Author's Note: This story takes place after the events of "Drive," but also considers the events in the teaser for "Imperfection." Harry has been duped by a woman once again, and this time he doesn't have his best friend to commiserate with. And with the departure of Mezoti, it is also quite possible one little girl is very sad and could use a shoulder. Just a moment within a moment along Voyager's journey towards home. Written in November, 2000. Rated PG.
Disclaimer: Paramount, er, CBS owns it all. I accept this.
To Fill A Tired Heart with Ease
by DianeB
Naomi sat in the small observation lounge, on a padded bench beneath a window looking out onto warping stars, but she wasn't looking out the window. Having successfully dodged both her mother and Neelix at the big party in the mess hall that was both a post-race celebration and a wedding reception, she was contemplating the most recent change in her life. Knees up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, she sat with one cheek on her knees, sighing, trying hard not to cry. On the table in the center of the room lay a small hairbrush.
She had been through quite a lot in her short life aboard Voyager, and she had even managed on several occasions to help get the ship out of trouble. But she had never felt quite this bereft before, not even when she thought her mother had been killed on an Away Mission when the Delta Flyer was forced to crash land while trying to avoid a level-seven ion storm. No, this was different, more personal somehow. Her young mind could not quite understand the why of it, only that it was and that she felt all hollowed out inside.
Mezoti was gone, had decided to go with Azan and Rebi to live on their home world. Naomi couldn't find fault with her decision; after all, this was her home quadrant, and she was physiologically compatible with the twins' race. It made sense for her to stay, but it didn't stop Naomi's heartbreak over it. She sat, lower lip quivering, remembering her last few days with Mezoti…
They were together in their favorite place on the starship: the hydroponics garden, now overseen by Noah Lessing, one of the officers from the Equinox. Noah never said much more than hello when they appeared, and he always left them to their business, but Naomi had an idea he was keeping an eye out somewhere, making sure they didn't hurt themselves or anything.
Naomi had learned from Seven that neither Noah nor any of the others from the Equinox had ever meant for the situation to get as far out of hand as it had. They were only following their captain's orders, and while they may have known the orders were immoral, they were not themselves bad people. It was only a bad situation, made worse by a captain who had gone insane. Seven said Noah even had a little girl in the Alpha Quadrant who was about her age. Naomi made a mental note right then to begin visiting Noah Lessing on a regular basis, and though she had yet to follow through on that, she still returned his smile and greeting whenever she went to the garden.
The girls sat cross-legged next to a tiny pool of water, fabricated by Noah during the first weeks of his time aboard Voyager. It was complete with a small, burbling fountain, and decorative fish in an array of bright colors. Mezoti was brushing Naomi's long, strawberry-blonde hair.
"You have the best hair."
"No, I don't. You do."
"No, I don't. You do."
"No, I don't. You do." This was a familiar game. They preferred playing it in the presence of either Icheb or Seven, since they knew how much it annoyed those two, but sometimes they went at it themselves just because it was fun. However, on this occasion, it was not quite as much fun.
"No, I don't. You do." This time, Mezoti punctuated the "you," with a jab to Naomi's ribs. Naomi, expecting the jab, swirled quickly and jabbed her back, and pretty soon they could not resist a full-blown ticklefest, tumbling together on the grass. When they were both nearly breathless, Naomi stopped tickling and stated bluntly.
"Don't go."
Mezoti pulled back and sat up, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder and turning her wide eyes to her new best friend. "I have to and I want to, you know that." She could be just as straightforward as Naomi, though anyone observing them might have been amazed at their level of maturity. Of course, one only had to consider Naomi's half-Katarian physiology and the fact that she was being raised by a shipful of adults, and Mezoti's Collective memories to realize they both could possibly be more mature than the captain herself. At least sometimes.
Naomi shifted her eyes to look into the pool. "Yeah, I know, but I'll miss you. It's been an awful lot of fun having you around. The twins, too." She looked back at Mezoti. "Who's gonna brush my hair?"
"Aw, you can get Seven to do it. She needs practice with that kinda stuff, anyway." Mezoti winked at Naomi. "Besides, Harry programmed a playground scenario for you, didn't he? And you've got the kids from the Fair Haven program. And Flotter, you'll always have Flotter, right?"
