Author's Note: around "Threshold"
The mist moved silently. It crept around corners and phased through walls, making its way with purpose down to deck fourteen. It paused by the crewmembers it passed, taking a moment to creep into each of their minds and glimpse their emotional states. Most of them were occupied with their tasks at hand, and it moved on quickly. When it encountered someone whose mind was preoccupied with thoughts of relationship issues, it took a moment to impart words of encouragement to their subconscious.
At last, it reached its destination and drifted through the bulkhead into Ensign Hayes' quarters.
The lights were dimmed, and the room was lit by a single white candle. Kayla Hayes knelt on the floor in front of the candle, her eyes closed and her fingers steepled in a traditional Vulcan meditative pose. When the mist approached her and reached out to her mind, it found her thoughts focused on one thing – calling out to the mist.
She didn't know who she was calling to, but she knew there was someone out there who had heard her words and she was determined to find them again. She had taken up meditation in the hopes of focusing her thoughts enough to get her words through, and it had worked.
I hear you, the mist projected into her mind.
Kayla's thoughts immediately began to race. Who are you? her mind blurted out. Her consciousness was instantly enveloped by overwhelming sensations – a feeling of longing and indescribable joy, a vision of swirling clouds of red energy, a sensation of something soft and fluffy touching her left arm, and a taste of the colour blue.
That is my name, the mist told her. That is the identity that will mean more to you than my human name ever would.
Thank you, Kayla thought to the entity. She paused, then asked, Why did you speak to me all those weeks ago?
Helping people gives me gratification, the entity responded, and you seemed like you needed some words of encouragement.
Do you mind coming back to talk to me again sometime?
Anytime you need me, the mist said. And then it slowly retreated from her mind.
The entity watched as Kayla opened her eyes and smiled a happy smile. She leaned forward and blew out the candle, never seeing the spectral being that rose with the smoke up towards the ceiling and vanished.
Chakotay watched as Janeway's eyebrows crept higher and higher up her forehead and her eyes went through the five stages of grief before finally settling on 'acceptance'. He ate his meal slowly, watching the micro expressions flash across her face.
Finally, she set the padd down on the table and looked up at him.
"And how did you say you came across this?" she asked.
Chakotay considered his words before answering. "I heard a rumour," he said. The truth was, he had come across a crewmember reading it in the Messhall during one of his noncorporeal adventures and had looked up the file for himself later, but that would take too long to explain.
"And who wrote it?" Janeway asked.
"I'm still trying to trace them."
Janeway sighed and picked up her fork again, stabbing rather sharply at her food.
"So what did you think?" Chakotay asked.
"It was… imaginative."
"Which part do you think was the most… inspired?" he asked. "The part where he ripped out his tongue? Or when travelling at transwarp made him hyper-evolve into a giant salamander? Or the part where you and he—"
"Stop." Janeway pushed her plate away and buried her face in her hands. "Please tell me this fanfiction isn't the beginning of a trend."
"…Actually…"
"Oh no."
"…I found more."
"Please don't tell me about it."
"There's quite a few… intriguing fantasies about you, actually."
"…Fuck."
Chakotay stared at her, wide-eyed. "I have never heard you swear like that before."
"It's a swearing kind of occasion."
He laughed at that and picked up the padd she had discarded. "There's another one I found that I think you should see."
Janeway slapped the padd out of his hands. "Don't."
"Have you ever tried writing out a fantasy?" Chakotay asked. "In fact, let's do that. Let's write a short story for the 'Voyager Fanfiction Archive'."
"There's a whole archive of this stuff?"
"Yep. So let's see…" He opened a blank document on the padd and began to type. "'Once upon a time, on the Starship Voyager…' What do you think should happen?"
"Nothing happens and there's an abundance of coffee. The end."
"Okay, you're no fun. 'Once upon a time on the starship Voyager, Captain Kathryn Janeway came upon a mystery.' Yeah, this'll be good. 'The Criminal Coffee Caper'. No. 'The Mystery of the Missing… Macchiato?' Gods, can you imagine if someone stole your coffee rations?"
"If they did, they'd be dead," Kathryn said solemnly.
"Okay, a mystery seems hard to write. How about a romance?"
"Not with me."
"But you're everyone's favourite topic to write about! Listen to this." He pulled up the fanfiction archive and scrolled through until he found the story he was looking for. "Here. 'Kathryn Janeway had never felt anything so intense in her life. The Maquis leader's eyes seemed to smoulder as he stood in front of her, barely a hair's breadth away. His breath was warm on her cheek and his scent stoked a fire in her heart.'"
Kathryn was adamantly shaking her head with each word he read, dropping her napkin on the table and pushing her chair back. "Nope. Nuh-uh. Not doing this."
"'His gaze seemed to penetrate her defences and she felt her heart go to Red Alert.'" He stood up and followed her as she left the table and tried to put some distance between herself and his embarrassing words. "'"This can only end one way, Captain," Chakotay said. "With your ship in my hands and you in my bed."'"
"Absolutely not!" She picked up a pillow and flung it at him. It bounced off his head and dropped to the floor. "Gods, that is bad writing! And so completely not you!"
"'"Oh, Chakotay," Kathryn sighed.'" Chakotay continued reading, a shit-eating grin covering his face.
"My voice is not that high-pitched and nasally!" Kathryn protested.
"Is too!"
"Is not!"
He dodged a second tossed pillow, then ran at her and tackled her onto the couch. They both collapsed in a pile of giggles. "Now," he said, rolling onto the floor and switching the padd back to his document, "help me write this mystery story."
"Alright, but you owe me a coffee."
