Never Brought to Mind, by Sue Castle (Jan. 1997). No infringement
intended.
Not rated.
Happy New Year.
When Chakotay had suggested the party that
first year, she had had her misgivings. New Year was a time to spent with friends and family, and too many of both were too
far away. But Captain Janeway knew that it was
imperative to keep morale as high as possible in trying circumstances, and she
had approved the bash. With Tom Paris spiking the punch, Harry providing the
music, Neelix and Kes going
all out on the feast, B'Elanna improvising, of all
things, a mirror ball out of scrap parts, and Tuvok
making sure none of the rowdier Maquis versus Star
Fleet arguments got out of hand, it had gone surprisingly well. Now, four years
into the voyage home, it had turned into one of the most anticipated parties of
the year.
Tonight's festivities were no exception. Spirits were well lubricated and
flying high, buoyed by an unusually peaceful fortnight of high speed flight. While no promising wormholes or spacial
anomalies had appeared, neither had any hostile raiders or unfriendly new
species with territorial tendencies. They were well stocked up with food
supplies, the engine was almost purring, and the gelpacks
hadn't had a sniffle in weeks. Even the not- officially-acknowledged still was
working, leading to a rather high-octane but thoroughly appreciated party
punch.
Keeping a careful eye on the proceedings, Tom Paris was pleased to see
his New Years offering being so heartily enjoyed. Talk was flowing freely,
couples were dancing here and there in the corners of the main holosuite, programmed to recreate a grand hotel ballroom
from bygone days. The early tensions had eased over the years as the two
opposing factions gradually learned to be one crew, relying on each other for
their lives against the vagaries of the unknown space around them. Us against
the universe, he smiled to himself, leaning against the side wall and watching
the ebb and flow around him. Harry and B'Elanna,
caught up in a spirited discussion across the room, caught his attention, and
the smile softened.
Good friends. He was so lucky to be where he was, surrounded by the
people he cared about, caring about the people he was with. It was an unusual
situation for him. All his life, the holidays had been his father's show.
Mixing and mingling with the upper echelon of Star Fleet and the diplomatic
corps, best suit shining, saying all the right things to all the right people,
trying so hard to bring an expression of approval to his father's disinterested
face, his aunt's unconcerned one, his grandmother's frankly oblivious one. No,
they didn't seem to notice his effort. Only the effects when those efforts
failed. For a long moment, his body went completely still as he slipped back
into the past, surrounded by the ghosts that had bound his life to a course
that was wrong for him for so many years.
His first year at
Tuvok stared placidly at
the celebrating crewmembers from so many races, laughing, talking, drinking, dancing. While his trained eye automatically cataloged the
behavior in front of him, ever watchful for potential friction or an overly
exuberant celebrant, his mind turned inward. Vulcan celebrated in an utterly different
manner than this. Logical, of course, and deeply satisfying
in its own way. He remembered the sound of his wife's voice, reviewing
the actions and lessons of the year past, his children's eyes focused
unwaveringly on their mother, sharing and learning in a uniquely close way that
defined family to him. For an instant, the reality of his separation from them
clenched the muscles in his throat and caused a fine tremor in his hands, but
he overcame it with a conscious effort of will. He would see them again, if it
was to be. Until then, he would remember, and honor, in his own way. He
swallowed firmly, loosening the knot in his throat, took a deep breath, and
resumed his watch.
Kes surveyed the
energetic crowd around her and basked in the warm flow of emotions from her
adopted people. So many good friends, and their loyalty and love had proven
themselves time and again. They had walked through fire for her, waded into a
civil war for her, come for her when she had no hope of rescue. She remembered
the times her friends had risked themselves for her and felt incredibly
blessed. Flashing a blinding smile at Neelix, she
reached out to him and caught his larger hand in her own, squeezing strongly.
He smiled back at her, a little startled but so very
pleased at her pleasure. If the new year was anything
like the old, it was going to be one heck of a ride.
