[USS Tempest] Sports Talk by Byron Matthews, Miranda Craig, & Nat Lynley

[TKilyle@xxxxxxx]

***takes place before "Uninvited Guest" and after   "Midnight  Strolls"
 
 
The sound of the basketball hitting the hardwood was soothing to Miranda.  To 
her it was like the voice of an old friend, talking to her, laughing with  
her, crying for her. The ball bounced against the hardwood three times before  
Miranda took the shot from the foul line. The ball bounced against the 
backboard  before falling through the hoop. Picking up another ball from the 
rack 
beside  her, Miranda prepared to do yet again what she'd been doing for over 
two 
hours,  shooting foul shots. Only this time she paused long enough to listen to 
words of  the song that was playing as background noise. 
 
"Mama told her baby girl - Take it real  slow - Girl told her Mama - Hey, I 
really gotta go - He's waiting in the car -  Mama said - Girl, you won't get 
far - Thus are the dreams of an average Jane -  Ninety miles an hour down to 
lovers' lane - On a tank of dreams - Oh, if she  could have only seen - That 
fate's got costs that it don't want to show - And  that boy's just a walkaway 
Joe 
- Born to be a leaver - Tell you from the word go  - Destined to deceive her - 
He's the wrong kind of paradise - She's gonna know  it in a matter of time 
-That boy's just a walkaway Joe - Now just a little while  into Abilene - Pulls 
into a station and he robs it clean - She's waiting in the  car - Oh, 
underneath the Texaco star - She only wanted love - Didn't bargain for  this - 
She 
can't help but love him for the way he is - She's only seventeen and  there 
ain't 
no reasoning - So she'll ride this ride as far as it can go -  Somewhere in a 
roadside motel room - Alone in the silence she wakes up too soon  - And 
reaches for his arm - But she'll just keep reaching on - For the cold,  hard 
truth 
revealed what it had known - That boy's just a walkaway Joe - Born to  be a 
leaver - Tell you from the word go - Destined to deceive her - He's the  wrong 
kind of paradise - But it was just another lesson in life -That boy  was a 
walkaway Joe " 
 
"Great, just fucking great," Miranda  yelled as she rolled her eyes. "I can 
now relate to fucking country songs."  Growling low in her chest she took her 
shot and missed it. "Son of a  bitch."

Stepping forward, Byron deftly caught the bouncing ball.   "Kind of sad when 
we can do that, isn't it?" he said with a wink.  He aimed  the ball like a 
netball player and produced the perfect shot.  "I should  know, my whole life 
is 
a country  song."
 
"Nice shot." Miranda replied as she  picked up another ball and made one 
herself. "So who sent you looking for me?  Liv or Lindsey." She plucked another 
ball from the rack, bounced it three times,  then made her shot. Her body 
yelled 
it's protest to the lack of sleep and forced  movement but Miranda ignored 
it. 
 
Nat left Engineering with that silly  song in his head.  He was in a slightly 
better mood but, to his mind, not  tired enough to sleep heavily, heavily 
enough to ignore phaser fire two feet in  front of him.  His wanderings sent 
him 
in the direction of the gym,  wondering if Miranda really was going to be 
there.  To his surprise, not  only was she there, so was  Byron.
 
"Brilliant shot!" he said as he stepped  inside.  "I don't think I could do 
it but it was very good."

"Why  thank you my friends."  Byron bowed with a flourish.  "I'm here  
because I need to play with the weights, nothing more.  Why are you  here?"
 
"Well see one night my parents decided  to pretend that it was Saturday night 
when it was only Tuesday..." Miranda  teased. "Glad to see you stopped in, 
Chief. How are  you?"
 
"I told you I wouldn't be able to  sleep," Nat said with a shrug.  "Of 
course, Rosemary's sound asleep so I  let her be.  Lieutenant Caine's lullaby 
wasn't 
quite working  so..."
 
"Rosie's been working so hard to fix  what 'they' trashed." Miranda shot out 
of anger again and missed the board  completely. "Shit."
 
Walking further into the room, so that  he was closer to the other two, Nat 
shook his head.  "The last time I made  a shot at anything when I was angry, I 
ended up breaking the nose of a good mate  of mine.  Kaartaren still hasn't 
forgiven me for it," he said  wryly.
 
Angry was all Miranda could feel at the  moment. "I haven't broken anyone's 
anything but my own."

"Your own?"Byron  said as he swept another ball up and through the hoop.  
"And what exactly  have you broken of your own?"  He smiled, flashing bright 
white teeth at  her.  "Or more importantly, what would you like to break that 
belongs to  someone else?"
 
