Summary: 7/N, angst, Rated PG. Neelix contemplates his life aboard Voyager.

Disclaimer: Paramount’s characters.

Feedback is appreciated.

By Daffnie (trekdimension@yahoo.com)

=/\=

I’m surprised they kept me around. I still don’t know what their reasoning was to have an outsider on the ship...or why they tolerate me. I had rudimentary skills they could’ve done just fine without. I knew a few species, had a few star charts, but all that would’ve been in their database in due time anyway...whether I was there or not. I felt like an outcast, like the misfit everyone laughs at when you’re not around. The moment I stepped on board, I realized how different I was...how different they would see me. The senior staff treated me as an equal, but I know they must have been suspicious of my motives. What would a successful trader want to do on a star ship where he didn’t belong? I obviously wasn’t exactly ‘fleet material. But I offered to be the cook... They already had one they never told me about. I found out from Chell. They fired the old cook and reassigned her to the engineering team as a waste recycling technician. Poor woman. She never deserved that. I thought I should make it up to her; I brought her a letter stating my apologies and a vase of flowers, but she refused to accept them. Whether her refusal was out of anger towards me or just humbleness, I probably will never know.

They say I became a valued member of the crew...Captain Janeway especially seemed impressed with my casual abilities I happened to pick up in order to survive the harsh Delta Quadrant. They say I provided priceless information they couldn’t have come through without. I don’t believe them. Sure, I prepared their meals and gave bits of advice when I could, but nothing I did was really “valuable.” I’m sure Harry Kim or another perfectly competent crew member could’ve found out everything I told them without working up a sweat.

They gave me privileges I don’t think I deserve. I even was able to work on the bridge. Those people worked hard for years to do that. I came aboard, and within days, I was helping at the helm or scanning for anomalies or giving tactical suggestions like I had been a Starfleet officer all my life. I also was given comfortable quarters, replicator rations, holodeck time. I was never assigned a specific duty schedule. I worked whenever I saw fit. That’s not how everyone else was treated. They followed a strict schedule with little room for leeway while I could’ve sat in my quarters all day doing nothing and been treated like royalty for it.

Sometimes I feel like I’m their personal project, their pet. They give me special treatment, they let me go to their senior officer conferences. How did I ever become a senior officer? I’m just the cook.

Captain Janeway says she appreciates me volunteering to be the morale officer, too. I go along with her enthusiasm, but it was all just a ruse in the beginning. I offered to do that just so she’d think I’d be important enough to keep aboard. So now I maintain my morale officer facade, and it’s really not all that hard. I’m kind of like ship’s counselor...people come to me for advice or just to get something off their chest. Sometimes I actually like it, but other days I just want to tell them to leave me alone. But I never do because I’m always afraid that will be what gets me kicked off on the nearest M-Class planet.

I know some people look down at me because of all the privileges I’ve been given and because I’m the only Talaxian on the ship. Some of the more audacious people give me dirty looks or yell at me if I accidentally put something in their food they happen to hate. The captain puts them in their place, but that doesn’t stop the glares or the finger pointing or the soft giggling behind my back. It hurts. It really does, but I put up with it every day because I think a lot of it I deserve for intruding on their hard earned lively hoods.

Their harsh teasing often makes it hard to relate to people I actually do care about. Most of them treat me with respect because they know the real Neelix, but others keep their distance and don’t bother to get to know me. We have civil conversations, but usually it’s about nothing more than superficial things like what’s for dinner or a complaint about their shift and how it interferes with their relationships with others. Well, how do they think I feel? Don’t they realize my relationships suffer for the shifts I put upon myself? I often work over sixteen hours a day to keep them happy, and many don’t seem to notice or appreciate my efforts.

One of those people I question is Seven of Nine. She seems sincere enough when she thanks me for a meal or engages me in conversation, but I know those are only social skills she learned from the doctor and are testing out on me. She compliments my cooking just to practice those skills, and the same thing goes for coming to the parties I throw to try to gain popularity. (I hope no one has caught on to that...to my desperation to be liked. I hope they think I do it for their sake and not mine.)

The problem with Seven’s cold shoulder is one that affects me very personally. She means a lot to me, more than anyone...even more than Kes did...but I don’t dare express that to her in fear that she would brush me off, or worse, laugh. I’ve never heard her laugh, but I’m afraid telling her would be what sets her off. Might she even get angry at me? She’s such a cool and collected person, but I think I could change that in an instant by declaring my love to her. I have no idea how she would react, but I have a feeling it won’t be in a way that makes me comfortable. I don’t want to be humiliated by such a superior person.

I’ll never admit it to anyone, but there are nights when I stay awake crying until morning. I get so incredibly lonely, and reaching out to the one I love would mean risking my currently stable platonic relationship with her. I have some friends who keep my spirits up at times like Sam and Naomi, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like I’m alone. They have their own lives, and this gives them little time to spend in my company. I try to go to social gatherings when I can (like Fair Haven or Sandrine’s), but I rarely feel truly wanted there. I participate half-heartedly because I know my efforts of being friendly and engaging will most likely be in vain.

So I surrender to the tears silently. No one knows of my pain because I keep a smile on my face when around others, and they never see past my mask...probably because they don’t bother trying. Sometimes I wish they would notice my pain so they can change their ways, but that seems too unlikely for the lonely “kitchen rat.”

Maybe one day I’ll tell Seven how I feel. Or maybe one day I’ll lose my cool and ruin everything. I suppose I will have to see how things go, and my future will depend on how close I am to my breaking point.

=/\=

Fini