Title: Equilibration
Part: Chapter Four
Disclaimer: The characters of Willow Rosenberg and Tara Maclay,as well as Buffy Summers, Xander Harris, Faith, Warren Mears and Jonathon Levinson, or the reasonable facsimiles that I employ in this story, are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy productions. The setting for the story is within the universe of Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenberry and owned by Paramount Pictures, Inc. No infringement of copyright is intended. The other characters are the creation of either myself or several colleagues who don't care what I do with them. In any case, I'm a firm believer in Kasden's Law ("If you steal from one source, it's plagiarism; if you steal from ten sources, it's research.")
Pairing: W/T (not precisely the Willow and Tara that we all know and love -- but close enough for government work.)
Spoilers: None (as this does not take place in the Buffyverse at all, we're all safe as far as that goes. As to Trek, this takes place mid- Deep Space Nine (call it third or fourth season).
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: A young 23rd-century Starfleet officer named Willow Rosenberg finds herself stranded in the 24th century. Ninety years later, Tara Maclay, an assistant counselor on the ship that rescues Willow, endeavors to help her with more than professional dedication.
Feedback: Email me at
cloister@earthlink.net. Thanks.
Distribution: For God's sake, don't put this on a Trek board without asking me first! I'll lose all my street cred.
****
"So are you going to make the reservations or not?" Dr. Devereux asked as he followed Captain Murdock around the arboretum. The other man was engaged in an informal inspection of the plants from various worlds, checking to see that the Vulcan succulents weren't getting too much water or the Kaferian apple trees were getting enough. Although horticulture was not one of his strong subjects, he had always admired nice gardens and wanted the
Hannibal's arboretum to be a showpiece.
Devereux looked at his captain and friend with bemusement. Unlike many commanding officers who were rarely seen off the bridge or out of the ready room (unless it was some sort of shipboard emergency), Murdock often prowled around the various recesses of the ship: cargo bays, science labs, sickbay wards, classrooms for the school-age children. Several young engineering ensigns still murmured about the time when Murdock, apropos of nothing, showed up in the fuel storage bay, rolled up his sleeves, and started helping them rearrange the antimatter pods.
The counselor had long since divined the reason for these seemingly random diversions. It was Murdock's way of combating boredom, when one efficiency report blurred into another, when yet another Starfleet Intelligence précis crossed his desk and joined a pile of a hundred others. Ladies and gentleman, distinguished scientist, members of the Federation press, we present to you, the cure for interminable paperwork: busywork.
Of course, some of the more cynical members of the Hannibal's complement opined that this was the captain's way of keeping the crew on its collective toes, maintaining an edge of anxiety: Where's he going to pop in next? Devereux never bothered to correct this impression, the few times it had been voiced to him in confidence. If some people thought Murdock's greatest worry was keeping his crew off-balance, who was he to correct their paranoia?
The ship's counselor, that's who, his inner voice would answer, sounding a lot like his dad.
"Sure, Charlie, I'll do it. Sounds like a great idea," Murdock said, squatting down slightly to stare at one particular green shoot, slightly thicker around than a man's forearm, from which protruded a multi-tentacled growth with pink flowers sprouting from it. Satisfied that the exotic plant was in good health, he stood straight and placed his hand among the tentacles. "How you doin', Beauregard," Murdock quipped as the "hand" enclosed his in a friendly clasp, reluctantly letting go as he pulled away. He grinned as he saw Devereux roll his eyes at him. "What, don't you talk to your plants?"
Devereux shook his head. There were many times when Murdock's seemingly devil-may-care demeanor was refreshing, especially amongst the constant sobriety and decorum displayed by most Starfleet captains. However, at times when Devereux was trying to reach the Hannibal's captain on a more personal level, his flippancy really started to work his nerves. It had started when Devereux had tracked Murdock to the arboretum, near the end of beta shift; the captain had evinced surprise at seeing him here. When asked why, Murdock replied, "Well, for one thing, there isn't a bar in here."
Stepping around a planter of Crysaelian sun-blooms, Murdock relented in needling his friend. "Look, Luigi's been bugging me to drop in. Says I haven't had a decent meal in way too long. Personally, I think he and Mama want to clean out the fridge." He took a long sniff of the sun-blooms, savoring the pepperminty emanations. "Ahhh. Don't you love it here, Charlie?"
Devereux nodded. "It's nice. Lots of natural oxygen." He inhaled deeply. "Anything bothering you, Sam?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Usually, you haunt someplace more techno-oriented, like Stellar Cartography, or Engineering, when you take one of your strolls. Coming here usually means that you got some disturbing news."
