A/N: Cheers and thank you for reading!
Missing scenes based on "Heart of Glory." For some unfathomable reason, there are not enough Tasha/Worf fics out there.
Worf is actually a giant softie.
Mix of fluff and angst. Canonical major-character death.
This is a work of fan fiction based on the characters and world created by Gene Roddenberry.
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Disruptor fire sounded as the tell-tale rumble of another cave-in echoed against the rock formations.
It was dark, but Worf could see better than most in the reduced lighting.
They had beamed down an hour earlier to the planet only to encounter a hostile group of Cardassian troops. The away team had sought to lose the Cardassian contingent in a cave system that was nearby.
However, the cave was unstable, and the away party was quickly separated when Commander Riker and Data found themselves stranded on the opposite side of a cave-in from Worf, Tasha, and Miles O'Brien.
Miles had been injured by the falling debris and the Cardassians were closing fast.
A disruptor fired above their heads and blew a chunk of rock off the cave wall.
"I can't see anything," Miles said.
"Lieutenant Yar?" Worf asked as he scanned around in the dark.
He hadn't seen her since the dust from the cave-in had settled.
"Here," she replied.
"Lieutenant?" he asked again.
He couldn't get a visual.
Tasha could sense he was struggling to see in the blackness of the underground. She was as well.
But years of surviving in the dark caves of Turkana had heightened her senses.
"Right behind you," she said calmly as she took a step backwards and they made contact.
Worf had come aboard the Enterprise three weeks earlier.
When he had first met the young Security Chief, Worf had been sceptical. His first impression was that she was young – too young - and approached security situations with a cool demeanour that lacked the vigour of a warrior.
Each time she spoke during a crisis, the infuriatingly calm tenor of her voice made Worf think they were discussing a mundane maintenance report rather than a threat.
Everything about her screamed that she was incapable of possessing the stamina and presence necessary to carry out such a prominent role. The job of a Security Chief demanded strength and grit.
In his eyes, the willowy Lieutenant was a far cry from the kind of hardened warrior Worf felt should be the security chief of the Federation flagship.
At the time, he kept his reservations to himself.
She had been hand-picked for the assignment by Captain Jean-Luc Picard. She had served with him longer than any of the other officers aboard the Enterprise. The Captain had the utmost faith in her abilities and Worf didn't want to make waves so early into a new assignment.
Now as he stood there back-to-back with her in a firefight against the Cardassians, he was grateful he had.
Because she proved every bit as fierce as the warrior he had expected to find in this new assignment.
After they were able to re-establish contact with the Enterprise, they were beamed aboard the ship.
"Lieutenant," Worf said, clearing his throat as they stepped off the transporter pad.
She stopped and turned back to him.
"Yes, Lieutenant?" she asked.
Worf took a breath as he summoned the courage to say what he felt was necessary. He wanted to apologise for his standoffish nature. He'd misjudged her character and he regretted doing so.
But Worf had spent years burying his feelings and perfecting his stoic nature in hopes of being the kind of formidable warrior he aspired to be.
"Worf?" she prompted.
"I was…pleased…that I had you on my side of the cave-in," he said stiffly. "It was reassuring to know you had my back."
It wasn't an apology, but Tasha got the message.
To his surprise, her head dropped briefly as she bit her lip.
"Back at ya," she replied.
She flashed him a shy smile before turning on her heel, folding her hands behind her back, and leaving the baffled Klingon alone in the transporter room.
"Do you want him?" Yareena asked Tasha directly.
They were standing in the observation lounge following their return from Ligon II.
Worf hadn't been present on the planet during the fight, but he had been aware of the plan.
The minute she had materialised in the transporter room he recognised that she wasn't alright.
To everyone else, she had seemed entirely unaffected by the events of the last two days.
But Worf could see the pain in her eyes and hear the panic in her voice as she had called out for the doctor to hurry and revive the dead woman before it was too late.
They'd revived Yareena and escorted her to the observation lounge to explain the situation to her.
Tasha had kept her tone relaxed and soothing as she explained Lutan's deception to his wife.
And as Worf watched her from the corner of the room, she appeared unflappable.
But he knew.
He understood first-hand what she was going through.
Worf also realised he was likely the only one of the senior officers that was in a position to appreciate the sacrifice she'd made in order to obtain the vaccine.
It wasn't just that he felt he had a duty to speak with her.
He found they now had a shared experience through which they could relate.
After spending so much of his Starfleet career as the solitary warrior – never quite fitting in, not quite Klingon enough nor human enough – he welcomed the idea of conversation.
She'd carried out the rest of her shift without so much as a moment's pause to reflect on the fact she'd taken a woman's life in hand-to-hand combat earlier that day.
Yareena had been revived easily enough by Doctor Crusher.
But it didn't change the fact that Tasha had watched her die by her own hand.
Hours later, Worf found her down on deck thirty-eight.
He had followed the computer's direction to her location.
She was seated alone in the dark on the floor of one of the aft torpedo bays in front of the large observation window that looked out into the vast expanse of space.
She had one leg pulled tight against her chest as she rested her chin on her knee.
Worf opened his mouth to speak but was momentarily surprised when she beat him to words.
She had heard his footfalls and the sharp intake of breath that always precipitated a statement from the Klingon.
Tasha Yar had learned at a young age to never sit with her back to a door anywhere that she couldn't hear someone approaching.
"When I was a girl, I used to sit and stare at the night's sky for hours," she said strangely. "I would lay there and imagine what it would be like to escape into the stars."
Worf wasn't sure if she wanted a response nor how to reply.
Instead, he opted to sit down next to her.
"First time?" he asked.
An understanding passed between them.
He didn't need to verbalise what he was referring to.
Tasha knew.
"You fought well," he said. "And you fought for the vaccine. A noble cause."
Tasha said nothing.
Worf took a breath.
Sustaining conversation was already difficult for him, but her lack of interaction made the task monumental.
Worf could empathise. He'd struggled the first time he'd taken a life as well.
For most Starfleet officers, combat was rare and often limited to targeting ships or other crafts with plasma torpedoes. Rarely did it involve seeing the face of the enemy.
"The first time can be difficult to process," Worf started to say.
"128," Tasha said simply.
"Lieutenant?" Worf asked.
"128. Yareena was number 128," Tasha explained. "13 growing up. 39 as a cage fighter on Turkana. I'm not proud of it, but it was how I got the money to leave."
Worf sat back on his hands as he listened intently.
"Shy of running drugs or tugging a guy for a strip of latinum there weren't a lot of options for work, you know?" she went on.
Worf suspected the question was rhetorical.
"Two on Agnellus XII. One at Parrdock," she recounted. "13 on a mission I drink to forget."
He listened intently. This had been unexpected.
"57 confirmed kills during the Border Wars. Two more as an act of mercy when we liberated a Cardassian work camp," Tasha paused for a moment and swallowed hard as she recalled that mission. "The level of cruelty to which they subjected the Bajoran rebels was inconceivable. It was worse than anything they ever reported."
Worf had heard the horror stories.
Tasha had been singled out for her role in Section 31 shortly after her graduation from Starfleet Academy. Psychological profiling, her performance during training, and her background had made her an ideal candidate for Starfleet to pull into covert operations.
In the eyes of the Section 31 brass, she hadn't been an eighteen-year-old girl – she was a soldier who's background left her uniquely situated to handle the responsibility and strain that came from such dangerous missions.
"And now Yareena," Tasha finished.
Worf froze as she leaned over and rested her head against his bicep.
"It never gets any easier," she said softly.
She had never told anyone that before. Even Captain Picard was unaware of the full extent of her service details.
Tasha could trust Worf.
She had gathered that much during their short time serving together.
Most of all, she knew he wouldn't repeat it.
He was about to clear his throat and remind her to maintain an appropriate level of professional distance.
She was close.
Too close.
But when he detected the familiar scent of whiskey on her breath, he decided to try another tactic.
He knew that humans often relied on an embrace or comforting words to console one another.
It was something he'd experienced – and fought against – as his adoptive parents had desperately sought to provide love and affection.
Worf knew what he was supposed to do. Yet for some reason, in that moment, he couldn't find the courage to offer her anything other than his presence for fear she would misinterpret the act.
"It is permissible to cry," he said slowly as he braced himself for her to breakdown.
Instead, she chuckled.
"You don't know how much I wish I could," she said in a faraway voice.
No, she was past tears. Tasha felt that part of her had died a long time ago.
As she watched the stars fly by as the ship travelled to Styris IV, Tasha sighed and snuck her arm around Worf's.
Surprisingly, he relaxed.
It was an act of indulgence.
One that she knew was beyond the boundaries of a proper interaction with a subordinate in her direct chain of command.
She felt uncharacteristically small against his arm – safe in a way she hadn't before.
But he hadn't pulled away.
And for the first time in years, Tasha Yar let herself unwind.
"But I'm glad you understand," she told him.
The next day at lunch, Worf was seated alone in the canteen.
This was typical.
He had difficulties associating casually with the other crewmembers.
"Mind if I join you?" Tasha said.
She didn't wait for a response as she slid into the chair across the table from him.
Worf set his fork down.
"Lieutenant, perhaps you would be better served dining with the other security officers," Worf said.
A brief look of sadness passed on her face before she nodded.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," she apologised. "I didn't mean to intrude."
Worf felt horrible. He hadn't meant to leave her feeling rejected.
It wasn't that he minded her company.
No, for some inexplicable reason he didn't want to alarm her with the sight of his Klingon food.
He knew it was unpleasant for most of the crew and it was the reason he often dined alone.
She gripped the sides of her tray and moved to leave.
Worf's arm shot out and caught her hand.
"I did not mean to say you are not welcome," he said suddenly.
He could see she was uncomfortable.
"Lieutenant, I want to apologise for my behaviour last night," she said. "I was out of line and-"
Instinctively, he tightened his grip around her hand.
"I only meant that most humans are disturbed by Klingon foods," Worf clarified.
He released her hand and she sat back down.
"Thanks," she said as she folded her napkin in her lap.
Worf picked up his fork and was about to resume eating when he suddenly stopped.
With a sigh, he set it back down and looked across the table at her.
Tasha realised she was being watched and slowly looked up to meet his gaze.
Worf was the first to find his voice.
"You are not bothered by my consumption of gagh?" he inquired.
He wanted to be sure.
Although warriors broke for no one, Worf was concerned about offending her.
Tasha took a bite of the apple in her hand and shook her head.
Frustrated, he put down his fork again and sat back in his chair.
He quickly glanced around to ensure they were out of earshot.
"Lieutenant, I do not require nor appreciate sympathy. I am perfectly content to dine alone," he snapped. "In fact, I prefer it."
"Worf, I grew up on a planet where the primary source of food is insect," Tasha said with a casual shrug.
