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Time. It was always time that made her feel lost. Annika had long since accepted her sham marriage, the ridiculousness of being married to a man who preferred to push himself on other women, women brought low, captured, most times women who would be put to death. She had accepted her marriage was fake, a trick to keep people from the truth, but she could not yet bring herself to fight him. She had love enough, if hidden, in stolen moments with her Chief of Security, Raffaela Musiker. Later they would make a plan, a ‘honeymoon stage’ of Annika re-romancing her husband into a false sense of security before his death.
Time seemed to slow the closer they got to the end of their planned ‘honeymoon stage’, the blank slate of three days left echoing even as Annika looks again at the man she had been pushed into marrying, for the good of humanity.
Women were brought before them this day and Annika knew from the way both shivered that they had already entertained her husband, her gaze sharp on each woman before she turned away, looking directly past her husband to Raffaela Muisker, her guard, her chief of security. She, Annika knew, burned with a rage all her own. Losses had piled for them both, the one son Annika ever had before marriage put aside then killed in action alongside Raffaela’s own boy. Icheb and Gabe were buried side by side in her private memorial garden, a gesture to sooth a wounded soul that Annika knew would never quite heal.
“See them to their rooms. I would have words. Later.”
Raffaela’s eyes spark then and she nods, Annika sweeping from the room. She has time, now, a day before their shared gala, before they can see their plan to action. She must wait, bide her time, pray the last Romulan spy she freed will come through. Later he will bleed, as he must, but first he will be of use.
The day passes slowly, time dragging as they wait. Then, finally, the gala. Annika moves instinctively to select a formal dress that allows her movement but flatters her figure, the same gun-metal grey but now with sparkling twists of Silver. Accessories are as simple as a ring, the wedding ring, the last time she must wear his ring, a necklace of silver and simple grey stud earrings, allowing her to look regal enough but not overly fussy. It must appear normal.
She is quiet as she leads her husband to the hall, aware she has little time to be inside before he dies. She’s already at Raffaela’s side, drinking in the soft gold of the woman’s shirt, her suit the same gun-metal grey as Annika’s dress, chosen on purpose.
“Shall we dance, Madam President?”
Raffaela speaks softly, aware they are watched and Annika smiles, glad she thought this through enough to be unfazed by being watched so closely.
“We shall.”
Raffaela follows her to the dancefloor then, curling easily around Annika as they dance, soft golden curls tangling into Annika’s straightened hair to tangle them together, her lips finding Annika’s ear.
“Soon, my love… we shall have better days. You will have me, a far better ‘husband’ than he ever was…”
They are still dancing, quietly conversing and keeping the audience’s eyes on them when the scream cuts the air, Annika’s husband stumbling to the room even as guards drag the captured boy behind him.
Shock ripples through the room, seeming to stop time, the boy is pushed to his knees in front of Annika and Raffaela and, after a moment of silence, Annika nods.
“Enough is enough. He must pay.”
She is walking away even as blood spills again, her husband already dying, the boy following him in a chase to the afterlife. Raffaela moves to catch up to her, aware again of the eyes watching them both as she wipes her hands on the damp towel she had caught off a waiter as they passed, shoving the same towel at another before she follows Annika’s lead to the private rooms.
The door clicks locked, both women locking it with their personal codes, meaning both would need to release it, before Annika finally allows herself to breathe.
Raffaela is at her side in moments, loosening the dress and smoothing soft fingers over her back to ease her breathing.
“It’s over… he’s gone.”
“He leaves quite the legacy… those Romulan women…”
“Are yours to treat how you wish.”
Raffaela smiles slightly as she adds.
“The time is now, we heal and we rest… and we show them kindness.”
“In this world?”
“Who said we could not punish by keeping them here, alive? Our pets.”
Raffaela’s smile softens as she murmurs…
“We already changed the world, you are no longer his wife… and they all saw us leave together.”
“As Chief and Preisdent…”
“Perhaps in time we can… show them our true selves. Married.”
A flicker of fear crosses Annika’s eyes then but she nods.
“In time… for tonight… hold me?”
Raffaela smiles, her voice gentle and warm, surprisingly gentle for someone known for her growls and fierceness.
“It would be an honor… madam president.”
Time seems to slow again as they settle in bed together, Raffaela’s longer frame curling safely around Annika’s smaller frame.
“Sleep well, my love.”