The little things are infinitely the most important.

Posted on Wed Jun 20th, 2012 @ 12:31pm by Lieutenant Commander Robin Swift M.D., PhD

Mission: Sections of the Delta Quadrant
Location: Counselors personal quarters

There was something awesome in the thought of the solitary mortal standing by the open window and summoning in from the gloom outside the spirits of the nether world.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

A soft Arietta permeated the room. Some long forgotten Earth Italian woman used her gentle maiden like voice to accompany a flutist. Together they wove a tale of sorrow sweetened by hope and desire for a love so pure and perfect it could only be rumored to exist. Robin’s closed eyes fluttered briefly whilst an ethereal naiad swam through his dreams with out care.
His mind held in trance by his fatigue, the music and the words he had just been reading before he succumbed to slumber. As dreams go it was pretty good but still…..something lurked beneath it all. Some niggling dread that threatened to upset the beauty and balance of all that was good. He found himself pushing past the innocent water nymph to catch a better look at what lay beyond. There he saw it, just a brief glance, nothing more than a chance glance of a will o the wisp. But who was the traveler that the trickster hoped to lure from the safe path? Was it he himself or was he just the mute observer who could only watch the game play out in silence?

Suddenly he heard a crash followed instantly by a startled yowl and the tinkling of glass shards raining down. His eyes abruptly opened as he felt wet fur leap upon his chest, claws raking down his arm in search of finding refuge. He leapt to his feet dropping the sodden mess of claws and fur to the floor as he shook his dazed head to clear his mind and take stock of what had just happened. His eyes turned to where the noise first came from and he took in the scene his mind filling in the details as he went.
The side table next to the chair he was only recently seated in was covered with what looked to be the remains of a cup of tea gone cold. The cup being the fragile creature that it was now lay in ruin drowned as delicate porcelain shards in the muddle of tea, bits of its hand painted floral beauty flung to the floor.
He turned his gaze to where his assailant now set silently licking remnants of tea and cream from her paws with air of superiority despite her soaking wet appearance. She even managed to give Robin a look of disgust as her emerald green eyes roved briefly to the evidence of her misadventure then back to him as if she were silently laying blame on either him or the shattered tea cup.
“Freya…how could….” He closed his eyes a moment as the futility of arguing with his cat sunk in. He looked back up at her and her continued grooming. “I will deal with you later miss” he scolded, and then added “Which will also include a bath and no supper.” She paused, front right paw held poised in air as she stopped mid lick. She gazed at her person briefly then sauntered off in a feline huff.
Robin quickly set about clearing the mess, disparaging over the broken cup that was part of family heirloom china set. The debris cleared and the table set to right he reached down to retrieve the book he had fallen asleep with and noticed the patient file that had also fallen during the chaos. As he picked it up: a page slid free which drew his attention to a few earlier session notes he had made. It was a chance of fate that it caught his eye. A chance that may not have been if he was not eccentric enough to keep up the practice of hand writing his long term patient notes with pen and actual paper. It was a habit he was often teased about but it helped him focus on more perplexing problems. A few words caught his eye that brought a new realization to light. ‘Solitary’ and ‘delusions of the need for self persecution’