"Raisins and Almonds" VOY J/C G 28/28 (end)
Pegeel
Standard disclaimers, as per pt. 1
Raisins and Almonds, pt.28.
C.1996, Peg, Robinson.
I leaned forward, stick across my knees. Chakotay shifted
slightly, turning his body so he faced me. I rested my
hands across the stick, and raised my voice so it would
carry around the circle. It was odd. I was used to being
the center of attention in command, but I wasn’t so sure I
liked it as a story teller. Performance is more my mother’s
line, or Chakotay’s. Not that I haven’t got any stories I
want to tell.. but most of them I’d rather tell to an
audience of one, person to person, eyes meeting eyes. Which
was part of why I’d chosen the story I had... that and the
sense that Chakotay and my crew needed laughter more than
tears or philosophy . I drew a breath, and made my face as
sober and still as I could, aiming for some of the
seriousness and gravity I’d seen in other tellers’
deliveries on other occasions. I wanted to get the “set-
up” right.
"This is a story I was told when I was a girl in the
Diplomatic compound in ShiKhar, on Vulcan. It was part of
the story-cycle of the children in the compound, handed down
through generation after generation of Embassy brats, part
of the children’s culture of the Diplomatic Corps. I first
heard it during one of Vulcan's rare rains. There were
three of us hiding under the house, in the breezeway; me, a
Betazoid boy named Makai, and an Andorian girl who I think
was called Jujurin...I'm not sure, though... it's been many
years. The story was Makai's, and he had been told it by
his brother, who had heard it from a Tellarite, and before
that I don't know. This is Makai's story.”
I looked around the ring of faces. They were with me...
both those who saw the trap, like Tom and Chaim, and those
who, like Chakotay, were walking blind into it, betrayed by
their own perception of me as the “sober, serious career
woman” that I will admit is my more common public face. I
continued, playing it as gravely as I could manage.
"There was once a Batrandi girl who lived in the
compound the way we did. She was older than we were, and it
was the time that, back on her own homeworld, she would have
contracted a marriage alliance. Unfortunately for her her
family were the only Batrandi in the compound, or even on
the planet. There were no Vulcans willing or available to
enter into a contract with her, the officer's posted to the
compound at the time were none of them interested. Finally
the girl's father began asking around, and he discovered
that among the Trill there was one young man in the Trill
embassy who might be interested in courting the girl. He
very tactfully presented the possibility to the young man,
who, like many of the Trill, was willing to attempt anything
once.
"So the young man came over to the girl's house. She had
cleaned and decorated a courting room, set out her kilata to
play if it would entertain him, dressed in litta robes. She
was nervous, but thought she was ready for anything.
However she was surprised in spite of herself when the young
Trill suitor showed up accompanied by a massive Vulcan
seh'lat.
"'Why have you brought the teddy bear, oh, honored one?'
"I was told that a teddy bear was a classic courting gift
among the Batrandi. I'm afraid this was the best I could
do.'
"I believe you are mistaken. Indeed, I am sure you are
mistaken. Perhaps another race, honored one?'
"Perhaps. The humans, maybe. They seem to prefer odd
courtship rituals. In any case, if you want him, he's
yours.'
There were grins around the circle, particularly from the
mixed-culture couples like Chaim and Cherel, and Kes and
Neelix, and from those like Chakotay who had had to
navigate the often confusing assumptions of cross-cultural
love. I continued, taking the dubious tones of the poor,
baffled Batrandi girl.
"I think not, honored one. There is no room in the
compound.'
"Then I shall keep him to guard my house in ShiKhar.'
"And so he did. The bear accompanied him as he courted
the girl, returning every evening to the house in the town.
The three got along famously. In time they came to be seen
everywhere, and the family began to dream of the day they
would be introducing their Trill son-in-law to their
acquaintances on Batra. The sound of laughter was often
heard from the courting rooms, the young people went for
long walks through the gardens of the compound. But mere
weeks before the family would have asked for a signed and
formalized contract, the young man was called back to the
Trill homeworld. He left the bear with his sweetheart, he
left on the next ship out, and then, to everyone’s dismay,
died suddenly while en route."
