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writetomyheart2020-04-28 08:13 pm
yrindor) wrote in writetomyheart2020-04-28 08:13 pm
[Team Three] Remembrance
Oops, I completely forgot about this. Sorry for the delay /o\
I just watched Star Trek TNG S01E23, and it gave me Feelings, so I ended up with this. CW for character death/grief/mourning.
After it happened, everything shifted. Not to everyone, maybe not even to most, but to him.
From a security perspective, little changed. Any reasonable security plan included instructions for all eventualities, including the loss of an officer anywhere in the chain of command. The lieutenant had reviewed the protocols with him herself. She would be pleased to know the orders were executed without incident.
The hand-to-hand competition took place after a forty-eight hour delay to reseed part of the bracket. Worf did not attend. He found his interest in one officer's kickboxing or another's wrist locks diminished. It was not the same without a friend on the mat to make his blood run hot.
He passed the holodecks again. He often found himself by the holodecks at the end of his shift. It had not been his usual routine before. He did not think much of it the first time, or the second, or even the third, but Data would say such a pattern suggested meaning.
He logged off duty and for the first time stopped in front of an empty holodeck. He entered commands into the computer and the door slid open.
He stepped inside, and the program shimmered into existence around him. The floor was replaced by mats as Lieutenant Yar materialized opposite him.
He bowed, and she mirrored the gesture.
She moved first, unusually aggressive for her.
"I see you're feeling well, Lieutenant," he said as he blocked her kick and pivoted behind her.
"You taught me yourself," she replied. "There are times to wait and times to act. If you're going to take the offensive, then do it. The longer you sit around, the longer you give your enemy to study your tactics." She dropped low as she finished, sweeping his legs from under him.
He felt the motion just in time and threw himself into it, using the extra momentum to roll clear and back to his feet.
Lieutenant Yar smiled as she sprang back up. "You're quick," she commented.
"Don't go to the ground unless they force you to it," Worf growled. "Don't help them put you where they want you."
Lieutenant Yar's eyes went flat. "They can try," she said. "I'll put them in the ground if they do. I'm not an easy target anymore."
"You never were," Worf said as he blocked a kick, only to realize at the last second it was a feint to distract him from the fist barreling toward his face.
He broke away and circled. She had become faster in the time he'd know her--stronger, more deliberate. And she'd learned his patterns just as he'd learned hers. They traded blows back and forth, evenly matched despite their differences.
At last he saw his opening, slipping out of her hold with a well-timed fake and pinning her on the mat.
"You've changed," she said with a smile. "I seem to remember a certain young Klingon in the Academy stating that a true warrior had no need for deception."
"And I remember a certain young Cadet saying that she'd never match a Klingon in combat."
"She'll never forget the Klingon who proved her wrong. Thanks, Worf. I wouldn't be here without you."
"No. Thank you."
The program began to fade. Worf held on and stared into her eyes as he roared until he had no breath left in his body. Lieutenant Tasha Yar may not have been a Klingon, but she was a warrior. She would be recognized as such.
He left without looking back.
You're up![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thesecretdoor. Your starting words are "He left without looking back."
I just watched Star Trek TNG S01E23, and it gave me Feelings, so I ended up with this. CW for character death/grief/mourning.
After it happened, everything shifted. Not to everyone, maybe not even to most, but to him.
From a security perspective, little changed. Any reasonable security plan included instructions for all eventualities, including the loss of an officer anywhere in the chain of command. The lieutenant had reviewed the protocols with him herself. She would be pleased to know the orders were executed without incident.
The hand-to-hand competition took place after a forty-eight hour delay to reseed part of the bracket. Worf did not attend. He found his interest in one officer's kickboxing or another's wrist locks diminished. It was not the same without a friend on the mat to make his blood run hot.
He passed the holodecks again. He often found himself by the holodecks at the end of his shift. It had not been his usual routine before. He did not think much of it the first time, or the second, or even the third, but Data would say such a pattern suggested meaning.
He logged off duty and for the first time stopped in front of an empty holodeck. He entered commands into the computer and the door slid open.
He stepped inside, and the program shimmered into existence around him. The floor was replaced by mats as Lieutenant Yar materialized opposite him.
He bowed, and she mirrored the gesture.
She moved first, unusually aggressive for her.
"I see you're feeling well, Lieutenant," he said as he blocked her kick and pivoted behind her.
"You taught me yourself," she replied. "There are times to wait and times to act. If you're going to take the offensive, then do it. The longer you sit around, the longer you give your enemy to study your tactics." She dropped low as she finished, sweeping his legs from under him.
He felt the motion just in time and threw himself into it, using the extra momentum to roll clear and back to his feet.
Lieutenant Yar smiled as she sprang back up. "You're quick," she commented.
"Don't go to the ground unless they force you to it," Worf growled. "Don't help them put you where they want you."
Lieutenant Yar's eyes went flat. "They can try," she said. "I'll put them in the ground if they do. I'm not an easy target anymore."
"You never were," Worf said as he blocked a kick, only to realize at the last second it was a feint to distract him from the fist barreling toward his face.
He broke away and circled. She had become faster in the time he'd know her--stronger, more deliberate. And she'd learned his patterns just as he'd learned hers. They traded blows back and forth, evenly matched despite their differences.
At last he saw his opening, slipping out of her hold with a well-timed fake and pinning her on the mat.
"You've changed," she said with a smile. "I seem to remember a certain young Klingon in the Academy stating that a true warrior had no need for deception."
"And I remember a certain young Cadet saying that she'd never match a Klingon in combat."
"She'll never forget the Klingon who proved her wrong. Thanks, Worf. I wouldn't be here without you."
"No. Thank you."
The program began to fade. Worf held on and stared into her eyes as he roared until he had no breath left in his body. Lieutenant Tasha Yar may not have been a Klingon, but she was a warrior. She would be recognized as such.
He left without looking back.
You're up
thesecretdoor. Your starting words are "He left without looking back."