Drowning in a Strawberry Daiquiri
by Sara
sara_g50 (at) hotmail.com
Written for Liz's Cocktail Challenge, http://gatefiction.com/cocktail
Disclaimer: Paramount owns them, I'm just doing this for fun.
~@~@~@~
She sits over there, a full glass, fresh strawberry and all, sitting in front of her. She stares out the viewscreen, but I wonder if she really sees the stars out there. I wouldn't be surprised if her drink has been sitting there, untouched for half an hour, or more. I wonder what she thinks about.
I know her mother called earlier because communications patched it through while we were both on the bridge. I know she had an argument with Will because I over-heard them finishing it before they walked into the briefing this morning. I know she's been distracted lately because I had to fix the mistake she made on the diagnostic the night before last.
I realise that, when it comes down to it, I don't know her as well as she lets me think I do. She lets you think you know her while keeping her distance, not letting anyone get too close. I've worked with her for nearly a decade. We've gone on more away missions together than I can count. We've saved each other's lives countless times. But if you were to ask me to name her favourite musician or what she really wants from life, I would probably put on a confused look, maybe stutter a bit, and ask Data. He'd know the musician but I'm sure would draw a blank on the other question as well.
I don't know her at all, not the important stuff anyways, and I think she likes it that way. She likes that she knows all about the rest of us. She probably knows the inner workings of my mind better than I do, and likes it that way. She likes it that way because it gives her an edge, an advantage over the rest of us.
As soon as the thought emerges from my sub-conscious, I feel horrible about even thinking it. Not that I think I'm wrong, but it's just so uncharitable. How many times has she come back from a tough assignment and had to put the rest of us back together? She puts this serene mask on (I'm sure it's only a cover) and proceeds with her work. I wouldn't be surprised if she were, in fact, the least sane of all of us.
I turn back to watch her again, not that anything has changed. Except the strawberry's gone. I don't see anything in her hand, and no evidence of the stem. It must have fallen into her drink. Drowning in a strawberry margarita.
Actually, it must be a daiquiri. I don't think after her last experience with tequila she would be too eager to indulge in it again, even the synthaholic variety.
Something tells me, though, that her drink's the real thing. It's not just the way I can see it melting, or how the components of the drink are slowly separating. It's something about the way she's treating it. As if she's studiously ignoring it while she decides if she really want to drink it.
Or maybe it's just I never thought I'd see her with a strawberry daiquiri sitting in front of her. A large, sinfully decadent chocolate something, sure, but a fruity frozen cocktail?
Maybe it's just another thing I don't know about her.
She takes a tentative sip of her drink, holding the little blue umbrella out of the way. She crinkles up her face. Perhaps she hadn't chosen the daiquiri over chocolate. I quickly look away as her eyes lift and begin to turn in my direction. I take a long sip of my coffee. It had gone cold and tastes horrible, but I don't realise this until my mouth is full of the stuff.
As I walk towards the replicator, I notice she has turned back to the viewscreen, staring off into space. Literally this time, I think for some reason.
Once I get to there, I decide I don't really feel like more coffee. It might be nice to get some sleep eventually tonight. I browse through the files for a bit until I realise what I'm looking for. It takes a few seconds for me to notice my order has materialised.
It's cold on my hand as I walk towards her table. I approach from behind her, so she doesn't see me coming. Maybe it is her empathic sense, but she turns around and sees approaching. When she sees what I carry, her smile broadens. More genuine now, I think.
I come around and place the chocolate creation on the table, next to the completely liquefied daiquiri.
"I thought I'd bring you something you'd enjoy while you stare into space."
She pushes the drink out of the way and pulls the chocolate so it's directly in front of her.
"Thank you. Oh, it looks gorgeous."
She takes a bite of chocolate cake and chocolate sauce. Her face lights up.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it. I'll leave you to it, and the stars."
"The daiquiri wasn't my idea, in case you're wondering. One of the new lieutenants brought it over for me. While I tried to let him down easy, I didn't want to make him feel too badly by refusing the drink." I smile at this; maybe I know her better than I think.
"I'll see you in the morning."
I turn to leave, but before I do, "Geordi."
I look back. She has a spoon full of chocolate on a direct course to her mouth. "Thank you. I probably could have drowned in the daiquiri, but I'd still be here. Chocolate, though, has endless possibilities for escapism."
