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Title:      Most Secret Diary
Author:     Hypatia Kosh 
Rating:     PG-13 (language, sexual situation)
Pairing:    Yar/Selar
Series:     TNG
Summary:    Two hearts meet, and what wonders proceed from their
meeting.
Disclaimer: TNG still belongs to VIACOM, and my words still belong to
me.
Thanks to:  Rich Schultz, for kindly beta-ing. Any remaining errors,
quirks or vulgar phrases are entirely my own.



     Most Secret Diary

/Yar's thoughts/

Property of Natasha Yar
If you are reading this, may your eyes fall out of their sockets!

Most Secret Diary,

When I was a little girl, I used to have a comic book about a soldier
named Haruka and her beautiful lover Michiru. By day she was a race car
driver; by night she fought for the new age of grace and excellence,
sailing above the city with Michiru of the beautiful, long, wavy green
hair.

Haruka was the god of the sky; Michiru was the god of the sea. They
both had incredible powers. Together they could defeat any enemy.

I used to fantasize that Haruka would protect me when I went into
dangerous places. They said she had two souls contained in one body:
one male and one female. Her male soul made her brave, even boastful.
Nothing could frighten her. But her female soul made her gallant, the
protector of girls.

Haruka was a true butch. Chivalrous. When I grew up, I wanted to be
exactly like her.

But Haruka didn't stand alone. Alone, she would have been heartless,
cold. Alone she would have pursued her destiny unheeding of the
concerns of those who got in her way.

No, wherever she was, the graceful and talanted Michiru was never far
away. Michiru was so strong, yet so gentle. I still remember the
pictures in my little comic book, Haruka and Michiru exchanging rings
and living in a house with little baby Hotaru. A little family.

I have no one.

I am a soldier, a soldier of the Starfleet. I have powers of my own. I
get to be a hero to people in need . . . even rescuing girls from the
fate I endured. So why does it feel so empty? Why do I feel so cold?

Where is my Michiru?

------

Most Secret Diary,

I am in my quarters, listening to Tod und das Maedchen.

Maiden.

I wonder what that would be like.

I am such a fake. I wish I could be a real butch, inviolate.

------

Most Secret Diary,

I sparred with Worf today. Klingon technique is utterly without
finesse, relying on brute strength alone. Of course, in the case of a
Klingon this is not a poor strategy.

He's odd for a Klingon, though. It seems Earth made a deeper impression
on him than he cares to admit.

He knows Russian but won't speak it to me--always addresses everyone
unfailingly in Standard. Standard is such a poor language, only spoken
by politicians and spacers. It has no history and no depth.

But it's the perfect language if you want to forget.

------

Most Secret Diary,

Are people better off alone or together? The Captain is alone. He seems
secure, but also uptight (as if I'm not). He doesn't seem to happy
(funny--just like me), but who knows what he's like in private? I'll
never know. Whenever we're alone together I start to panic. I wonder,
why is that? Riker doesn't frighten me in the least. Maybe it's because
the Captain has power over me?

------

Most Secret Diary,

I was thinking about Kirk and Spock today. Now that was a command team!
Imagine being able to serve with them. Of course I would be stuck in
one of those skimpy uniforms. No, I wouldn't. I would pass as a man!
Nat Yar. Maybe the captain would take a fancy to me. But if he made a
move on me, I'd threaten to tell Spock everything.

[cartoon: Chibi Kirk sees Chibi Yar. "What a beautiful boy!" Chibi Kirk
kisses Chibi Yar. Chibi Yar turns red. "I'm not like that!" "You're so
beautiful . . . don't be silly." "I'll tell your boyfriend everything!
He'll get super jealous and kick your ass!" Chibi Yar runs off. Chibi
Kirk runs after him(?). "Wait! Wait!"]

People are so obnoxious. I'm so sick of people saying they couldn't
have been lovers because Kirk didn't say so explicitly in his memoir
about the five year mission. Come on. He doesn't describe any of his
love-affairs--this is a man who was famous for his love-affairs. Oh, he
talks about a couple of women, for a few lines each, but his love life
is nowhere in that book.

And yet it's all over it. How about this:

"My conscience stabbed me with the knowledge that when I should have
been thinking first and foremost of my ship and my crew, my only
thought had been to preserve Spock's life, whatever the cost."

