clenched his fists. A sudden fury swept across him like a wave over a shore. What am I? You'd think the shame and guilt would stop me! he thought angrily, furrowing his eyebrows at his reflection. The image scowled back, naturally, and it only reminded him of the monster that he was. With a howl of anger he threw the bloody blade into the mirror, shattering it. As little shards of glass clinked onto the counter and floor, he closed his eyes and fought for the very air he breathed. And he turned and headed again for the living room, gazing at Sato's lifeless form as he set about the task of cleaning up the mistakes that would lead him to being discovered. No, he wouldn't want that, would he? Wouldn't want justice to be done. He'd thought the problem gone and he could begin a new life here, but that most certainly wasn't so now. He would never be free. Perhaps rest would bring peace. Though the night have never been so kind before. Why should it now?
Obsession - Chapter One
by Angel Halfelven angelhalfelven@hotmail.com Rating: R Summary: Someone in the command crew has a terrible obsession. Warning: This story will not be for the feint of heart, so if you can't take lots of angst, do not read this. You've been warned. Disclaimer: Enterprise belongs to Paramount. Lyrics before each part by Project86, song Chimes. ~
Captain Archer sat at his desk, rubbing his face thoughtfully. The night had been long and he was very tired. Rubbing his lips absently against his hand, he stared off, praying no one would bother him for at least an hour. And naturally, on cue, someone buzzed his door. Swallowing, he said in a voice heavier than he'd intended, "Come in." Trip Tucker headed in and placed a data padd on his desk. "You look rough," he commented, noting the dark circles under his captain's eyes. He sat down across from Archer, his eyes curious. "What's up?" Archer shook his head slowly, biting back a yawn. "Nothing, Trip. Just had a long night. I'll be fine after I've had some coffee." He smiled at his friend. Tucker grinned back and nodded towards the door. "Why don't we blow work off for a while and get some breakfast? Then you can tell Uncle Trip all about why you couldn't sleep." Laughing, Archer shook his head tiredly. "I somehow don't think it would look very good to the rest of the crew, if their captain started slacking on his duties." He yawned and closed his eyes, then reopened them half-lidded. "Yeah," Trip agreed, nodding and sitting back in the chair. He took a deep breath and looked around his best friend's ready room. "I s'pose it wouldn't look right for me to say, sit around in here and chat, huh? My staff might start doing the same." He chuckled and rubbed his cheeks, joining in the Captain's yawning. "You're making me tired, Jonathan." Archer smiled and looked meaningfully at his resequencer, thinking about something that would urge him to wakefulness. Standing up, he said, "Coffee?" and smiled when Tucker nodded. The door buzzed again before the request could be made. "Yes?" Archer called out, stepping towards the resequencer. He turned his head when Malcolm Reed entered, his face pensive. "Malcolm?" Reed stopped before his captain and swallowed, then took a breath. "Sir, I'm afraid I've got something awful to report to you this morning." His eyes were very worried. "What is it?" Archer pressed, forgetting the coffee for the moment. Furrowing his brow, Reed shook his head slowly, then met his captain's eyes. "Sir, Hoshi Sato never reported for duty and so I attempted to contact her over the comm system. There wasn't a reply. I went to see about her, Captain. I found her lying on the floor. Dead, Sir." Archer widened his eyes and stared for a moment at his Security Chief. After getting a grasp on Reed's words, he said softly, "How?" Malcolm Reed exchanged looks between Archer and Tucker, who'd come closer to stand beside the Captain. "Someone murdered her, Captain. There were blade marks on her throat and blood all around her. I'm having a security team go over her quarters in detail. Poor Hoshi's in Sickbay. The Doctor is working to determine exactly how long she's been...lying there." He frowned, crossing his arms. Archer was quiet again for a moment. Tucker took that opportunity and spoke up. "Are you sure it was murder and not something like suicide? I mean I don't see why she'd do something so desperate, but this is murder we're talking about. You really think there could be someone on board that would want to kill her?" Reed shook his head and shrugged. He folded his arms across his chest. "The knife is missing. Another thing I found curious was the fact that her