"Dust"

Someone spoke to me last night,
told me the truth. Just a few words,
but I recognized it.
I knew I should make myself get up,
write it down, but it was late,
and I was exhausted from working
all day in the garden, moving rocks.
Now, I remember only the flavor —
not like food, sweet or sharp.
More like a fine powder, like dust.
And I wasn't elated or frightened,
but simply rapt, aware.
That's how it is sometimes —
God comes to your window,
all bright light and black wings,
and you're just too tired to open it.

— Dorianne Laux

She remembers the sky was so blue, like Earth's. And the sun on their backs and the feel of his hand in hers and a monkey that always interrupted but was never unwelcome in the fullness of a life that stretched out before them.

Except this blue sky wasn't like home, it was home.

But the blue fades now and she wonders whether she will ever recognise that shade again if she happens upon it, or will always be uncertain, knowing there will never be an answer.

So she sits in the Mess Hall, this enclosed space within space in the dark, in the place she never thought of as home but which somehow she must try to see this way, live this way, and one day perhaps it will be true.

"Captain?"

"Neelix."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was here."

"You're not disturbing me."

"I was just after a late-night snack. Can I get you something?"

"Thank you, no. I'm fine."

She is aware in the abstract of his bustling somewhere behind her in the kitchen as she gazes out at the blackness. Her fingers tighten around her mug, clinging to the solid object and the receding warmth of the steel.

A bowl of ice cream is slid in front of her.

"It's your favourite, Captain – coffee. You said you're fine, but … I've been told there's always room for ice cream!" He holds out a spoon.

She resents his kindness, this intrusion. But nothing belongs to her any more, not her energy, not her time, not even her heart; the ship owns everything. And so she looks up at him with as much of a smile as she can create, and takes the spoon.

He hovers for a moment.

"Neelix?"

"Do you want some company?"

No. "Sure."

She's not herself, nor the captain yet either, hovering too, neither here nor there. It is not good for them to see her like this. She should have stayed in her quarters. But she couldn't do that, not yet, be separated from him by bulkhead somehow thinner than the parchment-thin divider that separated them on New Earth.

Neelix slips into the seat opposite her, his own bowl in hand. "We're so glad to have you back. It hasn't been the same without you."

"Thank you," she says as she must have said a thousand times already today, each time the words sticking a little bit more in her throat, mixing with the sand already there and making her choke. They're almost a lie. Almost a lie but not quite. Because she wanted this. She wanted to be back. And so she is not sure which of her lies is the worst. Which part of herself she hates the most, the one that wanted to stay, or the one that wanted to come back. Her eyes gravitate to the emptiness once more, still another piece of her wishing she could sink into the velvet darkness and stay there, still, cold, suspended in time.

"It must have been hard leaving that planet."

"What was that?" He catches her off guard; no one today has asked her how she felt about leaving, a fact for which she has thought herself thankful. She shifts in her chair; she's not sure she wants to talk about it now either.

"Well, you were down there for a long time. Settled in I expect. It was beautiful, too, wasn't it? Very like Earth? Must have been nice not to have all the stress on you like you have up here," he says, his voice gentle, no pressure behind it. Just offering her a quiet place to rest for a while.

Her lips part. "No, I … wanted to be back."

"Of course you did." He smiles at her broadly. "But, still. I would have found it hard."

"We grew … Your Talaxian tomatoes grew very well down there. They were just about ready to harvest," she says, not thinking of tomatoes at all.

"Ah! They are something aren't they? They grow well in Airponics but like nothing else in soil! You should have brought them back with you."

"I didn't think … They wouldn't have transplanted well."

"No matter! They're a piece of you both left down there. It'll be like part of you there always – that's a comforting thought." He pauses, looks at her in the dimness with his wise, perceptive eyes. "But you can always do some gardening up here too, you know."

"Oh, Neelix." She has trouble stopping the catch in her voice. "We— I can't. I won't have time up here; too many responsibilities." The words come out in a little flurry.

"Your ice cream is melting, Captain." He points at her bowl with his spoon, halfway to his mouth.

She wipes at an eye before its sudden burden can escape, glad to have the ice cream to look into. Swirls her spoon through the melting dessert. State change, she thinks idly. The entropy of an isolated system always increases. Is that true of us too? Sadness stretches out inside her like a sea, reaching in and out in low, flat waves to lace through the sand in her throat, her lungs, her chest.

She straightens her spine against the drawing tidal pull. "Well, we need to think about making up for lost time," she says. "We wasted so much with this distraction."

"I hope you won't forget about your time away too quickly."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, forgive me, but you seem ..." His voice trails off for a moment. "The planet was a part of your life. And if I may presume, it sounds like a good part." He doesn't wait for her to confirm or demure. "I remember my family and Talax all the time. All the good parts especially."

… a bathtub and a boat …

"Doesn't it upset you, thinking about them when you know you'll never see them again, have that time with them again?"

… a blue, blue sky …

"Of course. But they're part of me, and I don't want to lose them. Thinking about them is honouring them and Talax. And that helps me when I'm not so happy up here – that doesn't happen often! It reminds me what goodness is, and family, and hope – then I can see all this around me here too."

She tries to turn up the corners of her mouth, and takes up a spoonful of ice cream, more to fill the place her response should go than because she is interested.

But the light-but-bitter cold dissolve on her tongue is more than a kindness, the sweetness a small heaven, and a smile accosts her unbidden. "Oh, this is good!"

"Good? Good!"

"Have you changed the recipe?"

"I might have made a few little alterations since you've been away," he says beaming, tipping his head from side to side.

She reaches out and places a hand on his forearm. "You're right – I had room for ice cream. Thank you."

"No problem at all, Captain."

They fall into an easy silence as they eat, and she finds herself grateful for his presence after all.

"Well, I think I'll leave you to your thoughts," he says when they've both finished. "Unless I can get you anything else?" He steps up from the table.

"You don't have to wait on me, Neelix," she says, getting up too, intending to take her spoon and bowl to the replicator to recycle.

He smiles. "No, I don't. But I like to," he says a little gruffly, and before she can pick up her dishes or realise what is happening, his brightly upholstered barrel is coming towards her and his arms clasping her to him in a sideways hug.

"Mmmfph," she puffs in amazement, wriggling around in his grasp to face him. When he doesn't let go immediately, she is startled to feel herself give in, her own arms folding around him to return the gesture, chin resting on his shoulder. It's kind, this hug, and warm. And so good just to be held by someone.

"It's good to have you back, Captain. We missed you. Very much," he says as he lets her go.

Warmth in her rises to meet his words. "I missed you and everyone too," she says, and means it. For the first time today.

"Hope can surprise you," he says softly, "sneak up on you when you're not expecting it – in places you don't expect it to be. Like when I arrived on Voyager. And having you and the Commander back."

She feels her eyes shining and she's glad the Mess Hall is only starlit.

"And apparently in ice cream," she replies.