He goes on for pages about Spock. He's infatuated with Spock. By the
end of the book you would want to marry Spock too.

And there's something queer about both of them, when I see them in
documentaries or archive film. Not out-and-out gay, but something queer
nonetheless. I do have the sense that they could appreciate a beautiful
woman and that's something I have in common with them, although I'll
never be a legend, like them. I'm just a footsoldier.

There's just something about them, especially together, that I can't
quite define. When I see them it rouses a strange enthusiasm in my
breast for discovery and adventure, for heroism. Is it camp? Is it just
my gaydar tripping? Whatever it is, I feel like I share it with them
too.

I want to be like them. I want to be one of them.

------

Most Secret Diary,

It looks like we will have some excitement in two days. This mission
was getting so dull that I wanted to scream.

Worf refused to spar with me today, as apparently he is testing a
holodeck calisthenics program of his own devising, so I was stuck
sparring with Riker. He's passable but not great. Trouble is, he never
listens to a word I say. What good is a sparring partner who never
improves? And he can be such an insufferable pompous ass when he's
trying to be ingratiating. I'm surprised women don't laugh in his face
when he smiles that smarmy smile. But, then again, I've never quite
understood how perfectly intelligent women could sleep with men anyway.

Okay, scratch that. I bet if you give into men you get a lot more sex.
All this trouble started when millions of eligible bisexual girls heard
about 'lesbian bed death' and now won't talk to me after 6 P.M.

But why do women act so stupid for men? Or at least stupid in front of
men? How is stupid supposed to be attractive? And it's always for the
dim bulbs out there, anyway. Is it some sort of heterosexual secret
that penis size is inversely proportional to intelligence?

Damn! Now I know why they won't sleep with me! I'm so smart my dick
turned into this microscopic clit which couldn't penetrate a miniature
lily.

Boy, I crack myself up.

------

Most Secret Diary,

I finally received the mission briefing, but with only 13 hours (what
an omen) to prep my staff. Security was overlooked, my ass! Fuck you,
Riker, you self-righteous prick! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I know
you'll never read this because the computer can't scan my funny
handwriting and you can't read Ukranian, ha ha ha, so suck on that,
dickhead. Oops, have to go back to work when I should be off-duty
because YOU gave it to me late! We'll here's a little Ukranian prayer
for you: I hope your dick shrivels and your balls fall off. By Sts.
Sergius and Bacchus, patrons of wronged homosexuals everywhere. Amen.

------

Most Secret Diary,

My god, I can't believe I never noticed Doctor Selar before.

[cartoon: funny face "What a babe!"]

Sure, I knew who she was, I even said a few words to her at the
start-of-mission, but I had never really noticed her. How could I have
been so blind? She is gorgeous. Every time I think of her I want to
melt. God, my heart is racing. I can't believe she actually flirted
with me--in front of Doctor Crusher, no less. Now that is a straight
woman's straight woman, if you ever saw one. I don't dislike her, but
she does not understand me at all. I feel weird with her, like she
thinks I'm just a "normal" woman and I'm not. She seemed to have no
concept of how embarrassing that khesting, Cthulhu-verdammte pelvic
exam was three weeks ago. I mean, sure, having a woman do it was worlds
better than if it had been a man, but it was still an ordeal.

I wonder if I could get Doctor Selar to do it if they ever require one
again. She's a touch telepath, so she's probably be pretty pissed about
my thoughts but it would be worth it, just once. God, it would be worth
it.

--//--

"Now, try to stay still while I scan your wrist. This is a pretty
serious injury," said Beverly Crusher, in what she hoped was a soothing
tone with a  mere hint of reproach.

Yar laughed nervously. "It's not that bad, Doctor. It's not as if I
broke something. I only came down here to check on Mr. Ramos. I was
just going to ice it in my quarters." She tried to form a reassuring
smile.

"I don't like that. You can't keep hiding injuries and expect to stay
in top physical condition. You need to come to sickbay when you're
injured. It's nothing to be ashamed of," the doctor scolded.

"You mean I should come down here for every little scrape?" Yar could
not quell the anxiety creeping into her voice. "I can't spend all day
in here--I have a job to do."

"A job you can certainly serve better without a sprained wrist," said
an amused voice from behind her.

