Solo

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Star Trek: Voyager & Glee

Copyright: Paramount & Ryan Murphy Productions

"All By Myself" performed by Celine Dion

"All by myself… don't wanna be all by myself anymoore … "

If Kathryn Janeway had been religious, she would have thought of that music as a sign from God. A rich, strong, melancholy alto, accompanied by a single piano, it flowed along the walls of McKinley High's empty auditorium like fog rising from the pavement after a thunderstorm. Just when she had been at her lowest point all week, waiting fruitlessly for auditions, wondering whether Mark was right and she should have become a scientist after all, here was this voice, unexpected and unashamed, reminding her of exactly why she had chosen to coach show choir in the first place.

She stepped forward, high heels echoing on the hardwood stage floor, and began to clap.

Annika Hansen, sophomore, honor student and the source of that voice, jumped back from the piano as if it had burned her.

"I didn't know you played," said Kathryn kindly.

"I didn't know anyone was here," Annika said stiffly, her blue eyes darting around the hall as if to spot any other potential intruders. "This is my free period, I have finished my homework, and nobody booked this auditorium from one p.m. to – "

"Relax," said Kathryn, holding up one hand. "I'm not going to throw you out. On the contrary, I'm amazed by how talented you are. Why didn't you audition for the Voyagers last week?"

Annika stood with her hands clasped behind her back, her face impassive. She was one of those rare apparitions, a beautiful young girl who did not care about how she looked: her bright blonde hair was scraped back in a tight ponytail, her face was bare of makeup, her eyes obscured by heavy silver spectacle frames, and her gray shirt and chinos, while neat, were also utterly nondescript. She might as well have been trying to fade ino the walls.

"Ms. Janeway," she said, crisp and matter-of-fact, "If you think a show choir club would accept someone like me, you're mistaken. Coach Seska banned me from the Cheerios for insubordination, the Mathletes rejected me because my superior talents embarrassed them, and the chess club rejected me because I threw the board at Mortimer Harren after he put his hand on my thigh. My fellow students push me into lockers, break my glasses, steal my laptop and call me offensive names. I don't function well in groups, I never have. My parents and my therapist will confirm this. If you will excuse me, I need to get to lunch."

She put down the piano lid with a sharp clang, picked up a black leather messenger bag from the floor near the piano, shouldered it, and began to walk away. Only then did Kathryn, caught by a wave of empathy as she tried to imagine what this girl's life must be like, snap out of it and remember what she was doing. She could almost hear the warm voice of Chakotay, the guidance counsellor, urging her to act: If you don't reach out to this girl now, he'd say, Who will?

"Annika?" The girl's step faltered. "Do you know Tuvok Russ?"

"Of course. He is on the chess team. An excellent player." Annika kept her back turned, but her voice seemed to soften ever so slightly. "He detended me after the Harren incident, but he was overruled. He shares my … " She hesitated. "Condition."

"Your condition?"

Annika turned around and looked squarely into the older woman's eyes, making Kathryn realize it was the first time she'd done so. "Autism Spectrum Disorder, Ms. Janeway."

The blonde clenched her fists and glared, perhaps expecting shock or disgust, but Kathryn only nodded. One could not coach a glee club for more than ten years without learning how to deal with unsual students.

"I see," said Kathryn. "Well, he also joined my club last week. Marvellous baritone."

"Clarify."

"We've also got a boy who loves opera, a girl with a gift for machines, a brother and sister who were homeschooled until now, and even two football players. We've got students with all sorts of different races, backgrounds and personalities. Glee isn't just about music, Annika … it's about finding a place to belong.

"You don't really want to be all by yourself," she concluded, remembering the song, "Do you?"

Annika stood silently for a long moment, staring at the space over Kathryn's shoulder, her thoughts racing behind that unreadable face. It felt like hours until she gave her answer, but when she did, it was in as firm and decisive a tone as if she had known it all along.

"When and where do the Voyagers meet?"

"Tuesdays," replied Kathryn, with a private sigh of relief. "Four o'clock. In the choir room. I hope to see you there." She reached out, and – cautiously, remembering Tuvok's strained expression when she had tried the same thing – touched her prospective student on the arm in silent welcome.

"So do I," said Annika.

And with a tiny, birdlike nod and without bothering to say goodbye, she turned on her heel and walked briskly out of the room.

Left alone, Kathryn put her hands on her hips, smiled wryly and shook her head. "I'll have my work cut out for me with this one," she murmured. "But I have a feeling it will be worth it."