"Do you still prefer the food of your homeworld?" Worf asked, attempting to mask the eagerness that they might share another mutual experience.
"It's why I'm a vegetarian," she laughed.
Worf's face fell – not because he was offended, but because he had hoped it could be a way to connect.
But Tasha interpreted this as having insulted him.
She dropped her eyes.
"I didn't ask to sit with you because I felt sorry for you sitting by yourself," Tasha admitted. "But if you're preference is to be alone, I get it. Sorry, Lieutenant."
Tasha pushed her chair back and was about to leave when Worf decided to grab the Targ by the horn.
"Then why did you ask to sit here?" Worf questioned.
"I like your company," she replied honestly.
Worf eyed her suspiciously.
A part of his brain wanted to believe her.
Another part of his brain reminded him of the years of schoolyard taunting for being big, scary, and gruff – and worse, the women that felt sorry for him assuming that he was somehow incapable of finding love because of who he was.
Worf wasn't a stranger to relationships.
He'd had no problem in that department.
Worf studied her for a moment as he considered the manner in which she was looking back at him.
He pushed the thought from his mind.
No, human women didn't look at Klingon men that way.
"I am not particularly chatty," he said seriously.
"Neither am I," she replied nonchalantly.
To her delight, the corner of his lip curled upward slightly as he turned back to his lunch.
In retrospect, it was that conversation that had been the turning point in their relationship.
Neither was particularly chatty.
They both preferred holodeck workouts, meditation, and strict self-discipline.
For Worf, it was the way of the warrior. He needed perfection – mentally and physically – in order to maintain the mind and body of a fighter so that he could reach Sto-vo-kor.
For Tasha, years of survival had left her closed off. She didn't get attached to people because it required a vulnerability and openness that she shut out of her life at a young age. She felt she was too jaded, too cynical to engage with the other officers.
She knew how to interact politely and engage in an appropriate level of professional conversation with the other officers.
But it was always from a distance.
Always within the limits that allowed her to protect them from the horrible, but necessary, things she had seen and done.
Data was too wholesome. Tasha had no desire to ruin his development by exposing him to the nature of just how cruel the universe could be.
Deanna didn't deserve to be hurt in that way. Her empath abilities meant Tasha took extra precautions to shield her from the darkest parts of her mind.
Geordi was always upbeat. Tasha didn't have it in her to shatter his optimism by bearing her own world-weary soul.
In Tasha's opinion, Beverly had seen more than enough trauma in sickbay for one lifetime.
And Commander Riker carried the biggest risk of all. He was clever. And Tasha was aware he had suspicions about her past. He'd read her file – what wasn't redacted – and had been full of questions when they first met.
She always felt uncomfortable around Riker.
He was a genial officer and keen to make friends.
Tasha couldn't let herself have friends like Will Riker. She couldn't get close to people like that – at least not ones that risked exposing just who she really was on the inside.
But Worf wasn't like that.
He didn't ask questions.
He didn't press her to reveal more than she was willing to.
And he was perfectly content to share her company in silence.
As the weeks ticked by, it became apparent to both of them that they shared a bond.
Orphans.
Warriors.
Two souls trying to figure out their place in the universe – neither really fitting into the worlds in which they were born – and, in both cases, the circumstances of their births leaving them outsiders in their chosen home of Starfleet.
With each passing week, they got a little more comfortable letting down their shields.
Worf was slowly regaining feeling in his fingers. His whole body tingled.
He groaned as he remembered the feeling of the Ferengi energy whip making contact with his torso.
It had burned – sending a shockwave of pain through every one of his muscles.
Opening one eye cautiously, it was evident the Ferengi were momentarily occupied.
He could see Data and Commander Riker were stirring on the ground nearby.
Wordlessly, they communicated their plan.
"I'm Commander William Riker, First Officer of the USS Enterprise. Our Captain is not going to be pleased that you have broken the terms of our landing agreement," Riker bellowed as he got to his feet.
The Ferengi sprang at them.
Worf was pounced upon by two of them.
Despite their size, they were formidable opponents with sharp teeth and strength.
"Be careful, Commander," Data called out. "They are much stronger than they appear."
Riker took a hit to the face as Worf struggled against the two that were latched onto him.
"Kill them!" the lead Ferengi ordered.
"NO!" Tasha commanded as she approached the group.
The energy on the planet had left their particle signatures scrambled and the team materialised away from one another. Fortunately, Tasha had beamed into an area on her own without the Ferengi nearby.
The Ferengi froze as she jumped down from the rock formation overhead.
"Good, you've heard of phasers," she said as she kept her phaser trained on the Ferengi landing party.
Worf grabbed his own phaser from the sandy soil underfoot as Data helped Geordi get down. His misfortune had been in rematerialising upside down with his foot trapped in a rock formation.
"Over there," Tasha ordered as she put some distance between the Ferengi and the other officers.
"Is this a female?" one of the Ferengi asked as he sized her up.
"A human female," another one answered.
"It is true," the leader said. "They work with females, arm them, and force them to wear clothing."
"Sickening," the first added.
Much to Worf's dissatisfaction, the Ferengi party was inching closer to them.
"They shamelessly clothe their females," the leader went on.
"The very depth of perversion," the second one said as he concurred with the others.
"Inviting others to unclothe them," the leader said deviously as he reached for Tasha.
"Paws off, Ferengi," she snapped as she effortlessly grabbed his forearm and pushed him away.
To Worf's delight, the Ferengi fell on his backside and was utterly irritated.
"No female may order Mordoc around!" one of the Ferengi cried.
"Submit!" the second one demanded.
Tasha took a step forward.
"Just try it," she said in a low, warning tone.
Worf watched with anticipation, ready to jump into action if needed.
Before anything could happen, the strange guardian known as Portal made his appearance.
"You have awakened Portal six three!" the being called out in a booming voice. "Do you offer yourself up for judgement?"
Thanks to Commander Riker's cool thinking, the being was impressed.
While Commander Riker and the Ferengi leader discussed the terms of release, the rest of the team fell into their usual roles.
Data and Geordi were fixated on studying the energy readings in an effort to help free the ship.
Meanwhile, Tasha and Worf kept a close eye on the Ferengi landing party.
With their phasers at hand, Worf kept his sights on Data and Geordi while Tasha monitored Commander Riker as he spoke with the 600,000-year-old mysterious guardian of the Tkon Empire.
"Lieutenant," Worf cautioned as he noticed two of the Ferengi moving to flank Data and Geordi. "On the ridge."
"Right behind you," Tasha replied.
"You did return as promised!" the Edo greeted them.
"Counsellor?" Riker asked as he turned to Deanna.
"Healthy sensuality, sir. I feel mainly friendship and happiness," Deanna advised.
"And I welcome this huge one," one of the Edo said as she gripped Worf in a warp embrace.
He caught a look from Commander Riker.
"Nice planet," Worf said bluntly.
"Yeah," Riker replied with a knowing grin.
They ran along with the Edo for a few minutes as they headed for the central part of the village.
Upon arrival, the team split up to run some preliminary scans of the area.
Geordi and Data split off in one direction while Counsellor Troi and Commander Riker remained to talk with the Edo.
This left Tasha and Worf alone to check out the section along the river.
With tricorders in hand, they began to sweep the area as part of their typical pattern.
"This place is almost too good to be true," Tasha said as she looked at the river. "Worf, c'mere."
The water was slow-moving and incredibly clear.
"You can see the fish," she said as she looped her arm in his and pointed down into the water.
Worf stiffened, taken aback by the sudden contact.
"I've never seen anything so clear," Tasha added.
She looked back at Worf and grinned.
"Indeed," Worf replied simply as he relaxed.
"If the Captain approves shore leave, do you have plans for how to spend it?" Tasha asked honesty.
Worf didn't respond.
Was this an invitation?
He wasn't sure how to react.
Tasha interpreted his nonresponse as a sign she had been too forward.
She let go of his arm.
"Lieutenant Yar, Lieutenant Worf," Data said as he approached them. "Commander Riker has requested our presence in the village."
It truly was like an Eden, Worf thought to himself as they were led into a large central building full of Edo. They were surrounded by Edo lounging, playing games, and enjoying romantic pursuits.
While the others chose to interact with the guests and partake in their wine, Worf decided to stand watch at the edge of the room.
He didn't want to frighten the Edo.
These people were kind-hearted and open – ready to share their homes and customs, welcoming the crew with open arms, and eager to learn more about the Federation.
Between the music, massages, and laughter, it was clear the crew were enjoying themselves.
He felt this was no place for a Klingon.
Worf did admire their dedication to athletic pursuits. He reasoned that if shore leave were to be permitted, he could at least occupy his time with that.
There was something sensual about the atmosphere.
Deanna was seated on the floor learning to play a dice game with a small group of Edo. Commander Riker was strolling about the room as he took in the various activities offered.
Directly across the room, Tasha was sitting on a bench in conversation with Liator and Riven, the two Edo that had greeted them initially.
"Thanks, another time," Riker said as he waved off one of the Edo's invitation to join their game.
"Joy and happiness," the woman responded.
"It certainly is," Riker smiled appreciatively.
He made his way across the room.
"The good life, Worf," Riker said brightly as he approached his Klingon crewmate.
"I am not concerned with pleasure, Commander," Worf said as he kept his gaze fixated on his commanding officer across the room.
"Even Klingons need love now and then," Riker teased.
"For what we consider love, sir, I would need a Klingon woman," Worf replied.
He had to tell himself that because if he didn't, he was worried he'd say something that could jeopardise the first close friendship he'd had in years.
"What about plain old basic sex? You must have some need for that," Riker inquired.
"Of course. But with the women available to me sir, Earth women, I must restrain myself too much," Worf replied stoically. "They are quite fragile, sir."
She's not from Earth. A little voice in Worf's head reminded him. And far from fragile.
Across the room, Tasha shifted. As she turned to speak with another Edo, she locked eyes with Worf and smiled at him broadly.
It was the second time she'd done so since they'd landed.
Worf took a deep breath and Riker followed his eyeline.
"Why not?" Riker asked. "Surely it's permitted for even warriors to appreciate the allure of the female form especially when it's on an attractive blonde."
For a brief moment, Worf's staunch warrior façade slipped. His eyes widened in shock as he looked at Commander Riker in disbelief.
"C'mon Worf," Riker said as he slapped his shoulder. "Live a little."
"It would not be appropriate," Worf said as he cleared his throat.
"Oh there's nothing wrong with it," Riker advised. "No need to be shy. Go after what you want."
Riker nudged him with his elbow.
"These Edo sure do know how to live," Riker said. "And Riven sure seemed to take an interest in you."
"Riven?" Worf blurted out, confused as he looked to Commander Riker.