Naomi nodded, but she knew well the difference between real people and holodeck ones. The holodeck children couldn't share her time in hydroponics like this, nor could any of them have a sleepover in her quarters or go planetside on a shore leave. But she knew Mezoti was just trying to make her feel better. In an effort to ease her own distress, she changed the subject a little.
"How're the modifications to the portable regeneration pods coming?"
Mezoti immediately warmed to the question. "Seven's been working non-stop with Harry and Joe Carey, and I think they're almost ready to go. Harry said the pods' conduits have been…" And from there, the two girls launched into a discussion about engineering and design that would have made B'Elanna Torres proud.
The day after that, Mezoti left Voyager, and the most Naomi could do was hug her tightly outside cargo bay two. She couldn't bring herself to go to the transporter room. Mezoti understood, even if Seven and her mother did not, and that was all that mattered.
And then came that dumb starship race, and Tom and B'Elanna suddenly deciding to get married, and then yet another reason for a party, to which she was forced to attend. It was all just a little too much for the little redhead. So she escaped the first chance she got, and now here she was, unsure of what to do next.
oOo oOo oOo
Harry Kim walked glumly down the empty corridor, headed for a secondary observation lounge, which happened to be located (mathematically) as far away from the festivities in the mess hall as one could possibly get. In his hand was his clarinet, his instrument of choice in times of stress. He knew he could seal the room's door and play his aching heart out without anyone hearing a single note. Of course, sealing the door wouldn't matter much. There wasn't a soul on this deck.
Damn Irina and damn that stupid, stupid race. Why had he allowed Tom to accept the woman's challenge when she first appeared beside them in the asteroid field? Not that Tom would have listened to him, but he should have at least voiced a stronger objection. At least in the end he had managed to figure out what Irina was up to, but only by the skin of his teeth and a bit of cosmic luck. He had Tom to thank for making him learn that ridiculous Morse code, of course, but he didn't have Tom right now. No, the happy couple had slipped from the party almost as soon as it began. He wasn't jealous, he really wasn't, but he was still stinging from his own foolishness and just a little lonely. His music would help. It always did.
As he approached the observation lounge, he heard a small sound, muffled and high pitched. He stopped in the corridor, listening carefully. The sound came again, and this time he thought he recognized it. He spoke where he stood.
"Naomi, is that you?"
The sound stopped and Harry couldn't hear anything for about half a minute. Then a quiet, "Yes, it's me, Harry."
"May I come in?"
"I guess so."
He walked through the door to see her unfolding herself from the bench under the big window, twisting around to let her legs dangle over the side. He sat beside her, placing his clarinet across his lap, noticing her red-rimmed eyes and being careful not to mention it.
"Hey there. What's up with you? Why aren't you at the party?"
"Why aren't you?"
He grinned. "No fair. I asked you first."
She smiled. "I miss Mezoti. We coulda had a lot of fun at the party. We coulda dressed up and helped Neelix serve food."
"Well, you can still help Neelix, can't you?"
"Yeah, but I don't feel like it. Everyone's having…" She shook her head and scrunched up her forehead horns. "Oh…I dunno, it's like everyone's having too much fun, you know? It just…hurts." She turned her head away from him, looked out the window and sniffed loudly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She reached into the pocket of her jumper and brought out a crinkled tissue, using it to wipe her hand and then her nose again.
Harry smiled at her actions, so adult, yet so much like the child she still was. He reached out and gently tugged her hair. "Hey, kiddo, it's okay. It's okay to cry and it's okay to feel bad because you miss your friend. I miss mine, too, and he's not even gone."
"Yeah?" She turned her head to him, and he could see tears glittering in her eyelashes.
"Aw, c'mere." He held his arms out to her and she fell into them, sobbing without shame like only a child can. His clarinet rolled off his lap and onto the floor, but he let it go, knowing it would suffer no damage.
After a few minutes, Naomi's sobs quieted to sniffles and then to the occasional sharp intake of air. She sat up and used the hopelessly wadded tissue on her eyes.
"You better get your clarinet." She blew her nose and pointed to the floor.