Murmurs of sympathy passed among my listeners.
“The girl was heartbroken. She'd lost her intended, she
was now old to enter into an alliance on her own world. Her
parents were unable to deal with the blow, being shamed that
their daughter would have to return to Batra unwed. The
only one who was there for her was the bear... and him she
repeatedly turned away. At last her mother approached her,
saying 'We are shamed that we have no comfort to offer you,
my daughter, but we had hoped the bear could help heal your
heart. Will you not let him cheer you in your sorrow?' The
girl shook her head. The mother held her hand. 'But why,
daughter? You have gone everywhere with the bear, you have
played with him, you have many good memories, and he is
loyal'. the girl shook her head again. The mother tried
one last time. 'He is an amusing animal, and always has
been. He's played with the neighbor's children, he's chased
the transporter repairman, he's danced as you played your
kilata. Won't you let him cheer you up now?'“
I lowered my head, and looked out from under my lashes,
trying to stall a beat, trying to asses the vulnerability of
my victims. They looked pretty vulnerable to me. I struck,
blasting them with a punchline that had made strong men
flinch.
"The girl shook her head, and answered 'It's no use,
honored mother. He is a good bear... there is no denying
that. He is entertaining. But there is no hope.......You
see: He's been seh'lat of fun, but the Trill is gone.'"
Chakotay had been following the story, looking more and
more puzzled and suspicious as the tale ran its course, but
he wasn't prepared. The punch line hit him solid. He
tried...lord, he tried. He bit his lips. He fought to keep
his face straight. Then the snort escaped, and he was lost.
Within seconds he was lying on the ground wailing. And just
when he might have recovered I saw a hand sneak towards his
ribs from out of the dark. Magda... of course. No sooner
had she started than a howl went up; Chakotay scrambling to
escape... and the women in the circle picking up the howl as
they realized that he was easy prey. He got his feet under
him, and laughingly took off around the circle... to my
amusement not trying as hard as you might expect to escape.
Most of the men, like Tom and Harry and Chaim just dodged
back and scuttled to safe vantage points, shouting good
advice and teasing comment, but staying clear of the fracas,
but the female denizens of Voyager all seemed to have
decided that it was time and past time for a bit of ritual
“laying on of hands” and the mob of fun-filled maenads was
impressive. Soon Cherel, and Magda, and B'Elanna had him
pinned, with Sam Wildman checking to see what results she'd
get from the backs of his knees. Magda and B'Elanna were
cheerfully sharing the ribs, Cherel was seeing about his
kidneys, and Kes had handed off her little one to Neelix,
murmuring something about medical expertise being needed for
maximum effectiveness....
Chakotay gave a frantic thrash, twisted, got his feet
under him, and sprinted away from the circle. Poor man. He
should never have plotted his course past me. As he
scrambled past still giggling I slid out a foot, hooked his
ankle, and dodged back as he went down. The women piled
back on. Cherel nodded to me as she refastened herself to
his sides.
"Nice save. Want a few ribs?"
"Thanks. Don't mind if I do."
It turned into a regular tickle orgy, and only ended when
Chakotay managed to pin B'Elanna, Magda, and I in a bear hug
that more or less immobilized us. By then Cherel and Sam
and the others had migrated on to other conquests, leading
to the half-hearted flight of the previously “safe”
members of the crew, and the four of us lay on the ground
listening to the wails and snorts of a well tickled crew.
Chakotay leaned his head down near mine.
"You're right. It's a bad story."
"Terrible. It left permanent scars the first time I heard
it. Serious childhood trauma."
We scrambled up, brushed off, and the circle slowly
reformed. The story telling period seemed over for the
night, though. First Kes named the child: “Riaka”, an
Ocampan word for “honorable doctor”. She’d scored a
perfect quadruple hit, managing to name the baby after
herself, the Holodoctor, the clone, and Anyas all in one
move. Little Riaka was passed among her namesakes, Anyas
delighted and laughing, the clone wide eyed, hands shaking
so hard I was afraid he’d drop the little one, and the
Holodoctor, the ghost at the feast, floating his hands
gently over the child, mouth crooked with amazement and
love. Then the baby was held up, and introduced to us all.