Nat kept his face completely neutral at  that.  He'd probably heard more than 
he was supposed to when he arrived at  the Security officer for his 
interview.  He looked Miranda in the eye and  shrugged.  It wasn't coming from 
his 
mouth.  He watched Byron's shot  and shook his head.  
 
"Can't say as I've ever played this  game before.  I might have watched one 
or two actual games but that would  be about it."
 
"My rib," Miranda replied as she passed  a ball to Nat. "Fell off Lindsey's 
stupid horse." She ignored the other  question. "I could teach you if you'd 
like,  Chief."
 
Nat caught the ball easily and  smiled.  "It's worth a shot.  If I don't get 
enough sleep, that would  be why the good Lord made highly caffeinated  tea."
 
Miranda moved over to Nat, a ball in  her own hands, and showed him how to 
stand and how to hold the ball. "Bounce a  little on the balls of your feet, 
aim 
for the box on the backboard, and let the  ball roll on the fingers then let 
the finger tips to propel it." Miranda  did as she'd said and the ball went in 
easy. 
 
Nat did as she said but the ball  bounced off the back of the board.  He 
offered Byron a wry grin.  "I'm  not used to putting hands on a ball in play.  
It's the one thing you aren't  supposed to do in football after all."

"Soccer, of course!"  Byron  grinned as he stepped back from the two players. 
 "I'm a Chelsea fan  myself, for many long years, trials, tribulations, pain, 
sorrow, joy and  jubilation.  You're a Londoner, are you not?  Who's your 
team of  choice?"  He bounced up and down.  "No, no, let me guess!  Now...  
from 
the south east, so...  Crystal  Palace?"
 
Nat grinned widely.  "And if you  were to say anything but that in my 
brother-in-law's pub, you'd be tossed out on  your ear."

Laughing loudly, Byron paced around them.  "You must be  used to losing then, 
 Nat."
 
"That sort of talk is what usually gets the patrons tossed,  Byron," Nat said 
with a slight wink as he made another shot at the basket.   He winced at the 
wide shot and shook his head.  "Hockey is a much better  sport to slap out 
aggressive urges.  Shots on goal from across the  rink...."
 
"I can't ice skate," Miranda admitted as she shot the ball in  rapid 
secession. "Not much call for winter type sports in  Texas."
 
Nat watched the girl make several shots.  He was amazed and  supposed it 
could almost be a form of meditation, the steady dribble of the  ball, the 
careful 
arc of the throw.  Mediation usually gave him a headache,  though.  This, 
though, might be useful.  "Show me  again?"
 
"Sure." Miranda offered Nat somewhat of a smile as she once again  shot him 
how to shoot. "It takes practice.  I used to drive my parents nuts  bouncing 
the ball in the driveway at ten o'clock at  night."
 
He tried another shot.  It barely tapped the rim and circled  until it 
finally fell into the basket.  The next shot went wide but the one  after went 
in.  
"I may have to keep trying.  I can see how this might  be useful."
 
Miranda smiled at Nat. "Nice.." Then she laughed a little. "Maybe  we should 
start up a ship wide league."
 
"I don't see why not.  It might bring people together who  might not 
otherwise have anything in common.  It's how Kaartaren and I  met.  Don't ever 
let 
anyone tell you that pacifist Betazoids have no  aggression in them," Nat said 
with a grin.  He tossed the ball at  Byron.  "He's one of your sort, Byron, a  
counselor."
 
Miranda shuddered. "I swear they're like  cockroaches."
 
"Ah, they aren't bad sorts, now are they, Byron?" Nat asked as he  made 
another shot at the basket.  It missed and he aimed again.  "My  friend's a 
good 
man, god at his job.  Sort of like our friend here, don't  you think, Miranda?"
 
"I wouldn't know, " Miranda replied as she started collecting  balls and 
putting them back on the rack. "I'll let you know once I find out who  sent him 
to 
shrink me."

Byron raised his eyebrows at her.  "No  one.  I don't lie, I'm here to work 
out and anyway, I don't shrink people  unless they're in my office.  Those are 
my rules and I live by them."   He bounced his ball three times before aiming 
and scoring perfectly yet  again.  Turning sharply, he fixed Nat with an odd 
stare.   "Kaartaren did you  say?"
 
Guess Linds is kinda busy. With everything going on she's got  more important 
things to think about. Miranda picked up one of the balls  she's just 
collected and went back to throwing foul shots. 
 