"Ah," he waved his hand dismissively towards it, "it's okay down there." For the first time, he noticed the hairbrush on the table and cocked his head towards it.
"That your brush?"
She nodded but didn't look at him.
Harry thought about it for second. He remembered seeing Naomi and Mezoti brushing each other's hair in a corner of the mess hall, laughing and giggling and having the time of their lives. He wondered if he should risk asking, but the brush was sitting right there. He chanced a glance at her and saw her eyeing his clarinet on the floor. He quickly formulated his question.
"If I play a song for you, will you let me brush your hair?"
She quirked her eyebrow at him in perfect imitation of the Doctor. "An original composition?"
He smiled to himself. Sad or not, Naomi Wildman never missed a beat, and the pun was intentional. He allowed his smile to reach his lips.
"Deal."
Harry Kim began his favorite, a lively piece that represented Voyager's sleek lines and bio-neural circuitry. As he played, he envisioned the first time he had seen the starship, docked at Utopia Planetia. She was gorgeous and gleaming, vibrating with power held in check, like a horse at the gate at the start of a race, ready to take on the universe. He remembered vibrating almost as much as Voyager herself, and even now, he still thought about how very green he must have appeared to everyone else.
As time passed, Harry changed the song, adding a bridge that began with much discord, to reflect the struggle with Seven-of-Nine and ending with something lighter, more pleasant on the ears, to reflect the Borg enhancements and the relatively-successful introduction of Seven to her humanity. As he started into the bridge, he glanced at Naomi.
She was sitting with her back against the wall with her eyes closed. He watched how the harsh music affected her. She frowned and the freckles across her nose stood out on her pale face almost as sharply as her forehead horns. But as he moved into the sweeter tones, her expression changed, became less strained, and he could see color returning to her cheeks.
He was inspired in that moment to add a soothing finale that was brand new – something to show that in spite of their current woes, there was always hope. Hope for himself and for Naomi Wildman, and certainly for Voyager herself. They would make it home, in one piece, far ahead of the original estimation of seventy years, to great celebrations and fanfare. He would see his parents again, possibly Libby, too, and Naomi would finally get to meet her father and have some real playmates who wouldn't leave her just as she was getting comfortable with them.
He was forever being teased by Tom and others about his "Pollyanna attitude," and it occurred to him that this was probably just another Pollyanna thing, but he didn't care. He had made his young friend feel better and in the process, made himself feel better, too. He lowered the clarinet to his lap. As usual, it didn't take Naomi long to respond. Before the last note finished echoing in the room, she lifted her eyelids and smiled at him.
"That was pretty, Harry."
"Yeah, it was," he agreed, and then nodded almost to himself and repeated, "Yeah! It was! And guess what? I made up that last part for you, just now."
She brightened immediately. "You did? Wow, thanks!" It was clear her mood had improved as well.
He traded his clarinet for the hairbrush. Naomi scooted forward and released the band that held her braid, turned to sit cross-legged on the bench with her back to him, and gave her head a wild shake to loosen the braid's waves.
Harry brushed, and there was no sound for a while except the little static snaps produced by the brush. The recycled air was always a little dry in this lounge, despite repeated attempts to raise the humidity. Some of the minor things on Voyager just didn't work so well anymore.
"You have such pretty hair."
"No, I don't. You…oh, sorry, Harry." Naomi ears went pink in embarrassment as she bit her lower lip and frowned, but Harry couldn't figure out why, except that she had started to say something about his hair and then stopped. He didn't know what it was about, but he didn't want either of them to lose the good mood they seemed to be building. So he winged it.
"Hey!" He threw out his lower lip in a perfect pout, doing his best to look affronted. "I may not have much, but I think what I've got is pretty good." He ran his hand through his short, heavily-moussed hair, wiping his palm on the seat cushion in mock disgust.
His tactic worked with bells. Naomi burst into laughter and it was a few moments before she could explain. After she did, Harry answered honestly. "Well, I know my hair's not as good as Mezoti's, but you can brush it anytime you want."
Naomi quirked her eyebrow at him again, solemnly took the hairbrush from him, and waved him around. As he turned, he noticed with satisfaction that her eyes had reclaimed some of their usual sparkle.
End