THE
DIONYSOS FESTIVAL
presents
Melpomene's Mask
By
vanhunks
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Janeway
and Chakotay, Kelis, his play, etc.
SUMMARY:
"The play is the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the
king."
Hamlet [William Shakespeare]
Dramatis Personae:
Narrator - The EMH
Tom Paris - Tom Paris
Chakotay - Ayala
Kathryn Janeway - Seven of Nine
Tuvok - Vorik
Chorus - Alpha shift crew led by Tuvok, amongst others.
Figurant with cymbals - Naomi Wildman
Music - Tuvok [lyre]
Text - Noah Lessing
Directed by B'Elanna Torres
Kathryn sat next to him on the stone seat, her body rigid as they watched the figures move about behind the tall columns - shadowy figures in long white robes. She had been friendly enough when they entered the holodeck to the setting of a Greek stage. He had shrugged, but Kathryn's expression had been one of mild surprise. The tension that had existed between them - he wondered when there hadn't been tension between them since they joined their crews - which had all but intensified since B'Elanna and Harry had gone missing, eased off a little after they had breakfast together. Then they had discussed the day's work and even bantered a little. Bantering was safe; a too long stare was not. The moment they entered the holodeck, he felt how Kathryn withdrew again and her shutters came down.
The holodeck was full this morning. It was dawn, with the sun's glow swelling ever outwards, the dark blue blending with deep orange, giving the morning a mystic hue. B'Elanna had opted for an early morning showing of "Melpomene's Mask", based on her experiences on Miletus, the name she had given to the planet. Now, they could watch the holographic sun rise just beyond the tall columns that flanked the semi-circular stone stage, and eat a holographic breakfast while they were at it. They could have their early morning glass of holographic champagne too if they wished. If nothing else, the play did provide some diversion for the crew.
Kathryn glanced briefly at him before turning her attention to the players again. He fumed. He had been fuming since B'Elanna had gone missing on that planet, became Kelis's muse while she was there, broke the Prime Directive a few times during her stay and then became obsessed with producing a play that she touted as "Voyager's Muse" at work.
He didn't care who Melpomene was and he didn't care about the play. He had shooed B'Elanna out of his quarters when she came up with the idea, but she hadn't left without extracting a commitment from him.
"There were nine Muses, did you know that?"
"And you want to be one of them?"
"Hell no, I just want one of them to inspire me, like Melpomene."
"Melpomene?"
"The Muse of Tragedy."
"Tragedy, huh."
"Yeah, tragedy."
He had reluctantly agreed, knew that Kathryn would somehow be part of the action. She had been closed off for weeks. Hell, he couldn't remember a time she didn't do that whenever he wanted to pierce her armour. He had had enough of Kathryn's closed-off glances, her walls, even her damned masks. While everyone had worried their heads and hearts about B'Elanna and Harry missing in action, and Tom Paris had almost disgraced himself by contravening a few prime directives again, he had been stunned by Kathryn's aloofness and lack of emotion when he kept her updated on their search for Voyager's engineer and operations officer. He had seethed more during the last three weeks than he had in six years on Voyager. He had been mad at Kathryn before, yes, and they'd had some good, enervating fights over protocols, decision making, even what to wear to Naomi's birthday party. But during B'Elanna and Harry's absence... If he had seen just one sliver of emotion, just one small sign that she was affected, that she missed B'Elanna and Harry, that she needed him, that she could use his broader than broad shoulders to cry on...
That day in her ready room she sounded lacklustre, disinterested and it showed in her eyes. He had become totally and unreasonably frustrated whenever Kathryn got that look when she glanced at him. His own equilibrium had been destroyed, and he had alternated between blinding anger, blurting out his feelings for her, and demanding that she tell him what the matter was with her. He sighed. Maybe he was unreasonable, he conceded. Her own pain was carefully hidden and in its place was the disinterest, the apathy, the masks. He had longed in those moments for an honest to goodness fight, to goad her into exploding, if only to see some emotion or an admission that she missed two of her senior crew, or that she needed him.
Like a raging river Kathryn flowed in his life. She kept him on edge, always pitted grittingly against her, his wit sharpened in her company. He was on a constant rollercoaster with her, never knowing when there would be gut-sinking dips or gut-wrenching highs. It was draining, but sometimes he looked at Kathryn, saw her expression and just knew that she thrived on their confrontations and rejoiced in their quiet moments. He'd go for the raging river every time with Kathryn if she'd have him, than sail placidly on a duck pond and have no surprises in his life.
If she'd have him... If she needed him... If she could ever express that need.
