Titles: Only for a Minute & Moments of Hope
Authors: Annie M & P. L. Heyes (DangerMom)
Email: trekgirl@mushy.freeserve.co.uk
Email: Dangermom@aol.com
Series: Voyager
Rating: PG-13 & PG
Code: P/T
Summary: I wrote a short vignette, "Only for a Minute," setting
it just before Torres, Janeway and Tuvok decided to pay the Borg a
house-call in the 6th season episode Unimatrix Zero. DangerMom
then paid me the compliment of writing a companion piece to this
story called "Moments of Hope."
They are posted here together for your reading pleasure and with
DangerMom's approval.
Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom etc own the rights to the
characters and the ship. (c) August 3, 2000--P. L. Heyes and
Annie M.
Only for a Minute
by Annie M
~~//~~
"I couldn't sleep tonight. I missed you."
I lean over him again and give him a half-smile, brush my fingers
over his cheek.
"Are you finished now, are you coming to bed?"
He sounds so tired--sleep tired, yet hopeful--his blue eyes
fluttering around as he strains to keep them open for me.
I shake my head, no. "I just wanted to see you," I whisper.
He groans aloud, and in my heart I echo the sentiment. I say
nothing and settle instead for stroking his hair off his forehead
and biting my lip.
"I shouldn't have come," I admit.
It's the middle of the night and I'm pulling a triple shift in
Engineering for about the third night in a row. Voyager's
becoming more difficult to sustain the longer we're stuck out
here--we all know it, and I guess because we do we accept the
sacrifices we all have to make to keep her going. Right now, I
can't even remember what "down-time" is. I wonder what a
shore-leave would feel like too, it's been that long since I've been
planet-side.
"No. I'm glad you came... miss you." He struggles to sit up, his
hands reach out to me.
"Hey," I soothe. My hands instinctively go to his shoulders to try
and push him back against the pillows. "I can't stay long, Tom,
and you need to sleep."
"Lie down with me, B'Elanna, for just a minute."
His hands are gentle and coaxing upon my elbows and I follow
him willingly down to our bed.
Only for a minute.
I snuggle my face into the curve of his neck and feel his fingers
against my hair, his breath on my temple. He exhales deeply and
sighs. I turn my head slightly and touch my lips to his throat.
Tom murmurs something against my hair and his hands relax
against me even as he's pulling my hip closer to his own. His
breathing starts to deepen.
I close my eyes and inhale. He smells of soap, the one he keeps
telling me smells of the sea. I've taken his word for it, as the only
seaports I ever visited stunk to the high seat of Kahless of rotting
sea creatures and vegetables. But I like this smell, it's his "clean"
smell, the one I put right up there with his natural scent--that
drives me to distraction when he's sweaty from a workout or he
has his head buried in my bosom and his fingers are busy
seducing all sorts of pleasures out of me. I inhale again and lick
his throat.
He's asleep.
I want to stay.
Slowly and carefully I move away from him, quieting his
whispered moans with a kiss and a caress.
He shifts more deeply into his pillow, and I can't help myself, I
have to kiss his ear--very gently. I use my index finger and trace
a line against his softer skin there. I smile as I withdraw from him
and remind myself to be this gentle when we're both fully awake.
And have the time.
I need to get back to work before I'm commed, and I don't want
to wake him again so I leave.
The work is still as important as it ever was, I'll never lose sight
of that. Nicoletti hands me a PADD with more data on it; Seven
has a theory that she insists will enhance engine efficiency;
Vorik's just found another leak in the plasma manifold. I inwardly
smirk a little with all the attention and action, calling out orders
and quick responses as fast as my synapses can carry them.
I only had the chance to see him for a minute. I wonder if he'll
ever know how much that means.
~~//~~
"Moments of Hope"
by P. L. Heyes
~~//~~
"You need to sleep."
Those words echo in my mind as I wake up. I think I begged her
to stay, only for a minute, hoping she would, and she must have
done so. My arms are empty, but tactile memory insists she was
here, snuggled up against me, warm and soft. Her scent lingers,
against my skin, on the pillow--earthiness with just a touch of
cinnamon, tinged with hard-earned sweat and plasma coolant.
All her, always her.
