'ahni'
by Sam (lullaby_psyche@hotmail.com) March 2001
disclaimer: well, they're definitely not mine so...
summary: B'Elanna reminisces a bit.
i should point out that i've mucked with canon a bit, and this is a little..um.. different to my other stuff!
:-)
thanks go to my beta-readers Briar Rose and First of Five, who did a stunning job in getting this up to scratch.
I didn't really know her at first. She was one of my subordinates and that was as far as it went until a rowdy crew party in Sandrines. It sounds clichéd but our eyes met across the crowded room and something flew between us. I acted on it-fuelled by alcohol-so the first time I found myself in her quarters I was drunk on the Terellian ale that Tom had somehow procured. But the second time was because I wanted to be there. Because I wanted her.
I always knew that she was attracted to others, and I, myself, was exploring the potential future with a certain hotshot pilot. It never mattered, because when we were together there was only us. She helped make me feel that I wasn't solely defined by my past, my engineering ability or my Klingon temper. I was just me, and that was who she coveted and desired.
When we lay wrapped around each other in the early hours of the morning we would talk, and she would encourage me to let Tom in. She told me that I should take what he was willing to give, that it was worth something.
It lasted only a little under two years, from our first one in the Delta Quadrant to the middle of the third. It was never a real commitment; simply a quiet communion of feelings, the closeness of having each other.
And Tom always knew about her, though he never said anything. Maybe he didn't know how.
But he was the one who broke the news to me. He came straight from sickbay to my quarters, and he still had her blood on his uniform. He told me the away mission had gone terribly wrong; that the day after her twenty-sixth birthday, my vibrant, thoughtful, precious lover was dead.
I thanked him for telling me personally, showed him the door, and cried for an hour. Her death was a devastating blow but, in the end, there was another to pick up the shattered pieces. Over time I tucked her safely away in my heart, and devoted myself to living a different life.
But I would not be who, or where, I am now without ever having been with her. I still miss her fiercely. And while some would think it strange that I would name my first child for an ex-lover, my husband looked into my eyes and said it was a wonderful idea.
I'd like to think that she appreciates that, and that-wherever she is-she's smiling because a perfect, beautiful, and cherished little girl breathes new life into the name Ahni.
by Sam (lullaby_psyche@hotmail.com) March 2001
disclaimer: well, they're definitely not mine so...
summary: B'Elanna reminisces a bit.
i should point out that i've mucked with canon a bit, and this is a little..um.. different to my other stuff!
:-)
thanks go to my beta-readers Briar Rose and First of Five, who did a stunning job in getting this up to scratch.
I didn't really know her at first. She was one of my subordinates and that was as far as it went until a rowdy crew party in Sandrines. It sounds clichéd but our eyes met across the crowded room and something flew between us. I acted on it-fuelled by alcohol-so the first time I found myself in her quarters I was drunk on the Terellian ale that Tom had somehow procured. But the second time was because I wanted to be there. Because I wanted her.
I always knew that she was attracted to others, and I, myself, was exploring the potential future with a certain hotshot pilot. It never mattered, because when we were together there was only us. She helped make me feel that I wasn't solely defined by my past, my engineering ability or my Klingon temper. I was just me, and that was who she coveted and desired.
When we lay wrapped around each other in the early hours of the morning we would talk, and she would encourage me to let Tom in. She told me that I should take what he was willing to give, that it was worth something.
It lasted only a little under two years, from our first one in the Delta Quadrant to the middle of the third. It was never a real commitment; simply a quiet communion of feelings, the closeness of having each other.
And Tom always knew about her, though he never said anything. Maybe he didn't know how.
But he was the one who broke the news to me. He came straight from sickbay to my quarters, and he still had her blood on his uniform. He told me the away mission had gone terribly wrong; that the day after her twenty-sixth birthday, my vibrant, thoughtful, precious lover was dead.
I thanked him for telling me personally, showed him the door, and cried for an hour. Her death was a devastating blow but, in the end, there was another to pick up the shattered pieces. Over time I tucked her safely away in my heart, and devoted myself to living a different life.
But I would not be who, or where, I am now without ever having been with her. I still miss her fiercely. And while some would think it strange that I would name my first child for an ex-lover, my husband looked into my eyes and said it was a wonderful idea.
I'd like to think that she appreciates that, and that-wherever she is-she's smiling because a perfect, beautiful, and cherished little girl breathes new life into the name Ahni.