Murdock nodded. "Just a report from Starfleet Intelligence. Indications of some new Maquis activity. Nothing definite, just the usual unconfirmed rumors." One of the unfortunate consequences of the latest treaty between the United Federation of Planets and the Cardassian Union was the forced secession of several Federation colonies near Cardassian space (and vice versa). Some of the colonists, dissatisfied with Federation assurances that the Cardassian government would not bring arms into the "Demilitarized Zone," had formed the Maquis to wage their own war against enemy aggression, real or perceived. The instability of the situation was only exacerbated by the fact that some of the Maquis felt that the Federation, and Starfleet, in choosing not to be part of the solution, were therefore part of the problem…
"I can see how that can be worrisome, Sam," Devereux allowed, "but as we don't have any solid lead – if what you've told me is true – devoting too much thought to what the Maquis are planning to do, if they are, is somewhat counter-productive. We can't be everywhere at once, right?"
"I suppose not. Although…I've always thought it would be interesting to be everywhere at once. Then I never have to worry about where I'm going. I'll be there!" Murdock's good humor vanished suddenly, as if caught in a transporter beam. He sat down on a small bench placed for the benefit of botanical enthusiasts and glumly placed his elbows on his knees. "I was also reviewing the briefing I received about the Dominion – or rather, their fanatical militia."
Devereux struggled to recall the alien name. "Gem…something. Gem-Haters?"
"Jem'Hadar. I keep thinking about the Odyssey," he added, referring to the starship destroyed by the Jem'Hadar in the Gamma Quadrant. He could still see the sensor images from the runabouts accompanying the Galaxy-class vessel, depicting the Odyssey's fiery death.
"Do you know the captain – Keogh?" Devereux asked.
Murdock nodded. "He was good. Not the best, but solid, experienced. I don't know, Charlie, I keep thinking Keogh had just gotten cocky, underestimated his opponent, but then—"
"—Then you think, 'There but for the grace of God go I," Devereux continued. "You worry that in a similar situation, you're going to come out second best."
"Not a good trophy to carry home, Charlie."
"Neither is 'Best Ulcer of the Year,' Sam. Worry about the things you can control and leave the rest up to the fates of life, the universe and everything."
Murdock smiled. He could always count on the counselor to wean him out of his funks. Of course, half the time the counselor's attempts to dig into his head caused his bad moods in the first place. "'Leave it up to fate.' Is that your secret?"
"No. I, unfortunately, don't have that luxury." He sat down on the bench next to Murdock. "Can we make it tomorrow evening?"
"Make wha—Oh. Right. I think Luigi will squeeze us in. Let's see, you, me, Liv, Gelfa, Jodell, Thelvran, Govarr…and our two guests-of-honor. Nine. Well, Mama always says there's room, we'll just have to take her word for it."
Devereux grinned. "Let's just hope the wine cellar is up to the challenge."
"Boozehound. By the way, I think something happened earlier tonight between Rosenberg and your young protégé."
"Tara? Whatever do you mean…and how do you know?"
"My spies are everywhere. All I know is, the two of them went to quartermaster and got some off-duty clothes for Willow, then they went to a holodeck where Tara had reserved some time…only she left well before the requisite interval, supposedly very upset, and went back to her quarters. Willow went back to her quarters a few minutes later."
Devereux nodded, impressed. "Mmmm. I think I'll have a talk with Tara tomorrow morning, at our usual briefing.
"Rosenberg has her qualification testing tomorrow. I'll give her the invite for the dinner then, maybe see if I can find out what's wrong."
"You're assuming something's wrong between them. Why, may I ask, are you so interested?"
Murdock shrugged. "Willow, well, I…feel for her." At Devereux's arched eyebrow he riposted. "Not like that. Don't get me wrong, she's cute—"
"Adorable."
"—but she's a little young for me." Devereux chuckled derisively, prompting another dirty look for the counselor. "Oh, dry up. It's just, I know she feels, losing everything and everyone she loves…to time."
Devereux nodded abstractedly. "Yes. Although, when you think about it, it's true of all of us. Time is the barrier between life and death, for your wife…" Sigh. "And mine." He cleared his throat. "Y'know, Tara, she's a good kid. I mean, a helluva counselor…a heart as big as the Orion Nebula. I think she sees Willow as some kind of project, helping her reintegrate. 'Course, maybe she's just doing her job extremely well."
"Maybe. Might be something more than that."
"You think she's…interested in that way, in Willow?"
Murdock didn't quite smile, but his expression was a close cousin of it. "Let's just say that I have a good idea, uh, what setting her thrusters operate on."
Devereux laughed at the somewhat risqué slang. "Oh, that's not nice! And what makes you so sure?"
"Well, the way she hardly gave Jodell a second glance. You know how pretty he is…" Murdock rolled his eyes as he stood up, intent upon heading to his quarters and sleep.
"Jodell DaKar thinks he's God's gift to women, men and small blue fuzzy creatures from Alpha Centauri!"
"Well, he is…"
_________________
"Honey, in case you didn't hear me the first six thousand times: no more teleportation spells."
by xita » Tue Nov 12, 2002 3:34 am 
Tara was def cute here in her lustful admiration of the "two sticks." But Willow's still resentful, I imagine that will still cause problems in the future.
. She really should rest more, maybe the captian should make her a roster which includes sleep. I don't mind her self-pity, it's understandable and I don't expect it to go away anytime soon... it will fade over time.
