ROLLERCOASTER
-x-
The Sandwich
-x-
Tasha was in a hurry. Yes, that was it. No time to think, no time to reflect. She had to get on with the task in hand. No time, no time at all. No time to talk. No time to grieve. No time for anything except her duty.
Her duty.
Her duty had been to protect Jean Luc, but…
She shook her head, trying to somehow physically force the thought, and the swell of emotion that came with it, back into submission. Similarly, she made a conscious effort not to ponder why she had suddenly, posthumously began thinking of the lost Captain by his first name. Under other circumstances, she'd have told herself that there would be time for such soul-searching later, but on this occasion, she honestly didn't think that this would be the case. In a way, she was almost glad of that. There was nothing but the immediate future that was worth so much as thinking about…
A hand on her shoulder brought her out of her contemplations, but wasn't enough to cause her to break her stride. She glanced at the pale, synthetic hand, then across at the face that belonged to it while she walked.
'May I speak with you, Tasha?' asked the android as he easily kept up with her pace.
Tasha shook her head. 'Little busy right now. I've got the small matter of adapting our entire weaponry to give us at least a fighting chance against the…'
She trailed off with a frown as Data suddenly held a wedge of bread in front of her face.
'What's that?'
'It is a sandwich,' Data replied.
'A sandwich.'
'Yes.'
'Any particular reason why you're waving a sandwich at me?'
'Lieutenant Worf has recently voiced concern over your behaviour since our encounter with the Borg.'
Tasha rolled her eyes.
'He has noticed,' Data continued, 'that you have neither rested nor eaten since then, to which the response from Captain Riker was, and I quote; "somebody better force a sandwich into her or something – I need her alert and in fighting shape".' Data proffered the sandwich once again. 'It is cheese and salad, with extra tomatoes and no onion – a combination which I have noticed you order from the replicator several times in the past, when in need of a fast meal.'
Tasha pushed the food away. 'Not hungry.'
'While I have no wish whatsoever to force-feed you,' persisted Data, 'those were the Captain's orders, and I shall do so if necessary. If you do not tend to the needs of your body, you will not be properly efficient at your post…'
Tasha stopped walking suddenly, and turned on the android. 'Like I was when we were boarded by the Borg, Data? Oh yes, I was very efficient then, wasn't I?'
Data blinked. 'Is that an example of sarcasm, Tasha?'
'They took him,' Tasha clarified. 'They took Jean Luc… Captain Picard,' she corrected herself, 'right from under my nose.'
'That is not your doing.'
'I'm Chief of Security – I should've made certain that that never happened. He was less than two metres away from me… It is my fault, Data.'
'What could you have done differently?' Data asked her. 'How could you have tackled the Drone? Lieutenant Worf has a greater physical strength than you, and he was thrown to the floor.' He paused briefly, but, since Tasha had no answer to give, carried on again soon after. 'Perhaps I could have overpowered that particular Drone, had I been faster to respond, but I am certain that another would have swiftly taken its place, and so on until they had achieved their objective.'
'"Their objective",' echoed Tasha, bitterly. She began her fast march towards the Turbolift again. 'How can even you refer to what happened as dispassionately as that? They took him. They invaded him. They raped his memory, mutilated his body, and they kept him alive. A slave.' She came to an abrupt halt in front of the Turbolift. 'His face… God, his face…'
She felt the swell of grief and guilt that had been plaguing her since Picard's abduction rise up in her again as she recalled Locutus' face looming on the screen - Jean Luc's face, twisted by the Borg's implants, set in an expression of calm contempt for the very people he had always cared so deeply about. She bit down on a knuckle, willing herself desperately not to cry. She reminded herself that she didn't have time to feel sorry for him, or for herself.
'Since we have served together,' Data informed her, 'it has been mentioned to me by several of our colleagues that you take matters "too personally". Do you believe that to be an accurate conclusion?'