"Pas Kaartaren," Nat said with a nod as he  took off his jacket.  Even as 
informal as the setting was, he neatly folded  it over and set it down.  
"Betazoid bloke, dark hair, somewhat taller and  heavier than me but close 
enough in 
age..."

"One of the most talented and  respected counselors in the known galaxy?"  
Byron continued to stare at  him, his mouth hanging open.  He didn't like 
coincidences one little  bit.
 
 
"He's on John's ship," Miranda  added as she sat on a ball. Her body just 
couldn't take it anymore and needed a  moment to let it rest.
 

"Tell him that if you'd like but he's an awful football player and a thug  on 
the ice," Nat said as he dropped to the floor beside Miranda.  "He's a  good 
friend, though.  He's got a rather adorable child.  Do you know  him too then?"

"Know him?  That man was my mentor."  Byron  started pacing around, fidgeting 
with a ball he grabbed off of the floor.   Bouncing it a few times, he 
whacked it off the wall to catch it  mid-flight.  "There isn't a thing that he 
doesn't know about counseling, I  swear."  To be half as good, that's my only  
aim.


A dull ache started  to settle into Miranda's whole body, making it feel 
heavy. "John seems to think  he's pretty good."

"That's because he's the best."  Byron's  movements with the ball became 
faster, more furious as he darted around the  court.  Suddenly, he stopped, 
aimed 
and scored again.  Grinning  broadly, he turned to the other two.  "It's a 
huge responsibility being the  best," he winked.
 
Miranda huffed. "Tell  that to the center that helped the Academy beat Tenn. 
in the finals." She smiled  and brushed her nails against her Academy tank top.
 
Nat had settled cross  legged on the floor and he shook his head.  "I've no 
ambition to be better  than anyone other than myself.  No one can be harder on 
me than me...well,  except for my grandparents and even then, they aren't 
quite so  harsh."
 
"I'm harder on myself about somethings," Miranda offered. "For  everything 
else I have my parents and Lindsey to keep me on  track."
 
Nat watched Byron make another shot and shook his head.   "Bloody show off," 
he said good naturedly.  "That's one thing about  Kaartaren I bet you didn't 
know, Byron.  Outstanding hockey player, which I  will deny I ever said, but 
he's a horrid football  player."
 
"Isn't hockey basically soccer on ice?" Miranda asked. 
 
"I've never quite thought about it that way but I do believe  you're right 
though most hockey players tend to look much worse for wear than  football 
players," Nat replied.  A bit innocently, he added, "There are  actually good 
sportsman rules for fighting."
 
Miranda stifled a yawn. "I bet that's funny to  watch."
 
"No hitting with sticks," Nat said primly, though his eyes and  relaxed 
posture belied any sort of stuffiness.  "Helmets get removed and  blades are 
definitely kept away from the other man.  Or woman.  I  can't say that I've 
ever 
seen ladies play..."
 
"Oh I can imagine women would be just as rough and tough. I've  seen enough 
of them playing basketball to know they're out there." Her eyes were  starting 
to burn, and Miranda wasn't so sure she was going to be able to get  back up 
or move at all.

Byron flopped down next to them, staring off into  the distance.  "Hockey is 
not something I have ever played, ice or  otherwise."  He smiled at his 
companions as he leaned back.  "It  always looked a tad on the violent side, I 
have 
to  admit."
 
Nat interlaced his fingers then stretched  his hands over his head with a 
yawn.  "It's good exercise that allows for a  healthy, organized release of 
aggression.  That would be my excuse,  Byron.  It's either that or tossing 
people 
out of doors like my  brother-in-law does."

"Rugby," was all Byron said.  At Nat's  disbelieving look, he shrugged.  
"It's a habit I picked up during my  PhD.  I love it, totally addicted.  It's 
much 
more civilised than  hockey."
 
"Certainly it is.  It's English and  therefore it comes from the cradle of 
civilization," Nat said  deadpan.

"Uh-huh," Byron said with his tongue stuck in his cheek.   "That's one 
opinion, I suppose.  Personally I prefer the idea that, as  Americans, we are 
the 
result of further evolution above and beyond the old  world."
 
"Might I point out that your side of the pond used to  be one of the great 
hockey centers of the world?" Nat asked, trying to keep a  straight face.  He 
was getting tired and , therefore, a bit too slaphappy  for his own good.  He 
knew he ought to go to bed.

"Ah yes, point out  our flaws, why don't you?  It's only because you know I'm 
right," Byron  teased.  "You both look exhausted.  Has my witty reparte and 
exciting  company worn you out?"
 
