B'Elanna ran.
It had been a week since the accident. A week since Chakotay had confronted her behavior. A week since the Doctor had started pumping her full of antidepressants.
A week since they told her that she had to 'talk about it.'
Yesterday Chakotay had given her back limited, monitored use of the holodeck. No orbital sky diving, no combat scenarios. But who would have thought anything of a simple jogging program?
So B'Elanna ran along the Pacific, smelling the salt air and listening to the crashing of the waves on the rocks below.
People kept asking her how she was, if she was okay. How things were going. To which she answered that she was fine. Because, more than anything else, she didn't want to 'talk about it.'
It felt nice not to think about any of that. To just run.
She heard the holodeck doors open and close and then the sound of feet running to catch up with her. She looked back over her shoulder.
Tom.
They still had not 'talked about it.' She knew he desperately wanted to know what was wrong, but what could she say? I was depressed because all my old friends died and when I needed you most you disappeared into the holodeck and then someone stole your body and took advantage of me?
He had caught up with her, slowing his pace. "Hey there," he said between breaths.
"Hey."
They ran together in silence for a while. "How are you?" he finally asked.
"Fine," she automatically replied.
"No, you're not."
She turned to look at him as they ran.
He continued, "We need to talk about this."
Looking straight ahead again, she replied, "I don't know how."
"Then we'll figure it out together." He was huffing now, having difficulty keeping up with her. "B'Elanna, please, can we just stop running?"
In the holodeck with Tom, the waves crashing, the salt air gusting, the seagulls cawing, she knew what she had to do.
B'Elanna stopped running.
Fin