Title: Carnival Of Time
Summary: "But, I have to find them!" she stammered tearfully. "I can't believe you, of all people, have the nerve call me hysterical! You're being spiteful, and it's only because you're too bitter and twisted to find a soulmate of your own."
Rating: T+
Author's note: Thank you, to everybody, for the ongoing support I'm receiving with the business of rewriting my stories. This one, previously entitled 'Carnival of Rust', is the one that's been changed the most; as such, I'd very much appreciate any opinions or (constructive) criticism. As before, this is the sequel to 'When Two Become One'.
Rusted chunks of orange metal lay haphazardly over the dusty, choking sand. The sky was a canvas of bloodstained blue; stars peeked through layers of frothy fog meekly, as if afraid to be seen. The smell of sulphur burned, its sweet, acidic aroma burning through every layer of defence.
He could taste copper on the back of his tongue.
Tiny fireworks fizzled beneath slabs of sodden steel, and cracked rocks began to crumble. Only barely audible, was the sound of heavy breathing; an occasional whimper escaped. Her long blonde hair, now free of its ever-constricting bun, was spread messily over the sharp edge of the crimson pool. Water, previously pure, was now tainted by the cherry-red of her blood.
Over three kilometres apart though they were, they could feel the other's presence as clearly as if the other was only centimetres away.
Sizzling static filled the atmosphere with electricity, crackling cruelly down his back like the cold of a Siberian winter before whipping his aching legs with a bolt of agony. Freezing mist circulated around her body, warming her quickly from the inside, before shrinking away suddenly and allowing crippling cramps to wrack her convulsing body.
Out of nowhere, a black hawk-like bird circulated the sky in warning, almost invisible in the biting night air. Clouds tainted with the essence of the darkest wine blotched over the stars, effervescing with their dangerous energy. Thunder shook the ground in-between glimpses of fine, bright light, and the avalanche began.
Molten cold shards of ice slipped between ruined rocks, before shattering with the force of impact as they hit the ground. Baby-fine, soft snow almost evaporated as it touched the back of her hands.
As the storm persisted, his breathing slowed. Tiny droplets of blood became matted in his light strawberry-blonde hair, and his eyes opened slowly. Pain coursed through with his body with every, single, agonizing breath, and he took the time to sit up slowly. Underneath a duvet of pale pink snow, her lifeless body tingled. Her Borg backup systems were the only thing keeping her alive. Her eyes, once a healthy teal shade, now wept a melancholy blue. Her previously peachy skin was now a mess of translucent purple veins.
They'd been out there for over three hours already.
...
"Damn it! Tuvok where are they?" B'Elanna shouted miserably; her husband, Tom Paris, and Seven of Nine had been stuck on the toxic planet for hours. Back on Voyager, every single member of the crew was trying desperately to locate them, or at least some indicator that they were still alive, that they were still holding on.
"Now, Lieutenant Torres, I know that this is frustrating for you, but you must be patient. We will find them."
"Finding them is not good enough" she replied angrily, "What if we don't find them in time? What will I tell Miral and Cleo? And Nevaeh, when she grows up? That we just left their respective parent to die in some toxic hell-hole!"
"That's enough B'Elanna," Captain Janeway ordered, "The last thing we all need is for you to lose your nerve and get hysterical. I know you want to help with the search, but you should be with your daughters."
"But, I have to, I have to find them!" she stammered tearfully. "I can't believe you, of all people, have the nerve call me hysterical! You're being spiteful, and it's only because you're too bitter and twisted to find a soulmate of your own."
"Dismissed, Lieutenant!" Janeway reiterated, "If you don't leave, I will have no option but to call security."
Filled with righteous spite, B'Elanna launched a torrent of abuse in Klingon at Janeway, who promptly had her removed.
As the doors swished closed behind them, a cry of 'you heartless bitch' echoed around the bridge.
"Captain, we're receiving signals from the Delta Flyer. One human aboard, it's Lieutenant Paris." Tuvok stated, allowing hints of strained relief to be detectable in his voice.
