"You can have half." (Torres, Samantha and Naomi Wildman)

Author's Note: This story takes place during "Workforce: Part 1".

/

B'Elanna trudged along the streets of the industrial district on aching feet, nibbling a candy bar as she went. It tasted like sweet cardboard, and she missed the crisp vegetables with sweet-and-sour sauce at Umali's, but she couldn't face that waiter tonight. He was too attractive for her peace of mind. The last time she'd felt that way about a man, she'd ended up pregnant and alone. She didn't know who the biological father of her baby was - she must have been both drunk and extremely lonely that night - but she did remember he'd been blond and blue-eyed as well, with a playful sense of humor and warm hands.

Get a grip, she told herself, crumpling up the wrapper of her energy bar and tossing it in the nearest recycling bin. Neither of those men were worth wasting a thought on. The first one had disappeared on her the morning after, and the waiter had gone so abruptly quiet at the sight of her pregnancy that it was obvious he wanted nothing more to do with her.

Fine. To Gre'thor with them both, anyway. She didn't need anyone.

It was in this mood that she boarded the evening train. It was often crowded, but tonight - just after the end of the shift, without stopping for dinner - it was standing room only. She squeezed her way through a mass of sweaty coats and muddy boots and clung to a handrail for support.

"Excuse me, ma'am? You can take my seat if you like."

She looked down at a pair of blue eyes and a blonde ponytail and snapped: "Do I look like an invalid?"

"Sorry." The stranger flushed and looked away, her soft voice almost drowned out by the noise of the train.

It was a woman a few years older than B'Elanna, probably human by the look of her. A little girl sat beside her, leaning sleepily on her shoulder. They looked very much alike, except for the three small spikes on the child's forehead. Another interspecies family? Something about them struck a chord with B'Elanna. That might be herself and her daughter a few years from now.

"Are you gonna have a baby?" asked the child, whose eyes were on a level with B'Elanna's belly.

"Naomi, that's not polite," said the mother.

"Why not?"

"People don't always want to talk about these things to strangers."

"But it's right there, Mom."

The girl's innocent directness broke through B'Elanna's bad mood like a sunbeam. She smiled. "That's right. I am going to have a baby. In about three months."

"Third trimester? Ooh, I remember that." The mother scrunched up her face in sympathy and shifted in her seat, as if swollen feet and back aches were still vivid in her mind. B'Elanna remembered her offer of a seat earlier and felt guilty; this stranger was only being nice and didn't deserve to be snapped at. Story of my life.

"Does it make you tired?" asked Naomi, with wide-eyed fascination. "Carrying a baby in there?"

"'Mph. Sometimes. These keep me awake, though." B'Elanna reached into her coat pocket and took out another candy bar. "At this point I'm basically living on sugar. Not that I'd recommend it."

"Crunchy Melts! Can I have some? Please?"

"You can have half. If," B'Elanna hurried to add, "Your mom doesn't mind, of course."

She held the bar out to the other woman, who squinted cautiously at the ingredient list on the wrapper - not every food was safe for every species in a city as diverse as this - before giving her permission with a nod.

"One thing you'll learn as a mother is to pick your battles." She unwrapped the bar and snapped it in half. "Here, kiddo. Don't forget to brush your teeth when we get home."

Naomi rolled her eyes like the teenager she would grow into, but chomped down on her candy bar happily enough. The two women's eyes met in solidarity over the top of her strawberry-blonde head, and without another word, the mother rose to her feet, gripped the handrail with one hand, and gestured to the now-empty seat with the other.

B'Elanna plopped down with a sigh of gratitude.

There was still such a thing as kindness between strangers after all. Maybe she judged people too quickly. Maybe even the blue-eyed waiter - what was his name? Tom, that was it - hadn't meant what she assumed he meant by going so quiet. Silence could mean anything, after all. Maybe she'd go back to Umali's diner tomorrow night. For the food, of course, not for him.

In the meantime, it wasn't only her feet that had a weight taken off them tonight.