<USS Avalon> "Nightwalker and Little Bear"

Nightwalker and Little Bear 

*John Forester*
 
Casting one last worried look at the Avalon, John disappeared onto DS9. He 
needed to be as far from there as possible, he needed space to think and be 
away from everyone and anyone. Dragging his overnight bag higher on his 
shoulder, John wandered through the docking ring, staring at all the 
different ships and people descending from them. He felt like his mind was 
going round in circles, as if he was walking a never-ending cycle of 
thoughts and fears that just wouldn't let him rest. So lost in his world was 
John that he didn't even see the tall, white haired man until he ploughed 
straight into him.

"Hey, careful there boy, don't want to end up on your ass," the old man 
chuckled jovially. Gentle yet mischievous eyes sparkled in a weather-worn 
face wrinkled by more than laughter lines. His long, brilliant white hair 
was swept up in a braid and he was dressed in soft hide pants and a thick 
cotton shirt. Dark skin and deep brown eyes set him as Native American and 
given their location, John would hazard a guess at him being from Dorvan V.

"S-sorry, sir, didn't see you," John muttered as he tried to by-pass the man 
without further incident.

Laughing loudly, the man clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm 6' 4" and built 
like the side of a house. How did you miss me, boy?"

John raise his baby-blue eyes to the deep dark ones of the old man and felt 
himself giggle. The guy was right, he was hard to miss. "My head in the 
clouds, sir," he chuckled.

"Ahh, that explains it." Smirking at the young man, he draped his arm around 
his shoulders and began to steer them both toward the Promenade. "Though it 
looked more like your eyes were turned inward rather than skyward, boy."

"Yes sir, I guess you're right. I've kind of got a lot on my mind." John 
sauntered along next to him, feeling easy in the man's presence. "And my 
name's John Forester, not boy."

The old man snorted. "And I'd be Nightwalker and not sir." As they 
approached the main thoroughfare, the crowds got thicker but John was 
quietly amazed at the way people just seemed to step aside for the pair of 
them. "So, you going to tell an old man what's troubling someone so young?"

"I just..." John sighed heavily as he found himself guided to a café and 
then into the back where it was quiet. "I'm not cut out for being a 
Starfleet Officer, I guess."

Nightwalker glanced up at a waiter that had materialised. "Two coffees, one 
black with two sugars, the other white with cream and four sugars please." 
Turning his attention back to John, he asked, "What makes you say that, 
little bear?"

Frowning at him, John didn't hear the question, his own flooding his mind. 
"How did you know how I take my coffee?"

Nightwalker shrugged. "You look like the kind of man to take it black with 
two sugars is all. Was I right?"

"Well, yeah, but how did you know?" When the waiter returned, John frowned 
hard at the cup of innocent black liquid. "Who are you?"

Smirking as he sipped the heavily creamed drink, Nightwalker eyed John 
intently. "I am Nightwalker. That is my name, my title and a description of 
exactly who I am. I really can't tell you more than that because there's 
nothing more to tell." He set his cup down and folded his hands on the table 
between the pair of them. "Now, are you going to answer my question?"

"Huh? What question?" John sniffed his coffee carefully before taking a 
tentative taste.

"Why do you think you're not cut out to be in Starfleet?"

Sighing heavily, John knew he couldn't go into details of what had happened 
on the Avalon so he tried to be vague. "I don't think I can cope with combat 
situations very well."

"Tell me," was all Nightwalker said.

"It was kind of okay at first, scary but alright. I was coping, you know? 
Then we were invaded. I think it would have been better if my Dad didn't 
just run away and hide. I mean, I know he's the big Intel guy and everything 
but..." John stared off into nothing and shivered. "I thought he'd like 
abandoned us or something. How dumb is that? I'm acting like some little kid 
who's afraid of the dark. There's a logical explanation of why he ran away, 
I know there is."

"And yet you feel as if he betrayed you and the rest of the ship by not 
leading the defense from a visible front, am I right?"

"Yeah," John said, drinking deeply from his cup.

"Did it ever occur to you that he was leading the defense but from a 
defendable position?"

"Well... yeah, I guess."

Nightwalker nodded his head as he sat back and really looked over the young 
man. "And did it occur to you that he wished just as much as you that he was 
there by your side, fighting the good fight?"

"Err..." John's eyes flicked up to the old man's.

"That maybe he hated having to hide just as much as you hated him having 
to?"

"Umm..."

"That he possibly loathed himself and his rank just for those short hours as 
he watched his people fight and die to protect him, knowing full well that 
he was powerless to help?"

"Ah."

"Ah, indeed." Nightwalker chuckled as he patted John's hand. "Don't be hard 
on yourself or on him. You can only judge things as you see them, which is 
why I tend not to judge anything. Judgement, I find, is the realm of the 
Ancestors and the Great Spirit, both of which are unfathomable to me."

"So..." John said shyly, "what you're saying is I should cut the guy some 
slack?"

Nightwalker winked as he let the boy's hand go. "Yes, I do believe that is 
exactly what I'm saying. Leaderhip, in all its forms, is the hardest thing a 
man can be called to do. Give him the respect his rank is due and he may 
surprise you."

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