A/N: I have been ill since March and had surgery a month ago, hence the prolonged absence. Slowly getting back to normal now. Of course there are a million other things I should be catching up with, but somehow, here I am trying to get back into this… Hope some of you out there are still interested in reading. Massive thanks to MissyHissy3 for her beta reading skills, especially since I haven't returned the favour in quite a while.
Chapter Eight
My heart is moved by all I cannot save:
so much has been destroyed
I have to cast my lot with those
who age after age, perversely,
with no extraordinary power,
reconstitute the world.
- Natural Resources, Adrienne Rich (from The Dream of a Common Language)
B'Elanna slipped in through the gym door. She could hear the scratch of Janeway's voice, muffled as it floated out from her office mid-phone call, but other than that the place was quiet. The gym itself was entirely empty, as B'Elanna had hoped it would be. She breathed a sigh of relief and dumped her school bag on the floor. She figured she had about an hour's grace between Janeway still being here and Chakotay arriving himself in which she'd have the place to herself to train. With any luck she'd already be on her way out as Coach was coming in. That way he couldn't say that she wasn't keeping her end of the bargain they'd struck, but he also wouldn't have time to ask her any questions, either. Perfect.
She'd already put her kit on under her street clothes and so wasted no time in stripping down to her training gear. B'Elanna was even more eager than usual to start her daily routine. The club was the one place in her life where she felt as if nothing could reach her: not the clamouring, violent arguments between her mother and stepfather; not the rise-and-fall of her stepbrothers' music through the thin walls of their apartment; not the constant, disapproving drone of her teachers. Not even the Crims could get her here, or so she liked to think. This was her place. This was her time. Here, in this dusty no-hope gym, B'Elanna felt as if, for once, she could just be herself. Strong, straight, focussed and fast. She could be the best at something in a world where any larger hopes she may have had had been curtailed almost since the day she was born.
Right now, right here, being free to be herself meant smashing her favourite red punch-bag hard, over and over, over and over until her knuckles ached in their wraps and the constant shadow of what she had to do later faded beneath her concentration. B'Elanna stood on the plate and took a deep breath, then exhaled just as carefully. Then she threw her first punch, swiftly followed by her second, and her third, and her fourth, until anyone watching casually would have already lost count.
"B'Elanna?"
The voice distracted her at 45, irksome not only because her target was 50 but also because of whose voice it was. B'Elanna ignored it, picking up her dropped pace for another five strikes and then deciding to forge on through, heading for 60.
"B'Elanna! Will you stop for a moment, please?"
Kathryn Janeway stepped close enough to grab the punch-bag with both hands, stopping its momentum. B'Elanna was thrown off-balance and stumbled backwards. Fifty-eight! She'd been stopped at 58!
She swore loudly in Spanish. The language clearly didn't stop the woman in front of her from understanding its meaning, nor its intent. Janeway let go of the bag and crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows.
"Well?" B'Elanna spat, still catching her breath. "What do you want?"
"Just to talk to you for a moment."
"I'm busy. In case you hadn't noticed."
"I don't think you'll want me to wait until your coach gets here, B'Elanna, so you might want to make time right now."
Something in Janeway's tone gave B'Elanna pause. She looked up, eyes narrowed, trying to read the meaning of this interruption in the older woman's face. Janeway's expression was impassive but resolute, the look in her eyes clear and determined.
"I haven't got all night," B'Elanna told her. "If you've got something to say, say it."
If Janeway was perturbed by B'Elanna attitude, it was not apparent. She watched B'Elanna steadily, as if biding her time. The girl shifted, uncomfortable and resentful of it.
"I saw you on Saturday night," Janeway said then.
B'Elanna shrugged. "So?" she said. "What are you, pissed that I didn't come to your little get-together here? Sorry. I had better things to do."
"I know what your 'better things' were, B'Elanna," Janeway said, her voice perfectly calm yet with an edge of disdain that somehow made B'E's heart sink. "My question is, does Coach Chakotay know as well?"
Something cold slid down B'Elanna's neck. She stood absolutely still, unwilling to believe what was happening. Had they been here that late? She'd assumed everyone had left the gym by the time she'd taken up her corner. Assumed. Hoped. Not the same thing, she supposed.
She opted for denial in lieu of any other path. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said sullenly.
"Oh, I think you do," Janeway said, taking a step closer. "And I'm disappointed in you. No, that's not right, actually. I'm disappointed for Chakotay. Do you know how hard he works to keep you kids out of trouble? How tired he is most of the time? He doesn't even get paid for all the time he gives to this place. He probably sees your progress as some kind of payment in itself." Janeway's hands shifted to her hips. "Do you sell to the other students here? Do you bring that stuff under this roof? What would he say if he knew, B'Elanna? How would he feel?"