The name was met with general favor, and the child was
passed from one person to another, to be greeted and
welcomed to our community, as the circle slowly settled
again. Atime was spent on sadder topics. The memories of
home, thedeath of Klaus, even a strange, disturbing round of
memories of Jorland that left Chakotay tense, and me wishing
I could stand up and shout “He was a traitior”. It wasn’t
an option. I watched Kilpatrick, playing the mourning lover
to the hilt... possibly even truly *being* the mourning
lover that night, in that company, and did the only I could.
I let it pass.
Then the songs came out to replace the stories. The sense
of family seemed to coalesce, and take on a sweet, lazy
solidity as the night got its feet truly under it, and the
dark and glowing skies rolled and churned overhead.
It was a strange thing to watch. Crewmembers were
draping, closing ranks, the lot of them relaxing and nesting
together like a lazy, sleepy litter of puppies, eyes easeful
and happy in the shadows and the glow of the fire. Soon I
could look around the circle and see my crew, sprawled and
tangled in meshed contentment, passing 'May the circle' back
and forth, drowsing together under a spirit-haunted sky.
Paris had his head on my lap; Harry and B'Elanna were using
his stomach as a pillow, Magda had propped her own head on
Chakotay's thigh. Kes, and Neelix, Anyas, and the
holodoctor -- a remote controlled-ghost, and the clone all
clustered together. It was like a solid ring of bodies.
Somehow everyone seemed joined one to another. Even Tuvok
was bonded in, though I knew that, touch telepath that he
was, he would avoid coming too close to the emotionally
charged minds of the people around him. But B’Elanna had
started to shiver, even with the fire bright and leaping,
and Tuvok had gravely, graciously unwound a sweeping length
of robe from around his own shoulders, and draped them
wordlessly over her, a second blanket against the cold.
Somehow that dun flourish of fabric seemed to tie him into
the community as surely and securely as the tangled hands
and legs and arms of the more extravagant souls present.
Looking around the circle, seeing the friends and lovers,
the comrades and even the enemies joined close and woven
into one, the space between Chakotay and I felt like a cold
abyss. I felt an icy spot between my shoulder blades, the
part of me that always seems to be most vulnerable to cold,
and loneliness.
I turned to Chakotay, nodding towards Magda sprawled
long and lanky and lazy against my XO’s thigh, young Gerrol
leaning against her in turn..
"Do you like being used as furniture?"
"What?"
"Just say 'yes'."
He grinned. "You sucker-punched me once already this
evening.. no, twice. All right, though. I'll bite.
'Yes'."
I shifted and turned, starting a pitiful whimpering from
Tom, who claimed invalid status, and the right to hibernate
undisturbed.
"Deal with it. I'm an invalid too, and my back is cold.
Lieutenant. Or do you want that to be 'Ensign'?"
I'd rotated far enough. I gingerly leaned back, bracing
my back against Chakotay's side. He shuffled, and shifted,
and for a few minutes we carefully adjusted our weights and
angles until our two masses balanced each other out. He was
quiet. So was I, too aware of Tom’s blue eyes looking up at
me, amused and too understanding; Tuvok’s dark eyes watching
expressionlessly. I held a stubborn and embattled position
in my own mind, winning only as I looked around the ring at
all my crew, content and relaxed. There had to be a place,
a latitude that allowed us that too. Seventy years was too
likely to lie ahead of us, too long a time to live in a
self-imposed seclusion. Humans go mad alone.
I could feel him, tense against me, as uncertain as I was.
After a while the song shifted to 'Raisins and Almonds'.
He turned his head so he could speak and not have it carry
beyond us.
"More command unity?"
"My back was cold."
"I see." At least he sounded amused.
"It's safe enough. Look around. No decorum to breach."
"I see."
"Damn it, Chakotay..."
He gave a quiet, breathy laugh. "All right, all right.
Just where *do* I put my arm, before it falls off?"
