Title: Lost And Now Its Ours
Author: Ky (Venom_69)
Fandom: Voyager
Category: Humor.
Pairing: J/C on the sly.
Rating: Age Friendly
Summary: “We have a 'Lost And Now Its Ours' box?”
Archive: My site. Anywhere else, sure, just let me know where so I can come visit.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never will. Promise to put them back in the state I found them. Song’s not mine either. That would belong to “Frankie Goes To Hollywood.”
Author’s notes: Cassie was getting ready to kill me if I didn’t write something. And She’s a big Harry fan, so... this is for you, chickey.
Date: 15/07/06
Copyright © to Venom, 2006

***

Relax, don’t do it
When you want to get to it

***

Harry sighed, searching through the closet before him.

Despite his mother's fastidious cleanliness rubbing off on him, he couldn't find his errant item. The draws and shelves were all stacked, neatly, with uniforms and the few civilian clothing he kept, but there was still no sign of it.

"It's not here." He muttered, more to himself than to Tom, who had been reclining back on the lounge for the past half hour.

"What's not?"

"My spare sheet music." He'd replicated a new book with the last of his rations, and since they weren't due to be re-set for another two weeks, he really couldn't afford for it to have been lost. Most of this month’s rations had gone towards a romantic dinner with an Ensign from deck 11 – which had turned out to be a mistake – and Harry had been eating Neelix’s ‘creations’ ever since.

The Captain had specifically requested that he play a new piece of music at the next talent night - something about dimming the lights and letting the crew relax - and she was also out of rations at the moment, which meant she was low on coffee, which by default meant that she was pissy and he wasn't prepared to draw attention to himself in any way, shape, or form. So he was going to find his sheet music, he was going to compose something relaxing and he was going to play at talent night.

In other words, Harry thought with a wry smile, he was going to avoid drawing the wrath of their pissy Captain towards himself.

It might not be nice to think of one's Captain as 'pissy' but since Chakotay was probably holding off on mainlining her coffee supply, that was exactly how she had been acting for the past week... her mood starting right about the time she ran out of rations for coffee, coincidently.

"Is that the book that looks like a zebra?" Tom asked.

Harry couldn't actually see him at the moment, but he could hear the sounds of his friend throwing something - no doubt one of his more precious statues - up in the air and catching it again.

He wasn’t going to point out that Zebra’s had been extinct for almost two hundred years. He sighed. "Tom, it's sheet music, not a zebra."

"I think the Captain has it."

Harry peeked his head out of the bedroom to stare at his friend. "Why would the Captain have my music book?"

Tom shrugged, not looking up from his study of the object he threw. "It's probably in the 'Lost And Now Its Ours' box."

"We have a 'Lost And Now Its Ours' box?"

"Don't all good Starships?"

Somehow, Harry doubted that. "So what do I do then?"

"Ask her if she has it."

"I can't go and ask her!" It wasn't very manly to admit it, but Harry knew that he sounded like a squeaking mouse at that point.

"She's not that terrifying Harry."

Not normally, no, however... "She is when she hasn't had coffee in who-knows-how-long."

Tom finally gave up on the model stapler he was throwing - it was getting boring now, obviously - and rested his feet on the coffee table. "True. And by my calculations she ran out of rations last week, so you might have to take a phaser in to see her. But she's getting laid regularly now, surely that has to help the mood swings. Unless the big guy doesn’t live up to his reputation."

"Tom! You can't say that about Captain Janeway!" Not to mention the mental images that come to mind about Chakotay. Ew.

"Why not?" Tom shrugged. "I respect her, she knows that, but let's be honest, the woman really did need to get laid."

Harry snorted. "B'Elanna's right, you know."

"About?"

"You're a pig."

***

Despite what he’d said to Tom, Harry knew that he would have to ask her. And that meant talking to her.

Normally, she was a pretty approachable woman. But if you got her before she’d had time to have a morning coffee, you were likely to get your head bitten off. If you got her after the shift had ended – despite the fact that she was normally still in her Ready Room anyway – you were likely to get a half-hearted, tired response.

Harry would never understand how she could spend half the day as a zombie in withdrawal and be bright eyed and ready for action if a red alert sounded her out of bed.

Actually, he thought, he was just never going to understand women at all.

Sighing, he pressed the call button to the Ready Room door.

“Come in!”

Entering, he noted the coffee cup on the desk next to her and thought that perhaps this would go better than expected. “Sorry to bother you, Captain...”

She waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. What can I do for you?”

He was so gonna sound like an ass... “This might sound strange, but Tom said something to me about it and although I doubt it, I thought I should ask since I can’t find it.”

Captain Janeway rubbed her forehead, before holding her hands out, palms facing him. “Harry. Stop.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Oh yeah, a total ass.

“What are you looking for?”

“My sheet music.”

She nodded. “And why do you think I have it?”

“Tom mentioned something about a Lost And Now It’s Ours Box.”

“Did he now?”

“I know it’s stupid, and I don’t really believe that we actually have...” He stopped talking when she pulled a standard issue storage container out from under her desk.

Opening it, she searched through the items – was that his lost holodeck program? – until she finally recovered his sheet music and held it out to him with a lop-sided grin. “Not everything Mr. Paris says is conjecture.”

Harry managed to stutter out a response – something akin to “I’ll remember that. Thank you Ma’am.” – before scurrying out of the Ready Room and back to his station.

He stuffed the sheet music under the console, busying himself with scans and data that didn’t need his attention. It took all of 30 seconds for a message to appear on his screen.

Get your head bitten off?

Harry sent a glare towards the back of Tom’s head, even though it was useless. No. But you could have warned me that the Box was real.

I did, or don’t you remember our conversation?

Smartass. If you’re not careful, you might end up in the Lost And Now It’s Ours Box. How’d you know about it anyway?

Ahhh, young Jedi. There is little on this ship that I don’t know.

Harry didn’t know what a ‘Young Jedi’ was, but he was pretty sure it was some form of condescending insult. You obviously don’t know everything. She was in a good mood. And there was coffee on the desk.

I imagine she would be. The Chief’s limping.

He was not going to get sucked into another session of Tom’s juvenile speculations about what the Command Team did off-duty.

Pulling a sheet of his newly recovered paper out from under the desk, Harry sent a quick reply to his friend before beginning the composition of something that would elax the crew.

***

Across the Bridge, Tom’s console beeped with an incoming message.

Pig!

***

END