I figure it doesn't really matter what she's escaping. It's enough that I could provide a vehicle.
Written for Liz's Cocktail Challenge, http://gatefiction.com/cocktail
Disclaimer: Paramount owns them, I'm just doing this for fun.
~@~@~@~
She sits over there, a full glass, fresh strawberry and all, sitting in front of her. She stares out the viewscreen, but I wonder if she really sees the stars out there. I wouldn't be surprised if her drink has been sitting there, untouched for half an hour, or more. I wonder what she thinks about.
I know her mother called earlier because communications patched it through while we were both on the bridge. I know she had an argument with Will because I over-heard them finishing it before they walked into the briefing this morning. I know she's been distracted lately because I had to fix the mistake she made on the diagnostic the night before last.
I realise that, when it comes down to it, I don't know her as well as she lets me think I do. She lets you think you know her while keeping her distance, not letting anyone get too close. I've worked with her for nearly a decade. We've gone on more away missions together than I can count. We've saved each other's lives countless times. But if you were to ask me to name her favourite musician or what she really wants from life, I would probably put on a confused look, maybe stutter a bit, and ask Data. He'd know the musician but I'm sure would draw a blank on the other question as well.
I don't know her at all, not the important stuff anyways, and I think she likes it that way. She likes that she knows all about the rest of us. She probably knows the inner workings of my mind better than I do, and likes it that way. She likes it that way because it gives her an edge, an advantage over the rest of us.
As soon as the thought emerges from my sub-conscious, I feel horrible about even thinking it. Not that I think I'm wrong, but it's just so uncharitable. How many times has she come back from a tough assignment and had to put the rest of us back together? She puts this serene mask on (I'm sure it's only a cover) and proceeds with her work. I wouldn't be surprised if she were, in fact, the least sane of all of us.
I turn back to watch her again, not that anything has changed. Except the strawberry's gone. I don't see anything in her hand, and no evidence of the stem. It must have fallen into her drink. Drowning in a strawberry margarita.
Actually, it must be a daiquiri. I don't think after her last experience with tequila she would be too eager to indulge in it again, even the synthaholic variety.
Something tells me, though, that her drink's the real thing. It's not just the way I can see it melting, or how the components of the drink are slowly separating. It's something about the way she's treating it. As if she's studiously ignoring it while she decides if she really want to drink it.
Or maybe it's just I never thought I'd see her with a strawberry daiquiri sitting in front of her. A large, sinfully decadent chocolate something, sure, but a fruity frozen cocktail?
Maybe it's just another thing I don't know about her.
She takes a tentative sip of her drink, holding the little blue umbrella out of the way. She crinkles up her face. Perhaps she hadn't chosen the daiquiri over chocolate. I quickly look away as her eyes lift and begin to turn in my direction. I take a long sip of my coffee. It had gone cold and tastes horrible, but I don't realise this until my mouth is full of the stuff.
As I walk towards the replicator, I notice she has turned back to the viewscreen, staring off into space. Literally this time, I think for some reason.
Once I get to there, I decide I don't really feel like more coffee. It might be nice to get some sleep eventually tonight. I browse through the files for a bit until I realise what I'm looking for. It takes a few seconds for me to notice my order has materialised.
It's cold on my hand as I walk towards her table. I approach from behind her, so she doesn't see me coming. Maybe it is her empathic sense, but she turns around and sees approaching. When she sees what I carry, her smile broadens. More genuine now, I think.
I come around and place the chocolate creation on the table, next to the completely liquefied daiquiri.
"I thought I'd bring you something you'd enjoy while you stare into space."
She pushes the drink out of the way and pulls the chocolate so it's directly in front of her.
"Thank you. Oh, it looks gorgeous."
She takes a bite of chocolate cake and chocolate sauce. Her face lights up.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it. I'll leave you to it, and the stars."
"The daiquiri wasn't my idea, in case you're wondering. One of the new lieutenants brought it over for me. While I tried to let him down easy, I didn't want to make him feel too badly by refusing the drink." I smile at this; maybe I know her better than I think.
"I'll see you in the morning."
I turn to leave, but before I do, "Geordi."
I look back. She has a spoon full of chocolate on a direct course to her mouth. "Thank you. I probably could have drowned in the daiquiri, but I'd still be here. Chocolate, though, has endless possibilities for escapism."
I figure it doesn't really matter what she's escaping. It's enough that I could provide a vehicle.