Disclaimer in Chapter One.
~*~*~*~
"Paris?" Tom, B'Elanna, Miral and Taya looked up. Peter and John decided not to interfere with this matter and watch the children. "You can see him now," a nurse said to them. The four stood up and followed the nurse to TJ's room. His face was dark, with small scratches here and there. His eyes were dark with a yellowish tint that made him appear deathly ill. Lacerations bore upon his wrists from trying to release the 'demons' that haunted him. The family gazed in amazement. He was such a promising child. Good grades. Good looks. He was like the perfect son, but fell deep into depression for some reason. "I can wake him if you'd like," the nurse said. Tom laid a comforting hand on B'Elanna's shoulder and then nodded. After the hypospray was injected, TJ opened his eyes slowly. They were bloodshot and fierce. Scared. Timid.
"Hey there, TJ," Miral whispered, suddenly regretting her hateful comments earlier. "You had us scared for a second there, bro." TJ turned his head from Miral and looked at his parents.
"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm just not strong enough to quit."
"Let's not worry about that right now, we can focus on that later. Right now you should rest. We just wanted to make sure you were alright," B'Elanna said, taking TJ's thin hand in her own.
"We should go," Taya whispered, taking Miral's hand. "We need to get home, it's getting late anyways." Miral nodded. They both said their goodbyes to their parents and brother. "You get well, you hear?" Taya said jokingly with a hint of seriousness. TJ pulled as much of a smile as he could. The two sisters left. It was quiet for a second.
"It was the last one, I swear," TJ said. "No more, no more."
"Didn't I say to stop focusing on that? Right now you need to rest," B'Elanna said. Her heart beat quickly with anger and frustration. She blamed herself for this. She had brought it upon herself. TJ nodded and rolled over to sleep.
"We should go home too. Tomorrow we can come back," Tom said. B'Elanna looked down at her son with deep grief.
"I want to stay the night. You should go get Quince from Harry and go to bed. You can go to the shipyard tomorrow and drop by at lunch," B'Elanna said, pulling up a chair. Tom opened his mouth to object. "I really don't want to argue right now. Please don't play the good father card, and just go home. I want to stay here with him. Alone." Tom realized he lost before he even started. Kneeling down to her level of sitting, Tom looked at her creased face. It wasn't the same face he had seen earlier when everyone was about to arrive. That face was long gone this time. He simply kissed her cheek and stood up.
"Good night Thomas Jr.," Tom whispered with a small smile. Tom walked out and down the trafficked hallway. Tom knew B'Elanna, for some odd reason, blamed herself. It wasn't her fault. He was the party animal that TJ was now. He remembers well all that stuff. Drugs, gambling, alcohol. It was his past, and TJ's present. The gene had been passed on, and it was his fault. He didn't feel guilty, or have a pity-party over it. It was meant to be, so he let it be.
~*~*~*~
~*~*~*~
"Paris?" Tom, B'Elanna, Miral and Taya looked up. Peter and John decided not to interfere with this matter and watch the children. "You can see him now," a nurse said to them. The four stood up and followed the nurse to TJ's room. His face was dark, with small scratches here and there. His eyes were dark with a yellowish tint that made him appear deathly ill. Lacerations bore upon his wrists from trying to release the 'demons' that haunted him. The family gazed in amazement. He was such a promising child. Good grades. Good looks. He was like the perfect son, but fell deep into depression for some reason. "I can wake him if you'd like," the nurse said. Tom laid a comforting hand on B'Elanna's shoulder and then nodded. After the hypospray was injected, TJ opened his eyes slowly. They were bloodshot and fierce. Scared. Timid.
"Hey there, TJ," Miral whispered, suddenly regretting her hateful comments earlier. "You had us scared for a second there, bro." TJ turned his head from Miral and looked at his parents.
"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm just not strong enough to quit."
"Let's not worry about that right now, we can focus on that later. Right now you should rest. We just wanted to make sure you were alright," B'Elanna said, taking TJ's thin hand in her own.
"We should go," Taya whispered, taking Miral's hand. "We need to get home, it's getting late anyways." Miral nodded. They both said their goodbyes to their parents and brother. "You get well, you hear?" Taya said jokingly with a hint of seriousness. TJ pulled as much of a smile as he could. The two sisters left. It was quiet for a second.
"It was the last one, I swear," TJ said. "No more, no more."
"Didn't I say to stop focusing on that? Right now you need to rest," B'Elanna said. Her heart beat quickly with anger and frustration. She blamed herself for this. She had brought it upon herself. TJ nodded and rolled over to sleep.
"We should go home too. Tomorrow we can come back," Tom said. B'Elanna looked down at her son with deep grief.
"I want to stay the night. You should go get Quince from Harry and go to bed. You can go to the shipyard tomorrow and drop by at lunch," B'Elanna said, pulling up a chair. Tom opened his mouth to object. "I really don't want to argue right now. Please don't play the good father card, and just go home. I want to stay here with him. Alone." Tom realized he lost before he even started. Kneeling down to her level of sitting, Tom looked at her creased face. It wasn't the same face he had seen earlier when everyone was about to arrive. That face was long gone this time. He simply kissed her cheek and stood up.
"Good night Thomas Jr.," Tom whispered with a small smile. Tom walked out and down the trafficked hallway. Tom knew B'Elanna, for some odd reason, blamed herself. It wasn't her fault. He was the party animal that TJ was now. He remembers well all that stuff. Drugs, gambling, alcohol. It was his past, and TJ's present. The gene had been passed on, and it was his fault. He didn't feel guilty, or have a pity-party over it. It was meant to be, so he let it be.
~*~*~*~