Commander Riker looked across the room again and then back to Worf.
He didn't mean…he couldn't?
Will bit back a grin as he realised his error. Worf wasn't looking at the Edo woman.
He was looking at the crew member next to her.
Will felt terrible. He hadn't meant to embarrass Worf.
"Klingon humour," Riker chuckled.
It was an attempt to feign misunderstanding, to provide Worf a cover for spilling his secret.
However, Worf didn't take it as such.
Rather, years of self-doubt caused him to interpret Commander Riker's statement as a reminder that there was no way a woman like her would ever consider him in that way.
"Yes, sir," Worf replied stiffly.
Later that evening, they were all back on the ship safe and sound including young Mr Crusher.
The senior officers were hanging out in Geordi's quarters. They had gotten together for their weekly poker game.
Well, some of the senior officers.
"Doc sends her apologies," Tasha said as she stepped into the room.
They couldn't blame Doctor Crusher. She wanted to spend a quiet evening at home with her son given the events of the day.
Tasha looked around and noted attendance was a little sparse.
Captain Picard never joined their crew nights.
But Counsellor Troi and Commander Riker were conspicuously absent.
"Where are-" Tasha started to say but trailed off.
Geordi laughed as he set down a pitcher of syntheholic ale on the table.
"Let's just say they were a little caught up in the atmosphere of the Edo planet," Geordi said.
Data looked at Geordi.
"Geordi, the Edo planet is an M-class world with an atmosphere that is not dissimilar to Earth," Data advised.
"No, Data," Geordi said as he shook his head. "I meant they were a little overcome after being down there. You know, those Edo really know how to set the mood. They wanted to 'play at love' as the Edo say."
Worf watched as Data's face registered the meaning of Geordi's insinuation.
"I have observed that most Starfleet officers tend to, as you say, 'look the other way' despite the regulations prohibiting romantic relationships between officers," Data stated.
"Well, I think it's sweet," Tasha said as she slid into a chair next to Geordi.
"Tasha, I am surprised at you," Geordi said feigning astonishment. "You're the last person I'd expect to support flouting the regs."
Data began to deal the cards.
"It's a shame it didn't work out for us to get shore leave there," Tasha said pensively.
She met Worf's eyes briefly before turning her eyes back down to pick up her cards.
"I agree, I was looking forward to exploring the vast biodiversity of the planet," Data commented.
"I was looking forward to that beach date I've had planned with Ensign Greene being on an actual beach and not a holodeck," Geordi confessed.
"What about you, Lieutenant Worf?" Data asked.
Worf gave Data a sour look.
"Yeah, did you have anything or anyone in mind?" Geordi questioned genially. "Even you-"
"Even I what?" Worf replied sharply. "It would not be appropriate for someone in my position to debase themselves by engaging in such frivolous pursuits."
Geordi felt bad. He hadn't meant to imply anything against Worf.
"Worf, I didn't mean anything by it!" he said apologetically. "C'mon there's gotta be somebody onboard who's caught your eye?"
Tasha looked over the top of her cards as she watched him, curious to hear his answer.
"No," Worf replied curtly.
"Never?" Tasha asked. "Really?"
She had to know if the thought had ever crossed his mind.
"Is it really so outside the realm of possibility?" she questioned.
Worf wanted to say no.
He wanted to tell her that he appreciated strong women.
He wanted to ask her if she'd like to get a drink at Ten Forward alone.
But as they sat across from one another while Worf contemplated what it had felt like when she'd held his arm on the Edo planet, he was reminded just how out of place he was.
No, he couldn't allow himself to get lost in such fantasy.
There was no way she would be interested in someone like him.
"I would never participate in such behaviour. It is unbecoming of an officer," Worf said as he met her eyes.
"Sorry I asked," she replied quietly.
"It is your bet Lieutenant Yar," Data reminded her.
Tasha set her cards down.
"I fold," she said politely.
Geordi scoffed.
"The game just started!" he exclaimed.
"I don't really have a hand worth anything," she commented.
The meaning was lost on Data and Geordi.
But it certainly wasn't lost on Worf.
He restrained himself from grumbling at the comment.
He knew he'd hurt her, and it only reaffirmed his suspicion that it was best he not let it go any further.
A few weeks later they were coming off a rough mission. The away team had encountered a hostile creature on the surface of Qu'plik II. It had resulted in injuries to Geordi and two security personnel.
Tasha and Worf had both taken quite a beating as they had wrestled with the 40 stone animal.
Now they were back aboard the Enterprise – alone in the security office – as they worked.
Tasha was finishing the security report for the Captain while Worf finalised the schedule for the next security sweep.
They worked in silence.
Since his comment at the poker game, Tasha had kept her distance.
She couldn't understand it. For months, it had seemed like they were getting along. Gradually, things had been a little flirty.
Well, as flirty as things got between the silent warrior type and a woman that had long ago chosen to keep her emotions under lock and key.
Tasha chastised herself. She felt like a fool.
In her mind, it served her right - Worf deserved better than a world-weary child of Turkana.
From her desk she watched him shift as he clutched his side in pain.
"I can finish the roster, Lieutenant," she said. "Why don't you go see Doctor Crusher? Hmm?"
"I'm fine," he growled in reply without turning around.
He resumed typing at the security station computer.
Tasha bit her lip and contemplated if she should press the issue.
Feeling like she'd already done more than enough to annoy him, she chose instead to remain silent.
Twenty minutes later, Worf finalised the roster for the upcoming sweep and logged out of the LCARS system.
"I have finished the roster and transmitted to you for review. Goodnight, Lieutenant," he said.
He stood to go and doubled over.
Tasha noted the front of his uniform as she noticed the recognisable sign of blood.
She was out of her chair and at his side in a flash.
"You're bleeding," she said as she steered him to her desk.
"I am fine," he insisted.
"You need to get to sickbay, Lieutenant," Tasha said firmly.
"No," he barked.
Tasha grabbed an emergency medical kit off the wall and turned back to him.
He made a move to get up, but Tasha put out a hand to stop him.
"Step aside, Lieutenant," Worf demanded.
She didn't move.
"You can go to sickbay, or you can let me take a look," Tasha said firmly, feigning confidence she didn't feel.
Worf frowned.
There weren't many people who would hold their ground against a Klingon.
"Your choice," Tasha said.
When he didn't respond, she pushed him back toward the desk.
Frustrated, Worf sat down and looked away at the wall.
"Um," Tasha said nervously as she indicated to his uniform.
Worf sighed as he unzipped his jumpsuit down to his waist and slipped his arms out of the sleeves.
He had a large slice along the side of his torso that ran from his armpit to his hip.
It was evident he had attempted to stop the bleeding with the haphazard use of a standard dermal regenerator. It had treated the outer layer of his skin, but it hadn't been enough.
The wound had reopened, and it was showing early signs of infection.
He hissed as her fingers probed the swollen, red skin around the wound.
"Quite a hack job you did on this," she commented as she observed it. "You're supposed to clean the wound first you know? Not just patch over the outer layer."
Take your own advice, honey. An annoying voice in her head warned.
Tasha grabbed a disinfectant hypospray.
"This will probably sting," she cautioned.
He tensed as she injected it next to the side of his wound followed by as an equally painful sting on the other side.
He clamped his hands into fists as he tried to hide the grimace in his face.
"It's alright to cry," she said playfully as she grabbed the dermal regenerator and adjusted the setting.
"Klingons do not cry," he snarled.
"Ok, laugh. Makes no difference to me," she shrugged.
"This is not amusing, Lieutenant," he snapped.
He wanted her to hurry up and finish. He felt embarrassed sitting half-clothed on her desk in such a state. He didn't want anyone to see him like this.
"Well if you wouldn't let yourself get tossed around like a handball in Parrises Squares," she trailed off as she worked to patch him up. "Can you turn to the side?"
Begrudgingly, he twisted his body.
She gasped audibly.
Worf closed his eyes. He was used to human women being alarmed by his back ridges. It was a constant reminder of just how out-of-place he'd always felt as a child.
Normally, he was happy to defend them. But for some reason, he felt embarrassed by them with her.
"I'm sorry. I understand Klingon ridges can be unsightly for humans," he apologised.
Tasha whacked him on the head lightly with her hand.
"Back ridges? What do you take me for?" she grumbled softly.
Shocked, he looked back at her.
Tasha shook her head, and it became clear to Worf she wasn't phased in the slightest by his appearance.
"You're bruised pretty heavily," she said. "Maybe you should get checked out at sickbay. Make sure you didn't break anything."
He winced as he turned back to sit straightforward on the desk.
"It would have been faster had I gone to sickbay," Worf replied through gritted teeth.
She looked up at him.
"Done," she said.
He realised that she had been goading him to keep his attention fixated on something other than his injury.
"Then why does it still hurt?" Worf grumbled. "I thought you were trained in field-"
He stopped as he felt a cool gel make contact with his skin.
Truth be told, he wasn't sure if it was the gel or the hand that shocked him.
"This will help with the pain," she said, holding his gaze as she massaged it along the side of his torso. "But that's gonna be some scar."
"Klingon's believe scars are a symbol of strength. They demonstrate you are stronger than whatever tried to hurt you," Worf said in a low voice.
Tasha felt her face flush, suddenly aware of the fact she was still massaging his injured side.
She looked down, eager to break eye contact as it felt like she was crossing a line.
Bad choice. The voice inside her head said.
It was indeed a poor choice she realised as she found herself staring at the rather taut and very exposed musculature of his bare torso.
Desperate for anything to make the situation less awkward, she spied a scar across his chest.
"And this one?" she asked as she traced the length of it with her finger.
Worf felt like he should say something.
She had seen him now – back ridges and all – and hadn't flinched.
And the way she had blushed made him wonder if perhaps he shouldn't have dismissed the possibility of pursuing something with her earlier.
He gripped her biceps, and she froze.
"I'm sorry," she said suddenly as she pulled away.
She slammed shut the medical kit and moved to replace it back on the wall.
Worf caught her arm.
"I do not wish to go to sickbay," he said.
He wasn't sure what else to say. He hadn't meant to push her away.
Worf took a deep breath as he struggled to find the right words.
He wanted to tell her how he felt.
"Would you please take a look at my back?" he asked instead.
"Oh yeah. Of course," she replied clumsily as she reopened the medical kit and moved to the other side of the desk.
She ran the tricorder over the nasty bruising on his back as she assessed the damage.
"I'm no doctor, but it doesn't look like anything's broken," she said. "Still, you're pretty banged up."
He shuddered as he felt her brush the same cooling analgesic gel across the bruising on his back. After a few seconds he relaxed as she massaged over his shoulders and down the length of his spine.
"Thank you," he said sincerely.
He felt a loss when she finished.
"Well, I'm sure you'd do the same for me," she said as she closed the kit back up.
