18. "I picked these for you." (Lessing, Tabor, Doctor & Marika)

(Author's Note: This story refers to the episodes "Survival Instinct" and "Equinox".)

/

What in the name of the Pagh Wraiths does he want?

Ensign Tabor bent his head over a bowl of Neelix's vegetable casserole, resolutely avoiding eye contact with the science crewman heading towards him. Even from the corner of his eye, the dark-skinned, shaven-headed human was recognizable as one of the Equinox crew. If he wanted to sit at this table, he'd better think twice.

"Excuse me … "

Tabor looked up from his plate, and so did Chell and Marina Jor. Lessing hovered in front of the three of them, standing with his hands behind his back. He looked no more pleased to be there than they were to see him.

"What can we do for you today, Crewman?" asked Chell with exaggerated politeness.

"Ensign Tabor?" Lessing asked.

"That's my name."

"Right. I, uh … I heard you have a potted plant in your quarters."

Of all the ways to start a conversation. Chell hid a startled laugh behind his blue hand. Marina's black eyes widened. Tabor was so surprised, he almost forgot to be angry. "Yeah, so?"

"So … I work in Aeroponics, and I just got a request from the Doctor for a flowering yshara as soon as possible. I don't have any in stock, but if you have one, could you … spare a cutting?"

Tabor did. It was the only thing he'd saved from his grandfather's garden before the Cardassians had taken the old man away. His Maquis comrades used to make fun of him for fussing about flowers in a life like theirs, but whenever one of them got shot or stabbed, they'd been happy enough to drink the tea. It was a tough little thing and could survive a lot, but he'd never forgotten to water it, even if he had to cut his own rations instead.

"You're not getting my plant, Equinox," he snarled. "I've seen how you guys treat alien life forms."

Chell looked scandalized. Lessing flinched as if he'd been struck. Tabor felt guilty, then annoyed with himself for feeling guilty. Why should he worry about the feelings of someone complicit in mass murder?

"Tay," Marina said quietly, with a gentle hand on his arm. "It's a request from the Doctor. It must be important."

"It's not for me," Lessing added. "It's for Ensign Marika."

"And why would you give a damn about Ensign Marika?"

Tabor was fiercely protective of all his Bajoran brothers and sisters, and this one in particular. She had suffered so much, first Borg assimilation and then whatever the hell Seven of Nine had done; he wasn't clear on the details, but he was sure it must have hurt. The Equinox crew and all its evil didn't belong in the same galaxy with her, let alone in the same room.

He pushed his chair back sharply and rose to his feet, so that he and Lessing were almost nose to nose. The human was taller, but Tabor didn't care. He was sure he could still take him in a fight.

Lessing didn't flinch this time, though, and neither did he give Tabor the satisfaction of losing his temper. He only stared back with quiet determination. Apparently the same man who was so uncertain on his own behalf could develop a steel backbone when it came to someone else.

"Because I respect her," said the Equinox crewman. "She didn't take the easy way out. She didn't give up on her integrity even though it's slowly killing her. She's nothing like me, is that what you were gonna say? But that doesn't matter. What matters is that those goddamn nanoprobes are eating her alive and she needs something for the pain."

He didn't shout, but the suppressed power of his deep voice seemed to swell with every sentence until the table shook. He didn't look away once.

Tabor dropped his fork into a pile of yesterday's soggy blue florets, picked up his tray and headed for the recycler. He'd lost his appetite. Feeling disgusted with yourself tended to do that. Chell's round blue face had turned an embarrassed indigo. Marina's eyes were bright with compassion for everyone concerned.

"You're right," he muttered without meeting Lessing's eyes. "It's in my quarters. I usually keep some of it dried, just in case, so … C'mon."

Lessing followed him without another word.

/

When the Doctor saw the Equinox and Maquis crewmen reporting to Sickbay, his first impulse was to grab his dermal regenerator. The last time this had happened, it had been Tessoni and Dalby after a fistfight, each with a black eye, accompanied by a stone-faced Commander Chakotay.

Lessing and Tabor, however, while avoiding each other's eyes and keeping their distance, were uninjured. Tabor was carrying a small cloth bag that, when opened, turned out to contain dried yellow flower petals. They rustled softly in the Doctor's hands. This was one of the times he wished he had a sense of smell.

He put down the dermal generator, picked up his tricorder instead and scanned the petals. They were yshara.

"We picked these for her," said Tabor in a hushed voice. "How's she doing?"

"If you wait a moment, she'll tell you herself."

The Doctor shimmered through the force field to stand beside Marika's bed. Her head was nodding sideways on the pillow, but when she spotted him, alertness came back into her face.

"You have visitors, Ensign."

"How do I look?"

"You may want to comb your hair and button your shirt."

She scowled at him, smoothed down her bedhead and closed the top button of her orange silk pyjamas. It took longer than usual with her unsteady hands, but she would have swatted him away if he'd tried to do these things for her. She was holding on to even the smallest measures of independence as long as she still could.

By the time Lessing and Tabor had stepped around the screen, Marika looked tidy, if not well. Nothing could be done about the greyish cast of her skin or the way her Borg implants stood out, but she smiled at her guests as if she were the Captain herself, welcoming alien diplomats to her ready room.

"Afternoon, gentlemen," she said. "I remember you. You came to my prayer meeting."

"Yes, ma'am." It was Lessing who answered, not Tabor. "It was … " He cleared his throat. "A beautiful service."

"I know, right? The Vedek was gorgeous. I should thank whoever programmed him." She let out a short, dry bark of a laugh at the shocked looks on their faces. "Oh, come on. Just because I'm dying doesn't mean I've lost my sense of humour."

Both men cracked smiles, which seemed to break the ice at least a little. Tabor handed over the bag of flower petals. "We, uh … we brought something for you. It was Lessing's idea."

"The Doctor's idea," Lessing corrected.

Marika opened the drawstring, cupped the bag between her hands and took a sniff.

She closed her eyes, opened them again, and smiled shakily. Tears were running down her face, but whatever might be causing them, it certainly wasn't disappointment.

"We had these in the garden when I was a child," she said. "They're perennials, you know. Every time they bloomed, it meant we'd survived another winter. I can't even tell you what this means to me. Thank you."

She held her hands in the air, palms up, in the Bajoran gesture of prayer and gratitude. She couldn't hold the pose for longer than a second, but Lessing and Tabor each caught one of her sinking hands.

Her fellow perennials understood her meaning without words.