…This treatment has proven effective in male and female humans. Future work will include the extension of this treatment to other species affected by the degeneration (e.g. Vulcans, Romulans, Tellarites, Klingons)…
B'Elanna sat upright in her bed. After a week of searching the Federation database she'd finally found it: a way to reverse Ma'Leth's condition. Sure, it had only been proven to work in humans, but the paper was seven years old. They must have tested the methodology out on Klingons by now.
Searching for additional articles by the same authors, B'Elanna found a paper that concluded that treatment had failed to work on Vulcans (the authors speculated it would therefore not work on Romulans), but nothing about Klingons.
She rolled off the bed and hurried into the living room. Maybe they could contact the research team? Maybe Ma'Leth could be the first patient they tried it on?
"VavnI'?" B'Elanna called as she walked out to the main room. She'd expected to find him there – he'd been resting in his chair when she'd gotten home that evening – but now he was gone. Retreating to the bedrooms, B'Elanna peeked in his room. The bed was empty.
"Where could he have gone?" B'Elanna muttered as she walked back out into the main room. Maybe he went to Dar'Rok's? B'Elanna walked to the courtyard door.
Opening it, a blast of hot night air hit her. Is it ever not hot as fuck on this planet? B'Elanna was letting her eyes adjust to the darkness when she heard a noise to her right – Ma'Leth. "What are you doing out here?"
"It was cold in the house. Plus, I've always loved these Nay'Poq nights." He leaned against the house, his eyes closed. B'Elanna joined him on the bench. "L'Naan and I used to sit out here and talk. I remember when we first got married, we'd sit out here and talk about all the plans we had for our life." He let out a small laugh. "And like all young couples, we learned that a plan is just an invitation to the fates to teach you a lesson."
B'Elanna didn't know how to respond. It was true: all her plans had gone to shit. "Yeah," she responded, looking down at her hands.
"What is it you came out here for?" Ma'Leth clasped her knee.
B'Elanna sat up straight, her eyes lighting up as she turned towards Ma'Leth. "I was going through the Federation database, to learn more about your condition, and I found a paper where they'd completely cured it in humans." Only silence met B'Elanna's exciting recitation. "Well?"
"PuqnI'be', I'm not human."
"I know that. But they said it might work on Klingons, too! And the paper was old, so they might have tested it on Klingons already. If not, maybe they are looking for a volunteer, so you-"
"B'Elanna," Ma'Leth interrupted.
B'Elanna stopped mid-sentence – she knew that tone of voice, stern yet defeated. She looked away, swallowing away the knot in her throat. "You don't care, do you?"
"It's not that I don't care…"
"It's that you want to die," B'Elanna spat as she rose. "Why?! Why won't you just do the treatment?!"
"We've been over this -"
"I know we have, and I still don't get it! If you would just go to the medical center once a month, you'd live another year, at least! Why not?!"
"Because I'm ready to go," Ma'Leth growled.
"But I'm not ready for you to go!" B'Elanna's words hung in the humid air. When Ma'Leth didn't reply, B'Elanna continued, kicking at the dirt to expel some of her anger. "You're the only person on this planet that I can talk to. You can't leave me." She looked down, trying to blink back her tears.
Ma'Leth let out a long sigh before rising to his feet. "Come here." He opened his arms wide, and in a moment, B'Elanna was wrapped in her grandfather's embrace, that scent of old leather and soap enveloping her. "Listen," he whispered, stroking her hair. "I love you very much. You're my little human warrior. But…" He took a breath. "Clinging to me like this, it isn't going to help. People will always come and go from your life. You need to learn to let them go when it's time. And for me, it's time."
B'Elanna shoved her grandfather away. "I don't understand! You Klingons are supposed to be warriors, and yet you won't fight this!" She paused, trying to collect her thoughts. "You know that my grandmother died last year?"
Ma'Leth nodded, as he slumped back down on the bench. "Miral mentioned it when it happened."
"She was sick for over a year, but she fought to stay alive as long as possible. She didn't want to go, to leave us all behind." She rounded on her grandfather. "What kind of warrior just gives up like this?"
