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Originally written in July 2018, responding to one of MsEllieJane's prompts for the Cornwell Fanworks Challenge. Revised August 2023.
Her Private Pastime
Right foot next to the pole. Right hand wrapped around it, positioned about the height of your head.
Oh, and stop telling yourself this is ridiculous.
Except that it was, wasn't it? She'd been warned not to overdo things, that her recovery was still in its final stages. It was important not to push herself too far. Renée Drake hadn't quite managed to conceal the smirk as she'd reminded her of those orders, but fortunately, she had held back her editorial comments.
Renée, of course, was one of the few people who knew what this particular piece of furniture actually was.
Outside leg straight, and swing all the way around. Bend your knee slightly to keep it graceful.
Katrina Cornwell had been taught physical grace from an early age, along with both dignity and deportment. Her mother had started her in gymnastics when she was four, and she herself had asked to move on to dancing when she was eight. It had been her first teacher's idea to combine the two; she'd been eleven when she switched over to acrobatic dance as her main discipline.
Her parents had allowed it, once they'd been reassured it was socially acceptable. This, though…
She let herself laugh a little. Her family didn't even know about it. They thought the floor-to-ceiling pole in her apartment was just an eclectically styled base for a plant stand.
Technically speaking, that wasn't a lie: she did use it that way most of the time. Her parents had just conveniently never noticed the wing nuts that meant the plants' platforms could be easily removed. Nor had they noticed the proximity of a sliding door, which made it simple to clear the area around the pole whenever she wanted.
If her brother had given the pole a second look, she told herself, it was just because he was an engineer. He noticed the way things were built. He wouldn't have ever thought it was anything to worry about.
Left foot ends up just behind the right, and transfer your weight back. Now wrap the inside of your right knee around the pole and slide your hand down. Arch backward, as far as you can without hurting yourself.
Try not to think too hard about whether your leg is strong enough for the next move.
As an adult, it hadn't been particularly easy to find a place to practice acro. She'd initially wandered into Maxine's studio one afternoon, shortly after starting Command school, thinking she might finally have found what she needed. But when she'd realized what was really going on, she'd begun to turn around and walk out.
Maxine herself had stopped her at the door. "Wait. I've seen that look before. But can I show you something before you make up your mind?"
Katrina, never letting herself be impolite, had waited, and gotten one of the biggest surprises of her life. Maxine had been wearing a simple black leotard, completely appropriate for teaching, and had started a routine designed to display the more advanced tricks. Somewhere between the Iron-X and the Rainbow Marchenko, the decision had been made: pole dance might have sleazy connotations, but as a physical discipline it had everything she was looking for. It would maintain her flexibility and strength, while demanding enough mental effort to be a good distraction.
She'd started classes the next day.
Kick your left leg up and do an ankle wrap. Release both hands and arch until they're on the floor. Hold it for a three-count.
Gabriel Lorca, with his always-busy hands and tinkering habits, had figured out that the plant stands came off the pole the very first time he'd visited this apartment. She'd come out the morning after their first night to discover half the platforms on the floor and the sliding door pushed partway open. "What's this? A support pylon of some type? I know this is a historic building, but there've got to be better ways to shore it up than this."
She'd laughed, removed the rest of the plant stands and pushed the door all the way open before wiping the pole down. When she followed that up by spinning up into an inverted split, she'd heard an indrawn breath and looked up. It wasn't often that she'd seen someone literally drop their jaws.
Still laughing, she'd done one complete circuit around the pole before dropping down into a cartwheel dismount, deliberately coming up only a hair's-breadth away from him.
"That," he'd breathed against her mouth, his hands yanking her hard against him, "had to be the sexiest thing I've ever seen."
Release the pole and kick back into a walkover. Pivot around the waist, making sure you don't accidentally hit the pole as you come up.
It had been her idea to begin combining acro moves with the tricks and routines she'd learned at Maxine's. She'd perfected this move, the first acro dismount she'd begun to use, in the gym while serving on the Landsdowne. That's how then-Captain Drake had found out about this pastime; she'd unexpectedly come in during one of Katrina's late-night practice sessions.
"So that's why you had that put up," Drake had observed. "I'd wondered. Not exactly the most common workout method out there, Commander."
Katrina had wiped her face. "Which is why I don't advertise it."
"Pity. It's something you should be proud of. There's no way you can do something like that without staying in tip-top physical condition." The captain had walked around the pole, inspecting it. "So, is it closer to gymnastics or dancing?"
"Both, actually," she'd answered, and then an impulse had struck her. "Would you like me to show you?"
They'd been friendly enough already, but it was the late-night pole dance sessions that had solidified things into a true friendship. A few months later, Renée had introduced Katrina to her own semi-secret hobby by taking her down to a lounge underneath the outpost on Capella IV, where she'd taken over the piano and spent three hours playing and singing jazz standards from a wide variety of worlds.
"It wouldn't do," she'd explained later, "for people to call me 'The Crooning Captain.'"
"Or for me to be 'The Dancing Doctor,'" Katrina had quipped back, and Renée's laugh, free and easy, had filled up the night air.
Point your toes and let yourself slide down slowly into a split. Ignore the protesting muscles in your legs; you're not taking it too far until you feel actual pain. This is just getting yourself back into shape.
Now lean forward to touch your forehead to your leg. Arms graceful, and lower back –
Suddenly erupting into that actual pain. Katrina stopped the routine, gasping, pushing herself back up into a more comfortable position. She kept her toes pointed as she scissored her legs around until both were in front of her, and then used an arm to brace herself as she arched her back again. The waves of pain subsided almost immediately, although the muscles continued to quiver for a long moment before the spasm completely ended.
That was her limit, then. At least she knew where it was now. She'd made it a lot farther than she'd thought she would.
Sighing, she eased herself up from the floor and padded toward the kitchen, stopping partway there to brace herself against the wall for some cool-down stretches. She'd limited herself to warm-ups and cool-downs when she had been held captive on the Klingon ship, not wanting to give away the true extent of her physical condition. Better to let them think a human of her age and position had become weak.
Then, of course, she'd ended up pushing herself too far anyway. She hadn't even been able to pick herself up off the floor in the Discovery's transporter room after they'd beamed her out. It had taken five days to stabilize her enough to even perform the surgery, and five weeks to learn how to walk again.
In the five months since, she'd wondered whether it would even be worth it to go back to doing full routines. The ongoing war meant there wasn't enough time for anything anymore, and asking for a single evening for herself had almost made her feel guilty.
Admiral Drake, though, had folded her arms. "Go. This isn't an indulgence, Katrina. We all need to clear our heads sometimes. Just be sure you don't overdo things. We need you back in the morning."
She drew a glass of water from the tap and then closed her eyes, relishing the feel of the cool liquid as it slid down her throat. And then Admiral Katrina Cornwell turned back to her living room, already envisioning the next pole dance routine she wanted to complete tonight.