Laundry Day

[Tachyon 0]

"Laundry Day"

A Joint Log by Lt. Anastasia Poldara and Lt. j.g. Natalie Harris

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Natalie hesitated for the sixth time before she pressed the chime to the quarters of the Poldara quarters. No, she wasn't. Yes, she was. No, she wasn't... oh, hell. Cursing her recent dispensation towards indecision, she pressed the chime. Dinner wasn't going to kill her. They were friends. All of them, and they could act like adults and not be silly about things. Right?

 

The door opened without comment from the quarters' occupants. The lighting within was dim.

 

She blinked.

 

"Hello?" she called out, taking a cautious step inside. "Michael -- Ana... Lieutenant Poldara?"

 

"Over here," came a voice, vaguely female, from the desk in one corner of the room.

 

"Um..." Natalie followed towards the voice, squinting into the darkness. "Did I get the time wrong?" she asked, starting to blush again.

 

The light above the desk activated, illuminating its immediate surroundings. An obscured figure sat in the chair, its back turned to Natalie. Slender fingers rested on one of the arms, tapping a slow rhythm. Three bars later, the chair swivelled around, and Anastasia fixed Natalie with a stare. "So I hear you and my husband got to know each other better."

 

She fought the instant urge to squirm, assuming what could only be classified as an only slightly lessened form of parade rest. "Um," she began, inarticulately, and looked resolutely at the floor. "Yeah, I guess we did, yeah."

 

Anastasia held Natalie's gaze for several more seconds, then she broke into laughter. Choking slightly for breath and slapping her hand against the arm of the chair, she said, "Oh, you should see the look on your face! Priceless!" Then, with an abrupt return to stoicism, Anastasia's expression became neutral. "But seriously, how far did you go?"

 

Her eyes narrowed at the laughter. Whether or not she and the other woman's husband had become... better acquainted... or not, she was going to get Anastasia Poldara for that. "Why does everyone want to know that?" she demanded, hands going to her hips. Then she sighed. "We kissed. That's it. That's all. And cuddled a little, I guess." She frowned slightly. "I'm really not that much of a tramp. I promise."

 

"Oh, I don't care," Anastasia said, standing up. "Computer, normal illumination." The room sprang to life. Anastasia went over to the living room area and sat down, gesturing for Natalie to do the same. "I just wanted to hear it from you."

 

Natalie followed, looking around their quarters. "You... don't care?"

 

"Not particularly. Michael was upset, but I think I calmed him down, and then when he told me about your . . . outburst in sickbay, I insisted that he let me talk to you alone. I understand if you're distressed, so I want to reassure you."

 

She sighed again, taking her seat on the couch. "I know, I shouldn't blame myself, but, well, I do. I can't help it. And now I feel like I've gone and ruined something for somebody else..."

 

"The only people whose lives we've ruined are those we killed by recovering our memories," Anastasia said.

 

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Literally killed? Like those Orions?"

 

Anastasia paused to select an adverb, then replied, "Philosophically. The people we would have been if the amnesia had been permanent. Me, a passive-aggressive with a tendency toward histrionics. You and Michael . . . romantically linked. If you should feel sorry for anyone, it's them. Those people are no more."

 

Natalie frowned. "I dunno. I don't feel too fond of... Kimmy... my personality. She wasn't the brightest girl, she was clingy and tended to get upset about everything..." She smiled. "I never thought I'd say this, but I sort of like me better."

 

"I--" Anastasia began to say, "I like me better too," but hesitated. Did she really like herself better than that other Anastasia? What did the other Anastasia say about herself--how much was she a product of that situation, those events, and how much was the result of her deepest, most reserved thoughts? It was a question she could not answer objectively, of course. So she sighed and filed it away.

 

Instead she said, "I didn't know Kimmy. I like Natalie just fine."

 

"Even though she was rubbing up on your husband like an unspayed dog in heat?" she joked. "Okay, okay. I promise I'll quit beating myself up over it. Still, I feel like I have to make it up to you somehow. Or prove my lack of love for your husband in some strange ritual. I dunno."