Ma'Leth was silent, and, for a moment, B'Elanna thought maybe she'd gotten through to him. Maybe she wouldn't have to hold the hand of another dying grandparent so soon.
"PuqnI'be'…" He let out a long breath of air. "I don't know how to make you understand the Klingon way. We don't fight this. It's natural."
"A lot of terrible things are natural!" B'Elanna's mind was flooded with images of Ma'Leth's death – his withered body lying in his furs as Miral and Dar'Rok performed stupid Klingon rituals… all while B'Elanna sat alone, abandoned… B'Elanna tried to breathe, but found herself gasping for air.
"B'Elanna? Are you well?"
Everyone you'll ever love will leave you, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. You're not worth fighting for – you're not worth loving. They'll all leave you, just like your father.
"Fine," she snarled as she headed back to the house. "I'll be fine."
She slammed the door before Ma'Leth could reply.
=/\=
"What do you mean, 'no'?" B'Elanna growled at her mother, who was sitting in the main room, an open tome about Kahless resting in her lap.
"I mean, I am not going to force him to go to the Federation to inquire about an untested procedure."
B'Elanna ground her teeth. How could Miral be so blasé about the death of her own father? "Why not?" B'Elanna began pacing around the room, giving her frustration an outlet – other than her mother. "What does he have to lose?"
Miral set her book aside. "Lanna, my child, come here." She patted the seat next to her on the couch. B'Elanna hesitated, before flopping down, her arms crossed. Miral turned slightly to face her, drawing one of her knees up onto the seat. "I know you're having trouble accepting VavnI's choice. But the choice is his. Not yours. Not mine."
"So, you agree with him?" B'Elanna snapped.
Miral reached out, placing a hand on her daughter's leg. "It doesn't matter if I agree or not. It's his choice."
B'Elanna sprung from the couch to resume her pacing. "Why does he alone get to decide to die? This affects us too!"
"Because it is his life," Miral snapped, becoming frustrated with B'Elanna's insistence. "You must understand: to be Klingon means to accept when your time has come."
"But it's so stupid!"
Miral growled. "How did Isela die? In a hospital? Hooked up to machines that were living for her?"
B'Elanna stopped short, turning back to face her mother. "Don't bring Abuela into this."
"But that is how it happened?"
B'Elanna looked at the ground, biting her lip before giving a curt nod.
"This is not how a Klingon dies. We die with dignity, at home or on the battlefield. Not hooked up to machines."
B'Elanna crossed her arms, hugging herself as she tried to get the image of that hospital room out of her head. She looked at her mother. "But I don't want to watch him die."
"Do you think I want to see my father die?"
"It doesn't seem like you're doing anything to stop it."
Miral was on her feet and in B'Elanna's face before she knew what was happening. "I will not take this disrespect from you!" B'Elanna stepped back, but her mother closed the distance. "You disrespect your grandfather's choice. You disrespect our culture. You hold human ideas to be correct, even when they are wrong! I would never want to be hooked up to a machine, clinging to a life that left me paralyzed in bed. That is no way to live!" Miral took a breath. When she continued, her voice was more even. "Stop looking at this from a human perspective. You're half Klingon: act like it. Stop sulking about the inevitable."
B'Elanna swallowed. Was she acting like a sulking, disrespectful teenager? "I…" she stammered, trying to form words. Looking at her mother's face, she could see the hurt she'd inflicted, the anger she'd drawn out. Stop, a voice in her head whispered. She's already upset with you. Disappointed in you.
B'Elanna wanted to cry – to fall into her mother's arms and tell her about the dread that filled her when she thought of Ma'Leth dying. How she'd been trying to focus at work, but the scenario of his death would play over and over in her mind. That the empty and exhausted way she'd felt after Isela had died had returned – and she could hardly bear it.
But she couldn't do – couldn't say – any of this. B'Elanna looked down, gnawing her lip. It was human. These feelings were weak and they were human – her mother would never understand.
"I'm sorry," B'Elanna whispered as she pushed past Miral, trying to keep it together long enough to make it to her bedroom.
=/\=