"Hardly," Nat said mildly.  "I've been walking  around all night in a vain 
attempt to make it feel like a midnight stroll in  Hyde Park."

Chuckling, Byron closed his eyes and tried to remember what  Hyde Park had 
been like.  He could remember Regent's Park, but its gardens  but not Hyde for 
some reason.  "I think I've been but a very long time  ago.  Is it nice there?"
 
Nat grinned at him and whether in would harm his suave  British facade he 
said, "You're speaking of the playground of an entire pack of  Lynleys, Byron.  
It's beautiful.  Perfect place to play at Robin Hood  or take a stroll.  I 
strong armed that Ferengi Quark into playing the holo  program my brother David 
made for me.  He duplicated the entire park.   I told the little rat to give 
leave to our crew to come and go as they  please.  I've uploaded it into the 
holodeck here too."
 
Sheer pain filled Miranda's eyes at the mention of Hyde  Park. It was all she 
could do to keep herself from reacting to the memories of  the picnic and 
walk she and Newlyn had shared. She had hopped at one point that  the program 
would be uploaded to the Tempest's catalog, but now it would be a  program she 
would never ever use. "It's an amazing program,  Chief."

Stretch, Byron spiraled to his feet and smiled warmly at his  companions.  
"You know, I do believe that I am tired.  If you two will  excuse me..."  He 
offered them a deep bow before drifting out.
 
"Good night, Byron," Nat offered as the man headed  out.  He saw the look on 
Miranda's face.  He'd overheard what she told  Lieutenant Cabot, too.  "It's 
alright to be angry, Miranda," he said  quietly.
 
"No one else seems to think so," she replied softly.  "They all just say 
it'll pass and then I'll be ready to try again." She shook  her head. "I know 
better then to get snake bit a second time."
 
"Well, they're right, too, actually.  You would be  foolish if you didn't 
learn something but it would be a shame if a lovely young  lady like yourself 
aged into a bitter old woman.  I've seen it in others  and it isn't pretty," 
Nat 
said quietly.
 
Miranda shook her head. "I don't think I could handle  feeling like this 
again, Chief. To know that I could be shaken so badly by one  person? It scares 
me."
 
"Do you know," Nat said as he stretched out on his  side, and propped his 
head up, "that Rosemary is the first woman I've bothered  to lay eyes on since 
I 
joined the Fleet?  Old man that I am, that's almost  twenty-five years.  When 
I called home from Deep Space Nine to tell my  grandfather about her, he said 
it was about time I got over being a  coward.  I hardly think you're a coward 
for being cautious, Miranda, but  you are a Craig, are you not?  Made of stern 
stuff that no one can put  down."
 
"Even Craigs can be hurt, Chief." Miranda replied. Then  she laughed. "You 
sound like Lindsey. She keeps saying that. "You're a Craig,  Mirrie, you'll 
bounce back from this and be better for it... pffft.. Well at  least one of us 
will be happy."
 
"Certainly they can be hurt but I can't believe that  you would cut yourself 
off from any further possibilities and let that sodding  little--excuse 
me--let the man win," Nat told her.  "Mind you, I wouldn't  say you should just 
get 
over it.  That would be foolish.  I think  perhaps eventually something will 
change your mind."
 
Miranda shrugged. "Who knows, Chief. Maybe something  will." Stretching out 
the sudden tingle in her limbs, Miranda got to her feet  and winced at the pins 
and needles feeling. "I think I'm gonna head back to my  quarters. I need to 
feed my duck and get some sleep."
 
Nat dragged himself to his feet too.  "I'll walk  you home.  There are still 
a few gentleman out there, Miranda.  Keep  that in mind."
 
"Oh I know, Chief." She replied with a warm smile as  they headed out of the 
gym. "There's you and my Granddad, and my Dad, and John.  Problem is y'all are 
kinda old and all really taken." 
 
Nat couldn't help but laugh.  "Considering I'm a  few years older than 
Captain Hale, I must be ready for the pensioners' home," he  said wryly.  
"Don't 
worry, one day, when you're up to it, you'll find the  right frog to kiss.  If 
not, when we get home, I've got a rather large  extended family.  I'll 
introduce 
you."  
 
Miranda laughed and then paused outside her cabin.  "Thanks, Chief." 
 
"Good night, Miranda," Nat said.  It was off to  bed for him, even if he had 
to be up soon.

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[USS Tempest] Sports Talk by Byron Matthews, Miranda Craig, & Nat Lynley