Fair Heaven

by LZClotho

Disclaimers on part 1.

Fair Heaven Part 2

Leaning on the polished wooden surface of the counter, Hans surveyed the darkened corners of the Irishman's drinking hall, relieving his shoulder of his sack, waterproofed with whale fat. His nose twitched as he caught the smell of alcohol on the various bodies dancing past in the raucous noise these people called "dancing music."

"What have ye got in today, Norseman?"

At first Hans was startled, then he recalled he was supposed to have been here before. "I have lutafiske, sausages, a fine ale..." The man tending bar, Michael Sullivan by name, reached out a hand. "I've a case, but I'll give you a taste for a single piece."

Michael nodded and his hand disappeared below the edge of the bar, coming up with a single golden piece of metal rounded into the shape of a coin which he passed to Hans. In exchange, Hans rummaged through his sack, and retrieved a hand-hammered metal flask. Reaching across the bar, he grabbed one of the glasses – pausing before slamming down the less substantial glass, and poured a fingers-height of a golden liquid into it.

Michael tasted the brew, pursed his lips a moment, spit back into the glass and set it back down on the bar top.

"It is sufficient?" Hans asked.

"You say you have a case?"

"On my ship."

"Bring it by at closing time tonight, and I'll try it out on some of the regulars tomorrow."

Hans nodded. A deal set, he pushed away from the bar, repositioned his bag over his shoulder and started for the door.

A slight female, corseted and gowned, turned, catching up her skirts and Hans opened the door. "Thank you, sir." Hans felt his ears actually tingle as though touched by the honeyed sound. He harrumphed.

"Oh, it's you." Hans straightened, then slouched, then didn't know what to do with himself as the woman's bright blue eyes focused on him. "I wanted to apologize about this morning. I hope none of your things were damaged."

The woman looked to his bag. Oh yes, he had dropped it this morning to catch her from falling. "No. Nothing broken."

"Good." She beamed at him.

Hans was grateful when she finally moved aside and let him pass out into the Irish sunshine. Out on the street, he inhaled several times, adjusted his sack and headed for the pier where he had his small fjord ship at anchor.

Looking around as he approached the busy pier, he tossed his sack to the gunnel and climbed aboard. Below deck he walked to the cabin door.

"Computer, exit."

Seven of Nine pushed the final pin into her French twist as she exited Holodeck One, her lunch break over, intent to return to her post in Astrometrics.

Entering Astrometrics she smiled at Icheb as the young man turned at her approach. "You may go eat," she informed him.

"Did you enjoy your break?" Icheb asked.

Assailed by a vision of bright blue smiling eyes, Seven nodded. "I did."

"What's Neelix's special today?"

"I do not know. Everyone is taking their meals in the 'Fair Haven' program today."

"Giving Neelix a day off," the young man nodded in an approving way. "I think I will take Naomi to lunch on the holodeck as well."

Seven nodded her concurrence with that suggestion and watched the young man leave before turning her attention to the calculations she had left running. The data flowing from the long range Astrometric sensors was routinely processed by algorithms she had devised long ago, sorting out data which met certain parameters to create her report to the captain, or anomalous data she would need to examine more closely for possibly hidden dangers to Voyager or its crew. Today the data looked to be remarkably benign and she felt a sense of calm as she prepared her formal report.

"Seven's report?" Chakotay preambled as he leaned toward Janeway who had just turned to answer a quiet beep at her console.

Janeway nodded as she read the header. "Looks like a quiet bit of space ahead. Maybe we can take a few days shore leave on a planet somewhere."

"I thought you were enjoying the Fair Haven program again," he replied.

"I am," she said with an easy smile. "The change up of new faces around the bar has been nice."

"New faces?"

"Mr. Paris has obviously been paying better attention to the fact that Fair Haven is a port town. There's all sorts of traders in and out these days."

Chakotay's brow lifted, stretching his tattoo. "Someone catch your fancy?"

"Just Katie's curiosity about other cultures."

"Well, I wish you, and her, a delightful evening."

Janeway smiled. She wondered if the gorgeous young Nordic seaman would still be in town. Perhaps she could interest him in a pretty Irish gal showing him around.

