The Time Voyager's Obsession

Longing- II

Hana awoke to gentle shaking. She opened her eyes sleepily, blinking up to see Tiberius leaning over her. In her drowsy state, her body responded to his proximity, a flush of heat creeping up her neck. She longed to touch him, to memorize the feel of his skin beneath her fingertips. Hana’s eyes settled on his lips, wondering what the man would taste like on her tongue.

The Voyager drew away from her, as though sensing her heightened state of arousal. Hana rubbed at her eyes, using the gesture to cover her disappointment.

“How long did I sleep for?” she asked, her voice still thick from slumber.

“Only a short while,” Tiberius returned, gazing at her thoughtfully, “The fish is prepared. Eat, and then tonight we will start your training.”

Hana sat up with a start, instantly regretting the swift motion. She clutched at her ribcage in pain, garnering a reproachful frown from Tiberius. Excitement at the prospect of discovery left her heart aflutter. Hana wanted to learn all that she could, and she had so many questions. “Will we travel from Hausafan? Or will you show me how to control my memories? I want to learn how to fight, how to defend myself so that-”

She had been about to say, 'so that no one can threaten me again', but Tiberius held up a hand, halting the words in her throat. “First we will practice your breathing,” he told her. “As I have said, you must develop mindfulness and practice meditation to aid in harnessing your power. These building blocks will go far in advancing your newfound abilities. In time, I will teach you all that I know, but we must start slowly.” Hana nodded, anxious to begin somewhere. Any amount of knowledge she could gain would be more than she currently had at her disposal.

“Come, sit by the fire and eat,” Tiberius said, gesturing for her to follow as he stood. They ate their meal in silence, as seemed to be the Voyager’s custom. The alien fish tasted especially briny, and its cooked flesh smelled unpleasant, but Hana gulped it down anyway, eager to please. She knew that Tiberius had worked hard to feed them.

“Well, that was worse than I remembered,” he grumbled, tossing the bones into the fire, “But it will sustain us. We will go to the beach when you are ready.” Hana grinned at the admittance and followed suit, tossing the remnants of her unpalatable meal into the flames.

“I’m ready,” she replied, grimacing as she rose. Tiberius gave a nod and held out his hand, helping her once more to the shoreline. When they arrived he settled Hana down on the sand, seating himself cross-legged beside her. The bioluminescent glow of the sea matched the celestial display of space above, painting a portrait of light on the black canvas. Hana sighed contentedly. The island had seemed so foreign when they had first arrived only days before, but sitting on the beach with Tiberius beside her now seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

“I brought you back to the beach because it seemed to play a part in triggering your last episode of Chronesthesia. A person’s memories are often linked to their physical world, in more ways than one. Touch, taste, smell, sight, sound, all of these senses dwell in our past experiences as well as in our present. In the future, I want you to be able to exercise more control over the effect that your physical environment has on your state of mental consciousness. Can you think of what might have caused your mind to recall the memory of your father? What physical sensations were you experiencing, at that moment in time, that could have linked you to your past?” Tiberius asked, waiting patiently for her reply.

Hana looked at the Voyager, wide-eyed in the darkness. Already her training was off to a rocky start. She dropped her gaze, lifting a hand to tug at the back of her cropped hair in embarrassment.

“I don’t think the memory was connected to the beach,” she admitted awkwardly, avoiding looking Tiberius in the eye.

“No?” he asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion. Hana couldn’t find it in herself to tell him the whole truth, that her father’s words had been triggered by the sight of Tiberius’s bared body, by the erotic pounding of her heart. It all had less to do with the memory of her father, and more to do with Hana’s recollection of The Iliad. ‘…There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad.’ Instead of disclosing her blossoming feelings for him, Hana presented Tiberius with a half-truth.

“I think I connected the memory with...you,” she said, glancing up into his stunned countenance. “You remind me of my father sometimes,” Hana finished quickly, attempting to avoid humiliation. It wasn’t a lie exactly, only an omittance.

“Oh,” Tiberius returned, his face shadowed in the darkness. “In what ways?”

Hana chewed on her lip, thinking for a moment. “Like you, my father was someone who I respected. He was constantly reading, learning, taking in the world around him. I guess in many ways he opened the universe to me, as you are now. He devoted quite a lot of study to multiverse theory and the discovery of parallel universes. I always wanted to be a scientist like him when I was a child.”

Tiberius nodded, seeming to accept the truth of her explanation.

“Did you know Tahlia’s parents?” Hana asked suddenly, wondering if her doppelganger's upbringing was similar to that of her own.

“I did,” Tiberius affirmed, stiffening visibly at the utterance of Tahlia’s name.

“Were they scientists like my parents were?” Hana asked, hoping that, in some universe or version of reality, her parents lived on.

“No,” the Voyager said, his eyes distant. “They were our King and Queen prior to that of Tahlia’s reign. I served them when I first joined the royal guard as a youth. It was the King’s last act to name me acting captain. He trusted me to take care of his daughter, to keep her safe.” Tiberius's jaw clenched tightly and he looked away.

“We can’t help who we love, can we?” Hana asked quietly, looking out to the reflection of the moons glistening on the rolling sea beneath. From the corner of her eye, she could see Tiberius studying her.

