The BLTS Archive- Scheherazade
by monkee (wiecek@earthlink.net)

---

Disclaimers: Paramount owns Star Trek Voyager and all its characters.

Author's Notes: I read a one-line spoiler for an episode allegedly to
air in the sixth season. "Janeway has to tell stories to an alien
computer."  I don't know if the episode will ever really be filmed, or
what it will be like if it is, but the premise intrigued me.  What
kind of stories would she share?

---

When the door swished open, Chakotay peered warily inside, not exactly
sure what he would find.  She was sitting cross-legged on her couch in
blue pajamas, a mug cradled in her hands. He frowned, but quickly
realized, even from a distance, that it was too clear to be coffee. 
It seemed that even she had enough sense not to drink a stimulant
after having to stay awake for seventy-two hours.

She looked terrible, though. There was a glazed look in her eyes, and
she seemed pale and gaunt.

He walked over to the coffee table and sat down on it, directly in
front of her.

"Hello, Scheherazade," he said, gently.

She groaned, a little bit of life coming back into her eyes.  She
shifted a little on the couch, placed her mug on the floor, then
leaned back again. His concern for her was somewhat relieved when she
looked directly at him. "That was one of the first stories I told it,"
she said.  "I was trying to make a point, but I guess the irony was
lost on a computer.  The damned thing actually liked it!"

"Well, it's a good story," Chakotay observed.

"It's a stupid story!" Janeway replied, rather vehemently.  He raised
his eyebrows at her uncharacteristic venom, and she explained.  "Oh,
Scheherazade was clever and all, but in the end she had to marry a
king who thought nothing of killing a different woman every day at
dawn.  She was going to be stuck with the bastard for the rest of her
life!"

Chakotay considered that for a moment.  "I guess I never looked at it
quite that way," he admitted. "I think we're supposed to believe that
falling in love with Scheherazade made the king a better person.
Redeemed him."

She screwed up her face, and grunted. "I suppose," was all she said.

Chakotay raised his eyebrows. She had to be tired to drop an argument
like that.  He decided to steer the conversation back to her.  "I've
always been taken with the story-telling aspects of that legend,
anyway.  I always found it intriguing, the notion that she could spin
a tale that would keep him enthralled for so long."

Janeway sighed, slumped her head backward onto the couch and rubbed
her eyes. "It should have been you over there," she said, tiredly.  "I
kept thinking that. You might actually have enjoyed it all -- you like
to tell stories. It was a real struggle for me."

"Especially with the crew's safety on the line," he added,
sympathetically.

She nodded. She looked back toward him, but her eyes were unfocused
again, as she remembered. "At first, I stuck to books, holonovels,
some of Paris' movies. Then I tried children's
literature...fables...fairy tales.  Then I moved on to myths and
legends -- first from Earth, then from other planets.  It wasn't until
the second day that it occurred to me that there were hundreds of
stories from Voyager and her crew. I just kept talking and talking.
There were times when I could barely get my voice to work.  And by the
end of the third day, my mind was completely shutting down. I was just
lucky that it all ended when it did."

He reached over and took her hand. "Well, you look terrible, Kathryn,"
he said, kindly.  "The Doctor told me that you were supposed to be
sleeping, and you weren't. He was threatening to come down here and
sedate you."

She snorted and fingered the monitoring device on her neck with
disdain. No one liked to wear them. They were uncomfortable and
represented a loss of privacy.  "You were wise to stop him," she said,
wryly.  "It's bad enough that he's taken me off duty for two days. If
he comes at me with a hypo, I won't be responsible for what happens to
his mobile emitter."

He grinned.  "That's what I figured."  Sobering and squeezing her
hand, he added, "Why aren't you asleep, Kathryn?  You were awake for
three straight days."

"I think that's just it," she said.  "I've got too many stories in my
head. I try to sleep and they're all floating around in there, getting
all jumbled together.  Little pigs, kings, wizards, angry warriors,
Flotter and Trevis...

"Angry warriors?" he interrupted, surprised.  The two words had jumped
out at him -- he almost wondered if he'd imagined them.

