Disclaimer: All characters belong to Paramount. They're being used for entertainment and no money is being made. The lyrics to "Reasons for Living" belong to Duncan Sheik. The story belongs to me, Magik, the author.
The lyrics that inspired the story:
Reasons For Livingby Duncan Sheik
Everyone's looking, everyone hides
Everyone's telling, but everyone lies
We're changing the subject, we're turning away
Away from the heart of it all.
You say you are happy
Do you think this is fun?
Well it's only a firefly to the light of the sun
You say this is living, you feel so alive
Well you know everything dies.
Even my wonder, even my fear
Only amount to a couple of tears
There is a rhythm, it's near and it's far
It flows through the heart of us.
Welcome to another
It doesn't seem that different `cause nothing has changed
I try to remember, try to remember
When we weren't just running in place
Reasons for living , never come cheap
But even your best ones can put me to sleep
What I am saying or trying top say
Is that there must be a better way
Even my wonder, even my fear
Only amount to a couple of tears
There is a rhythm, it's near and it's far
It flows through the heart of us.
It's already in you, it'd already there
You may disagree, but I don't really care
Did you ever find out, did you ever find out
What's at the heart of us?
Did you ever find out, did you ever find out
What's at the heart?
Tell me all your wildest dreams
I don't really care if you don't know what they mean
We're raiding the closets with skeleton keys
You know it's easier than you think
Even my wonder, even my fear
Only amount to a couple of tears
There is a rhythm, it's near and it's far
It flows through the heart of us
Your reasons for living are all very fine
But they're leaving me cold, they're not really mine
Did you ever find out, did you ever find out
What's at the heart of us?
Reasons for Living Part One
B'Elanna Torres woke up from another nightmare. She sat bolt upright in her bed and ran a hand through her damp, brown hair. Strands of wet hair clung to her face and she brushed them away absently.
With a sigh, she pushed the covers off and got put of bed. She picked up a small star shaped object and a candle and assumed the meditation position Chakotay had showed her. She lit the candle and closed her eyes, trying to black out her mind and find peace.
It wasn't working.
The memories of her torturous stay on the Mari homeworld came back to her. The world around her was dark, the only light came from a silver machine. Slowly the machine inched forward, closer and closer to where she was. The worst part was the fact that she couldn't move.
B'Elanna forced the memories away. She didn't want to see. She didn't want to remember.
You must remember, a voice echoed through her head. It was a familiar voice and yet it was one she'd never heard before.
"This is my mind. I don't have to remember," she told the voice.
Have it your way, the voice replied.
B'Elanna opened her eyes and looked around her room. The lights had been dimmed to a quarter illumination. In the near darkness her eyes played tricks on her and turned the most mundane objects into Mari torture devices.
"No, no, no," she cried out as the objects drew closer. "No!"
Suddenly, there was blackness all around. Only blackness. Blackness and a cool, silver light that looked like reflecting metal.
"No," the small whisper escaped her parched lips. "Please. No."
Then, as quickly as it had happened, it was all over. B'Elanna sat, huddled, in the middle of the floor. She had her arms wrapped tightly around herself and tears stream down her pale face.
Every time. Every single time she tried to look into herself and "see the darkness", as Chakotay had put it, she ended up being worse off.
B'Elanna hated to admit the fact that the Mari had hurt her. For she was half Klingon and nothing was supposed to hurt her. Nothing! Somehow the Mari had hurt her. In truth they had done more than hurt her, they had destroyed her. A part of her would always be there, trapped in that room. In truth they had succeeded.
Another tear fell from her eye. This is pain, a small voice told her.
Life is pain but when you face the challenge you are stronger for it, another voice cried.
Think about it, though. Nightmares every time you close your eyes, even the shadows of mundane things become terrifying in they dark. Are there `little troubles' worth a life full of pain? the first voice questioned.
Wouldn't you rather live? the other voice asked.
B'Elanna clamped her hands to her head. "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know..." she began repeating. A few more fears trickled down her face in frustration.
Somewhere inside her head, a little light clicked on. It shone down on a series of memories she had hoped to forget. They played out, one after the other, in a flowing, continuous loop. "I don't want to see this," she growled as the images threatened to overwhelm her.
Finally, B'Elanna gave up the fight and let the memories wash over her...
She was in a plain, white room and the walls were covered with mirrors. One mirror in the line was broken, it's glass covering the floor like a crystal carpet. There, on the white carpet, was a spot of dark, red blood and a bloody glass shard.