mirror was shattered. There's got to be something that will lead us to what happened last night." Shaking his head and looking from the floor to Reed, Archer asked, "What about an outside force? This whole temporal war going on with Daniels and Silik, or even an alien influence of some kind could have been responsible." "I thought of those myself," Reed replied, exhaling. "I'll use every resource I have in this investigation. In the meantime, Sir, what would you have me do about the safety of the crew?" Furrowing his brow, Archer exhaled. "Increase security. I don't want anyone to know about this until we've learned everything we can. This is a dangerous situation, especially if there is an outside force at work. I don't want the crew to panic." "Yes, Sir," Reed said, nodding to his captain. "Keep me posted, Malcolm," Archer told him, looking at him gravely. "Dismissed." The Captain and his friend watched as Reed exited quickly. "Well, shit," Tucker breathed, still in shock, as he shook his head. "What do you do in a situation like this?" He looked at his friend. "I don't know, Trip," Archer replied, looking down at the floor. He met Tucker's eyes sadly. "We'll find out." ~ Malcolm Reed frowned as he exited Archer's ready room. He was going to have a lot of work to do now and this investigation could last a very long time. If they even solved it. A sigh crept out from his lips as Sub-Commander T'Pol motioned him over. "Lieutenant," she greeted with a slight inclination of her head. "I would like to read a full report of your findings after the examination of Ensign Sato's quarters is complete. I would also like to go over any evidence that you find." Reed frowned at that. Maybe he was just feeling tired or shaken, but something in him was feeling irritated at the tone in which she ordered him in. "With all due respect, Sub-Commander, I am planning to report this to Captain Archer." T'Pol seemed unfazed by his demeanor. She held his gaze and replied, "As protocol would have you do, Lieutenant. I merely want to go over your findings in the event you miss something." His eyes hardened at that. "Miss something?" he retorted, his voice edgy. T'Pol's expression grew weary, as weary as a Vulcan could look. Her voice was firm, yet neutral as she said, "It is merely a precaution. I intended no insinuation on your skill as an investigator." Malcolm Reed opened his mouth to comment, but held back when the ready room opened and the Captain and Commander Tucker retreated, both carrying a cup of coffee. Archer looked at them quesitoningly and Tucker stopped, sticking around unnoticed behind the Captain. "Something wrong?" he asked as T'Pol got up from his seat. Sub-Commander T'Pol cocked her head slightly as Archer took the command chair. "Lieutenant Reed merely misunderstood my intentions behind an order I gave, Captain. I have explained myself." Reed frowned at her wording. "She wanted me to report everything to her to make sure I didn't miss anything, Sir. I was just about to explain to her that I'm perfectly able to closely examine evidence and facts." "It was merely a procaution," T'Pol said solidly, her arms clasped behind her back. "If Lieutenant Reed cannot remove his pride from the issue and proceed with this investigation logically, I suggest someone else lead it." Archer raised his hand forestallingly and shook his head. Looking between them he lowered his voice and said, "Look, I know you're a little shaken, Malcolm, but I see no problem in letting T'Pol read over the reports. You can use all the help you can get." Reed nodded slowly and sighed. "Yes, Sir," he grumbled, then departed quickly without waiting for a dismissal. Exhaling deeply, Archer leaned back in his chair, his face troubled. "He's probably just edgy, T'Pol. I'm sure this is bothering him. I'm sure it's bothering all of us that know." He raised hands to his weary eyes and held them over for a moment, blocking the light. "Do everything you can," he said finally. "I will, Captain," she replied, gazing down on him as he looked up. "Sir, I have a suggestion." "Let's have it," the Captain said, taking a sip from his long desired coffee and looking at her thoughtfully. She lowered her voice and stepped a little closer. Looking slightly uncertain, she began. "If Lieutenant Reed's investigation turns up a list of suspects, I would like to try a mind meld." "Mind meld?" Tucker cut in, finally stepping out of the figurative shadows and appearing interested. "Idn't that where you connect minds or something like that?" T'Pol nodded. "That is, in essense, what a mind meld consists of. If I can successfully meld with the