She opened her eyes and winced. Apparently, she hadn't meant to say
that. She looked at him sheepishly.  "I really didn't want to tell it
that story, Chakotay, it's very personal to me. But I was running out
of ideas and getting a little desperate.  I'm sorry.  It was one of
the last ones I told it."

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Now his thoughts were in
a jumble.   He was surprised that she remembered the story well enough
to re-tell it, pleased that it meant something to her, sad
that...well, that it was just a story.  He couldn't think of anything
to say, really, so he said the first inane thing that popped into his
head.  "Did it go over well?"

She stared at him for a moment in confusion, and then she tilted her
head and considered the question. Then she started to chuckle.  "No,
actually!"

His jaw dropped. "No?" he sputtered, outraged.

She laughed again at his insulted expression, then shrugged.  "It said
that the story had 'no resolution'.  I tried to explain how sometimes
the best stories don't have a real ending -- it allows the listener to
decide how they want it to end. But it just didn't understand at all."

"Humph," he snorted. She just smiled and shook her head,
affectionately.  He sat in silence for a few moments, thinking. It was
a damned good story, and it did so have a resolution. If finding peace
wasn't a resolution, what was? Still, he knew what the computer meant
-- the end of the story had yet to unfold.

He glanced over at Kathryn. She was still smiling fondly, but
absently. It was more evidence of her sheer exhaustion that talking
about this wasn't making her uncomfortable. She was just too tired for
proper distance and protocol -- all that was left was simple truth.

He suddenly realized that she was wearing the same two-piece
periwinkle blue pajamas that she'd been wearing when he originally
told her the angry warrior story. He hadn't seen them since. They made
him smile.

"How do you want it to end?" he ventured, after a few moments.

She shook herself out of her reverie.  "What?" she asked.

"My story. How do you want it to end?" he repeated.

"Ah," she said, as comprehension returned.  She smiled, and snorted
softly, looking down at the floor. Then she looked back up at him,
meeting his eyes, and said, "I've always been partial to happy
endings, Chakotay."

He smiled slowly, a little surprised at how naturally this
conversation was unfolding after all these years. He knew the
resolution was not going to happen anytime soon, but it was good to
know they wanted the same thing.

"Me too," he told her. Then he held up his hand, as she had back then
on New Earth.  She smiled warmly and touched her fingertips to his,
then their fingers intertwined. They sat there for a still,
comfortable moment. Then she yawned.

Laughing, he moved from the coffee table to the couch. He put his arm
around her and pulled her close to him. She didn't protest,
understanding that it was the gesture of a close friend.  He would
never take advantage of her overwhelming fatigue and vulnerability
right now. "You're exhausted, Kathryn," he said.  "You really do need
to sleep. I'd offer to tell you a story, but..."

She groaned, then settled her head onto his shoulder. Leaning back on
the couch, he shifted her so that she rested on his chest instead. He
stroked her hair, slowly.  "Just go to sleep, Kathryn," he whispered.
"Relax." He repeated the words softly, hypnotically, and within
minutes she fell asleep.

Carefully, he re-positioned both of them, pulling her legs onto the
couch, reclining completely so that his back was up against the back
of the couch, and she was curled up in front of him. She murmured
something unintelligible, but did not wake up.

He tried to stay awake; he wanted to memorize what it felt like to
hold her. And he succeeded -- for about twenty minutes. Then, lulled
by her rhythmic breathing and the warmth of her body, he, too, drifted
off to sleep.

---

He awoke hours later, in the middle of the night. He became aware that
she was awake as well. She had stiffened in his embrace, and seemed to
not be breathing. He could almost feel her mind race. He pretended to
sleep, keeping his limbs heavy and his breathing steady, but inside,
he was tense -- waiting to see what she was going to do.

Then she sighed. He actually felt the tension leave her body,
gradually, muscle group by muscle group. She burrowed closer to him,
and quickly fell asleep again.  There were tears in his eyes as he
brushed his lips lightly against her hair and held her a little
tighter.

He'd never before felt closer to the happy ending that they both hoped
for.

---

The End