I wrapped it around my waist, my own arm lying over his,
my hands clasped over his. Tom’s eyes seemed to glow below,
blue and opaline, smiling. I glared at him, but before I
could do more he echoed the time we’d discussed the cat --
silently reaching up, tuning an invisible key at his mouth,
and throwing it away. Then he ruined any sobriety the
gesture had had by winking at me.
I felt a slow shiver go through Chakotay. Then he
relaxed, settling close, pulling me slightly closer, his
fingers tangling with mine. He turned his face towards
mine, and his breath was warm against my temple. His voice
had a nervous, uncertain sound that echoed the flutter in my
stomach.
"'Sublimate', she says. I've got news Kathryn... this is
*not* the way to get me to sublimate."
He was still edgy, only laughter, and loneliness, and the
public nature of the thing keeping either of us from the
nervous retreat that would have been the easiest move. I
sighed, and leaned back into him.
"I know. But it's safe for tonight. We can figure out
what, if anything, we'll do about it another time."
Slowly, slowly we both relaxed, until I felt my eyes
trying to slide shut, lulled by the voices, the songs and
the murmuring, the crack and snap of the fire, the glow of
the skies overhead. Chakotay breathed easy against me. I
didn’t really notice when the circle began to break up,
until Tom lifted his head from my shins, scooted around, and
asked, very quietly, “Will you two bring the blankets in
with you when you come in? The red one is B’Elanna’s. The
blue one’s mine, the green one’s Harry’s.”
I don’t think I was entirely awake. For a moment all I
could do was blink. Then I gently nudged Chakotay.
“Party’s breaking up, Wildcat. The small fry want their
blankets back.”
“Mmmm. Suppose we can comply.”
We staggered blearily up, and watched as all the brick-a-
brack and paraphernalia of the bacchanal was gathered and
dragged away. Soon almost no-one else was left, and we
began our own peregrination down the hill to the ship below,
side by side, feet slipping against the slope. Below us we
could see Kes, and Neelix, with Riaka, saying good-bye to
the clone. There were hugs exchanged, our Deltan couple at
last turning away, and heading for the ramp that lead up
into the ship, and home. The clone watched them go,
standing, small and fragile on the landing field, his shadow
spreading out in a hundred directions under the scattering
light of the veils above. I thought how alone he looked,
watching his closest friends heading away from him.... then
suddenly he leapt up, the gawky, ebullient leap of a young
colt, all legs and arms and awkwardness, spinning and
hugging his own ribs, and a faint banner of laughter
fluttered up the hill towards us. He almost danced where he
was, then spotted us, silhouetted against Abbyzh-dira’s sky.
He waved wildly, and called up to us, “An interesting life,
and a varied one!”, then pelted away across the asphalt of
the field, feet slapping , laughter flying and flashing
behind him, in love with his own heartbeat.
I turned to Chakotay. “A Fantoccini. I wonder what I
should be learning about being human from him? Chakotay,
how long since you felt that drunk with life?”
He smiled, but didn’t answer. Instead we stood, the
seconds crawling, the awareness of the possibilities
building. Just as I was about to step forward, and dare my
own nerves to stop me from kissing him, he turned away,
moving down the hill like he was hunted.
“I just remembered. B’Elanna wanted to know if we could
replace the power couplings on deck three, while we were
here, and I told her I’d let her know by tomorrow if we
should hold off for now. Better go check it before I
crash.”
I do wish he’d chosen his words more carefully. Crash is
*precisely* what he did. He checked the coupling, made a
note in B’Elanna’s engineering records, turned, and missed
the first rung on the ladder in the Jeffries tube on deck
three. It makes me wonder just how many IQ points a man
looses when he’s having a hormonal rush.
-30-
Over to you Macedon. No hurry, I need a rest... <G>
Peg.
kate
Aw, gee! Here I was, all ready to complain about corny J/C stories,
and you had to write this! It's realistic, it's touching, and most of
all, it's true to character! I've never been able to visualise how
those two would get along to the extent some stories show, but this...
this is *right*. Thanx Peg.
Kate
P.S. By the way, the rest of it was excellant as well, as usual.
kt.
************************************
life's tear shaped moments slip away
like pearls to death's hands