Shaking her finger at her companion in laughing reproof for his hideous
pun, B'Elanna couldn't hold back the threatened
laugh. Harry could be so ridiculous sometimes, and always with that earnest,
little boy innocence plastered all over his round face, only the wicked twinkle
in his eyes giving him away. She took another sip of fiery punch and noticed
Tom leaning against the wall. Raising her glass in salute to his mixing skills,
she waited for his answering smile before returning her attention to the
conversation flowing around her. If someone had told her five years ago, while
she was band-aiding shuttles together and trying to turn them into weapons in the
fight for freedom against the Cardassians, that she'd
be snickering over bad puns in the holosuite of a
Star Fleet starship with a baby-faced Ensign for one best friend and an
ex-convict pilot for another, she'd have hurt herself laughing. But this ... this
was good. For the first time in a very long time, the first emotion she felt
when she woke up in the morning was not anger. It was anticipation. Not to
fight, or strike out, but to work, create, invent. She was surrounded by
friends, not comrades in arms, and it felt ... good. No matter how long it took
to get back home, these would be the times she remembered.
Harry crowed a little to himself. He'd finally gotten B'Elanna
to laugh so hard at one of his truly bad puns that she'd actually snorted, then
blushed. He so seldom got to her, and he almost never got her to blush. It was
worth the effort. She was gorgeous when she dropped her defenses. For a spare
moment, her dark features were overlaid with a paler, smoother bone structure,
longer dark hair, softer brown eyes. Libby stared at
him from B'Elanna's face, and he swallowed dryly,
eyes going wide in a suddenly pale face. Muttering a quick excuse, he watched B'Elanna turn to Chakotay to
answer a laughing question, and turned rather blindly to head to the cluster of
tables by the bar. Settling tiredly into one of the cushioned chairs, he stared
vacantly at the couples dancing to the soft music from the holoband.
He thought he was handling it pretty well, had decided that Tom was right,
after all, and Libby would have gone on with her life, and it wasn't fair to
her or healthy for himself to continue to pine for
her. But there were times when the sense of loss would hit him with the force
of a body blow and he would miss her with his whole heart. He wondered,
vaguely, if it ever completely went away. He would go for days, and then in a
moment, she would be all he could remember, and he wondered if he would ever
forget.
She saw his stricken look from her place at the bar and thought for a
moment before deciding to join him. Harry was one of her favorite junior
officers, and right now he looked like he needed a friend. Gesturing to an
empty chair, she asked, "This seat taken?" He looked up and made an
effort to smile before shaking his head. Sensing that he was not in the mood
for small talk, she settled in comfortably and offered him silent company.
Holidays were the hardest, she knew. She missed Mark, and Bear, and her family,
fiercely. Harry was undoubtedly thinking of his family, and she understood his
need to withdraw from the gaiety for awhile, center himself, remember and
grieve, in the midst of the celebration. Captain Janeway
never gave up hoping for a miracle, but she also never expected one. It would
be a long time home, and until then, the best she could do was to be there for
her crew, her friends, when they needed her. Feeling the tension seeping from
the young man seated opposite her, she shared a smile with him, and relaxed
into her own memories.
He had always been a spiritual man, although he had fought it as a
youngster. But celebrations such as this served to remind Chakotay
of the depths of that spirit. His eyes saw laughter and flirting and
conversations on many levels, but his heart saw healing, and coping, and
retrospection, and hope. Each new year was a relief
that they had survived the past one, and an anticipation that the new one would
bring hard-held desires ... to be happy, to be better, some way, to get home.
His mind flashed back to his father, so patient with his own impetuousness, so
cherished, too late told. Silently, he thanked him for that patience, and
shared with him the joy in his soul that they were all together, safe for the
moment, and finding their way home. It was so different from the celebrations
of his youth, the wild times he remembered and the quiet times he thought of
often when he needed to draw strength from them, but it was better than he had
hoped to find when fighting for his people, and satisfying in a way he would
remember the rest of his days.
Happy for once to be free of the portable holoemitter,
the least physically substantial and most acerbic member of the crew took a
deep breath and smiled rather smugly at the party. Bits and pieces of
conversation came to him and he settled behind the bar, content to observe and
learn. Since his forced 're-boot' he had lost so many
memories, but snatches were coming back to him. It was an odd but fascinating
concept to think of himself as a crew member, and the casual acceptance of the
people around him gave him a contentment deeper than
he had expected. Not that he would let any of them know. He wasn't the sappy
sort, after all. But still, it was warming, in ways he hadn't thought he'd
need. Humming a Verdi tune under his breath, the Doctor straightened his beret
and mixed another synthetic gin and tonic.
Shrugging away from the wall, he moved slowly into the crowd, exchanging
smiles and comments as he went.
end