13. "Sorry I'm late." (Kim, Torres, Ballard)

(Author's Note: This story refers to the season 6 episode "Ashes to Ashes", but takes place during season 4.)

/

"Hey, Lyn," said Harry. "How's it going?"

"Hmph."

"That good, huh?"

Lyndsay plopped herself and her food tray down opposite him, leaned back, and ran her hands through her already rumpled hair. It was dyed blonde these days, which made her dark eyebrows and the frown they were set in even more obvious. "Nothing serious. Just Torres. She's …. ugh, she's been up my ass all morning."

Harry blinked. "That's, um … not a mental image I like to have when I'm eating."

Lyndsay snorted. "Okay, fine. Let's call it constructive feedback. Loud enough for all of Engineering to hear."

Harry sighed. This wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. "Let me guess. You were late again?"

"By two minutes!" She scowled into her fruit salad. If she was spending replicator rations on her favourite food, she really did need cheering up. She picked up a melon slice and waved it at him for emphasis before taking a bite. "Two. Minutes. Could've happened to anyone."

"It happens to you pretty often, though. Ever think of setting an alarm?"

"I do!" She threw up her hands, melon and all, in frustration. "But either it's too quiet and I sleep through it, or it's too loud and it wakes up my neighbours, or I lose track getting ready, or … you know how it is. Some people have a natural sense of timing, I just don't."

Harry shovelled down several forkfuls of his own meal, a pile of thinly grated purplish-red vegetables that tasted vaguely like squash. He knew better than to offer any more practical advice. Lyndsay would either ignore it or give him a long, frustrated explanation for why they wouldn't work. On days like this, it was best to just let her vent.

"It's not like she's the perfect officer either," Lyndsay grumbled. "She broke Carey's nose on her first day. Am I the only one who remembers that?"

Harry put down his fork and gave her his best senior-officer look. Letting her vent was one thing, but rehashing that story after B'Elanna had worked so hard to live it down was neither respectful nor kind.

"Yeah, yeah. She's still my boss." She slouched ruefully over her plate. "I know."

"She's doing her best to keep this ship together, Lyn. We all are."

"I know. I'm trying." Beneath her frustration, Lyndsay's dark eyes were wistful as a child's. Earning the respect of her superior officer must be more important to her than she would admit. "I just wish I had a CO as nice as you."

"Um … thanks?" Harry wasn't sure he liked being called nice. It was such a boring word. You could say a lot about Lyndsay and B'Elanna, but never that they were boring.

"Seriously. You and Torres are like polar opposites. How are you even friends with her?"

"She asked me the same about you once. Let's just say I have some practice talking to stubborn women."

She tried to poke him with her spoon. He batted it back with his fork. A miniature sword fight ensued, at the end of which the table was spattered with bits of fruit and both their implements had landed on the ground. She caught his hands across the table. Both of them were laughing.

/

"Hey, Starfleet," said B'Elanna. "How's it going?"

Harry shrugged.

"Right. Stupid question."

She sat in the chair diagonal to his, leaving the opposite seat empty, and began to eat. Like him, she didn't seem to have an appetite. She cut her banana pancakes into tiny pieces and stared down at them as if they were some alien substance that needed to be scanned.

Harry, for his part, was already sorry he'd ordered this particular fruit salad from the replicator. He'd never known that melons could taste so bitter.

"I liked your eulogy," B'Elanna said, breaking what felt like an unnaturally long silence.

"It was cheesy. She'd have made fun of it."

"No, it was good. It sounded just like her. Own the day," she quoted in Klingon, shaking her head. "You know, I used to hate it when she said that. Like there weren't enough human sayings for her to quote? But she really understood that one. Kahless, all that sounds so trivial now."

"I know what you mean." Harry didn't want to own a day without Lyndsay in it. He wanted to return those days to whatever hell they came from. "There was so much I never told her."

Although perhaps she'd known anyway. Lyndsay always had been able to see through him. You're a terrible liar, that was the last thing she'd said to him before she died. He could picture her, reaching up to touch his cheek, still smirking even as her blood pooled on the shuttle floor.

"Me too," said B'Elanna. "On duty, I mean. I was always so quick to tell her when she did something wrong, but never when she did something right. I swear, if she walked in through that door right now … "

"She'd plop down right over there and start eating like she was scared the food would run away. Her hair would be some ridiculous colour like pink or orange, sticking up all over her head, and she'd say - "

"Sorry I'm late," they chorused.

"But I wouldn't give a damn how late she was," said B'Elanna, "As long as … "

"As long as she was here."

She caught his hand across the table. The grip of her small, callused hand was stronger than words as they both turned to the empty seat.

Somewhere, he could have sworn he heard Lyndsay laughing.