"Transporters?" was Janeway's single word answer.
"Energizing," was his.
As they beamed Tom to sickbay, their thoughts had already drifted onto the last Crewmember; the one that was in serious danger
...
"Mama, why are you crying?" Miral asked, snuggling onto her mother's lap and taking her hand. Stifling a sob, B'Elanna replied with a simple 'I'm just missing your father, honey'.
"But, he'll be back tomorrow, remember?" Miral replied, recalling the reassurances her mother had promised her that very morning.
Sniffing, B'Elanna answered with a warm smile and a gentle hug.
"Lieutenant Torres, please report to Sickbay." The Doctor's voice was strained, even over the intercom, and B'Elanna felt a ricochet of apprehension in her gut.
Looking quickly at Chakotay, who'd also been sent away from the bridge for 'hysterical' behaviour, B'Elanna received his unspoken promise that he'd guard the children, all of them, in her absence.
...
"Captain, we've got her!" Harry exclaimed.
"Is she alive?" Janeway replied, fearful of the answer.
"Barely. From what the sensors can tell, she's surviving only because of her remaining few nanoprobes."
"Oh, that's wonderful! Beam her straight to Sickbay." Janeway thanked the universe for the good fortune of being able to find both her stranded crewmembers, before falling to her chair, exhausted.
...
After leaving the children in the care of Samantha Wildman, Chakotay joined B'Elanna in Sickbay. Enveloping her trembling, frightened hand in his own, they risked a look at the biobeds before embracing in an attempt to seek out the comfort that only a long-standing friend could provide.
"B'Elanna, Chakotay, I'm glad you could both make it," The Doctor said, wearily. "As you've probably guessed, they've both suffered a great deal of damage, and it's nothing short of a miracle that they're both alive."
"But..." whispered B'Elanna, before hiding her tearstained face in Chakotay's uniform, "There's always a damn but!"
"Unfortunately," The Doctor started, "I can only, realistically, save one of them. Tom has several broken bones, a torn muscle in his right leg, quite possibly has suffered irreparable burn damage, and will require months, possibly even years, of re-learning how to walk. The good news is that he will, if he puts enough effort into it, live as normally as possible."
B'Elanna sobbed tears of relief into Chakotay's dark red uniform. She didn't care about the implications of the years to follow. Just the fact that he was alive, and would be for a very long time, was enough.
As he held B'Elanna even tighter, Chakotay whispered, "And Seven?"
The Doctor sighed, as if pained to say it. "Seven, unfortunately, is being kept alive only by the remaining nanoprobes in her body. Her internal organs have completely shut down, and her brain is literally frozen. Sparing you the most upsetting of details, Commander, she was located under a sheet of ice. The only hope we would have of restoring her would be to inject previously harvested nanoprobes into her bod-"
"But that would most likely have her returning to her Borg form," he stated, in anguish.
"And there's no guarantee that it would even work. I'm sorry Commander. Really, you have no idea how much."
"Save Tom; do it now." Chakotay ordered. The Doctor complied.
B'Elanna looked up at him in shock, "Don't you even want to try to bring her back?"
Chakotay laughed suddenly, harshly; it was not a laugh of joy.
"Of course I do. But you heard him. She'd be Borg, and she'd hate that. We both agreed that, if anything was to happen to either one of us that left us irreversibly impaired, or dangerous to Nevaeh, that we didn't want to live. How could I break that promise for my own selfish love?"
"Chakotay, I-"
"I know, B'Elanna. I know." He replied, gently releasing her from their embrace. As B'Elanna walked over to where The Doctor was working on Tom, Chakotay made his way over to the biobed where Seven existed, lifeless. Her hair lacked its youthful shine, and her face was cold, pinched in from the bitter frost outside.
She had never looked more beautiful.
He scooped her up in his arms, humming softly. The clicks and whirrs of the machinery being operated in the room with the 'ugly ceiling' held no meaning; it was just him and her.
He pressed his warm fingertips to her cold, coral-pink lips; and in the years that followed he would swear that he felt her cold lips kiss his fingertips.