B'Elanna swallowed, rage and fear swilling through her. "You can't tell him."
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."
"He'll kick me out," B'Elanna said. "He won't want to, but he'll have to. Two strikes and you're out, that's his policy and he won't bend it. He can't."
"What was your first strike?"
"I punched that creep Kurt Vorik," she said. Then she added, just for good measure and because it was true, "He deserved it."
Janeway set her jaw. "You're willing to say who deserved a beating but you're not willing to take the punishment yourself? I'd say you deserve to be kicked out, B'Elanna. I'd say that's the least you deserve."
B'Elanna scrubbed a hand through her hair, suddenly panicked. "Don't call the police. Please. For your own good…"
"Oh, you're threatening me now?"
"No. No, that's not what I meant. Look, it's just – it's just the way things are. Okay? Can't you just – forget what you saw? I'm only selling to junkies. I don't sell to kids. I don't bring it in here – I never would. Never."
"And that makes it all right, does it?"
B'Elanna scratched at one knuckle. It didn't hurt enough. She'd wanted to leave here with her hands bruised and cracked but so far the only part of her hurting was a place she'd never worked out how to heal.
"They know what they're doing," she said, dully. "No one forced them to start. No one's forcing them to carry on, either."
Janeway was silent for a moment. The girl couldn't bear to raise her head. She had a feeling she wouldn't like the look she'd see on the older woman's face.
"I'll do you a deal," Janeway said. "You stop. Right now. You never go back. And I won't tell Chakotay. I won't tell anyone. I'll give you a second chance, B'Elanna, but only if you take it right now."
B'Elanna took a breath. "I can't."
"What do you mean, you can't?"
"I can't stop. It doesn't work like that."
"All right. Then how does it work?" Janeway tried to look her in the eye, but B'Elanna wouldn't meet her gaze. "You're in hock to a bigger dealer? You owe them money? How much? Perhaps I can help."
B'Elanna did look at her then. "That's how it always works with you people, right? You just throw money at the problem until it goes away."
"I'm trying to help you."
"I don't want your help."
"Then what do you want, B'Elanna?"
B'Elanna felt the rage building in her again. She wondered whether to throw a punch, right here, right now, right past Janeway's perfectly sculpted hair, let her fist intersect with the punch-bag just beside this woman's head, let the heavy stuffed leather spin out and smack back again, leave her out cold on the floor before she even saw what was coming.
"I want you to leave me alone," she said instead, her voice low and dangerous, not wanting to let it rise into a child's telltale wail of anger. "I don't need your busy-bodying in my life. All right? I don't need you, I don't want you. I never did. Just leave me alone."
There was a brief moment of silence. The two women faced each other, and B'Elanna saw a flicker of disgust pass across Janeway's face.
"You always seem like an intelligent young woman, B'Elanna," she said. "One who could have a bright future if only she worked for it. But no. You'd rather throw your life away taking money from people who are stuck on a path you're eager to keep them on."
The rage began to boil between B'Elanna's shoulder blades. What did this woman know about it? She of all people! "You think I want to be doing this? You think it makes me proud? You think it makes me happy?"
"Perhaps it does. Or at least, perhaps the money does. I can't see why else you'd turn your nose up at someone's honest offer to help you escape the route you've willingly taken."
B'Elanna let out a sound that was almost a snarl, half anger, half indignation. "You think it's for the money? You think this is what I want my life to be?" She threw up her hands, twisting her mouth into a grimace of unrestrained fury as she spun away and then looked back at Janeway over her shoulder. "Oh yeah, sure – of course, because that's what every little Latino bitch like me looks forward to, right? Little white girls dream of princess dresses while we dream of standing on street corners like one kind of whore or another. Because that's what we want, right? We aim to get pregnant or we aim to sell drugs. Either way we're mules, but that's fine because that's the kind of fairytale we like. Right?"
"That's not what I-"
"Not what you meant? Really, puta? You sure about that?" B'Elanna looked at Janeway with contempt. "You're all the same. All of you. You do these things and you don't even realise what you've done. That it's your fault. Because it can't possibly have anything to do with you, can it? Coming from where you do, coming into this place, you're just doing us down here in the dirt a favour, isn't that right? Like you're blessing us with your mere presence, like you elevate us, or something. Well, my life, right now? That's on your head. This is your fault. And I mean you, specifically, Janeway. We were fine before you came here. Not perfect, but fine. And then, there you were, getting that little fine-lady ass kicked, and he just had to step in. He just had to help. Because that's who he is. And now-"
She realised she'd said too much when Janeway's face registered a flash of shock that pulled all her muscles taut. B'Elanna clamped her jaw shut, turning away, dancing from foot to foot to quell the rage, but it was too late.