B'Elanna watched the blood flow from her younger selves wrists and stain the carpet. She couldn't have been more than sixteen when she tried to kill herself. No more than sixteen.
As the image spun out of control, B'Elanna remembered falling helplessly into a void and recalled thinking, Am I dead? Then the memory faded away and B'Elanna was still sitting on the floor.
The candle was out and the star was broken. There were little yellow, glass shards all over the floor. She picked one up and gazed at it. It had been so hard for her and the pain was becoming too much for her to bear.
Part Two
The glass cut cleanly through her tanned skin. Yellow glass stretching its sharpness across the length of her right wrist, then her left. Yellow glass, sharp and strong, leaving rivers of scarlet. Canals of blood that dripped down her arms and off her arms onto the carpet to mat in thick pools that would turn black with time.
B'Elanna cut again. And again. And again.
Four cuts ran up both her arms. Four cuts running over with blood that looked like cherry Jello before it's had the chance to solidify.
When her eyes closed the last thing she remembered seeing was the blood. Long ribbon over her arms, spots on her uniform, and puddles of it on the rug. Her eyes took in the blood and the yellow glass that sparkled like a star, a star of peace.
Something called to her, it pulled her up from the depths she had sunk to. It brought her to the surface and forced air into her lungs, told her heart to pump, and stopped the bleeding from her wrists. Then it touched her face, stroked its fingers gently over her forehead ridges and told her everything would be okay. It told her lies.
"...she is resting at the moment...I assure that she is fine...just needs rest...Do we have any idea why...Wait...I think she's coming to." A voice filled B'Elanna's ears as the peaceful blackness surrendered her to the harsh light.
She opened her eyes not to the sight of shinning yellow glass and thick blood but to the harsh lights of Sickbay and the pasty face of the holographic doctor.
"Hello Lt. Torres. How are we feeling?" The Doctor asked as he ran a tricorder over her.
"Leave me alone," she demanded of him and tried to pull away. But she couldn't move. Something was holding her firmly to where she was. B'Elanna looked down to find herself restrained. There were bands around her ankles and her upper arms. The cuts on her wrists were gone, no doubt healed by the dermal regenerator.
With a low growl in her throat, her dark brown eyes flicked to the doctor and she said, "Let me go."
He shook his head slowly and answered, "Sorry, Lt., but I can't. When you attempt to take your own life you must face the consequences of a botched attempt."
"Funny. Now, let me go."
"Sorry but it's procedure. I have to keep you here until I deem you mentally fit to resume your everyday duties. So unless you're going to tell me what led you to this solution, you will find that your visit here might be a trifle lengthy," he stated and started to walk away from the biobed she was on.
"Who found me?" she called after him.
The Doctor stopped for a minute, looking away from his tricorder, to think about that. "From what I was told it seems that Commander Chakotay went to see how you were doing with your `inward meditation', as he put it, and found you lying on the floor with your wrists cut."
Yellow glass shinning in the light that fell on the pools of red blood that beginning to dull to black.
"The star," B'Elanna muttered, "he probably wanted it back."
This seemed to get the Doctor's attention. "The star?" he repeated quietly to himself. "Ah yes, the ancient tribal relaxation star. I believe he showed it to me once. Pity."
"Pity?" her voice and her eyebrows raised at the same time. "Your saying that it's a pity the star got smashed. I nearly died!" Klingon rage was beginning to build in her stomach like a little lead ball.
His bored eyes just looked her over, an unreadable emotion buried there. "You decided to take your life, Lt. The star had no such choice."
"Apparently, neither do I. You took my choice away from me!"
"Suicide holds no honor. We, myself and Chakotay, decided that you would be very upset to die without honor. Lt. Paris was willing to help us in that aspect. He's very worried about you. Shall I tell him that you're awake?" the Doctor inquired as he began walking towards his office again.
B'Elanna just lay there, silently, starring at the wall.
"Well?"
"No. No, don't tell Tom I'm awake. I don't feel like talking to anyone right now," she finally answered him.
The Doctor nodded once and then walked into his office. "Fine. Good. Call if you need something, hm? I'll be in to check on you in an hour or so."
"Fine with me." The words didn't carry very far. They seemed to die the minute they left her lips but B'Elanna didn't care.
Yellow glass covered with specks of scarlet. So beautiful. So very beautiful.
