ten_fwd | (Open) The Stranger

Tasha hadn't want to scare anyone - or worse - have their pity. She'd been here on some nights before, but always in disguise and making it a point to watch, but not interact, with anyone. Also, she didn't like to admit it, but she loved make-up. Not the kind that Deanna or Beverly wore to bring out their features. That kind of make-up wasn't for her. It didn't feel right on. She didn't like extra attention regarding her appearance; a holdover from Turkana IV, she supposed.

But make-up to disguise? To conceal who and what you were and be able to become someone else? She had an incredible love of that. She justified her enjoyment by its usefulness as a skill, but it was more than that. It was a chance to be someone without the burden of duty or a past. Someone more normal - unless the part called for something else.

The risk of discovery also played a big part in both the thrill of the challenge and the growing irritation at her self-imposed isolation. Tasha justified it easily. She might disappear at any moment - or maybe even drop dead - because "dead" was still her official status, though Picard had assured her the wheels of bureaucracy were getting a firm push regarding all that. Starfleet's reluctance was understandable with all the strange happenings onboard the ship, but it gnawed at her patience. She didn't want to upend anyone's life, but she missed them! It would also mean opening herself up to stacks of unfinished business, too, but she was tired of avoiding her friends - even is she still thought keeping her distance might remain the best course of action.

At least her insistence on isolation had gotten her caught up on as much security information and protocols a civilian had access to. Well, a civilian and a cadet. It turned out the Academy hadn't cancelled her alumni access. There wasn't much dangerous in that, but "not much" wasn't "nothing" by a longshot. She'd have to talk to them about that.

Tasha's tired of keeping to herself and making Aggie feel like she's rooming with a crazy hermit. Tonight, she's keeping her "disguise" to a hooded sweatshirt. It's time to go Ten Forward, to stop being someone else, face what, if anything, comes of it.

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Here is a conundrum for Alec. He knows what happened to Tasha. He's been to the Enterprise before. Many different variations of it too. But he can't say anything about that. Sure, it's possible she might infer it from what he's said about different realities and being here for about a month this time. Things like that. But, unless she actually says it, he won't say anything. Because she obviously doesn't want him to know, it's obviously something that's bothers her deeply (and rightly so) and it's not her fault that Alec knows these things.

It's always been a hard and delicate balance for him. In a way he doesn't know Tasha - because he's never met this version of her and there's always subtle differences between each one.

So, he listens. He watches her body language. And he pretends like he has no idea what's going on.

"Those who've gone cannot return and time that's past can't be regained," he says with a shrug. "You can't go back, so you might as well go forward. And if you don't want to say, fair enough. So, how about this: if you had your choice, what would you do? Best case, wish fulfillment scenario. Even if it's being Captain of the Enterprise... or the head of Starfleet itself."

"Thinking about the next day isn't my strong suit," she mumbles. Nor is thinking about herself and what she wants. At first, it was just getting her and a baby sister to their next meal or safe place to sleep. After that is was all about what Starfleet needed of her.

Even by her standards, it's somewhat pathetic. Understandable and very reasonable, but still pathetic. Which is why she answers with, "I wouldn't even know how to start. Maybe with something to drink. Excuse me."

(Making sure other people get seen in the scene. Thanks, Kippur!)

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Re: Wall o' text alert

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