Christine dared me to write a story based on "Smells like teen spirit" by Nirvana.  There's a story behind that, but the short version is, I don't back down on dares.  Anyway, she found me the lyrics in less than 20 minutes (and followed it up with the lyrics to "Caboolture Speed Lab"), securing her place in my people-I-owe-huge-favours-to book.

Lyrics, in the double asterisks, are from "Smells like teen spirit", written (I assume) by Kurt Cobain.  The ending will make it abundantly clear why this is a fanfic.

Chakotay glances at Kathryn, gauging her reaction as he speaks.  "And in that way, the warrior began to know the true meaning of peace," he says finally.

Kathryn smiles, a trace of shyness touching her face.  "Is that really an *ancient* legend?" she asks gently.

He blushes and answers, almost hesitantly, "No.  But that made it easier to say…"
 

"Bullshit!" yells Dave, throwing popcorn at the screen.

"Excuse me?" demands Maggie.  The moment has been destroyed.

"Total bullshit," Dave repeats.  "Sappy romantic crap."

"Just because Seven's breasts aren't in it…" begins Toni, downing the last of her Coke and pouring another one.

"It's not about Seven's breasts—"

"Yeah, right," snorts Maggie.

"—It's about taking science fiction and making girly-girl romance crap."

"Breast withdrawal syndrome," Toni reassures Maggie, "purely Oedipal."

"Hey!"

While Dave and Toni debate psychology, Maggie steals the remote and hits rewind. This is the most important part of the episode, and she doesn't like it to be interrupted.
 

**It's fun to lose and to pretend**
 

"It's not like they ever got together anyway," Toni complains as they rewind the tape.  Dave has gone to the toilet; the two girls can talk privately.

"Yeah.  Bloody Braga," says Maggie.

"The bastard."

"There's always fanfic," Maggie points out.

Toni snorts.  "Fucking fifteen year olds mooning about how they *belong together* --" her voice drips with venom – "and should never be parted."

"So some of it's crap.  Some's okay."

Toni shrugs, ejecting the tape and inserting 'Day of Honor'.  "If you like that sort of thing."

"Getting bored?"  Maggie knows that Toni's own fanfic has become increasingly cynical, filled with direct digs at the powers that be and fandom itself.

"I guess."

Dave returns and the video night continues.
 

**Here we are now, entertain us**
 

"Gaharay vessel, prepare to be inspected. Crew members are instructed to step away from their stations."

"We know the drill," Janeway rasps. Her posture is relaxed, but her eyes are cold.
 

"Haven't we seen this?" demands Dave, throwing more popcorn.  In the last four hours, the ground in front of the tv has become covered in popcorn, chips and anything else Dave had to hand as the girls debated relationships and interactions.

This time, though, Toni is sympathetic.  "At least five times in the last two months," she tells him.  "Normally I wouldn't say this, but—"

"Obsession is not a nice word," warns Maggie, laughing.

"This night is totally Seven-lite," complains Dave.  "In fact, it's babe-lite full stop."

"We did suggest a Buffy-fest," points out Toni.

"I don't know why I even watch this crap," he grouses, but he doesn't move from his bean-bag.
 

**Our little group has always been
And always will until the end**
 

Kashyk stands close to Janeway, both compelling and intimidating. "Captain," he says smoothly, "I'm a reasonable man, and you've been cooperative--but consider this a reminder.  You have a long trip through Devore space...and good friends can be an asset."
 

"And Janeway's a friend with good assets," Dave adds helpfully.  Off the girl's stares, he adds, "What?  I can't ogle?"

"Definitely Oedipal," murmurs Toni.
 

**I feel stupid and contagious**
 

Kashyk pales as he realises that Janeway has the upper hand in their game. "Prax, do you have the telepaths?" he asks.

"I have cargo containers," Prax reports unhappily, "filled with vegetables."
 

Dave jumps up, laughing, and runs upstairs to the kitchen.  He bounces down the stairs two at a time, bearing a broccoli.  He positions the it in his hands and begins to intone, "My mind to your mind…"

"Why do we put up with him?" whispers Maggie, trying not to laugh.

"… My thoughts to your thoughts…"

"Entertainment value?  Pays a third of the rent?  Decent beta reader?"

"Oh yeah."

Dave drops his hands and turns around.  "Captain!" he croons in falsetto, "I sense great hostility!"  He switches to a British accent and a commanding attitude.  "Couldn't you have told me *before* they boarded the ship, Counsellor?"

This time, the girls cannot restrain their laughter.
 
 

A YEAR LATER

**And I forget just why I taste
Oh yeah, I guess it makes me smile**
 

Chakotay takes a deep breath.  Earth's sun beats over their heads for the first time in too many years, but he wonders if it's not too late.

"Is this success?" he asks.  It is clear that he refers to Janeway's new uniform, carrying the rank of vice-admiral.
 

"She's supposed to be a rear-admiral," complains Dave.  "Damn continuity."

"It's Braga's fault," says Toni, "the bastard."

"Shut up," says Maggie.
 

"I don't know," admits Janeway.  "I worked for this for so long … but it seems almost meaningless without –"

"Without what?" asks Chakotay.  His face is that of a man almost afraid to dream … but also afraid not to…

"Without you," Janeway whispers.

Hesitantly, as if their fragile relationship could break with a touch, they kiss lightly.  Then Chakotay deepens the kiss, holding Janeway as close to him as possible.
 

"About bloody time," says Dave.

"Ave Brannon."

"The bastard."
 

END
 

(Any resemblance to real people is coincidental, except for the "friend with good assets" line, which I borrowed from a certain male friend.  My brother once attempted to mind-meld with a broccoli.  There's been no obvious change in my brother, but the broccoli has shown an unusual interest in Jeri Ryan and Virginia Hey.)

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Copyright © 2000 Elizabeth M. Barr

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