Worf's eyes grew wide, stunned at her statement.
The idea of touching her in that way seemed equal parts enticing and frightening.
Was this flirting?
He was unsure.
Tasha picked up on his discomfort and felt dreadful for having made him feel that way.
"Worf, I didn't mean to, erm-," she paused before quickly adding. "Sorry."
Tasha returned the medical kit, grateful for the fact it put some physical distance between her and the half-clothed Klingon sitting on her desk.
"Goodnight," she said quickly before she scurried out of the office.
He should have said something.
He should have done something.
Anything.
As soon as she was gone, Worf bit his fist and groaned.
The next afternoon, Worf caught Tasha in the canteen.
He said nothing as he sat down across from her.
It was the first time they'd sat together since the poker game.
But after the night before, he felt he owed her an explanation.
Tasha had her spoon halfway to her mouth when she stopped and looked up at him.
"Lieutenant," Worf said simply before diving into his own lunch.
"Hey," she replied casually and then resumed eating.
They ate in silence.
"About last night," Worf started to say.
"I'm terribly sorry if I made you feel uneasy," she said, cutting him off.
"That's what I'd like to talk about," Worf said. "What I said at the poker game-"
Tasha shook her head.
"It never happened," she said. "Can we just go back to being friends?"
Worf's heart sunk.
That wasn't what he was hoping for.
But he didn't want to press her.
If she wanted to be friends, he was fine with that. He'd take what he could get if it meant time in her company.
"Of course," he said with a rare Klingon smile.
Several hours later, they were standing back at their stations on the bridge after having been transported down to some mysterious planet by Q and back again.
To their shock, Commander Riker had been given the powers of the Q and was keen to show off in front of the crew.
For Tasha, it was unsettling. In her opinion, the Q were nothing but oppressive and dangerous – hellbent on tormenting beings they felt were inferior.
She rooted silently for Data as he turned down Riker's offer to make him human and cheered inside when Geordi had demanded for Riker to return him back to himself.
"Proud warrior Worf, without a single tie to his own kind," Commander Riker said as he turned his sights to his Klingon crewmate.
Wordlessly, he used the power of the Q to summon a Klingon woman to the ramp of the bridge.
Everyone was taken aback as they observed her.
There was something feral and foreign about her as she crawled toward him.
Worf was mortified.
It was evident that this was Commander Riker's idea of Klingon women.
He was embarrassed and not just because of the circumstances of it occurring in front of everyone on the bridge.
Worf didn't want Tasha to think this was the kind of thing he was interested in.
He glanced over to her and was crestfallen to see she was wide-eyed.
What he didn't realise is she felt she now understood why he had seemed uncomfortable whenever she'd tried to make a pass at him.
No, in her mind it was clear – she couldn't compete with that.
The Klingon woman summoned by Riker had gotten to her feet.
She'd tracked his line of sight to the willowy blonde.
The Klingon raised her arm to take a swipe at Tasha.
"No!" Worf growled as he caught her fist.
Worf knocked her back and away.
"She is from a world that is alien to me," he said angrily as he glared at Commander Riker.
He was insulted – not just because of Riker's insinuation that this might be what he found desirable – but also because it was evident the crew really believed this is what Klingon women were like.
"Is this your idea of sex?" Geordi asked, disturbed.
"No," he growled. "This kind of thing has no place in my life."
"No place, micro-brain?" Q mocked. "What possesses you?"
After his shift, Worf left the bridge feeling embarrassed.
Tasha snuck onto the same turbolift, slipping between the doors just before they closed.
"Are you alright?" she asked honestly.
He said nothing and continued to stare at the door.
"Do you want to talk?" she suggested after a few seconds.
His head snapped quickly to look down at her.
She could see he was bothered by what had happened on the bridge in his posture.
Worf turned back to the door.
When he reached his deck, he stepped off without saying so much as a word to her.
"Worf?" she said, confused.
Steeling her nerve, she decided to follow after him.
"Worf!" she said as she followed him down the corridor to his quarters.
He didn't respond, but he also didn't stop her from stepping into his quarters.
"I would like to be alone," Worf said.
"Fine. I'll leave as soon as you tell me what's wrong," she replied nonchalantly.
Worf stopped.
"I am fine," he replied without turning around.
Tasha felt like a fool for coming to his quarters.
As she looked around at the room, she felt like she was in over her head.
Everything from the bat'leth displayed on the wall to the ceremonial baldric he wore was a reminder that she wasn't a Klingon.
"I guess I just wanted to say that you shouldn't feel embarrassed about what happened," Tasha said.
No, she wasn't a Klingon.
She would never be a Klingon.
And she would never be anything like that woman on the bridge.
She was just a nuisance.
"I just mean you shouldn't feel ashamed is all," Tasha said trying to reassure him he was alright. "No one should feel ashamed for who they're attracted to."
Tasha wasn't actually sure if she was trying to reassure him or reassure herself.
Worf turned around furiously.
"I am not ashamed," he shouted.
He took a breath and calmed himself enough to formulate a better response.
Worf was grateful she was unflappable, because he was certain if she had been anyone else, she would have run from the room at his remark.
"I meant what I said on the bridge," he said in earnest.
Tasha stayed silent, giving him the space to talk openly.
"I have never felt so humiliated," he confessed. "Both for myself and for Klingons. That is a human caricature of how we behave."
He took off his baldric and tossed it onto the table before taking a seat.
"I-I don't…we are stronger than humans, yes. Our customs are strange to you," he went on. "But we aren't just animalistic heathens."
He growled as he clenched his fist.
"Micro-brain," he muttered, still incensed by Q's words.
Tentatively, Tasha stepped over to the table and slipped into the seat across from him.
"They think we're all micro-brains," she said trying to make him feel better.
To her delight, he smirked as he sat back in his chair.
"You know there's a lot of things about Turkana that would shake the boots off most of them if they knew," she said. "Guess I'm just lucky we're too much of a backwater planet for anyone to bother learning about."
Worf scoffed.
"I mean it," she said. "You have operas and literature. Culture! The only good thing that ever came from Turkana was-"
"You," Worf said simply in his signature low baritone voice.
Silence fell between the pair.
"Lieutenant, that woman that appeared earlier is not the kind of thing I'm attracted to," he admitted.
He needed her to know that.
"Klingons appreciate strong women," he went on. "Women with dedication and loyalty. Klingon women aren't just physically strong. They're diplomats. Warriors."
"Can I ask you a question?" Tasha queried as she bit her lip. "You don't have to answer…unless you want to."
He nodded.
"Could you ever look at someone that wasn't a Klingon in that way?" she asked.
Worf sat back in his chair, bewildered.
Could it be? He thought to himself.
"What do you mean?" he wondered aloud.
"Nothing," she said as she masked her failing nerves with a smile. "Just making conversation."
Two weeks later they were orbiting a planet known as Angel One in pursuit of survivors from a crashed vessel known as the Odin.
"A class M planet, sir," Data advised from the operations console. "Sparsely populated but with intelligent life forms. It is a constitutional oligarchy governed by a parliamentary body consisting of six elected Mistresses and headed by a woman referred to as the Elected One."
"It sounds a little like my own planet," Deanna commented.
"Counsellor, as a matriarchal society, you might wish to make the initial contact," Captain Picard suggested.
"Klingons appreciate strong women," Worf said as he looked over to Tasha and said a silent prayer she would understand his meaning.
The next day, Worf was in his quarters feeling utterly miserable.
They'd encountered some kind of viral infection on the ship that had left nearly the entire crew down and out as they were heading toward the Neutral Zone at maximum warp to answer a distress call from the USS Berlin and the Federation border outposts.
There were seven Romulan warships enroute across the Neutral Zone and everyone was on high alert.
Although Doctor Crusher had managed to produce a cure for the infection, it had hit Worf particularly hard.
Something about his Klingon physiology had been more susceptible to the virus.
While most of the crew were now back on their feet, Worf remained in bed feeling weaker than he had ever felt before.
They were still nine hours away from reaching the Berlin and Worf was hoping that he would be rested enough in time to return to his duties.
Doctor Crusher had ordered him to his quarters with two doses of medication that he was to take orally and then rest.
The first dose had done little to help with his illness.
Reluctantly, he swallowed the second dose.
From the moment his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.
Worf opened his eyes.
As he stared at the ceiling, he identified he was in his quarters.
His head felt stuffy, and his body ached.
Suddenly, he remembered they were headed for the Neutral Zone.
He stumbled out of bed and howled as he lost his footing and fell into his nightstand in a mess of blankets.
A second later he felt an arm under his.
"Right behind you," Tasha said as she tried to help him to his feet.
He was still feeling disoriented from the virus.
"Whoa," Tasha said as she guided him to sit back on the bed.
She sat down next to him.
"Glad to see you're awake," she said. "How are you feeling?"
"The Romulans," he said as he tried to get up.
"Gone," Tasha explained. "Hours ago. They turned around. We suspect once they got word the Enterprise, the Venture, and the Sutherland were en route they high tailed it back home."
He'd missed all the excitement.
"I swear they've got eyes and ears everywhere," Tasha said darkly.
It had been a great source of contention. Both Worf and Tasha were convinced there was a Romulan spy aboard the ship, but they had never been able to suss them out.
"Look, I know you're upset that you missed the excitement," she said as she observed his posture. "But you didn't miss anything. There was nothing. Zilch."
She knew he was feeling down and out. He had a sense of duty. Anytime there was a security problem, he felt it necessary to respond – even when he was off duty.
"All you missed out on was about six hours of waiting around for nothing," she said in an attempt to reassure him.
She reached out and felt his forehead with the back of her hand.
"Your fever's come down," she commented.
"What are you doing in my quarters?" he asked sharply.
Tasha pulled her hand back quickly and stood up.
"I'm sorry, Doctor Crusher asked if I would check on you. When you didn't answer on your communicator I came to the door," she told him. "And when you didn't answer the door, I overrode the lock. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."
She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall.
"When I saw you were just asleep, I was going to stop back later," she said sheepishly. "But you were running an awfully high fever and Doctor Crusher felt it would be best if someone kept an eye on you."
She had been in his quarters.
She'd been in his bedroom.
She'd touched him while he was asleep.
"I figured you wouldn't want to go to sickbay," she said.
"How long was I…uh?" Worf questioned.
"About sixteen hours," she informed him. "Can I get you anything? You must be starving."
In truth, she was too. She'd spent the last ten hours waiting on his sofa and checking his vitals every hour to send updates to the team in sickbay.
She made a move for the door, but Worf's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist to stop her.
"Tasha," he said. "Thank you."
They were docked at Starbase 74 for some routine maintenance. The night before, Ensign Murphy had approached Tasha to challenge the Security team to a game of Parrises Squares.