"What? Who are you talking about?" Janeway asked, her voice a hoarse whisper in the tense silence of the gym. "Chakotay? Are you talking about Chakotay?"
B'Elanna shook her head once and went to step away. Janeway's hand clamped on her upper arm, pulling her to a stop. B'Elanna turned sharply, ready to strike, but to her surprise Janeway was ready for her. The older woman was in a defensive stance, free arm ready to fend off an attack. But she still hadn't let go.
"Tell me," Janeway demanded, shaking her slightly as if to emphasize her words. "You said it was my fault. What did I do? B'Elanna, tell me what I did. Please."
B'Elanna stared at her, at this woman who had caused so much damage in so short a space of time without even realising it. What would it be to live a life like that? To live untouched and untouchable, where home was some distant, hallowed place so far removed from the here and now that simply returning to it was in itself some prize to be attained?
"You came here," B'Elanna said, simply. "You came here and you made him think he had to save you."
Janeway stepped back, her gaze moving from B'Elanna's face to roam the gym as she thought. Then she looked back, a light of understanding beginning to flicker in her eyes. "The other day Chakotay told me that the punk who tried to take my bag was part of the gang that thinks they control this area. The Crimsons, that's what they're called, isn't it?"
B'Elanna snorted. "They don't 'think' they control it. They do control it."
Janeway shook her head. "He told me they kept an eye on him. That they aren't happy that he does his best to keep you kids out of trouble. That him stepping in that night could have caused trouble of its own – but that it hadn't."
B'Elanna shifted from one foot to another. "No. It hasn't."
Janeway narrowed her eyes. "Not for him, maybe. But for you… that's another matter. Is that what you're telling me?"
"I'm not telling you anything. Not anymore. Training time's over, I've got to go." B'Elanna made as if to head for her bag, but Janeway stopped her again.
"Wait. B'Elanna, just wait a minute. Have you struck a deal with them? Is that why you're dealing drugs? Tell me – is it?"
B'Elanna shook her head at Janeway's ignorance. "You don't strike a deal with the Crimsons. They tell you what they want and what you'll get for it. And if you say no, well, they just take something from you instead. Usually you're lucky if it's not your life. My cousin, Emilio – he's been looking for a way in with them for ages. He heard what happened that night and he knew I'd been there. So he gave them me. I work for them and Chakotay's safe. I don't work for them, and they'll kill him. As punishment for what happened to their boy that night. For Chakotay's lack of respect. For what he did when he saved you."
Janeway's eyes widened. It was almost comical, the look of awful realisation on her face. Not that B'Elanna felt like laughing.
"Don't worry about it, chica," B'Elanna said, her voice softly mocking. "That's just the way things work around here."
"You've – you've got to do something," Janeway stuttered. "Tell someone. B'Elanna, you can't just-"
"Tell someone?" B'Elanna repeated. "Really? Like who?"
"Well, the police, for a start."
B'Elanna actually did laugh at that. "Jesus, lady. You really do live on another planet. I can't go to the police. I can't tell anyone. I can't stop, and I can't leave. This is my life now. Or Chakotay loses his life. It's that simple. Okay?"
Janeway was shaking her head. "But if Chakotay knew-"
"He can't know," B'Elanna cut her off. "He can't ever know. If he did he'd try to save me, just like he saved you. You've known him long enough now to know that. Hell, you'd only have to know him a day to know that. And he'd get himself killed." She paused, staring at Janeway, hard. "So. Do you get it now? Do you understand?"
The older woman held her gaze. In their shared look, B'Elanna saw that she understood perfectly. B'Elanna nodded and turned away, a black hole opening up where her heart should be, though she couldn't for the life of her work out why. What had she imagined? That telling Janeway this would somehow help? That she really was some kind of saviour? Why would any part of her have ever even imagined that would be the case? She was on her own. She was always on her own. She'd been on her own since the day she was born, and she'd be on her own the day she died. B'Elanna looked around, seeing the gym for what it really was for perhaps the first time: a rubber dingy in a sea of burning oil. Anger rolled into her ribcage and this time it was aimed at Chakotay. He'd made her believe this place was something else. He'd made her think it could change the very fabric of her reality. But it couldn't. Nothing could. She was never getting out of here.
"Just forget you ever saw anything," she advised, the bitterness in her throat tainting her words. "Head on back home to your world and shake our dust of your feet."
"B'Elanna," Janeway called after her, after a moment. "There is no 'us' and 'you'. We're all the same."
"Okay," B'Elanna said, as she kept walking. "You just keep telling yourself that." She'd reached the door before she turned. "You took us apart, you know," she added. "You took us apart and he'll never even see it. All he can see is you."
[TBC]