suspects, it is theoretically possible that I can determine which is the killer, or at least clear them from suspicion." She waited for Archer's response patiently. Archer looked uncomfortable with the idea and eyed Tucker, seeing a similar expression there. "I don't know, T'Pol. It's a dangerous thing I've heard and hasn't been tried much between Humans and Vulcans. I don't even know if your testimony would stand up in court if you found the killer." Tucker sipped his coffee. "I don't know if I'd like someone poking around my mind." He frowned at Archer. The Captain nodded. "Me either." T'Pol looked between them. "It could be dangerous, Captain, but I am willing to take that risk. We must put the safety of this crew before my safety and before the possibility that Starfleet would not accept my testimony as evidence. If it worked at very least it would draw attention to the suspect and deter them from acting again." Still not looking like he cared much for the idea, Archer frowned and gazed at the floor. He shrugged and gave way, seeing no real reason to deny her suggestion. "Perhaps you're right. I'll keep it under advisement. When we come to that bridge, I'll let you know then how we're going to cross it." "Aye, Captain," she replied, stepping away and taking her post. "Miind meld," Tucker murmured, mock-shivering. He narrowed his brow at Archer. "Creepy." Archer shook his head as Tucker walked away, sighing softly and leaning against his chair, now feeling the burden of weariness more heavily than before. ~ He sat in his quarters, alone and left to ponder many thoughts he didn't care to think on. His body sometimes actually ached with his tense and dark entertainments. He wanted it again. So soon after Hoshi and yet he was craving more. How terrible he was. He sat on the couch sideways, legs stretched and crossed at the ankles. His eyes continually gazed upon the ceiling above as if seeking some comic answer there to the 'why' that plagued him. Perhaps every person in the universe had a role to fill, a role they couldn't escape from. Did it say somewhere in the stars that everyone was meant for something good? Perhaps this was just what he was - a murdering monster. Is the universe so gray? He couldn't justify himself that way, and yet without even realizing it, he did somewhere in the dark places within. How could he not be justifying himself? He wasn't turning himself in. Very easily all of this could be ended. The crew would no longer worry for their lives if he could just force himself off the couch and report to security. He wanted her. Watching her in the mess hall, he'd decided then finally that he would like to have her next. Despite what his actions may or may not have said about his feelings towards her in any given moment in the past, he'd never really cared for her. Except to look at her. She was, after all, beautiful. Any man on board would be blind to not agree. But beyond that, he wanted her in the worst way possible. Hoshi Sato had been a quick kill, something that had been done in haste and had been unsatisfying. T'Pol, however, he'd been thinking about for some time. Any number of ways he'd imagined killing her, each time more tempting than the last. He could almost feel her screams echoing through his soul. Breathing out deeply, he ran fingers through his hair and leaned back, closing his eyes and trying to stop the evil impulses within. "What am I doing?" he breathed aloud, knowing there would be no answer tonight. He stood to his feet, knowing somewhere deep inside exactly why he was getting up, but constantly telling himself it was for some other purpose. To wash his face. Yes, that was what he was going to do. But he never made it to the washroom. Groaning and clenching his fists, he glanced at his desk. There sat a data padd on it's surface. He wandered over and picked it up, glancing at the written contents of it's plastic surface. And without even really thinking about it, he sat down in the chair there, forcing himself to read the data as his fingers wound around the handle of a drawer. He sharply glanced at what he'd done. So temptingly close. He knew what items were within that drawer and here he sat, tempting himself. Playing with his own ability to stop himself from this madness. Who was he kidding? Not himself any longer. The data on the padd hadn't even graced his thoughts beyond the visual interpretations of the letters. Even those didn't form many words inside his mind. Slamming the data padd down onto the desk, he ripped the drawer open and rifled through it's contents. Pulling out a long and slender black case, he opened it and slipped