30x300 by -yannik-
DAY EIGHTEEN
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Why? What was the actual cause, the actual reason for what he did? The very moment of making decision? Was it talking to B'Elanna? Was it her advice, her… support? Her misplaced support.
Tom didn't intend to blame anybody, B'Elanna the least, but he needed to figure that out. The moment that ruined his life. There were probably many moments where decisions could have been made differently. But this conversation with B'Elanna, her telling him that Captain Proton…
He remembered this conversation so vividly. He remembered her black eyes, her black hair, her skin that always seemed warmly tanned to him, even in these black-and-white surroundings. He remembered his emotions.
And now there weren't any.
He was thinking about her and felt… nothing. No regret, no sorrow, no pain. No love. Nothing. How could a couple of days of being apart wash him out of all love for her? He didn't even feel remorse over this lack of feelings. He just noted that, nothing more.
He was being observed – he realized. He looked up, and saw Chomsky outside, with a tray in his hands. But the guard wasn't opening the forcefield yet. Why?
Chomsky entered the code, and an electric flicker notified him of a permission to enter. But he took his time. And the electric flicker was there again, behind his back, once he stepped in. Tom rose to his feet, and saw Ivan at the guards station.
"What?…"
"You're going to eat that" Chomsky said, putting the platter on the bunk, and pushing Tom to seat beside it.
Tom couldn't believe that.
"Now!" Chomsky pointed, and Tom had no choice.
As he was forcing leola root down his throat, he prayed not to throw it all up.
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t.b.c.