Yar spun around and found herself looking up at the face of Doctor
Selar. Her expression was the closest Yar had ever seen to a Vulcan
laughing.

"You think this is funny?" she retorted, with naked hostility.

"I enjoy the challenge of subduing recalcitrant patients." Undaunted by
the outburst, she was looking Yar straight in the eyes.

For once, Yar had no comeback. Her mouth went dry and she could only
stare stupidly. It was as if she had never seen Selar before--in fact
they had only exchanged words on one previous occasion--and she was
wondering how she had managed to never notice her before. The Vulcan
was standing very close. She was beautiful and her uniform curved
around her breasts close enough to touch.

Yar flushed a brilliant red and turned away, in time for Doctor
Crusher, who had withdrawn during the distraction, to return with a
flexible cloth joint bandage. The thought of being forced to wear that
in public gave the security chief pause.

/Noooooo . . ./ Yar begged with her eyes, but Crusher was too busy
unwinding the tan roll to notice. "I want to make sure your wrist has
time to heal properly this time," Crusher explained without looking up.
"I took care of the sprain but your tissues are soft and vulnerable to
bruising."

"Isn't there another way?" Yar pleaded, while trying not to sound like
it.

Doctor Selar was still standing there. Yar was incredulous. "Are you
going to watch?" Selar seemed to be almost smiling, and was certianly
looking at her intently. /A Vulcan?/ Yar threw caution to the stellar
winds and continued, "unless you'd prefer to bandage me yourself."

To Yar's shock, Crusher simply glanced at her colleague, shrugged, and
gave her the bandage. The CMO then went to treat another patient and
the Vulcan doctor--Vulcan!--picked up up her left wrist and began to
apply the bandage.

"Try to avoid any load-bearing activities with your left hand for the
next two days," she said matter-of-factly. "Otherwise you are likely to
reinjure your ligaments and cause scar tissue to develop."

"That's . . . fascinating," Yar murmured.

Selar looked up. Bait the hook. Now switch.

"I guess Sickbay isn't so bad when I can get healed by such a cute
doctor." Yar broke out in a cold sweat as soon as the words left her
mouth. It was very probable that she would find the remark to be highly
offensive.

But Selar seemed completely unimpressed. "Do you imagine you might
ingratiate yourself with us by making 'cute' remarks?"

/Don't be stupid, Natasha, she's a Vulcan. Vulcans don't. Not with
emotional species like ourselves. We're beneath them./

"Actually," Yar said, with a complete change of attitude, "I've always
admired Vulcans. You never hesitate in a crisis. No emotions dragging
you down. Nothing can frighten you."

Selar looked like she was going to say something to that, but pressed
her lips together instead and looked pensive. Suddenly she recovered
and told Yar she was free to go. Yar tried to leave with a swagger, but
inside she was shaking.

--//--

Next day Yar was nursing a drink in Ten-Forward. Fortunately, no one
had bothered her all evening.

The last person she expected to see was Doctor Selar.

"May I join you?"

"Of course!" Yar sat up straight in her chair but tried not to appear
too eager. When Selar said nothing further, she brought her glass to
her lips.

"I was thinking about what you said yesterday." The glass came down.
"About fear."

Yar's heart started to race. She felt foolish all over again. That
admission had been too personal. Why did she always lose her grip and
spill her guts to pretty girls?

She was of half a mind to say "I don't want to talk about it," knowing
that Selar, as a Vulcan, would respect her privacy and back off.
Instead, she let her continue. "I found it surprising because, as a
security officer, you must have the ability to manage and overcome
fear, even if it you do so in a human way."

"Do you mean fear on the job? That doesn't worry me. We're trained to
deal with unknown factors. That's our job. That's not the kind of fear
that cripples you." Yar said this bluntly, which was her own form of
bravado, knowing, paradoxically, that by doing so she was revealing
herself further and that was . . . dangerous.

"You are refering to a fear that does not stem from immediate factors?
A phobia? It does not seem logical."

"Isn't it?" Yar insisted, and became acutely aware of the silence
around her. Then the normal sounds of Ten-Forward filtered back in. She
was shocked at herself, caught between wanting to tell her everything
and the everpresent need to protect herself. /I can't be giving my
secrets away to this total STRANGER./

"I don't think I can talk about this here," she found herself saying.
"You want to finish this discussion in my quarters?" Yar knocked back
the remains of her drink. Selar considered for a moment, then nodded.
She followed in silence during the trip to Yar's deck and around the
saucer to her cabin.

