Disclaimer: All things Star Trek belong to CBS/Paramount. I only own my imagination.
Spoilers: Q and the Grey. If you haven't seen it, this won't make much sense.
Author's Note: I have the ambition to keep these coming, but I also have a real life which can mess with me. B'Elanna is doing some soul searching.
"If there's nothing else, I'm off," B'Elanna said, trying to not show just how tired she was.
Lieutenant Carey looked up and smiled briefly. "We're good. Listen," he said and looked around them to check that they weren't overheard before continuing, "why don't you have a sleep in tomorrow? Things are running smoothly and ensign Vorik could oversee the work during the morning. He's more than qualified and wouldn't mind the responsibility. What do you say?"
B'Elanna stood taken aback by the suggestion. "I don't know... Do I look that tired?" she asked.
"I've counted the hours," Carey said diplomatically.
"I look that tired," she concluded with a lopsided smile. "Okay, I'll take a break." She looked at the chronometer and frowned. "It's pretty late to give Vorik a call though," she said and looked back at Carey.
Carey nodded and tried to quell a smile. "That's why I talked to him before he left this evening."
She looked at him with astonishment. "I'm not sure I like this, Carey," she said suspiciously.
"I'm only giving you the possibility to take a break, nothing else. I've told Vorik because I know I can count on his discretion," he explained. "Even the chief engineer needs a rest sometimes," he reminded her.
"Alright, I'll go along with it. This time," she said and her smile returned. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," he replied and returned the smile.
She had to admit that it was a good feeling, knowing there would be no alarm clock going off in the morning. Surprisingly enough the visit in the Continuum had not done much visible harm to Voyager, but to be on the safe side she had ordered a full diagnostics and sent teams to check the gel packs and wiring around the ship. She had of course been there the whole time, overseeing everything, unwilling to leave until she was sure there would be no nasty surprises that couldn't be handled if she wasn't there.
As she walked through the corridor she mused on the behaviour of the Q's they had encountered. So damn superior, yet they had the same problems as any humanoid, she thought and could actually smile at it, even if the female Q's words about failed romances in her pitiful existence had stung. Not that she had failed romances per se; she didn't even have any romances. Unbidden Tom entered her thoughts. Unlike that female Q she hadn't even had a romance. She sighed and stopped in front of the turbolift, waiting for it to arrive and open its doors.
As soon she wasn't absorbed by her work he had a tendency to saunter in to her thoughts. It wasn't just her thoughts he occupied. Far too often to be a coincident, he happened to show up where she was. Not that it was that hard to keep track of her schedule and habits, regular as they were, but she was becoming very aware of the fact that he sought her company. The fact was that she was starting to feel cornered. She wasn't ready to admit that she was attracted to him, correction, that she was in love with him, but he made it very difficult to distance herself from him and her emotions. Sometimes when he stood a bit too close she had to fight the urge to draw in his scent, something she knew would lead to her being unable to control herself. In many ways she was far more Klingon than she liked. The only way she knew how to handle those situations was to put some distance between them while trying to not give in to the urge to start baiting him, forcing him to react aggressively. If that happened... she coloured as she tried to banish the explicit images that popped up in her mind.
The lift doors opened and she stepped inside. "Deck nine," she ordered and the lift started to move.
70 years, she thought and leaned back on a lift wall. She had known that they could be on Voyager a substantial part of her life, but she hadn't really let herself dwell on the impact it would have on her life. This evening she finally had started to think about it, and it was all Q's fault. She never imagined herself wanting a family, or even a stable relationship, but when thinking about the fact that it could be 70 years before they came home, she suddenly felt she would soon have to actually make some decisions or others would take them for her.
The lift stopped and she stepped through the open door, heading for her quarters.
"Computer, lights at full intensity," she called out when she entered her quarters. As she walked through the room, she picked up some clothes she had left on various places, mostly the backs of chairs and on the couch and threw them in the recycler. Keeping her place tidy wasn't a priority of hers and she wondered how Tom and Harry managed to keep their quarters in such order. She was neither motivated nor found the time.
A relatively quick shower later she sat down by her improvised work station and turned on her computer. Lately Tom had started sending small messages to her and it had resulted in her always checking if there were any new ones before leaving for work and before going to bed. There were nothing special about them; reminders of things he and Harry were planning that he wished her to join in on, if he had read a book he liked, sympathy when he knew she'd had a bad day, philosophical outbursts, anything that was personal and friendly. At first she hadn't wanted to respond to them but before she knew it she was drawn in, sending replies. At times she caught herself thinking that something was worth sharing with Tom that way, but so far she hadn't. It was bad enough that she was replying, sending her own would make her feel like she was letting him too far in to her life.
The PM icon was flashing at her and she quickly opened the message, rationalising her eagerness as efficiency, not wanting to put off going to bed.
Rumours has it you've earned yourself a sleep-in tomorrow. If you're up to it we're having a little gathering at my place this evening. Nothing fancy, just what ever you want to drink and snacks plus good stories. A little bird told me you might have a couple of good ones. If you're too tired, I hope you sleep well.
/ Tom
So much for discretion, she grumbled and turned off the computer. A little bird? Most likely Carey, she thought. Was she up to it? She crossed her arms and leaned on the back of the chair and stared at the wall. Decision made, she slowly rose from the chair and walked towards the bed.
"Computer, turn off ceiling lights," she said and crawled in to the bed and reached out for the book on her bedside table. She wouldn't expose herself to the charms of Tom Paris this evening.
