(By Penny A. Proctor. Paramount owns Star Trek: Voyager and its characters. I let them loose once in a while, just for exercise. A companion piece to Season 3’s "Basics 2")
"Oh, my god," Kathryn Janeway said.
Sitting opposite her in the mess hall, Chakotay straightened immediately and looked around. They had reclaimed the ship from the Kazon barely sixteen hours ago, and everyone’s nerves were still frayed, especially his. He had been on an emotional roller coaster, first finding that Seska was dead and their child missing, then learning from the Doctor that she had lied – again - and he wasn’t the father of her child after all. He was edgy and from the Captain’s voice, he half-expected to see armed Kazon rushing in. "What?"
The Captain was staring at her reflection in the viewport. "My hair. Why didn’t anyone tell me?"
He relaxed, and looked at her appearance critically for the first time in days; neatness hadn’t meant much when they were struggling to survive. She had her hair pulled back and tied with a strip ripped from someone’s uniform, but long strands had come free. Sawing six inches off with a rock hadn’t helped much, either. He thought she looked beautiful, but was wise enough to keep that thought to himself. "Now that you mention it, it is a bit…disheveled."
"It’s a disaster." She set her fork down and tried to untie the cloth strip. The knot, which had been tied to withstand stiff wind, held tight. "I have to do something about this."
"Right now?"
"Right now." Her fingers tangled in the mess, making it worse.
Without thinking, he walked behind her and went to work on the knot. In seconds, it came free. She shook her head, so that it fell freely along her back. He remembered how it had looked on New Earth, nearly waist long but precisely trimmed. Now half of it barely passed her shoulders, and there was no precision left; the ends were all different lengths. "You need a haircut," he said, "with scissors, not a rock. You’re going to have to take a lot off to even it up."
"Hair grows," she replied. "Is there any point to trying tie it back again?"
He looked down, remembering the night on New Earth when he had gathered her hair into his hands once before. It had been soft and slid though his hands like liquid silk.
Suddenly he was very aware that they were in the mess hall, which seemed very quiet despite the fact that almost every table was filled. A quick glance confirmed that most of the diners were watching him, even though they tried to hide it.
"No," he finally said, and sat down again. He smiled at her. "It’s too uneven. You probably should just leave it down until you can have it trimmed."
"I should probably cut it all off. It’s more trouble than its worth."
He thought again of New Earth, of how she looked coming back from a bath, with it all pinned up thoughtlessly except for a stray wisp or two. "Oh, I don’t know about that," he said softly.
She looked at him sharply, as if he had stepped over some line. Then her face relaxed, and she smiled. "I probably will cut it short one day. But not today."
For the first time in days, he smiled.