the surgical gloves on. Unfortunately, he didn't have the time for one of his grander fantasies of murder. Instead, he opted to restort to deadly poison. Inside that same black case, was a needle and a few vials of assorted drugs and poisions. He didn't know why he liked using needles, but the instrument held his fascination. He'd used it before. A vial of poison clicked into place over the needle head and he stood up, shoving his tell-tale hands into his pockets. For the moment nothing of his guilt could stop him. He needed his drug and didn't care what it cost. And so he left. The walk down the halls were lonely and tense. It was late and no one would be about, but there was always that chance someone would see him. If that were the case he would have to wait. But he completed the trip without incident, much to his delight and agony. Gloved fingers pressed against the door buzzer and he waited. There was a brief pause and then the door opened with her voice. She stood, awaiting whoever it was. Her eyes were wary, but softened with trust as he came into the room. "Is there something I can assist you with?" she asked, her face betraying her disproval of his being there at such an hour. He couldn't over power her, he knew that. He was going to have to catch her in surprise. "I'm bothered by today's events. I know I'm an unlikely visit, but I was hoping you could impart some Vulcan wisdom." T'Pol cocked her head slightly and nodded. "Very well. I will try to advise you as best I can. Would you like to sit?" He nodded gently and watched her as she turned to the couch, heading for it on light feet. His chance. And he passed it by. She sat down and peered at him, waiting for him to make his move. He hesitantly moved forward and sat beside her, looking at her quarters, then meeting her eyes. "How could this happen here?" he asked simply, not sure where he was going with it. Pursing her lips, she gazed at him with grave and thoughtful eyes. "Crimes of this nature often happen when and where you least expect. It is no one's fault that it happened, wasn't prevented or she couldn't be saved, beyond the fault of the perpetrator of the act." Blinking at that, he nodded and clenched his fists in his pockets, knowing it would look suspicious to her if she took notice that his hands were hidden. He couldn't afford to wait much longer, but something in him wanted to talk. Almost wanted absolution for what he was about to do. Or reason for him to do it. "The crew seems pretty upset." T'Pol nodded at this. "Yes, they are, but it's important that they remain calm and collected, yourself included." "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice a little higher as he looked at her. "Only that while the crew should mourn her death, they should not allow it to effect how they function," she answered, her eyes strange, yet soft. "We must concentrate on the task at hand. Finding who did this." It was enough for him. What she said was true, but his guilt over killing Hoshi consumed him and he almost took the words of the Vulcan personally. In the blink of an eye, when she turned her head for just a moment, he ripped his hands from his pockets and plunged the needle into her neck. T'Pol cried out in pain and shock, then writhed as he laid over her, holding her still. But her Vulcan strength prevailed and he was thrown off and onto the floor as she strumbled off the couch and towards the comm. Without even thinking, he gripped an iron candle stand from the floor nearby and went after her, hitting her on the back of the head with it. She collasped to the floor and he continued hitting her. The poison worked quickly and she soon grew too weak to fight back the continued onslaught. He could swear he saw anger in those dispassionate eyes. Screaming out in anguish he slammed the candle stand into her again and again, not even bothering to stop when she stilled. It was too much now, he was too lost in the act. When it was finally over he fell to his knees, tears racing down his cheeks and his body tense and tingling. There was no room for thought. He couldn't allow such torment to take over now...it would destroy him. So he got up and threw the candle stand down, taking his needle from the place it had fallen. He exited her quarters quickly, racing to his own to erase the sensor logs that would incriminate him. He wasn't ready to give himself in yet, even after the horrible thing he'd just done. And he would do it again. He knew that now, knew he couldn't ever deny who he was. It hurt him, but there was nothing that could be done. It simply was.
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