 

"If you want to make it up to me, strive to see that there is no more awkwardness between the two of you. You and Michael did not do those things your other selves did; it would be tragic if your friendship suffered as a result." Anastasia glanced over to a wall where Michael had hung his diploma. "Besides, it means a lot to me that he is close to one of his colleagues. I haven't told anyone else this, but he is likely the only reason I am still here." Silently, she added, And sometimes even that seems like not enough.

 

"You... don't you like your work? Being here, on this ship?" Natalie frowned. "You're so good at what you do."

 

"It's not a matter of skill or enjoyment--it's about belonging. I'm not an explorer. I thought I was, when I was younger. Hell, I even thought I was when I first joined this ship. But my experience has taught me otherwise. There is a lot out here--too much." Anastasia's gaze had wandered, and she was now staring out at the window behind Natalie, lost among the stars.

 

Looking back at Natalie, she repeated, "I'm not an explorer. I'm a scientist, but one who is more at home with her projects and her pet theories than out here, gallivanting around the cosmos. I suppose Oscar Wilde was right, damn him. I'm becoming more like my mother after all." She sighed, then smiled. "Old Russian lady does not like change."

 

"Nonsense!" Natalie brushed a loose strand of hair out of her eyes, leaning towards Poldara and giving her a reassuring smile. "You do belong out here. Who would be better to figure out all of the things we see out here than a scientist who knows how to experiment and loves it? You'd be wasted shut up in a lab back home."

 

"My my, look at you, the little counselor. We need one of those, these days. I'm sure there are Starfleet officers more qualified--and more eager--than me to be out here. I was just lucky." Anastasia did not mention her suspicions about why she had suddenly made it to the top of the list--this was neither the time, nor the place. Burying those spectres for a darker day, she said, "Especially lucky when it comes to Michael. He dropped everything he had--a thriving practice!--to enlist and join me here. And he's happy, I know he is. He's happier to be with me, and he enjoys working with you. But he's sacrificed so much--I don't want him to lose anything else."

 

"Does he want to be out here, or is he just following you? Trying to make you happy?" Natalie frowned. "If you two spend your whole lives and careers trying to make each other happy..."

 

"You'll do what? Frown at us disapprovingly?"

 

"You'll both end up unhappy and dissatisfied."

 

Anastasia shrugged. "I can't know his motivations, but like I said, I know he is happy. In fact, I think he's enjoying it more than I am--you should hear him talk! He'll go on for hours about the cases you guys have to treat. The saga of Lt. Teros alone. . . ."

 

"He found that exciting? Oh God, he's still wide-eyed. Good. The next time that Andorian walks into our sickbay..."

 

Anastasia stifled another fit of laughter. "Michael is no cynic, that's for sure. It's one of the reasons I married him. Every time I feel melancholic, he takes away the vodka, puts a cup of tea in front of me, and says, 'Could be worse.' Actually, now that I think of it, he's more like my mother." This, it seemed, was the last straw, and Anastasia lost her battle with laughter.

 

The doctor giggled too, then faked shock. "You're a Russian, and you let him take away your vodka without a fight?"

 

With an arched eyebrow, Anastasia pretended to take offense. "You might be as innocent as those beatific little eyes protest, but not all of us live up to our stereotypes."

 

"I am not innocent!" she protested.

 

"Careful. One day I may ask you to prove that to me."

 

Natalie continued to play-scowl, then finally gave that up, giggling again. "I take it that dinner's off, then?"

 

"Afraid so. Another time, definitely." Anastasia stood up and gestured at her desk. "I still have reports to read, reports to write, reports to file. . . . Being an officer, especially a senior officer, is hard work! My non-commissioned husband does not have these problems. Michael is taking the night off. He went to watch the chess tournament in the mess hall."

 

"There's a chess tournament?" Natalie perked even more, standing. "I should go see that."

 

"You should," Anastasia said, her expression neutral.

 

"Is that... okay? Gah! I promised I wouldn't worry. Okay. I'll go, then." She smiled, heading towards the door. "I'm not letting you out of dinner, though."