Kathryn nudged him in the ribs. She kept her eyes on the players moving stealthily at the back of the stage. It was getting lighter and he could discern some of them.
"They're putting their masks up."
"Why bother? We know who they are."
"Chakotay! It's a Greek play. B'Elanna insisted on realism. The ancient Greeks wore masks to depict a specific emotion."
He knew that, but he wasn't going to tell her.
"And I'm supposed to sit through this?"
"It's B'Elanna's way of giving a full report on what happened down on that planet. "
"By doing a Greek play?"
"Melpomene's Mask. Melpomene was the muse of tragedy. We have to watch closely."
"So you don't know what the play is about?" he asked, a little surprised. If Kathryn knew he had knowledge of some of the content of the play... Tragedy, indeed. B'Elanna had come to him a week ago and played her cards straight. There were things they didn't want to envisage happening on Voyager. They were already seeing things...
"That's the good part. I quite like the unknown about it. We get a Delta Quadrant premiere of our first modern Greek play, complete with terraced amphitheatre, an early morning sun, Greek columns, Dionysos watching over us, and masks. Better than watching "The Bacchae" or "Oedipus The Tyrant" or "Iphigenia" or - "
"Shut up?"
"Oh no, I won't. I've just seen Seven of Nine dressed like me, and Ayala is dressed like you... Goodness, he even had his hair cropped like yours. Seven doesn't look at all like me..."
"That's it. I'm going - "
"No, you don't. That's an order, Commander. You'll stay right here and sit through this. I have to - "
"Kathryn, why don't you just - "
"Chakotay!"
Kathryn's eyes flashed, softened, then became closed again. He sighed inwardly. Sometime he was going to throttle her. The glimpses he had of that softness, that need were just too fleeting... A dam was filling up inside him, and its water was called anger and the hopeless repression of that anger; frustration and the hopeless repression of frustration; hopelessness itself, love that needed full expression but kept sublimated until it hurt every night just to close his eyes and sleep. A woman was sitting next to him who appeared for all the world oblivious of his sublimated feelings, and if she were aware of anything, kept herself detached.
"Fine. I'll stay. Just don't complain when you see something not to your liking."
"Don't worry. Nothing will throw me. I just want to get a report of what happened, that's all."
"Through a play."
"Not just any play. 'Melpomene's Mask."
He shook his head. Kathryn was in for a surprise...
********
A hush fell when Naomi Wildman, dressed in a long white chiton walked to the centre and banged together two large cymbals. The sound reverberated, and Chakotay gave a little grin when a bird squawked noisily at the interruption. Naomi smiled, curtsied and slowly made her way to the left where she lounged against one of the columns.
"A figurant," Kathryn whispered to him. He nodded. Music had sounded up, not the trumpet sound he expected, but the soft, mournful strains of a lyre. When the music faded gently away, the EMH, dressed in a fawn coloured knee-length chiton and holding a mask with drooping eyes and mouth, stood in the centre. He dropped the mask briefly, then held it up again.
"Narrator?" he asked Kathryn.
"Yes."
The EMH turned theatrically, sweeping his arm in a flourish and began in a strong, deep voice:
To Melpomene's Mask we welcome all
to see the life of Kathryn and her crew
unfold before our very eyes, enthral
beyond our dreams where we can hope anew -
That Captain's duty once with rank designed
in bonds eternal with her mate unite -
The warrior, never losing hope did bind
the lady to his heart in ever peaceful night.
When he finished, the EMH dropped his mask and looked directly at Kathryn and Chakotay. Then he gave a little smirk and exited to the left. He came up quickly to join the group that had silently entered from the right. Chakotay could feel Kathryn stiffen. The narrator's words had struck a chord. She looked pale and he wondered why Kathryn hadn't vetted the play first before its production. Was this what B'Elanna saw in the play Kelis produced on Miletus? Kathryn, the hard baked, duty-bound Captain holding off on her mate? He shook his head. It was closer to home than he realised.
The morning dew did dry before the sun
and on this stage of life we play our role
and true with grace reflect upon the one
who leads this crew and thus achieve our goal -
Kathryn,
still looking a little pale, but remaining starched next to him, said softly,
"Why is Vorik playing Tuvok?"
"Because
Tuvok is playing someone else?" he suggested, knowing he sounded a little
snide. "And before you say anything, Captain, you practically forced me to
stay. I suggest you do the same."
Vorik held the
mask up, but his identity was no secret as the deep voice thundered across the
morning.
What goal is this, dear players on this stage?
