Hidden Talents
A/N: I originally posted this in 2015, as a birthday present for MissyHissy3. Have decided to re-post, with bits of editing here and there.
It's like you took the giant Christmas tree
at Rockefeller Center and
you spread it out paper thin
but you were careful not to break a bulb
and then you mirrored it a million fold
to shine
and shine
and shine along
One
"No," said Chakotay.
"Oh come on, Commander," said Paris, keeping step with him into the turbolift. "At this rate the only member of senior staff we'll have participating will be Tuvok."
"Bridge," Chakotay ordered the 'lift briefly, before adding, "That's too bad, but the answer's still no. As it has been the previous four times you've asked me. Lieutenant, you can ask me the same question every morning from now until we get back to the Alpha Quadrant, and I can guarantee the answer will always be the same. No."
"You do know that Tuvok's planning to deliver a reading of Vulcan poetry?" Paris pressed. "If we don't get more acts, he'll just offer to read more to fill the time. You'd do that to the crew?"
"What can I tell you, Paris? I'm a hard man."
"Can't you just… carve some wood, or something?"
Chakotay looked at him. "That would be preferable to Vulcan poetry?"
Tom grimaced. "Not really."
"Right."
"But I have reason to believe that having you on stage doing anything at all will make at least half the audience happy, so…" Paris shrugged. "How about boxing? Didn't you used to be pretty good?"
"You want the first officer to stand on a stage and pummel someone in front of the whole crew?"
Paris blinked. "It'd depend who was getting the pummelling."
"You know, I think I've got a suggestion…"
"All right, all right," sighed Tom, as the 'lift slid to a halt. "No boxing. Got it."
"I'm telling you, Paris," Chakotay said as they stepped onto the Bridge, "you are not getting me on that stage. I have no demonstrable talents with which to entertain the crew. Voyager's talent night will just have to struggle on without me."
"We'll see," Paris muttered, as he headed for helm.
Chakotay thought he'd headed off Tom's questioning for good. For the next few days, Lieutenant Paris was entirely silent on the subject of the upcoming event. The first officer was relieved. As good as talent night might prove to be for morale, he really hated the idea of having to get up in front of people and perform. Besides, he genuinely couldn't think of anything he could do that would fit the bill, and in any case Chakotay was pretty sure that plans were proceeding perfectly acceptably without a turn from Voyager's first officer.
"I've just had Neelix send me an update on the progress of talent night," Janeway told him a few days later, over their daily morning briefing in her ready room. "Looks to be coming along well."
"Yes, there seems to be a real buzz about it," Chakotay agreed. "Every time I go into the mess hall, someone's talking about who'll be doing what."
The Captain, seated at her desk, rested her chin on her palm and cast her gaze towards the stars spinning past her window. "Neelix keeps trying to get me to participate," she said.
Chakotay watched her profile, thinking that she seemed a little wistful this morning. He used these short morning meet-ups to gauge her wellbeing. Kathryn's moods were subtle, and she always did her best to keep them hidden, especially when she was feeling down. But over the past two and a half years of their journey he had learned to read her, and this morning he could sense her sadness. Perhaps she hadn't slept well, or maybe there was something specific back home today that she was missing – a birthday, or an anniversary. Whatever the cause, during the course of the day he'd try to find a way to lift her spirits.
"Are you tempted?"
Janeway turned back to him. "Oh no, not at all. The only appropriate talent – if you can call it that – I could possibly think of to offer would be a very simple approximation of the dance of the dying swan from Swan Lake."
Chakotay felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Ballet?"
The Captain reached for her coffee. "I used to dance as a child. Right into my teens, in fact. I still love to, although it's very rare that I have the opportunity."
"Well – perhaps this is one?"
Janeway shook her head. "I don't think getting up in front of the crew in a leotard and a tutu will do anything to help my gravitas as Captain, Chakotay. Not to mention that I'm not sure my feet could handle the en pointe anymore. Too much time spent in Starfleet boots. No, I shall be happy to watch from my prized seat in the front row. How about you?"
He took a mouthful of his tea. "Oh no. Paris can do a deal with the devil himself if he likes and he still won't find a way to get me on that stage. Unless he wants to volunteer as I use him to demonstrate a sudden discovery of my people's ancient skill at fire eating. Actually, come to think of it…"
Janeway smiled. It was small, but it was there.
[TBC]