To her excitement, Worf had jumped at the chance to join the team.
Along with Lieutenants Hawk and Wu, Tasha was feeling pretty thrilled about their chances.
The four had met at the Security office and were heading over together to the Starbase.
"We've been challenged to a friendly game of Parrises Squares by some of the maintenance personnel," Tasha explained as they met up with Will Riker. "Want to join?"
"You've already got all the players you need!" Riker replied as he looked at the team.
"We can switch off," Tasha offered.
She knew he adored the game.
"No, you know if you do that in Parrises Squares you lose the rhythm of the game," Riker said.
"I can't talk you out of coming with us?" she asked eagerly.
Tasha also knew he was one of the best players on the ship.
Riker shook his head and grinned.
"No," he teased. "But win, all right? The pride of the Enterprise goes with you."
"Rest assured, Commander," Worf promised. "We will be victorious. At whatever the cost."
Riker laughed.
"Worf, it's just a game. A little friendly competition," Riker said. "You work up a sweat, you have a few laughs, make some new friends."
He gave the Klingon a pat on the back.
"If winning is not important, then, Commander, why keep score?" Worf retorted before stepping onto the turbolift.
Around the corner, Commander Riker shook his head.
"He's just pulling your leg," Tasha said.
She felt the need to defend that Worf was more than just muscle.
"Believe it or not, Worf does have a sense of humour," she insisted.
Riker looked at her in disbelief.
"Worf?" Riker asked incredulously.
"Yeah, Worf," Tasha replied defensively. "What of it?"
He thought back to Worf's comments on the Edo planet and wondered if maybe there was more between the two than he realised.
"Nothing, Tasha," Riker said warmly. "Nothing at all."
Worf jumped and hit the handball back across the playing field. They were tied 3-3 with the team from maintenance and they were nearly halfway through the game.
Lieutenant Tucker from the other side served the ball back as one of the maintenance team members jumped to another pad to accept the pass.
To their relief, Tasha blocked the shot.
Worf had to admit she was an impressive player.
As the centre defender, Worf knew his primary role was to defend the hoop.
His height gave him an advantage over the other players in that respect.
Tasha was a natural for the position of team sweeper. She practically danced across the court – always cropping up where needed, seemingly possessing the ability to anticipate the other team's next move.
One minute she was on the ramp, and the next she was backing up Lieutenant Hawk or ready to make a pass to Lieutenant Wu.
He watched, thoroughly enthralled, as she leapt off the ramp to block a shot from the other team – returning it with enough skill and force to launch it past the other team and through the hoop.
Worf roared appreciatively as the score change registered.
She wiped the sweat from her brow and flashed him a grin.
A minute later they were back in the action as they tried to fend off another press from the other team.
The maintenance crew were certainly light on their feet and quick with their passes.
One of the opposing team members made a fast pass across the field. Lieutenant Hawk tried running back to block but tripped on his own feet, stumbling hard into the wall.
Worf glanced around the court, but he'd lost sight of Tasha.
He wanted to step in.
He figured he could intercept and steal back the ball if he charged.
However, Worf knew protecting the hoop was his primary responsibility.
Deciding to risk it, he rushed forward.
However, he miscalculated the timing.
The opposing player flung the ball at the hoop and Worf watched helplessly as it passed overhead.
"Right behind you!" Tasha called out as she leapt up to block the shot.
Worf smiled as he watched the ball pass back across the field where Lieutenant Wu was waiting to put it into the hoop.
They scored again and everyone cheered.
Tasha slapped his shoulder as she ran past.
"Game on!" she said brightly.
Two goals later and the security team cinched victory as the clock ran out.
"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Lieutenant Hawk cried out.
"Oof," Worf said as something - or rather someone – impacted the side of his body.
He stiffened as Tasha hugged him.
"We won!" she said beaming.
They were both drenched in sweat and panting from the hard-fought game, but Worf welcomed the embrace.
"I can't believe we won," she exclaimed.
"You were most adept," Worf said.
"You're not so bad yourself," she replied with a grin.
To his astonishment, she planted a brief, chaste kiss on his cheek.
Two weeks later, Worf had done his best to push that day far from his mind.
Tasha was seated across from him on the floor. They were both sitting cross-legged in her quarters, meditating.
The ship had been thrown three days' time from Aldea after their initial refusal to willingly give over their children. They were headed back at warp nine to try and negotiate the return of the ship's children.
But in the meantime, it would be another seventy-two hours before they would reach the planet.
When Commander Riker had first told her of the legend of Aldea, Tasha had been fascinated.
It sounded too good to be true and she'd ribbed Riker for it in advance of their arrival.
Secretly, deep down, she had wanted it to desperately be true. She had wanted there to be a place that truly was an Eden.
Tasha had been devastated when her suspicions were confirmed, but she'd kept that to herself.
"Worf, if you lived in a world like Aldea and could do anything you wanted, what would you have done?" Tasha asked suddenly.
Worf opened his eyes and found she was staring at him.
He cocked his head to the side.
"I mean if you could do anything, become anything, what would you want to be doing?" she questioned.
He considered the question as he thought about how to respond.
"I could deliberate on that for an age and still fail to come up with the correct response," he replied. "The age of Kahless, the Khitomer Accords, the stories my father told me of the Kievan Rus, Peter the Great-"
"Don't overthink it," she prompted.
"There have been a great many historical battles in which I would seek to test myself. There are moments in time that would be worth witnessing. Leaders from which I could learn," Worf went on.
Tasha sat and listened politely.
She knew he was a very intellectually deep person.
It was one of the things she admired about him.
But she didn't want him to overanalyse it.
She wanted a spontaneous answer.
"There's the early Federation discovery of the Rinteiden system, the Andorian explorers that charted the out reaches of the gamma quadrant, Mickey Mouse…" he trailed off and grinned.
"Mickey Mouse? I'm not familiar with that one. What did they discover?" she asked honestly.
Worf felt foolish.
It had been an attempt at humour.
He had momentarily forgotten that she did not share his understanding of common human cultural knowledge.
She was used to this and had long ago accepted she'd be spending most of her life missing the subtle pop culture and literary references made by most of the crew.
"He is from Earth," Worf explained as he anticipated her question. "Sings and entertains."
"Oh," Tasha said nodding politely. "Did you ever get to meet him?"
Worf laughed heartily.
"No, Tasha," he said with a grin. "I'll show you once we're done."
Worf could see she was desperate not to let the conversation slip but that she also was having trouble figuring out what to say.
With no frame of reference, it was hard.
And it was something Worf understood first-hand.
"Ancient Klingons built sailing vessels to explore Qo'nos. These seafaring craft were used to traverse the waters," Worf explained. "I think I would try my hand at it."
Tasha smiled at the thought of him sailing on the open ocean – salt and spray, the waves, and the weather.
"In those days they relied on celestial navigation," Worf went on. "I find the challenge intriguing."
Tasha looked over to the window and stared out into the vast expanse of darkness.
"And you?" Worf asked.
"I used to lay back and watch the stars and dream of what it would be like to sail through them," she said without taking her eyes off the window. "But if I could do anything? Be anything instead of what I am?"
She turned back to him and sighed.
"I dunno," she laughed. "I think what I'd really like is the time to find out what I want to do."
"Captain, communication incoming from Starfleet," Worf advised. "They have reported a disturbance in the Neutral Zone. A battle. Quadrant nine. "
There was no additional information about the disturbance and the Enterprise had been directed to investigate.
A chill ran through the room.
The Neutral Zone was dangerous territory and after their recent near run-in with the Romulans, everyone was on edge.
The Romulans had been making overtures for months – beating their metaphorical drums as they encroached, testing the waters, and creeping ever closer to open conflict.
"Stay sharp everyone," Picard ordered.
The ship had only shown possible life signs and it was badly damaged. It was a Talarian vessel and appeared to show signs of damage from a Klingon ship.
However, Klingon and Romulan weapons were extremely similar in their technology.
Captain Picard wanted to be sure if this was a run-in with Klingons or Romulan activity.
They weren't terribly far from the border to Federation territory.
If the Romulans were this close - it could spell trouble.
Captain Picard ordered a small away team to head over and investigate the ship for further information.
Commander Riker would lead the away team.
Tasha made a move to join, as was typical, but Captain Picard ordered her to remain behind.
"Lieutenant Yar, please stay at your post," he commanded. "If this is the result of a Romulan attack, they may still be in the area."
"Aye, sir," she responded as she stepped back to the tactical position again.
A few minutes later, the away team reported back that they had, in fact, found lifeforms aboard the vessel.
"Klingons," Riker said in a dark voice.
"Klingons?" Captain Picard asked to clarify.
"That's right, sir," Riker repeated. "Klingons."
Surely, it couldn't be.
Not in the Neutral Zone.
No one voiced it aloud, but they all shared the same thought.
If they had picked up on a Klingon-Romulan alliance or dispute it could spell disaster for the Federation's alliance with the Klingon Empire.
Captain Picard ordered that they cut transmission for a moment.
"Tasha, go to transporter room three," Picard said in an urgent voice. "I want you there when the away team returns."
"Aye, sir," Tasha responded.
She stepped into the turbolift and pulled out her phaser. Tasha double-checked that it was properly calibrated.
She knew it was.
Tasha checked it every morning before coming on duty.
She upped the setting to a higher level of stun and returned it to its holster – hoping that she wouldn't have any reason to draw it.
An hour later, Tasha and Worf were standing in the guest quarters with the Klingons that they had rescued from the destroyed freighter.
They had offered the Klingons quarters and shown them how to produce food from the replicators.
Although Korris and his colleagues had seemed friendly enough for Klingons, there were many lingering questions about the attack on the Talarian freighter.
Too many things didn't add up in the story Korris was weaving.
"Tell me what it is like for the hunter to lie down with the prey?" Korris inquired as he turned to Worf. "Have they tamed you, or have you always been docile?"
"Does it make you gentle? Has it filled your heart with peace?" Konmel said ribbing him.
Worf's mouth became a thin line as he attempted to remain calm, but Tasha could see how bothered he was by the comment.
"Do glorious battles no longer inspire your dreams?" Korris went on.
"Why do you mock me?" Worf asked. "Do you wish to anger me?"
"Only to see if it is still possible," Korris replied. "Are you content with such a submissive existence. Satisfied to take orders from these feeble humans?"
Korris looked to Tasha as he finished his statement.
"Lieutenant Worf is an exemplary and decorated officer with a highly distinguished service record," she replied. "One of the best-"
"Do you fear him?" Korris asked.
"I wouldn't want to meet him on the opposite side of the field of battle," Tasha retorted.
"But are you afraid of him?" Korris said repeating his question.