"Apologies for the mess," Yar mumbled before opening the door.

/Way to impress a pretty girl--show her your sloppy living quarters.

/Pretty girl? Are you nuts? She could be 200 years old for all you
know./

Yar pulled a stack of padds off a chair and offered it to Selar, before
sitting down herself. It took a few awkward moments before she was able
to speak.

"What I'm about to tell you is only known to two living souls, outside
of my home planet. I . . . I need to ask you to keep this conversation
private."

"As you wish. Anything you say will be confidential."

"No, not medical confidential." Irritated. "I mean between you and me
confidential. Private."

"Did you think I was going to report everything back to the CMO?"

"Yes. And she will tell the captain. I won't have it."

"You have my word on my silence."

"I believe you, but only because you're Vulcan."

"Interesting," Selar noted.

Yar pursed her lips. How to begin? "I'm not sure I can explain this
coherently, but I feel like my whole life I"ve been paralyzed by fear.
Not in every sphere of life, just when it comes to interacting with
people on a personal level. It's . . . it's insidious. It drives you to
do things you shouldn't, say things you shouldn't.

"My past is so close to me sometimes. I'm sure you've heard the rumors
about me. I may have escaped that world, but part of me has never left.
The way we lived--" Her voice constricted and she choked on the phrase.
With difficulty she took in breath and was able to speak again. "I'm
back there every night in my dreams." She knew if she forced out one
more word she was going to cry.

"What I wanted to say to you back there is, when a child is hurt by
another person, isn't it logical for the child to fear that person? And
if it wasn't just one person, but a whole lot of them, again and again,
a whole class of people, isn't it logical for that child to grow up
fearing men? It's a conditioned response? That's why I can't have a
normal romantic relationship with a man. I'm terrified of them. That's
why I'm gay, that's why I keep trying to be a man, even though I can't
be; because I need to protect myself. I think, if I was a man, I
couldn't be victimized. But I'm so afraid that sooner or later they're
going to strip this uniform from me and put me in my place, force me
into a role I can't take and I'll just implode."

The emotion had found physical manifestation and she was short of
breath, keyed up wildly.

Selar looked a bit stunned. Apparently years of Starfleet training had
not prepared her for an emotional outburst of this nature. She leaned
forward and said, "I ask forgiveness for my questions earlier. It was
never my intent to upset you."

"It's alright." Yar shook her head. She felt wasted after her outburst
and found the kind words welcome.

"However, if you'll pardon my saying so," Selar said after a pause, "I
don't recall the ontology of homosexuality in humans being described as
anything like what you assert. I must confess no personal experience in
this subject, but isn't sexual orientation largely determined
prenatally?"

Yar looked up for a second, then returned to studying the floor. "So
they say," she said bleakly.

"Why would you believe otherwise?"

"I don't know. When you wake up one day and realize you're a freak and
a pervert, you try to find a reason, you know?

"Where I come from they say homosexuality is a punishment from God. If
you said there was such a thing as a gay baby they would laugh at you.
Anyway, I didn't feel like a gay kid, I was just a kid. I discovered
girls kind of late, you know? Too busy trying to survive before that, I
think. It hit me all at once and I didn't know what to do.

"Looking back--I was such a stupid teenager."

"I am no expert on human psychology," Selar began tentatively, "but if
there is some way I can help you, I will try.

"Perhaps you need to adopt a different mindset. Instead of thinking of
your homosexuality as an impediment, why not view it as a character
trait, which, among others, forms your unique personality?"

Yar stared in disbelief. "Unique--character trait? Are you kidding?
It's like the last straw--the icing on the cake. 'Natasha Yar is a
total failure as a human being.'"

The Vulcan's eyebrows shot up. "That is dubious."

Yar barely caught the subtle change when Selar's expression change from
a detached, but supportive demeanor to something more intimate. "Where
*I* come from," Selar said, "homosexuality is considered somewhat
exotic. It's practically unheard of among Vulcans, but the idea of it
has always fascinated me."

