"B'Elanna. Stop it."
She blinks and raises her chin from her hand. "Huh?"
"You're staring at me again. It's creeping me out."
"Oh. Sorry." She mumbles something more, but it's lost in the hubbub of the mess hall at dinner time.
"Is something wrong?"
"What?"
"I said, is something wrong? You're awfully quiet tonight."
She stares at him—again—and it makes him shiver. It's like… like she's looking at a ghost. What is wrong with her?
"I watched you die, Harry."
Her words are so quiet that he sees them more than hears them. "B'Elanna…"
"No. No, don't try to make it better. I watched you die. I let you die."
"You didn't let me die! Now stop it." Even so, her words send a shiver down his spine.
"But I did, Harry. I let you go. I didn't hold on."
"That wasn't me."
"But…" She ducks her head quickly and saws at a bite of food.
"B'Elanna…" he reaches across the table to touch her hand. She stills, and when she looks up, he can see the tears in her eyes. "I'm fine. I'm alive, and I'm fine. So don't beat yourself up about it, okay?"
"Okay," she whispers, and stands to leave. "I've got to go."
She walks away, and he sinks back in his chair with a sigh. It's true… he doesn't feel quite right in this timeline. But he's grateful to be alive. And some part of him, no matter how small, is glad that someone has taken it upon herself to mourn his passing, however brief it had been.