"Lieutenant Worf is an expert tactical officer, and I would hope that anyone misfortunate enough to cross-" Tasha began to say but Korris cut her off.
He stepped toward her in an intimidating manner and leered down at her.
Korris wanted to toy with her.
Scare her.
Use her to plant an idea in Worf's mind.
Assert his dominance as a Klingon.
Fortunately, this was not lost on Tasha.
"That is not what I asked. Are you afraid of him? Does he frighten you? Offend your delicate sensibilities with his violent customs and insatiable need for glory?" Korris said taunting her.
Tasha looked over Korris's shoulder and locked eyes with Worf.
"No," she replied honestly.
Worf did not react.
He felt conflicted. On one hand, he felt strangely warm inside to hear those words. She wasn't afraid of him. She didn't think of him as some terrifying alien. She saw him for what he was – an officer, warrior, a man.
On the other hand, he knew Korris would only use this to mock him. She'd walked right into his trap.
"Because I know whenever we walk into a situation, he's got my back," Tasha went on. "Just like I'm always right behind him."
Korris smirked.
"And I'm glad he is," Tasha added.
"Thank you for proving my point, Lieutenant," Korris said to her before turning back to Worf. "You see, you have grown soft. Even this fragile human woman doesn't fear you."
Tasha's heart sunk.
Her statement had caused the opposite result of what she had been hoping for.
She had wanted to assure Korris of Worf's abilities. She wanted to make him look good in front of the other Klingons. And she'd wanted to let Korris and the others know that they were welcome aboard the ship.
Tasha didn't hold many of the same anti-Klingon sentiments that had carried down through the ages with most of the humans in the Federation.
Her upbringing on Turkana had left her isolated from that conflict.
"Lieutenant Yar is not like other humans," Worf said simply.
"I'm sorry," Tasha apologised as soon as they were on the lift. "It wasn't my intention to make them think-"
"It is alright," Worf replied stiffly.
He was still feeling conflicted inside about what had happened.
These Klingons were causing him to question his life and the choices he had made.
"There's something they aren't telling us," she commented.
"I agree," Worf replied simply.
They could both sense it.
"Did you mean what you said?" Worf asked.
"About not wanting to meet you on the opposite side of the battle field?" Tasha replied. "Absolutely. You're the toughest officer I know. I'd hate to be any Romulan that ever crossed-"
"That you are not afraid of me," Worf said in a low voice.
"You're my best friend," she said as she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.
The turbolift stopped on the medical deck where Tasha was set to get off and check in with Doctor Crusher regarding the injured Klingon.
She released his hand and turned back to smile at him before stepping off the lift.
Tasha had spent the last two hours trying to piece together the information they had to go on. Thus far, there wasn't anything pointing to Romulans.
In fact, all evidence appeared to indicate that the Talarian freighter had been attacked by Klingons.
It was an alarming prospect. If the Klingons had been attacked by other Klingons, they could be wading into the middle of an internal conflict.
To make matters more difficult, the injured Klingon's condition had taken a turn for the worse.
Tasha was escorting their Klingon passengers to sickbay as Doctor Crusher was afraid their friend wouldn't have long.
Tasha watched as Worf joined the remaining Klingons as they threw their heads back and howled for their fallen comrade.
Once he had passed, they headed back to the guest quarters.
Tasha put her hand on Worf's arm and whispered that she was sorry about the loss of the Klingon they had rescued.
It did not go unnoticed by Korris's keen eyes.
Once they were alone, he asked Worf to stay behind.
"You have not spent much time among your own kind," Korris said.
"Hardly none," Worf admitted.
It had been difficult for him. As a child of two worlds, he had often felt like an outsider among both.
His adoptive parents had made every effort to support his desires to embrace his Klingon heritage – including travelling among the Empire.
But Worf had found his trips to Klingon worlds were often met with equal disdain and rejection among those whom he'd idolised.
In their eyes, he would never be Klingon enough.
"So, when the night was still and quiet, and the sound of the blood rushing through your veins filled your ears, the only way to silence it was to slip out into the night and, like the hunter that spawned you, join in the struggle of life and death," Korris said.
He was dangling Worf's feelings in front of him.
Korris had sensed how vulnerable he was and Korris intended to exploit it.
"They shunned you. Cursed you. Called you vile names. Even now. You cannot relent or repent those feelings. And how could you? There have been no other Klingons to lead you to that knowledge," Korris continued.
"Those feelings are a part of me," Worf admitted. "But they do not control me."
"Yes. To fit in, the humans demanded that you change the one thing that you cannot change," Korris went on, twisting the knife. "So you bury it. Hide it deep within you. I do not mock you, Worf. You are a survivor. You did what was necessary. I salute you."
Korris could see that it was working.
Bit by bit, Worf was buying into his cause.
Korris decided now was the time to tell Worf the truth about their encounter with the Klingons aboard the Talarian ship and their status as outlaws of the Klingon Empire. He knew it would build trust, tapping into Worf's desire to be validated as a Klingon warrior.
"I did not want to battle our brothers. I had no choice," Korris explained. "They have been corrupted by the illusion of peace."
"They traded our birthright so they could die in their sleep," Konmel said.
"A peace that makes the Klingon heart that beats in my chest wither and die," Korris said dramatically.
He could see in Worf's eyes that he was convinced, enticed by the chance to prove himself, to find the glory and validation he had sought all his life.
"Are you permitted to show us around this ship?" Korris inquired.
"Of course," Worf replied.
Back on the bridge, their sensors had picked up a Klingon bird of prey decloaking ahead.
"Klingons," Riker said as it materialised in front of them.
"Hailing frequencies open," Tasha advised.
After pleasantries were over with, Captain Picard made clear to the Klingons that they had rescued three Klingons from the Talarian freighter.
"The leader is a Captain Korris," Picard informed them.
"You have him on your ship? He is alive?" the Klingon Captain asked.
"Yes," Picard answered.
"He is a criminal. A renegade, who with two others stole that freighter. They destroyed the Klingon cruiser sent to bring them back," the Klingon Captain explained. "We expect the criminals to be delivered into our custody as soon as we are within transporter range."
Their suspicions about Korris and his crew were correct.
The Klingons had been hiding something from them.
"Lieutenant Yar, where are they now?" Captain asked.
Tasha looked down at the sensor readings on her tactical console.
"They're with Worf on deck seventeen," she informed the Captain as she breathed a sigh of relief.
If Worf was with them she trusted things were alright.
"Deck seventeen?" Picard thought aloud as alarm bells went off in his brain.
"Yes, sir. Near the auxiliary turbolift to the battle bridge," Tasha explained. "Shall I alert Lieutenant Worf?"
She reasoned she would give him a head's up regarding Korris. They had both been suspicious and it was only fair to inform him their shared apprehension had been correct. That way he would be ready to jump into action in case something went down.
"No, send a security team," Picard replied.
Tasha was stunned.
"You don't think Worf would allow them access to the battle bridge?" Riker asked, voicing aloud a concern that both he and the Captain shared.
Tasha felt a flash of anger.
"I think we cannot assume anything. When I saw him howl after the death of their comrade it seemed like I was watching someone I didn't know," Picard admitted.
"I am sensing he is feeling confused," Deanna advised. "Like a longing for acceptance. I think if Korris asked him to violate the rules, he may."
Tasha was chewing on the inside of her lip. She couldn't believe the things they were saying about Worf.
"We're talking about Lieutenant Worf," Tasha said heatedly.
Everyone on the bridge turned to look back at her.
Suddenly, she felt very small as all eyes were on her following her unusual outburst.
"Since when have we been in the business of questioning one another's loyalties simply as a matter of race," Tasha said firmly as she summoned the courage she didn't feel she had.
She was questioning the Captain.
And it was certainly a big risk.
"Lieutenant," Captain Picard started to say but Tasha cut him off.
"Worf is a member of this crew. He's one of us," Tasha argued. "We owe him that trust. The same trust he's given every one of us."
Commander Riker felt embarrassed.
She met the Captain's eyes and braced herself for a dressing down.
Instead, Data spoke first.
"Lieutenant Yar's logic is sound," Data said from the operations position. "There is no evidence to support that Worf has violated any regulation. And at this time he has no knowledge Korris is a criminal of the Klingon Empire. Guests are permitted tours of the ship."
Captain Picard stood down.
"Send a security team. Stay at your post, Lieutenant, in case there are Romulans about," Picard ordered.
Tasha didn't feel right about this.
"I'd like to lead the security team, sir," Tasha said, pressing the Captain.
She knew she was trying his patience, but she couldn't help herself.
Worf deserved better than this.
"Fine," Picard agreed. "And Lieutenant, you do understand with whom you are dealing?"
"Aye, sir," Tasha responded as she made her way to the turbolift.
Outside of the battle bridge, Worf was about to show Korris and the others the famed secondary battle bridge.
"What magnificent battles we could have at the helm of this vessel," Konmel stated.
"Perhaps your dreams of glory no longer fit the time," Worf replied. "They belong buried in the past."
Although Worf shared in their desire for glory, he understood that they were relics of an era gone by and that glory for the Empire came in many forms.
"Standing here we will never know. Our answer lies out there," Korris said as he motioned to one of the windows that opened to the stars. "Our instincts will lead us."
"Instincts that have not been dulled by living among these weak men," Konmel added as he poked Worf in the chest.
"We have heard this ship can separate in the time of battle," Korris inquired.
He wanted to know how this worked, specifically. Although he had a limited working knowledge of the concept, he was keen to learn as it would be critical for his plan.
"Yes. When relieved of the saucer section, the Enterprise becomes an exceptional weapon," Worf explained.
They were almost to the battle bridge when Tasha and the security team intercepted them at a cross section.
"Worf," Tasha said. "Step aside."
Her tone was calm and firm, but her eyes were pleading.
"They have come for us," Korris said bluntly.
"What is the problem?" Worf inquired as he looked from Korris to Tasha.
"The Captain wants them taken into custody," Tasha said cryptically.
This wasn't the time to go into details. She knew Worf would understand.
"Do not let them take us, Worf," Korris said.
It wasn't a plea. It was said like a command.
"Listen to your heart, Worf. Join us," Korris went on.
The tension was thick. Korris and Konmel remained firmly planted where they stood.
Suddenly, the turbolift opened and a child ran out.
Tasha recognised her instantly. She was Ensign McCormick's wee one.
"Stop Maeve," Tasha said as she put her hand out. "Turn around and go back to your mother."
She didn't want to frighten the little girl, but she needed to make sure she was safe.
The child hesitated as she looked up at the large, strange Klingon next to her with curiosity.
Tasha's heart jumped to her throat as Korris picked her up.
"Put her down and step over here," Tasha ordered in an even tenor.
Korris glared at Tasha.
"Everything's going to be fine, Maeve," Tasha said comfortingly. "Captain Korris, put her down and let her go back to her mother."