"What do you mean?" Yar challenged, unable to restrain her skepticism.
"I could probably name a dozen Vulcans off the top of my head in
homosexual relationships."

Selar's face revealed tragic amusement. "Does a same-sex relationship
make you homosexual? Allow me to clarify: Vulcans are neither
heterosexual nor homosexual as your people define it."

"You've got to be *something*."

"Indeed? My people had no concept of 'sexual orientation' until it was
introduced by outworlders. If a term like 'bisexual' makes it more
accessible to you, then by all means, use it, but we do not, ourselves,
understand sexuality that way." Selar paused and seemed to consider her
words. "Vulcans experience the drive towards sexual pleasure as being
separate from the drive towards procreation, instead of collapsing them
into one, as a primitive life-form would. The fact that humans also
conflate them was part of what prejudiced my people against yours in
the beginning."

"And why did your people change your minds about us?"

"I believe that generation underestimated the resourcefulness of
humans. Certainly after the Terran-Romulan war there was no longer any
question of human intelligence and ingenuity. But we were also guilty
of arrogance as a race. Superior evolution--a slippery concept at any
rate--does not imply superior civilization or superior individuals."

"Individuals. You mean the way Spock is probably the most famous Vulcan
in Federation history, and he was half-human."

"Spock was genetically engineered, so he is perhaps not the best
example, but it is true that it was widely believed that he would not
amount to much on account of his human heritage--a supposition that was
proven emphatically wrong."

"I've always thought he was someone I'd really like to emulate. He
endured so many hardships and yet he persevered. He must have had
incredible strength of character." Yar's normal composure had finally
returned. "I wonder if I would be afraid of him. Maybe, maybe not."
Suddenly it was the security officer speaking. "He could be dangerous
under the wrong circumstances. He was a Starfleet officer, after all."

Yar folded her hands on her lap. "Thank you for staying and listening
to me. I don't know what possessed me--I guess I just had to get that
off my chest." /Even though I really didn't say much at all./

Selar rose gracefully, and inclined her head. "I am honored by your
confidence." Then she tossed her head back and regarded Yar brightly.
"If you want to talk to me again--about anything--please call me." She
took a step towards Yar, who stood up abruptly.

/I could swear she's flirting again--I didn't know Vulcans did that!/

Yar led Selar back to the door, which was only a few short steps.
Somehow by doing this she hoped to prove that she hadn't lured the
doctor inside under base motives.

But Selar didn't leave. She stood just outside the automatic door
opener's range,  looking at Yar enigmatically. The human felt her knees
growing weak. She jumped when Selar reached up and touched her
shoulder.

"Do I frighten you?" the Vulcan asked, not completely serious.

"No!" In a deeper voice: "No, I was just startled, that's all." She
knew she was starting to blush, and her realization of it seemed to
make it worse.

This time she let Selar bring a hand towards her. It cupped her chin,
then moved to the back of her neck.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Mostly, curiousity."

"Oh."

"I also find you attractive physically. Girls who look like boys are
sexy."

/If my heart beats any harder I will die./

"Well in that case," Yar said, a measure of bravado returning, "I think
you're pretty sexy too."

Yar had never kissed such a warm mouth. Selar moved slowly, with
finesse. /This is what a kiss is supposed to be./ If the kiss was any
indication of what was to come, this evening would not soon be
forgotten.

They groped at each other as the kiss deepened and Yar was already wet,
but when she tried to open the clasp to Selar's uniform her hands were
pushed back. Selar withdrew her lips, capturing instead Yar's eyes.

"Not now. Not tonight," she said in a breathy voice.

"Why?" Yar asked, equally breathless, "Vulcan girls dont give it away
on the first date?"

"Proceeding too fast would . . . spoil the experiment."

"You're a tease," Yar decided. She grinned and gathered her wits back
together. "Shall I escort you back to your quarters?"

Selar raised an eyebrow at this strange request.

"Sorry," Yar amended, "that's just the inner butch speaking. I'm sure
you don't need *my* help to go anywhere safely on *this* ship."

The Vulcan bit her lower lip: ". . . butch . . ."

"I know, it's old-fashioned and anti-feminist, a throwback to
patriarchy and--"

"I would be honored if you would accompany me to my quarters, Tasha."

One little butch heart swelled with pride. One little butch had found
her femme.

THE END