BY: "The" Sandra Guzdek (ha, ha)
CODES: STNG, P/Cish but indirectly, 1/1
RATING: PG-13
ARCHIVE:  With the other ITs on the web
FEEDBACK:  Please!  But spam me and die.  [email protected].
DISCLAIMER: The evil, evil 'zoners made me do it.

Summary:  A POV from an other in P & C's lives.

-*-*-*-

PHASER

I knew it was too good to be true.

Perhaps I should backtrack.  I am a weapon of war.  An instrument of
battle.  My sole purpose in life is to stop the enemy, by any means
necessary.  That can mean I merely stun -- but it can also mean I
injure,
or even kill.

But we've gotta face facts.  With my place on the doctor's hip, I've
seen
less action than a meditating existentialist monk.  I'm lucky if I get
any
time on the field at all, in *her* possession.  After all these years, I
could count on one hand (if I had hands, that is) the number of times
she's
had to actually fire me, not counting the holodeck sims (which are
TOTALLY
LAME).  Come on.  That is no way for a weapon of my class to exist,
hanging
on her hip day in and day out, to find one day that I'm at nearly 0%
power
due to a gradual, slow drain, rather than spending it all in a fast
blaze
of ass-kicking glory.

All of these years lingering in her belt pouch, I dreamt, I schemed, I
planned for the day when I would see more action.  More opportunities to
discharge and do damage.  And, dare I say it... maim and kill.

Well... it *is* what I was made for.

So imagine my surprise when I realized that I found myself in the palm
of
the doctor's hand more and more often.  She seemed to be fascinated with
poking and prodding at my seams.  I noticed too that she was spending
time
looking at my technical specifications.  Hot damn!  She finally wanted
to
find out what made me tick.  She wanted to fine tune me.  Soup me up.
Take
me out and blast things to smithereens.

By the Great Warp Core, I could not have been more wrong.

Oh, I got used more often, all right.  In the most humiliating sort of
way.
 She should have just placed me under a spotlight with a pink bow tied
around my handle.  I would have felt much more macho that way.

No, no.  She took me, studied me, rewired and reprogrammed me, tweaking
with my settings such that my most powerful efforts in the field of
energy
discharge weaponry would not even make Lieutenant Barclay blink.

All I do now is... buzz.  For her.  For him.  For them together.

Please, don't laugh.  The embarrassment is almost more than I can bear.
It's worse than the taunting from the other phasers in the weapons
locker
about how little action I got before.

I dare not tell them what kind of action I get now.

--end--