The Captain leads where Duty and Command
must be her goal; it's written on her page:
she wanders now from strand to strand,
"I'll
get us all home..." Chakotay heard Kathryn whisper.
But hark! The wilting rose's petals fall
like winter's tears, her sorrow hidden deep -
Her walls are crumbling, she must heed the
call,
release the tears and love, and love and weep!
Chakotay's
reaction was faster than a snake as he caught Kathryn's arm when she tried to
rise from her seat. She gave him a pained look.
"That's
not true..."
"You
need to see this, Kathryn."
"It's
not an accurate reflection - "
"So
stay." He pressed her down next to him, then kept alert before she tried
to get up again. She hadn't remarked that Tom Paris was playing Tom Paris,
although he wore a mask that Chakotay swore
had a smirking countenance.
Then I shall hear the tale of Kathryn's game:
She is not Vulcan - passions inside rage
to hellish fire, yet to douse the flame
of love,
cool iron bars and cooler cage!
Amen! The Vulcan doth agree this time
that reason must before her passion bow,
to serve her ship, to love her mate, a crime?
He'll love her always, that will be his vow.
"This
is ridiculous."
"You
wanted to see it," Chakotay bit out, his hand firmly on Kathryn's arm.
"And it's not ridiculous." Before Kathryn could reply, the chorus
were back. All held up their masks, and they swayed to the mournful strains of
the lone lyre. A quick glance at Kathryn. She looked distressed. They were
exposing her, her life, her work...
in heated passion's youth to share her life
with lover's kisses, there her soul laid bare,
he died and sorrow cut her like a knife.
Long she languished, nevermore her heart
exposed to those deserved of all her love -
her warrior brave did see the poisoned dart
that surely, slowly killed the whitest dove.
of Melpomene's face, which did project
a true facade, and warrior's greatest task
to pierce her cover, show its main defect...
Too long had I my feelings here denied
for her whose masks were welded to her face
and had I but persist, her stubborn pride
would long have perished in this place.
At last, when yearning dry for Kathryn's love
another in her place would soon be there
and hiding not the Seventh ranked above -
Be-nign her sweet attentions I could bear...
"No...please,
this couldn't be..." Kathryn glanced at him, her eyes dark and angry. His
fingers dug into her arm as he held her down. The player Kathryn was about to
speak. He shook Kathryn, made her look at Seven of Nine who played Captain
Janeway.
"You
wanted to see this. It's B'Elanna's perspective, but also that of the crew and
the population of a race we don't know, except that they express their feelings
through the performing arts..."
He looked
at the stage with a thundering heart, aware of how rigidly Kathryn sat next to
him. If he could see her eyes, they were probably shooting daggers. Seven of
Nine took centre stage, facing Chakotay. She looked statuesque, not really
accurate as Kathryn, but the mask showing a drooping mouth was that of Captain
Janeway. Did Chell make that mask? he wondered.
Weep not for me this
day, for homeward bound
I sail through hostile
worlds and armoured heart
yield not to passion's
play e'en though I've found
the rocky road to
angry warrior's heart;
For as I feel the need
to heed the call
I cannot shower all I
am and show
the world how
Captain's pride before her fall,
her mask in proper to
her face must grow -
"This... I can't bear it any longer..."
"Stay."
How little faith you
have in me and crew!
I vowed to stay
forever by your side,
Protect your heart as
part of mine anew
As one we'll cleave
the darkened sky!
The part I play as
Kathryn is no more
I am the Borg who
deeply as the sea
Shall love you more
than Kathryn has before...
Seven of Nine lowered her mask slowly. Glancing at Kathryn, Chakotay noticed with some alarm a tear rolling down her cheek. He looked at the players, certain that Kathryn's face was riveted to them as well. Chakotay lowered his mask. Seven of Nine looked at the character Chakotay.
"'tis human folly to deny one's heart
the fullest measure of the love inside -
By this single act will I from Borg depart
to kiss my love; supplant what's long denied...
Seven of Nine leaned forward and kissed Chakotay deeply. The masks fell to the ground as they embraced. A sudden flurry of movement. Kathryn savagely disengaged his grip on her arm. Some crew turned at the distraction Kathryn caused as she got up and stumbled to the panel of the holodeck exit. Chakotay followed her. In the corridor he saw that she was already close to the first turbolift.
"Kathryn, wait!" He ran quickly to reach her before the doors closed. Kathryn stood against the wall of the turbolift, hands at her sides. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. "What the hell was that all about?"
"I am not for sale on this vessel, Chakotay," she said, her voice quivering with emotion. "That is my life out there, in the open..."