The songs, wine, and a new ale, courtesy of their Norse visitor according to Michael, circulated freely among the patrons at Michael's pub that night. Katie O'Clare danced jig after jig, and played rings with Michael's wife Megan. Her eye strayed to the door repeatedly. Finally she felt her breath catch as she saw the tall seafarer, with a clean woven cap pulled tightly over his golden hair, only the occasional strand curling past the dark brown wool. He looked more slender today, having clearly changed from his bulky seawear to clothing more suitable for the slightly fairer clime of Ireland from his homeland's arctic chill. Where the Irish around him wore vests and linen, he still sported a pullover sweater.

Katie wondered what sort of woman had knitted it for him, a sister... a wife? She spun away from her current dance partner, using the energetic tempo to give her courage, and fell against him just as he was straightening in the lantern lights. "It's customary to remove a cap indoors," she said, breathlessly as she looked up into the gaze meeting hers as her hands fell against the strength of his forearms.

"Thank you, but I wish to keep it on."

Katie shivered, a very good, deep shiver that went directly to her groin, at the warm, deep tone. She couldn't speak immediately. The Norseman stood still as well.

The din suddenly crashed into Katie's ears as Firth, dancing to the jig playing from Roald's pipe, stumbled right through her, pushing her into the Norseman's body. His hands grasped her waist, squeezing just a bit. She caught her lower lip in her teeth as her body warmed to its neighbor.

Breathless against his chest, Katie asked, "What's your name?"

"Hans," he replied.

"Hans," Katie whispered. "I think I need a little fresh air."

He blinked. She thought perhaps he was about to ask her what she meant by that, but then he straightened them both, and opened the door, gesturing her to step out of the pub ahead of him. She grabbed her shawl from the hooks by the door and preceded him out into the moonlit night.

She inhaled several times, giving truth to her request for fresh air. "I love the smell of spring coming to these hills," she murmured wistfully. "It's what I miss most about home." She started walking, without a predetermined destination in mind. The curiosity she had seen in his eyes did not disappoint her as he followed, quietly striding alongside.

"I have not been home in many... months," he said.

"So you have been at sea a long time?" Hans nodded. "Do you like it?"

"It can be interesting. Though it is the places to see along the way which are more interesting."

Katie smiled. "Are you widely traveled then?"

He cocked his head, clearly considering his words before speaking. "Yes, I am."

"I would love to hear some of your adventures," she said.

"I am not used to telling stories."

"Oh, you should. It's the only way we'll learn about each other after all."

He seemed to consider this. "Do you have stories to share in return?"

Katie put her right hand on the inside of his elbow as they walked along and tucked her left hand on top with a gentle caress of the wool fabric. "If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

Hans inhaled as the woman touched him. Wool didn't seem very thick right now, though he was warmer than he thought he should be for the weather. Clearing his throat, he realized he had given his name but the pleasantries dictated by the social order were incomplete. "What is your name?"

"Katie. Katie O'Clare."

"I shall have to give your stories some thought... Katie."

She blushed at his words. He had tried to keep his voice low, to hide the nervous quaver. He had never before done such a thing, but the inclination came over him to draw her close, and reassure her.

As he did so, Tom Paris came romping onto the street, rings in hand. "Katie O'Clare, time to defend your unbeaten streak."

Katie turned in Hans' arms. "Do you want to go back inside?" she asked him after surveying Tom Paris's face.

"I should return to... my ship... for the night."

"I hope to see you again," Katie replied. "I had a good time on our walk."

"Then we should do so again."

Katie's smile widened. "I'd like that. Good night, Hans."

"Good night... Katie." Hans dipped his head toward Tom. "Mr. Paris."

Tom assessed Hans then turned and followed Katie O'Clare back inside the bar.

Hans returned quickly to his ship in the harbor and disappeared below deck.

Reentering Michael's bar, Tom leaned close to the captain, "You seem to have found a new friend."

Kathryn Janeway looked briefly back over her shoulder at the unseen Norwegian character. "I'm intrigued by your adding the new algorithms to bring in the seafaring traders common to the era."

Tom's brow furrowed. "Just don't go messing with the framework of the program."

Kathryn lifted her right hand in a "on my honor"gesture. "I learned my lesson with Michael." She paused and nodded toward the bartender who turned to fill a stein for her from one of the barrels tapped behind the bar.

"It wasn't why it went unstable, but you're safe not to take the chance. Too many folks really like it here, just the way it is." He nudged her with an elbow. "But I never took you for taking up with a blond."

Kathryn blushed. Collecting herself she reminded, "I believe you invited me to get your arse kicked in rings, Tom?"

He handed her the bridle rings and they commenced, in the distant reaches of the unfamiliar Delta quadrant to play a game developed by Irish horsemen some 600 years ago.