Tasha shook her head, struggling to keep herself under control. 'Not everything. Depends on the situation. Depends on the person…'
The Turbolift arrived, and she stepped inside, closely followed by Data. There was a pause as the lift began its journey up to the Bridge. Data opened his mouth as though to say something, faltered, then, seemingly arriving upon a resolution, spoke.
'Are your feelings towards Captain Picard in any way romantic?'
'Yes,' replied Tasha's mouth before her brain had time to intervene. She checked herself. 'No. A long time ago I thought, maybe… but…' She shook her head again, shifting her eyes away from Data's confused expression. 'I don't know what I feel any more. It's like my world's been turned inside-out…' She sniffed, and, as an afterthought, explained; 'That's just a metaphor, Data.'
'Actually,' the android informed her, patiently, 'that was a simile. Please eat the sandwich.'
'It might have slipped your attention, Data, but we happen to be dead in the water here. Even without the Captain's knowledge we didn't have a chance against them, but now…? This is the proverbial It, Data. Game over. We're screwed…'
'Those were all metaphors…' Data quietly pointed out.
'What does it matter?' interrupted Tasha. 'What does it matter how I feel about Picard, or you, or myself? What does it matter whether I eat your stupid sandwich or not? We're going to die. We're either going to die, or end up like Locutus, and it's going to happen soon, so what does it…' her voice began to crack under the strain of keeping her tears at bay. 'Dammit…'
'Tasha…?'
Tasha wiped her eyes, but more and more hot tears began to form. 'I don't have time for this…'
'I agree. As Captain Riker said, there will be opportunity to grieve later.'
'No there won't. Weren't you listening, Data? We're out of time. We're all out of time…'
Tasha felt a stiff arm inelegantly circle her shoulders, and pull her in to an awkward hug. Tasha was aware that, under normal circumstances, it should have made her feel utterly uncomfortable, but somehow... somehow on this occasion, it worked. There was something about the coolness of his skin and the ponderous, regular rhythm of his pulse as she ground her forehead into his shoulder that calmed her. She began to take deep, controlled breaths, and forced the tears deep down into submission once more. She laid a reciprocating hand between his shoulder blades, and sighed.
'I could fall for you, you know that?'
Data took hold of her elbows and pushed her away at arm's length before she so much as realised she'd spoken the thought aloud.
'I strongly recommend that you do not.'
'I'm sorry,' blinked Tasha, 'I don't know where that came from.'
'Then you do not mean it?'
'I… I'm not sure…' She frowned, suddenly feeling rather insulted by his reaction. 'Would it really be the end of the world if I did?'
'It would be extremely inadvisable for you to do so,' Data told her. 'You must remember that I would be incapable of returning any affection. I would not want to make you unhappy or frustrated.'
'I'm not stupid, Data…'
'Besides which,' Data continued, 'only moments ago, you were admitting to having amorous feelings for Captain Picard…'
'I did not! All I said was…'
'Perhaps you have become momentarily… confused,' suggested the android, 'as a result of the stressful nature of our current predicament.'
Tasha glared at him for a moment. The Turbolift came to a stop, thankfully ending their conversation. 'It's all immaterial anyway,' she grunted as she pushed past him onto the bridge. 'Forget I said anything.'
'Eat the sandwich, Commander,' was Data's only response as he walked away from her to his station.
A Nice Cup Of Tea And A Sit Down
-x-
It seemed to her as though he'd somehow tried to hide, tucked away in a dark corner of Ten Forward, but still he stuck out like a sore thumb. The Captain always did, she supposed; it was one of the curses of command that one could never really blend into the background. Besides which, his face was still a mess. The scars left in the implants' wake had still far from healed. She wondered if she'd ever see that face looking normal and comfortable ever again. She hoped so. Only days ago, she'd assured herself that she'd never have the remotest chance of doing so. And now, here he was. Here he was, sitting in Ten Forward, nursing a cup of tea and gazing out into space - human once more.
She approached his small, lonely table.
'This chair free?'