“I made a vow of celibacy when I joined the guard. I vowed again when I was tasked to serve as its captain. The first vow I made, I had every intention of keeping, the second I knew I could not uphold, nor did I wish to. I was already in love with Tahlia by that point, and I knew serving as her captain would bring me even closer to her. It was dishonorable,” Tiberius admitted, his shoulders sagging as though weighed down by his shame. “Do you think less of me now?”

Hana looked up at him in surprise, a silvered ray of moonlight illuminating the whitened tissue of his scarred eye, his brow arched. “Of course not,” she replied emphatically, “You saved my life, Tiberius.”

“Twice,” he countered with a teasing smile.

“Twice,” Hana conceded, rolling her eyes but grinning ruefully. Tiberius made it so easy for her to forget herself when she was with him, to forget all of the trauma she had been put through. Her mind turned, as it seemed to do so often, to his fingers tracing lightly up her jaw. She suppressed a shudder of pleasure. It was not her he had been caressing, not in his mind anyway, and that was the only place that mattered.

“We are very different, Tahlia and I,” Hana said, changing the subject, “Why is that? If our shared existences are nothing more than memory, repetition, then wouldn’t we each be exact copies of the other?”

“Small deviations, a single change in course, can create massive differences in the space-time continuum. You are not Tahlia, just as I am not Sano. We are too similar to be a coincidence, too different to be mere duplicates. This, Sano never understood. It is why he held such a disregard for the lives he was taking. To him, they were only copies,” Tiberius explained, his face hardening at the mention of his counterpart.

“So my face bears only the memory of her,” Hana said, not knowing which was worse, to be the woman’s copy or her ghost. She was fishing for answers from him, but Hana didn’t care. She was desperate to better understand the strange chemistry between them.

“As you said yourself, you are very different from the woman that Tahlia was,” Tiberius replied carefully. Clearing his throat, he returned to the topic at hand.

“We should get on to training. Come, sit with your legs crossed. Lay your hands out at your sides and close your eyes.” Hana obeyed, the sound of the pounding surf seeming to grow louder with her eyes closed.

“Like this?” she asked, sinking slightly into the sand.

“Don’t round your back. Sit up on your hips more, as though you are trying to bring them into alignment with your shoulders. Good, Hana, better,” Tiberius’s disembodied voice instructed her. “When you breathe, let your exhale be longer than your inhale. It will help to still your mind. Nice filling inhales and long flowing exhales. As you release, let your muscles soften and relax,” Tiberius said, his deep rumbling voice putting Hana at ease.

They sat like that for longer than Hana could say, letting their breath fall into a soothing rhythm. Her mind wandered, thinking back to the detailed designs covering Tiberius’s chest and back. She wondered what meaning they held for him, if they hailed back to his time in the royal guard, or if they had more to do with his unique abilities. She had never seen such an extensive covering of tattoos. The intricate patterns ran from the Voyager’s neck to back, chest to waist, feet to calves, and perhaps further still...

“Where is your mind, Hana?” Tiberius asked, making her jump. His pointed words felt like an accusation. She peeped an eye at him, but his face remained passive and his eyes closed. Hana did not trust herself to answer, so she remained silent, focusing on restoring her breathing to a smooth cadence.

“Focus on being mindful. Keep your thoughts in check, hold them to the present moment. Tune in to your senses, the feel of the sand beneath you, the sound of the ocean, the night air on your skin. Let these sensations ground you in the here and now.”

Suddenly Tiberius was on top of her, pinning her to the ground beneath him. The force of his body knocking into her own made Hana’s rib cage throb, but he was so close that she did not care. The smell of him filled her nose, evoking thoughts of rain and fire and sea. His body was hot to the touch, branding itself into her own. In the darkness, his face was obscured, but Hana didn’t care, she wanted him. Her legs parted, allowing his body to meld with her own, her hand rising to caress his scarred cheek. Her mouth opened, ready to explore the taste of him when his hand clamped down over it. Hana panicked, the gesture conjuring unwelcome memories of violence. She thrashed beneath him, trying to free herself, only stopping when she heard voices emerging from within the jungle.

Tiberius was rigid above her, trying to keep his weight off of her battered chest as they flattened before the sand dune. Hana recalled his words when they had first arrived on the alien planet. ‘It would be… unfortunate to meet another of our kind in this place.’ Terror gripped her, and she scarcely dared to breathe, lest the strangers be alerted to their presence. She wondered if Tiberius had any weapons other than the dagger he kept sheathed on his belt.

The voices multiplied above them, one turning into five, then eight, then ten. There were too many of them. Even Tiberius would not be able to subdue them all.

“Get us out of here,” Hana pleaded desperately, “get us out of here now!”

“I can’t,” Tiberius growled over her, “I’m not in the right... state of mind.” She looked up at him questioningly. He was tense with more than just adrenaline, she could see that now. Hana’s proximity was taking a toll on him. Her body had opened to him, and his had responded in kind.

A high pitched whine sounded above their heads, the muzzle of a gun coming to rest on Tiberius’s forehead. “Alright, lovebirds, hands where I can see them or I’ll blow your heads off before you can say, ‘Hausafan’.”