"You asked for it, Kathryn," he stated. He tried to touch her, but Kathryn shrank back. "The last few weeks you let no one see anything! You shut us out. You shut me out. I'm your first officer, your best friend, yet every time I came to your ready room, I felt like throttling you just to get some reaction - "
"Of what? That I hurt as much as everybody? That I couldn't sleep? That I also came close to giving up on them? Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"It would have been something! Anything, Kathryn, just to let me in, for God's sake. You're our Captain, the best there is, but you must bleed like all of us - "
"No blood! I will not bleed, Chakotay, so help me."
"What, and let everyone think you have ice flowing through your veins? Do you know what it looked like? Captain Janeway not caring a rat's ass about two of her finest officers going missing and probably dead! That's what they think. Now B'Elanna inspired someone, a dramatist, to depict what life of the Eternals was like. Know what, Kathryn? A captain with no feeling and a first officer with too much of it provided Kelis with the ideal material to make a dramatic story of winter's tears and Voyagers from far lands. B'Elanna simply took his vision and expanded on it..."
"Is that what B'Elanna saw?"
"It's what a stranger saw! Kelis downloaded Voyager data. He built his play around what he gleaned from that data. We make good fodder for dramatists."
"It's an invasion of my privacy! What right had he? What right had B'Elanna?"
"Kathryn! You gave B'Elanna the go-ahead for this project."
"But not like this! That wasn't me out there."
Why did the walls of the turbolift feel like they were closing in on them? He couldn't breathe. Kathryn alternated between anger and outrage, both producing sparks of fire in her eyes. Her cheeks were spotted red. She stood hands on her hips.
"You're right, Kathryn. It wasn't you. It was the Captain of Voyager with so many masks plastered to her face, she doesn't recognise herself anymore!"
"What!?"
"Why are you hiding?"
"I'm not hiding! I have a ship to run and a crew to get home."
"And the hell you're doing this alone? You don't have a crew who love you and who'd do anything if only you could show some emotion? Show you can be human like everybody else? Who am I speaking to now, if not Kathryn Janeway? One of her masks?"
The next moment Kathryn struck him hard. His cheek stung from the force. Her eyes flashed dangerously. He didn't flinch, didn't rub his cheek. He just stared at Kathryn. She had lost all colour, then slowly flushed deep crimson.
"I - "
"That's right. Captain Janeway is running this vessel. She is getting us home. She is doing everything around here, making decisions, breaking a few Prime Directives, losing the person we'd all love to see behind those layers on her face - "
"Stop it..."
"And no one gets to see the person, the human behind Melpomene's mask. It's a tragedy, indeed."
"You don't understand - "
Chakotay grabbed Kathryn by her shoulders and shook her.
"No, you don't understand. For more than six years we've danced. Yes, I've danced carefully around your feelings, never getting close when I wanted to, always considering, always waiting. Then, you never share! Sometimes, I don't know you, Kathryn. I know how I feel. I know what I feel. You must have some awareness of that. Now, a simple, stupid little play upsets the mighty Captain of Voyager. You want everything and you want nothing. I'm tired, Kathryn. What you saw on that stage will happen - "
"No - "
"It's not your choice."
"You can't do it."
When did the lift stop? he wondered. He released his hold on her so quickly that she landed against the wall of the turbolift.
"Then you tell me, Captain. You tell me why a man who has waited forever for a woman just to look at him like he was her only anchor in a sea of storms, should continue waiting. You tell me why a man who has gone on his hands and knees to eat the crumbs you dismissed from your table without so much as a care in the world, should continue like a dog and wait. You tell me why a man who will walk with you to the end of the Earth must still walk beside you. You tell me!"
She stood there against the wall, her hands braced against it. She look suddenly so small, so incredibly fragile. He had just attacked her walls and broken some of them down. Her eyes were red. There were no tears, just a stinging heat that seemed to flow from her and touch him. Her lips trembled. He thought in those moments that he wanted to kill Kathryn Janeway and love her to pieces at the same time.
"I - I can't..."
"Tell me!" He grabbed her shoulders again.
"What do you want to know? Shall I tell you I can't breathe without thinking about you? Shall I tell you how many times I just wanted to be Kathryn? Is that it?" Small fists pummeled against his chest, but he didn't feel the force or the pain. "Shall I tell you the very thought of being shipwrecked here, of losing just one more member of my crew... It's hard, you understand? It's so difficult, telling anyone..."
"I'm here, Kathryn. I'm not going anywhere. Why is it so hard to tell?"