'Hmm?' Picard took a moment to focus on her. 'Oh. Yes, Commander. Be my guest.'
Tasha sat down opposite him. 'Thanks.'
'Oh.' Picard blinked. 'I assumed you were going to take the chair away.'
'Why should I do that?'
Picard shrugged. 'I just took it for granted that you'd be here with somebody.'
'I'm with somebody now, aren't I?' She smiled.
He attempted a weak smile in return.
'If you want to be alone, just say, Sir. I won't mind.'
Picard sighed. 'Sorry. I must be coming across as horribly standoffish. After all you did to bring me back from… from them…' he trailed off.
'I understand,' she told him, softly. 'I used to have days like that - still do, sometimes, as a matter of fact – you feel like you gotta show your face, you've got to show everybody that whatever happened to you didn't grind you down, they didn't rob you of your spirits or your strength… but deep down, you feel that they did. They did grind you down, and you feel like a shadow of the person you used to be, and all you want to do is curl up and hide. Sound familiar?'
Picard didn't look up from his teacup. 'How do you do it, Tasha? How did you ever get back up again, after what was done to you? How did you learn to look people in the eye again, and laugh, and enjoy life?'
'You know that old saying that whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger?'
'Of course.'
Tasha took in a deep breath. 'You bury the shame you feel as well as you can, but you keep hold of the rage. You let that fury burn on. Even when you have a day when the rage is all you have, that's enough keep you going, at least. And the most important thing…?' She leaned across the table and gently touched the edge of his sleeve. 'Obliterate the word "victim" from your vocabulary. You're not a victim. You're a survivor. And that makes you strong.'
Picard looked up at her and smiled again – still faint, but genuine this time. 'Lieutenant Commander Yar, you are a woman of extraordinary fortitude - does anybody ever tell you that?'
'If they know what's good for them,' she beamed.
She paused, watching him drink his tea.
'You know,' she added, 'it's funny how sometimes you don't really appreciate how much somebody means to you until you think you've lost them.'
Picard nodded in silent agreement.
'You and I are both pretty reclusive people,' Tasha continued. 'We don't socialise much, least of all with one another. I think that's a terrible shame. Don't you?'
Picard set his cup down with another slight smile. 'Tasha Yar, I do believe you're asking me out on a date.'
Tasha let out a small, nervous laugh. 'Not a "date" as such…'
'Because,' interjected Picard, 'I can't say that I think it's such a good idea for a Starship Captain to indulge in a fraternisation with a member of his Senior Staff…'
'Hey! Hold your horses there,' grinned Tasha. 'I'm talking about you and me just getting to know each other a little better. Friends, that's all.'
Picard held his hands up to her. 'Of course. I apologise for the misunderstanding.' He shot her an amused glance. 'Anyway, I forgot, you're involved…'
'No I'm not,' she told him, quickly.
'You're not…?'
'No.'
'But you two seem to have been getting very close over the past few…'
'I'm not involved with anybody,' she told him. 'I'm a free agent. And I'm still not asking you on a date.'
Picard paused. 'Of course I'd like to be friends with you, Tasha. You are a charming individual.'
'However…' prompted Tasha.
'However,' continued Picard, 'at this moment in time… I don't know. You wouldn't be seeing the best of me, that's for certain. I just don't feel comfortable with that.'
Tasha nodded, calmly. 'I understand. And I hope you don't think I'm being forward, I just don't want to waste any more chances to spend the sort of time with you that I'd always hoped to.' She got up from the table. 'When you want to… if you ever want to… just let me know. Offer's always open.'
Picard echoed her nod. 'Thank you.'
'You're welcome.'
'No,' replied the Captain, seriously. 'I mean it. Thank you.'
Tasha just smiled, and turned away.
'You know,' added Picard from the table, 'Dixon Hill had a niece. A Girl Detective – quite the trailblazer. Perhaps, some day, you'd like to join me for an adventure?'
'I'd like that,' Tasha smiled. 'I'd like that a lot.'