"See?" Korris said as he looked to Worf. "They do not understand us."
Korris turned back to the child and tickled her nose.
"Bridge, this is Lieutenant Yar. We have a hostage situation on deck seventeen," Tasha said as she tapped her combadge.
For the first time since meeting the group, Tasha drew her phaser on the Klingons.
Korris grinned and put the child back down. She ran off to her nervous mother on the turbolift.
"Disregard bridge," Tasha said as she updated the bridge on the situation.
She realised she had played right into another one of Korris's traps.
"By order of Captain Picard, you are confined to security until you are returned to the Klingon Empire," Tasha explained as her security team took them into custody.
As soon as Korris and the Klingons were escorted away Tasha fell back against the wall and released a breath she had been holding.
"I thought for a minute we had a problem," she admitted.
"Oh?" Worf asked sharply as he looked at her.
She could see he was steamed.
Tasha looked at him confused.
How could he not have seen it?
"Yes," she asserted as she stared back at him. "It looked like Korris was going to hold that little girl as a hostage."
"That is not our way," Worf snarled. "Cowards take hostages. Klingons do not."
They stepped onto the lift in silence.
"Worf, I didn't mean that-" Tasha started to say.
"You didn't mean what?" Worf snapped. "To assume that we're nothing but savage warriors with no regard for the innocent? Indiscriminate in who we attack? Or so weakened from years of this Federation alliance that we must resort to taking vulnerable hostages?"
Tasha felt like she'd been slapped by a gorn.
"Computer halt," she ordered.
She turned and looked at Worf.
"Korris is not a good person. And that has nothing to do with him being a Klingon," she said gently.
She was trying her best to stay composed.
Tasha suspected Korris was using confidence tricks to gain Worf's trust.
"He's a criminal. He's wanted by the Klingon Empire," she explained. "He's not the man you think he is. I'm sorry that he's made you feel like you aren't enough. You're more than enough. You don't need his approval."
"Korris is the kind of Klingon that no longer exists," Worf replied gruffly. "You wouldn't understand."
Worf was furious.
He was angry that the Klingon Empire had found Korris so quickly.
But he was mostly upset that Tasha was using her even, security voice with him like he was some kind of dangerous man that might blow his cool at any moment.
It made him feel like she was afraid of him.
"The Empire will execute Korris," Worf said through gritted teeth. "He will never reach Sto-vo-kor."
Tasha reached out and put her hand on his arm.
"I'm sorry about your friend," she said in earnest. "I really am, Worf."
"And just what do you know of Sto-vo-kor?" Worf hissed as he pushed her hand away.
Tasha pulled away but didn't flinch.
"What do you know about the soul of a warrior?" Worf pressed as he pointed his finger and stepped toward her.
Instinctively, Tasha didn't back down.
Worf wasn't used to someone – anyone – refusing to back away when he closed on them.
His playground impulses kicked in.
"What the hell could you possibly understand about Klingons?" he barked as he shoved her.
Tasha stumbled back into the wall.
"I thought you were different," Worf growled inches from her face. "I thought maybe you could understand. I thought you trusted me. And I thought I trusted you too."
Tasha's throat grew tight.
"Worf, this isn't you," Tasha said pleadingly.
"This is exactly who I am, Lieutenant," he snapped. "I'm done pretending to try and fit into your human expectations of what Klingons should be. You don't know me. You never could. You aren't one of us."
Worf stepped back and ordered the lift to resume.
"And I have grown tired of your pathetic attempts to try and domesticate me," Worf went on. "I don't need your pity. You don't need to treat me like I'm some kind of charity case. I like a solitary life."
"Computer, can you stop the turbolift at deck seven?" Tasha said, her voice shaking.
She knew she would have to compose herself before stepping back onto the bridge.
Tasha sniffled, embarrassed that she was crying.
But his words hurt.
They hurt worse than any away mission injury ever had.
Unfortunately, her tears had the effect of making Worf feel like all of Korris's words had been right.
He was an outsider.
Too brutal and callous for the Federation.
For human friends.
For her.
Tasha's combadge pinged.
It was the Captain.
"Lieutenant, I wanted to apologise for earlier when I questioned Worf's loyalties. You were right about Lieutenant Worf, and I was wrong," Picard said. "I'll apologise to him personally, later. But I wanted to express my gratitude to you for remembering Starfleet's values and having the courage to voice them."
The Captain's words impacted Worf like a kick to the stomach.
In an instant, the rage and betrayal he felt dissipated.
The lift stopped at deck seven where Tasha's quarters were located.
She stopped in the doorway. Tasha cleared her throat and turned back to him.
"I didn't sit with you because I felt sorry for you. I didn't want to spend time with you because I wanted to change you," she said sadly.
She swallowed and thumbed away the tears from her cheeks.
"Did it ever occur to you that I like you?" she asked in an unsteady voice. "That maybe I like being around you? Maybe I-"
Tasha looked down at the floor and tried to summon the courage to say what she'd been too shy to voice aloud before.
Feeling she had nothing left to lose, she decided to air it all.
"I've been kicking myself for a year trying to figure out how," she closed her eyes and gripped her hands together to stop them from trembling. "Trying to understand why every time I tried to tell you, you got cold. To figure out what was wrong with me."
She scoffed as she shook her head.
"I guess I was so afraid of the answer I just didn't want to believe it was true," she said bitterly. "You're right. I'm not a Klingon and I'm never going to be a Klingon. And I get why you can't look at me in the way I want you to."
Worf was dumbstruck.
"I just really hoped maybe someday you could," she said as she met his eyes. "Gods, I'm an idiot."
"Lieutenant," Worf said, unsure of what to say.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly before heading off down the corridor.
When she reached her quarters, Tasha stepped over to the nearest wall and slid down to the floor.
Really blew that one, eh? The voice in her head teased.
Tasha felt like she had.
She felt it in every fibre of her being.
Worf was her best friend and after he'd made abundantly clear just how delicate he thought she was, she had gone and admitted her feelings for him in perhaps the most humiliating way she could imagine.
She let the tears flow.
It had been a long time since Tasha had cried over anything.
This is why you don't let yourself get close. The voice reminded her.
Tasha loathed herself.
Deep down, she wanted nothing more than to believe that not everything had to end in heartbreak.
Despite the façade of her unflappable exterior, she wanted to think there was still good in the universe – that things could still be soft, and sweet, and that people could be vulnerable with one another.
Tasha got up and stepped over to her mirror.
She was due back on the bridge and needed to regain her composure.
It wouldn't do to be seen like this.
All of a sudden, the door to her quarters chimed.
She ignored it as she grabbed a flannel to clean away the tears.
A few seconds later, the door slid open and Worf stepped in.
"Please leave," she said without turning away from the mirror.
Contrary to her request, Worf stayed where he was.
He wanted to tell her how horrible he felt.
That he was conflicted.
Worf wanted to share with her his uncertainty and his struggle to fit into two worlds.
And that his own insecurity was the reason he'd pushed her away – in spite of how much he wanted her to understand that he felt the same way about her.
Instead, what came out of his mouth missed the mark.
"Lieutenant, as a Klingon man I could never," he paused and sighed. "You're a human. Human women don't-"
Tasha whipped around.
"Would you just get outta here?" Tasha asked. "Go, please."
"I dismissed you at the poker game because it was fantasy to think-" Worf tried to explain.
Tasha rolled her eyes.
"Look, I know I'm no Deanna but I'm not a fucking Horta, OK?" she said indignantly.
The nerve! She thought to herself.
She knew Klingons could be prejudiced in terms of physical appearance, but Tasha also knew she was worth more than he was giving her credit for.
Worf didn't understand.
But he understood enough to know he was mucking it up and it was all due to his inability to express himself clearly.
"You do not look like a Klingon woman-" Worf began.
He was going to remind her that he'd already told her he wasn't attracted to that.
He was attracted to her.
But he didn't get the chance.
Tasha picked up a glass sculpture on the nearest shelf and hurled it across the room.
"Go," she shouted.
Worf ducked as it hit the wall and shattered.
He looked down at the broken glass on the carpet and back to Tasha.
Worf was confused.
She had just thrown something at him.
And now she was standing there as if waiting for him to respond.
Worf closed the distance between them and pulled her into a kiss.
It took a moment for her brain to register what was happening.
Because it felt good.
It felt safe.
It felt right.
Tasha's stomach fluttered as he tightened the embrace.
And then, without warning, it dropped.
His words from earlier echoed in her mind.
He had thought she was trying to pity him.
Now, here he was doing the same thing to her.
Tasha thought he had made his feelings clear – she wasn't a Klingon. It was simply fantasy to think he could ever be interested in her.
He didn't need her pity and she certainly didn't need his.
Tasha pushed him away as she broke the kiss.
"I'm so sorry," he said sincerely.
Tasha glared at him, utterly appalled.
"You rage about the idea of pity and then turn around and treat me that way?" she said, fuming.
Worf looked down at her, confused.
"I might just be a human, but I'm not made of glass," she went on as she poked his chest.
"But you, you threw that sculpture at me?" Worf asked as he tried to understand. "Klingon women…"
He trailed off.
Worf had assumed she had been attempting to reaffirm her feelings and doing so in a manner of Klingon tradition in an effort to prove herself to him.
"I don't understand. Is this not what you wanted?" Worf asked as he stroked her face.
"Gods you must think I'm pathetic," Tasha said cynically.
"Tasha, I do not think you are pathetic-" Worf tried but Tasha wasn't having it.
"I don't need you to feel sorry for me just because I threw myself at you," Tasha said. "I get it. You aren't interested. Just let me pick up the pieces of my pride and get back to the bridge."
Reluctantly, he let go of her and turned to the door.
When he reached it, he stopped in the frame.
Worf looked down at the shattered glass on the floor once more and then back to Tasha.
"I'm sorry, that was unprofessional," she said quietly.
Worf stepped into the corridor and the door closed behind him, leaving Tasha alone to clean up.
She could pick up the shattered glass.
And she could easily replicate another sculpture.
But it was going to take time to mend her broken heart.
Six hours later the Klingons were gone.
It had been a rough day all around.
Korris and his rogue Klingons were dead and had nearly taken the whole Enterprise with them.
Thanks to Worf's quick thinking, the crisis had been averted.
Commander Riker had insisted on keeping their weekly poker game.
Although, Worf was conspicuously absent.
"Where is Lieutenant Worf?" Data inquired as he looked around the room.
"I don't think he was feeling much up to poker tonight," Geordi commented.
"Sometimes people want to be alone after an emotionally challenging event," Deanna explained.
"Yeah, poor Worf," Wesley added.
Tasha felt so guilty.
"It's all my fault," Tasha said regrettably. "I was so hard on him about Korris."