The memory deepens, and I know she stayed, for that precious
minute--perhaps longer. There was a kiss, and the sound of her
breathing, steady and sure, and I was lulled to sleep by that
comforting rhythm.
And then--did I dream of a touch, a soft caress and a tender
kiss? Oh yes--no one else may believe it, but B'Elanna can be
gentle, and I savor such moments all the more for their rarity.
So I slept, and she had to leave. Above and beyond the call of
duty--that's the way it is out here. Sacrifice and compromise,
over and over. It's how we live. God knows what's ahead of us
with the Borg. All we can do is prepare for the worst and hope
it's not that bad.
Hope we survive.
I'm lucky to be allowed a night off, but I worry about B'Elanna
pushing herself too hard--even though after all this time, I still
marvel at and slightly envy her stamina and energy. I've been
pulling double shifts at the helm, plotting courses and tactical
maneuvers, then working in Sickbay, prepping for the inevitable
casualties.
But I can't cover for myself under both the captain's and Doc's
watchful eye, so I'm sent off duty when I want to do more, but
know it's a risk to try.
B'Elanna soldiers on, surprisingly more adept than myself at
escaping close scrutiny and new orders.
She'll be all right. I know she will.
I hope she will.
I wish she'd come back before the night is over, and sleep beside
me. That's all--just sleep. Sometimes that's all I want--her
closeness, the warmth--the faint scent of cinnamon tickling at the
edge of consciousness. Does she know how much that means
to me? She came, and stayed, for just a minute. Maybe she
craves such moments as much as I do. I hope she does.
There's no way I'll get any more sleep tonight. I get up, slip into
the uniform, and make my way to the Bridge. Rollins gives me a
look--are you really that crazy, Paris?--but I make an excuse, and
he shrugs as I relieve Culhane at the helm.
Systems checks, diagnostics--all routine and somehow as much
of a comfort as B'Elanna's arms around me. I discreetly tune into
the comm lines, and eavesdrop on the action in Engineering.
Through the hum and buzz her voice comes through, quick and
confident, securely in charge.
I listen, smiling, and hope I'll see her soon, even if we only have
a minute.
~~//~~
Authors: Annie M & P. L. Heyes (DangerMom)
Email: trekgirl@mushy.freeserve.co.uk
Email: Dangermom@aol.com
Series: Voyager
Rating: PG-13 & PG
Code: P/T
Summary: I wrote a short vignette, "Only for a Minute," setting
it just before Torres, Janeway and Tuvok decided to pay the Borg a
house-call in the 6th season episode Unimatrix Zero. DangerMom
then paid me the compliment of writing a companion piece to this
story called "Moments of Hope."
They are posted here together for your reading pleasure and with
DangerMom's approval.
Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom etc own the rights to the
characters and the ship. (c) August 3, 2000--P. L. Heyes and
Annie M.
Only for a Minute
by Annie M
~~//~~
"I couldn't sleep tonight. I missed you."
I lean over him again and give him a half-smile, brush my fingers
over his cheek.
"Are you finished now, are you coming to bed?"
He sounds so tired--sleep tired, yet hopeful--his blue eyes
fluttering around as he strains to keep them open for me.
I shake my head, no. "I just wanted to see you," I whisper.
He groans aloud, and in my heart I echo the sentiment. I say
nothing and settle instead for stroking his hair off his forehead
and biting my lip.
"I shouldn't have come," I admit.
It's the middle of the night and I'm pulling a triple shift in
Engineering for about the third night in a row. Voyager's
becoming more difficult to sustain the longer we're stuck out
here--we all know it, and I guess because we do we accept the
sacrifices we all have to make to keep her going. Right now, I
can't even remember what "down-time" is. I wonder what a
shore-leave would feel like too, it's been that long since I've been
planet-side.
"No. I'm glad you came... miss you." He struggles to sit up, his
hands reach out to me.
"Hey," I soothe. My hands instinctively go to his shoulders to try
and push him back against the pillows. "I can't stay long, Tom,
and you need to sleep."
"Lie down with me, B'Elanna, for just a minute."
His hands are gentle and coaxing upon my elbows and I follow
him willingly down to our bed.
Only for a minute.
