Some of the lights below
shine directly on the people I know
Their lives take such strange shapes
But how together they appear from above
I guess that could be love
My friends
My friends
I'm coming home
Three
It was towards the end of his shift the following day that Janeway called him into the ready room. He'd hardly seen the Captain all day – there had been an issue with the warp coil's power manifolds and she'd been down in Engineering working the problem with B'Elanna. She was standing under her ready room window and looked up from the PADD she held with a smile as he walked in. In her eyes he could read her fatigue, though, and the still-lingering traces of the downcast spirit he'd detected in her a few days before.
"Captain?" he said, crossing the space towards her. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes. Tom Paris said you had something you wanted to ask me? About talent night?"
He faltered on the step, hand on the rail. "He – did what?"
"Is there a problem?"
Chakotay rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Well, only in the sense that in the next half hour we're going to find ourselves down a pilot."
Janeway shot him an amused glance and headed for the replicator. "Tea?"
"Please."
"What's Paris done now?"
Chakotay sighed and took a seat on the sofa as she replicated their drinks. "It's what he's trying to get me to do. This damn talent show."
The Captain took a seat beside him and passed him his drink. "Oh?"
"He found out that I… used to dance a little. Now he won't let it go."
Janeway's mug paused half way to her lips. "You – dance?"
"Used to. Once. A little," he corrected. "B'Elanna let it slip and now he's convinced that it'd be a great addition to have me up there for all the crew to see."
"Sounds like a wonderful idea to me," said the Captain, with a genuine smile.
"It's really not."
"Why did Tom think you had something you wanted to ask me? If it was for permission to participate, you wouldn't have needed it anyway – but I think you should, Chakotay. The crew – and I – would appreciate it."
"No, that wasn't it. I'd need a partner. Tom's got it into his head that you'd be perfect."
Janeway stared at him for a moment. "I… see."
"I told him it was out of the question."
"Is it? Why?"
That wasn't the response Chakotay had expected. Exasperation, perhaps. Hilarity, maybe. That question, no. He paused for a moment, regrouping, and then said, "Well, apart from the fact that performing in front of an audience really isn't my style… It's salsa cubana."
"You don't think I'd be able to pick it up?"
"No… no, I'm absolutely certain you would pick it up very well," Chakotay told her. He meant it, too. Her inherent grace and fluidity of movement were enough to convince him she'd be a natural. "But Captain, it's a very… passionate… style of dance. If you aren't comfortable with the idea of performing the Dying Swan in front of the crew, then…"
Janeway looked away, although not before he'd seen the briefest flash of disappointment in her eyes. "You're right, of course, Commander. Well then, talent night will just have to do without us. I'm sure it won't be too much of a loss."
Chakotay winced, realising that as infuriating as the notion might be, Tom had at least been right about one thing. The Captain clearly did need an excuse to let her hair down. Wasn't that what his own monitoring of her mood had been telling him for the past few days, too? And she'd told him herself that she loved to dance.
In fact, maybe a night or two of dancing was exactly what she needed.
Yet Chakotay couldn't shift the uncomfortable, niggling feeling that for him to offer to teach Kathryn Janeway to dance salsa would be a very bad idea. He tried not to think too closely about why that might be.
He made his excuses, wished the Captain a good evening and left, telling himself that the entire issue had been put to rest.
Which did not explain why, later, in the soft half-lighting of his quarters, Chakotay found himself practicing steps he once thought he'd never use again.
[TBC]