"Korris was not your fault," Deanna assured her.
"I laid into him pretty good," Tasha confessed. "Threw that Andorian replica piece at him."
A laugh went around the room.
"You threw something at Worf?" Geordi asked in disbelief.
"Pretty bold to throw something at a Klingon," Riker teased.
Tasha looked around the table.
It was evident that she didn't comprehend the joke.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"Tasha, Klingon women throw objects at men to let them know they're well…in the mood," Riker explained.
"Commander Riker is correct. Klingon courtship rituals often involve one partner lobbing or heaving objects at their intended target to demonstrate their affections," Data stated.
The colour drained from Tasha's face.
"Tasha?" Commander Riker said as he looked at her strangely.
"I-I didn't know," Tasha said fearfully.
He hadn't kissed her because he felt sorry for her.
Worf had kissed her because he thought she was inviting it.
"Is this not what you wanted?" he had asked her.
Worf had thought she was hitting on him.
And he responded by kissing her.
He wasn't the one that had missed the signs.
They both had.
"Excuse me," Tasha said quickly as she stood up. "I need to go apologise to someone."
Commander Riker watched her as she left the room, noting the strange look in her eyes.
Across the table, Deanna could sense an explosion of emotion pouring out of her friend – desire, longing, anticipation, regret, and a sense of fear that she had missed the metaphorical boat.
Two decks down, Worf was sitting on the floor of his quarters in meditation.
The lights were dim – just the soft glow of the numerous candles he had spread out as part of his personal meditation.
Meditation and mourning. He thought to himself.
Today, more than any other day in his years of Starfleet service, had confirmed the doubts he had always felt inside.
He didn't belong.
And he never would.
Worst of all, because of his foolish behaviour he'd lost the person he was closest with.
He growled as the door to his quarters slid open.
"I am in meditation and would like to be left alone," Worf said without so much as even opening his eyes.
"I came to apologise," Tasha said.
"This is not necessary," Worf replied curtly. "The error was mine."
"No, Worf. It wasn't," Tasha insisted. "Worf I'd do anything to show you how sorry I am."
"Then leave," Worf said simply.
Tasha closed her eyes.
She'd blown her chance and it was entirely her own fault.
Once again, her own lack of knowledge was the cause.
Maybe if you'd spent more time studying cultures and less time at the phaser rifle range? Her internal monologue said.
Tasha looked to the door and then back to Worf.
Maybe she didn't have the cultural sophistication of Will Riker.
Or Deanna's abilities to read a room.
Yet, she was tenacious.
And perhaps she had spent too much of her time focused on the gym.
But it had made her the best aim on the ship.
Tasha picked up an orange from the bowl of fruit on Worf's table and threw it across the room.
It hit him squarely between the shoulders.
Worf's eyes shot open.
He sat there as he blinked bewildered at what had just occurred.
A second later, another orange hit him directly on the back of the head.
Worf sprung up and turned around just in time to dodge a third orange.
She had taken aim and was about to toss a fourth piece but paused.
Tasha lowered her arm as she waited for him to speak.
Worf was in disbelief.
She was standing in his quarters.
Lobbing fruit at him from across the room.
The woman he'd pushed away.
The same person he'd longed for since she'd smiled at him.
"You don't know what you're doing," Worf said as he shook his head.
Tasha casually tossed the orange and caught it again in her hand.
"Yes, I do," she said as she held his gaze.
When Worf didn't move, Tasha turned back to the table.
Had it been too little, too late?
She was about to drop the orange when Worf caught her hand.
"Right behind you," he said in a low voice.
His breath was warm against her ear.
Tasha let go of the orange and Worf slipped his fingers between hers.
Tentatively, he wrapped his other hand around her waist.
Her breath hitched.
She welcomed his touch, but she was frustrated as he was holding her like she was made of glass.
"I'm not going to brake," she told him.
Worf felt like he'd stopped breathing.
"I-I'm a Klingon," he stammered.
"I know," she replied as she rested her head back against his chest.
Worf placed a tender kiss on the top of her head.
Tasha didn't want to sound ungrateful, it certainly felt wonderful to be this close, but she had kind of been expecting more.
Sensing there was something holding him back and fearful of anymore missed signals, Tasha decided to confront the issue directly.
"Worf, what's wrong?" she asked bluntly.
Worf took a breath.
"Be honest with me," she said.
He wasn't sure how to tell her without offending her.
"Tasha-" he searched for the right words.
She had seen him – back ridges and all - without flinching.
When he'd been at his worst, she hadn't backed down.
And she had always been behind him.
Worf found the courage to voice his fears.
"I think it would be wise if I were to explain that Klingons-" Worf started to say nervously.
"Look muscles, I'm not made of Andorian crystal," Tasha teased trying to reassure him.
"Tasha, I am concerned that if we do this, I may hurt you," Worf confessed. "And I don't want to ever hurt you again."
Tasha squeezed his hands against her.
"Then you'll just have to hold me tight," she replied tenderly.
Later that evening, they lay in bed in silence for a time.
Neither spoke as they were simply content to be together with one another.
Tasha was resting her head on his chest. She was sleepy and, for the first time in forever, she felt comfortable enough to let her guard down and stay.
"First time?" Worf asked suddenly.
Tasha lifted her head and looked at him, confused.
He threw his head back and laughed.
"What's so funny?" Tasha asked.
Worf cupped her face.
"You said earlier you were trying to figure out why I hadn't noticed you," Worf explained. "I noticed you. I wanted to tell you the first time we spoke after Ligon II."
Tasha suddenly felt shy.
She understood now. It was a throwback to their first intimate conversation.
She snuggled back down against him.
"Let's be honest with each other going forward," she said. "Even if it's uncomfortable."
"Fine," Worf agreed as he traced shapes along her back. "I will start."
His hand stopped.
"I would like to continue this newfound aspect of our friendship," Worf said honestly. "I would like to attempt a relationship."
"Charging in headfirst, eh?" Tasha asked.
"If you are willing," Worf clarified.
"I'll be right behind you," Tasha promised.
The next morning they were at their positions on the bridge. Engineering had started a routine maintenance overhaul on the dilithium crystals which meant they were stuck travelling at impulse power until the work was finished.
They were en route to recover a shuttle. Counsellor Troi had left earlier that morning in a shuttle on her way to a conference.
But the shuttle had encountered trouble, been pulled into a gravitational well, and gone down on a nearby planet.
"Captain, estimated rendezvous with the crashed shuttle in one hour and ten minutes," Geordi advised from the helm.
"The martial arts competition is in three days," Worf said casually. "Are you prepared?"
"I will be if you'll meet me on the holodeck later. I need your help on the Mishiama wrist-lock and break. If it works on you, I can use it on anyone," Tasha replied as she stepped over to his station.
"A valid assumption," Worf assured her. "Who is your first competitor?"
"Swenson," Tasha answered.
Swenson was a science officer who was a regular at the ship's martial arts classes but didn't present a serious challenge.
"You will defeat him easily," Worf said.
"I'm more concerned with Lieutenant Minnerly's spinning back kick," Tasha confessed.
Minnerly was a serious opponent. Tasha knew she would need to bring her best to the match in order to be victorious against the young helmsman.
"You are favoured in the ship's pool," Worf informed her nonchalantly without looking up from his station.
Tasha crossed her arms and eyed Worf carefully.
"You bet on me?" she asked.
Worf turned to her.
"A sure thing," he said simply.
Tasha beamed.
The next afternoon, Worf returned to his quarters after leaving the memorial service on the holodeck.
It had been simple and understated – much like her.
As he moved inside, he realised it had been less than forty-eight hours earlier that she had stepped through his doorway.
Worf looked over to the spot on the floor where he often mediated with a pang of guilt.
He glanced back to the table.
The oranges she had touched were still there in a basket in the centre.
She'd sat at that very table the next morning, smiling at him in a dressing gown that was twice her size because it was all he had to offer her to wear.
He hadn't changed his sheets yet because they still smelled like her.
"Then you'll just have to hold me tight," she had said.
If he'd only known, he would have.
He would have held her sooner and tighter.
No, she hadn't been fragile.
He loved her because she was stronger than anyone he knew.
Yet, she wasn't invulnerable.
She had broken.
And it left Worf feeling shattered.
Never forget I died doing exactly what I chose to do.
Had she?
He recalled their conversation on the way back to Aldea. She had told him that if she could change anything, it would be to go back and have the time to choose a different path.
She was a warrior, forged in the dust of a forgotten colony on a planet long-ago abandoned by the Federation and recruited fresh from Starfleet for work on some of the most trying covert operations.
No, he reasoned. Tasha Yar never had a choice.
Worf cocked his head to the side.
Perhaps she had.
She could have joined one of the clans on Turkana. Or put her skills to use as a bounty hunter, smuggler, or soldier of fortune.
Had she opted to work for a Ferengi merchant or private security, she would be swimming in latinum.
She could have chosen to treat him like the other officers – friendly enough but always from a distance.
Worf, Data, Geordi, they were all used to it in some iteration from everyone – except her.
And she could have chosen to walk away from him every time he'd tried to push her away.
Instead, Tasha Yar had chosen to dedicate herself to service in the name of peace.
She had chosen friendship.
And loyalty.
On his way back from the holodeck, he had stopped by her quarters to pick up the hand weapon she had used on Ligon II.
Worf set it down on the top of his shelf next to his displayed bat'leth.
It would serve as a reminder to speak up, to not hide from his feelings, and of her.
"Lieutenant Worf," the Captain's voice rang out from his combadge.
"Yes, sir," Worf responded.
"I wish this was under better circumstances," Picard said regrettably. "But I'm promoting you to fill the role left by Lieutenant Yar."
"Acknowledged," Worf replied simply.
"If you'd like to come to my ready room to talk," the Captain offered.
"No, sir," Worf said. "Thank you."
"Understood, I'm sorry for the loss of your friend, Worf," Picard said.
"Yes, sir," Worf replied numbly. "Thank you, sir."
Worf picked up the dressing gown that was thrown over the back of his chair. He hadn't placed it into the garment reprocessor yet.
He couldn't bring himself to.
It still smelled like her – the last physical remnant of Tasha Yar left in this world.
Worf clutched it close as he looked at the hand weapon.
He'd be starting in her role tomorrow morning. And he could only hope to bring the same kind of calm demeanour and open-minded approach to security that she had always demonstrated.
The very thing that had initially irritated him when he'd first met the willowy blonde.
"I'll be right behind you," he promised aloud.
A/N: Worf really does keep the hand weapon she used on Ligon II. In later seasons, it is prominently displayed in his quarters. Whether that was an intentional choice by the creative team or merely "hey cool prop!" I don't know. But, at least in my mind, I like to think it was sentimental.
