#lostmojave

❝    That  may  be  true  ,  but  I  still  suggest  getting  you  to  sick  bay.  You  took  a  pretty  nasty  blow  and  fall.  I  wouldn’t  want  you  to  have  any  lasting  injuries.  Besides,  what  if  you  have  a  horrible  injury  ?  Who’s  going  to  help  me  prank  Data  then  ?    ❞

Fifty Reasons to Touch Someone || No Longer Accepting

7. …in secrecy.

Leonard doesn't know how long this has been going on now, nor does he know at one what point sticking it to his ex had ceased to be the primary drive behind his desire to keep up the charade. Somewhere along the line, his focus had shifted, his original purpose falling by the wayside. He doesn't know when that happened, either.

They're alone. There's no reason to keep up the act when there aren't any eyes on them, scrutinizing their interactions. Beyond the glass is an endless void of stars, a cold, black backdrop for the shimmer of distant stars. Sheila stands closer to him than she needs to, and Leonard peers down at her fondly. There are words stuck in his throat that he knows he ought to keep to himself. It's getting harder by the day.

“Really?” Ten Forward was missing some chairs; it wasn’t missing them a second ago when she had turned to grab a drink from Guinan. Whatever unexplainable magic the barkeep possessed, she had used it this time in her continuing quest to make her reach out. It wasn’t like she was a complete loner, she had developed a nice relationship with Crusher, Troi and Picard; there was even a Bajoran security officer whom she often shared meals with. Still, it wasn’t enough for Guinan. “This is obvious, even for you.” Dark eyes scanned the room with distaste. Riker? No. Laforge and Worf? Even worse. Data was kind, but he had something on his table that he would insist on telling her about. After dismissing other officers for their perceived crimes (chewing loudly, actually being a dick about Bajor, lettuce on their teeth) Ro settled on the strange newcomer. Though she wasn’t that new anymore, Ro simply never had an interest before in meeting her. “I’ll make you pay for this, you know.” With that one last threat, her feet carried her across the room in quick confident stripes, giving the chair a little nudge before she asked in a tone that was not exactly polite. “Mind if I sit?” 

          “sheila would you PLEASE tell kryten that his mopping has created a life-threatening hazard on level 157, and if he does not do something about it, i will be writing him up for obstruction and threat of bodily harm to a superior officer?”

it’s one of those days where rimmer is refusing to even speak to anyone below him in rank, and since kryten has set him off on a tirade, it now falls to the only person who doesn’t HAVE a rank to deliver the orders. ( cat, of course, doesn’t count. even if he did, he’s likely off snoozing somewhere, and wouldn’t listen to rimmer if he was screaming with a MEGAPHONE into his ear. )

          “hey. hu-man.” it’s not that quark doesn’t remember sheila’s name. he does. it’s hard not to when she’s won three games of dabo in the last hour. he’s just been standing at the bar, watching with a growing scowl, hoping that someone else will sort things out.

but no more.

“i think that’s enough for tonight, don’t you?” he’s a little uneasy as he walks over and tries to guide her away from the tables. “why don’t you take a break and come have a drink at the bar?”

     ‘ Alright. We’re sending someone over. Hold tight. ’     The friendly Irish voice on the comms reassures Flight Engineer Sheila O’Kelly that he will stay with her every step of the way. He has also braced her to the fact that his companion is not, in fact, as  human  as she, but is apparently more able to tolerate the conditions of her vessel’s failing life support systems.

When the alien he names  ‘ Odo ’  appears in the dilapidated interior of the  Mojave  with a brief swirl of light and energy, something of Odo’s nature becomes clear--  his outline takes on an impressionist’s idea of  ‘ human ’  in the absence of gravity, a liquid shape, before the lines straighten out enough to pass for one.

It used to be atypical for someone new to visit the station when it was run by the Cardassians. A mining facility was certainly no place for guests. Since the Federation had turned the station into a thruway rest stop, however, there were people in and out all the time that Garak had never seen before. Honestly, everyone on the station had become a blur of primary coloured uniforms and various alien vagrants who passed him by without a bother or a word. He stopped noticing when things changed, because things on Deep Space 9 were always changing. 

He hated it. 

The usual crew were familiar. Of course he knew Rom and Quark. He had known them from the time of Terok Nor. And Rom’s boy, the little troublemaker. But it was terribly difficult to tell all of the Starfleet ones apart. They were all very similar, excepting the nice young Trill woman and that handsome young doctor that Garak had inadvertently become so fond of. And that Captain. Oh yes...the Captain. 

Regardless, he was happy for the revolving door that seemed to be a part of his shop. There was no shortage of business, and at least that was a plus. He eyed every customer with a pleasant smile and a manufactured twinkle in his crystal blue eyes. When a woman entered with a walking stick and a cheerful smile, Garak was quick to give her the same treatment, although he was familiar with this particular customer.

“Sheila!” Entering the room, he gave his patient a long disapproving once over. She was shaking, skinny arms grabbing the handles with everything she had, but it was clearly not enough. If Worf passed by this second in a brisk pace she would be thrown into the wall. Her body still did not have the strength to hold itself. And there was nothing she could do about it! Julian was always proud of his patients when they pushed themselves, there was only so much he could do, they needed to fight to recover as well. 

Sheila was the rare case where the fight was bigger than the strength. The nurse hovered behind Sheila worriedly, unable to pry the girl away from the bars and also seeing the disaster that was about to happen. “Your session ended twenty minutes ago.” An extra five minutes was healthy, promising. Twenty was pushing her to the limits, pale skin that hadn’t seen the sun in hundreds of years was dotted red. “We have talked about this before.” Tone stern, he gave her no chance but to stop pushing by stopping in front of her. “Rest is as important as exercise, your body needs time to form muscle again.” The nurse wheeled in the chair, waiting by the side, waiting for her to make the choice.