I snuggle my face into the curve of his neck and feel his fingers
against my hair, his breath on my temple. He exhales deeply and
sighs. I turn my head slightly and touch my lips to his throat.
Tom murmurs something against my hair and his hands relax
against me even as he's pulling my hip closer to his own. His
breathing starts to deepen.
I close my eyes and inhale. He smells of soap, the one he keeps
telling me smells of the sea. I've taken his word for it, as the only
seaports I ever visited stunk to the high seat of Kahless of rotting
sea creatures and vegetables. But I like this smell, it's his "clean"
smell, the one I put right up there with his natural scent--that
drives me to distraction when he's sweaty from a workout or he
has his head buried in my bosom and his fingers are busy
seducing all sorts of pleasures out of me. I inhale again and lick
his throat.
He's asleep.
I want to stay.
Slowly and carefully I move away from him, quieting his
whispered moans with a kiss and a caress.
He shifts more deeply into his pillow, and I can't help myself, I
have to kiss his ear--very gently. I use my index finger and trace
a line against his softer skin there. I smile as I withdraw from him
and remind myself to be this gentle when we're both fully awake.
And have the time.
I need to get back to work before I'm commed, and I don't want
to wake him again so I leave.
The work is still as important as it ever was, I'll never lose sight
of that. Nicoletti hands me a PADD with more data on it; Seven
has a theory that she insists will enhance engine efficiency;
Vorik's just found another leak in the plasma manifold. I inwardly
smirk a little with all the attention and action, calling out orders
and quick responses as fast as my synapses can carry them.
I only had the chance to see him for a minute. I wonder if he'll
ever know how much that means.
~~//~~
"Moments of Hope"
by P. L. Heyes
~~//~~
"You need to sleep."
Those words echo in my mind as I wake up. I think I begged her
to stay, only for a minute, hoping she would, and she must have
done so. My arms are empty, but tactile memory insists she was
here, snuggled up against me, warm and soft. Her scent lingers,
against my skin, on the pillow--earthiness with just a touch of
cinnamon, tinged with hard-earned sweat and plasma coolant.
All her, always her.
The memory deepens, and I know she stayed, for that precious
minute--perhaps longer. There was a kiss, and the sound of her
breathing, steady and sure, and I was lulled to sleep by that
comforting rhythm.
And then--did I dream of a touch, a soft caress and a tender
kiss? Oh yes--no one else may believe it, but B'Elanna can be
gentle, and I savor such moments all the more for their rarity.
So I slept, and she had to leave. Above and beyond the call of
duty--that's the way it is out here. Sacrifice and compromise,
over and over. It's how we live. God knows what's ahead of us
with the Borg. All we can do is prepare for the worst and hope
it's not that bad.
Hope we survive.
I'm lucky to be allowed a night off, but I worry about B'Elanna
pushing herself too hard--even though after all this time, I still
marvel at and slightly envy her stamina and energy. I've been
pulling double shifts at the helm, plotting courses and tactical
maneuvers, then working in Sickbay, prepping for the inevitable
casualties.
But I can't cover for myself under both the captain's and Doc's
watchful eye, so I'm sent off duty when I want to do more, but
know it's a risk to try.
B'Elanna soldiers on, surprisingly more adept than myself at
escaping close scrutiny and new orders.
She'll be all right. I know she will.
I hope she will.
I wish she'd come back before the night is over, and sleep beside
me. That's all--just sleep. Sometimes that's all I want--her
closeness, the warmth--the faint scent of cinnamon tickling at the
edge of consciousness. Does she know how much that means
to me? She came, and stayed, for just a minute. Maybe she
craves such moments as much as I do. I hope she does.
There's no way I'll get any more sleep tonight. I get up, slip into
the uniform, and make my way to the Bridge. Rollins gives me a
look--are you really that crazy, Paris?--but I make an excuse, and
he shrugs as I relieve Culhane at the helm.
Systems checks, diagnostics--all routine and somehow as much
of a comfort as B'Elanna's arms around me. I discreetly tune into
the comm lines, and eavesdrop on the action in Engineering.
Through the hum and buzz her voice comes through, quick and
confident, securely in charge.
I listen, smiling, and hope I'll see her soon, even if we only have
a minute.
~~//~~