"I don't want to - "
"What, let go of your feelings? Drop your masks? Is that it? Afraid to show the real woman behind the façade? Afraid that someone - me! - could see into your heart and uncover your darkest fears?"
"Yes, damn you!"
"What shall I see, Kathryn, that is so difficult? What are you afraid of that makes you shut me out so badly?"
"I love you!"
"Kathryn!"
The fire in her eyes looked if anything, redder, more heated. Her heart lay exposed in her expressive eyes. There was nowhere she could run to. A sudden silence hung in the air, but the words echoed in his brain, clamouring cymbals that made his eardrums ache. Kathryn gave a sob, her hands coming up slowly to cover her face. She sagged down against the wall, but he pulled her gently to her feet again. The hands tore away from her face. No tears. Just an empty look, a hollowness, defeat. "Yes," came the pained whisper. "I love you, Chakotay..."
"Oh, Kathryn..."
"You can destroy me..."
"Or worship you."
"I don't know who I am."
"You're Kathryn, full of life and a whole lot of loving. It's a beginning. Lean on me, Kathryn. It's not so difficult. I told you I'm not going anywhere..."
"I've lost so much," came her response. "Everyone who was close to me, I lost... I couldn't... It's why - "
"You were afraid to give your heart again..."
"I already lost it," she said, a sad smile forming
He scooped her into his arms and held her close. They had not seen or heard the turbolift doors open, nor had they noticed that two crew were standing in the corridor waiting to enter. His hands caressed her hair, wiped the tear that rolled down one cheek. Her body was soft against him, trusting. He could stand there forever, holding Kathryn in his arms. When he heard a cough behind him, he pressed the panel and the doors slid close again. He had not released Kathryn, and Kathryn clung to him as if she wouldn't let him go.
He had loved her too long; he could understand her now. He had underestimated her strength, always thinking she was too contained, too unruffled to give in to fear. He too, had lost much. Why had he not seen the signs in Kathryn? It took Melpomene's mask...
Chakotay held Kathryn a little away from him so that he could look into her eyes. She smiled through her tears, a shy smile that made him want to hug her close to him again. There was a lump in his throat. He felt like crying himself. Kathryn looked stripped, raw; she looked liberated. To him she could show how vulnerable she was and not be afraid. He brushed away a strand of hair from her face. Her eyes closed at the gentle caress. It was a moment filled with life's fragilities, life's vicissitudes, the uncertainties of their journey ahead, but the new, thrilling conviction that now they would face it together in every sense of the word. Kathryn would not have to bear the burden of loss alone. She could cry if she wanted to. For the rest of their journey, however long that might take, she would be Captain Janeway, and when the moment demanded it from her, she would be Kathryn. His heart burned with deep affection, with the blessing that had just become his.
"I love you," she repeated her vow of earlier, her voice stronger, fearless eyes on him.
He bent down to kiss her in a brief, heated touch. His thumb grazed her silken cheek.
"I'm not a poet, Kathryn," he whispered in a hoarse voice. "I've wanted to tell you how I feel for so long, and finding...creating the words... I'm not a wordsmith or a weaver of dreams."
"You didn't write the play?" she asked. He was relieved that she didn't look disappointed or even angry. Her mouth curved in a humorous lift.
"Noah Lessing wrote most of it," he replied. He saw how Kathryn's eyes widened in surprise. "Helped by B'Elanna and Susan Nicoletti who studied some of the ancient Greek plays." Kathryn nodded, threw herself against and held him tightly. He pressed his lips into her hair.
"Tell me then, Chakotay, what you would do..."
He smiled tenderly, thinking absently that they were still in the turbolift.
"I once searched the database for a suitable poem I could write in sand for you."
"You found one?" she asked.
"Nothing like Melpomene's Mask."
"Tell me..."
"Here?"
Kathryn rose on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. It was a new, very thrilling sensation, being touched like that by her.
"Where else? I declared my love here for you. I shall have to carve our names on the turbolift's walls..."
He laughed, hugged her close to him again. Holding her like that, his hand stroking her cheek, he began with the words "I'll walk beside you..." Kathryn remained quiet while he recited the poem. At times he was filled with such deep emotion that his voice faltered. He would pause, find his strength and continue. When he came to the final stanza, he turned her so that she faced him. He cupped her cheeks gently, the words flowing from him like a prayer:
I'll walk beside you through the passing years
Through days of clouds and sunshine, joy and tears
And when the great call comes the sunset gleams
I'll walk beside you to the land of dreams.
***
END