Three Little Words

Tom knew that he loved B’Elanna Torres. It was something he had felt only once before, and it had not been this intense. He just was not sure that she knew it. He could not remember whether he had ever said it aloud to her. It may have been uttered in the throes of passion, or in the aftermath of it; but not in ordinary conversation. It was not something that was ever casually said between them; B’Elanna was so skittish about commitment that he had not wanted to push her or scare her off; and given her recent bout of depression it was hard to say what she actually felt. It certainly was not something casually left in a message.

He rather regretted now never actually saying the words to her, never letting her know unequivocally how he felt. He snorted to himself—fine time to regret it, when he was about to suffocate and die. He could spend his last few minutes recording another message for her; but it would not be the same, and he figured she would be able to tell. Even if his standing message lacked emotional contact, it was a message typical of him, and perhaps that would make all the difference when she read it. If he had the time over however, he would make the effort to say those three little, yet important, words.

Well, Tom did not get the time over as such, but he got the next best thing—a second chance. Or third… or forth… or whatever the count was now. He was not really interested in how many times he had cheated death; that often came with the territory in Starfleet, especially in the Delta Quadrant. What mattered now was making sure B’Elanna knew how he felt without crowding her or scaring her off. She had not fully recovered from her bout of clinical depression.

He found the object of his affections in his quarters, sitting on the couch… watching the message he had recorded in the Delta Flyer. “Hey.”

B’Elanna looked up. “Hey. I let myself in, I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to surprise you.”

Tom tried to collect his thoughts. “That’s fine. Uh, you weren’t meant to see that, though.” He took the PADD from her; he’d forgotten that he had that copy; he thought all the copies had been deleted.

“I kinda figured that,” she stood. “Though it was interesting to see the sort of message you’d leave me if something ever happened to you.”

He forced out a laugh, unsure what she actually meant by those words. “It wasn’t my best work. I’ll do better next time.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’d rather there not be a next time.”

“Me too.” It was wishful thinking, and they both knew it; so Tom decided to change the subject. “What do you feel like for dinner? I’ve been hankering for pizza all day.”

“Pizza’s fine,” B’Elanna chuckled. “Just make sure you don’t leave any crusts lying around.”