VOY [R] A Whisper To A Scream, 1/5 (C/T, 1st season)

VOY [R] A Whisper To A Scream (C/T)

by (-|-)* Judith / odogoddess@odospadd.com

        ----------------------------------

That Annoying Author's Note You Can Ignore:  Okay!  I penned this fanfic 

and it was zine-published first season, just after the episode "Faces", 

so it's a tad dated, but (hopefully) still interesting.  It came about 

as a response to subtle clues in the complex relationship Torres and 

Chakotay seemed to have early on; a teasing one of complete 

understanding and complete respect for each others strengths...and 

weaknesses.  There was also a foreshadowing of the attraction B'Elanna 

is shown to have for him, which she has since transferred to a man, IMO, 

more in keeping with her fiery temper and background:  Tom Paris.  And I 

feel the P/T relationship stands a good chance at the long haul.  But 

this story was written first season...remember? <g>

DISCLAIMER:  This non-profit material was produced out of love for Star 

Trek: Voyager and is not intended to infringe upon the Star Trek 

copyrights of Viacom, Paramount Pictures Corporation, nor those of any 

other legal holders of Star Trek copyrights, in this or any other 

universe...

        ----------------------------------

A Whisper To A Scream

by (-|-)* Judith (odogoddess@odospadd.com)

     This story takes place immediately after the 1st season episode, 

"Faces"...

After Chakotay left Sickbay, B'Elanna Torres watched the Doctor 

working in his office. He was doubtlessly accessing the files he 

required on the Klingon DNA which he intended to return to her 

physiological makeup.

Her mind was numb and she wondered, not for the first time since her 

bodily dissolution into two separate and distinct entities known as 

B'Elanna-- one entirely Human, the other entirely Klingon-- if the 

numbness, the confusion was caused by some form of shock or if this was, 

in fact, the way Humans actually felt all the time.

She frankly would not know. She had never been entirely Human before 

until these last few days, had not known it was even possible for her to 

ever become totally Human until a Vidiian's rotting face of horror had 

informed her he had accomplished this very feat in his laboratory. The 

laboratory she'd woken up in after being stunned while investigating 

mineral deposits on an unnamed moon during an away team with Paris and 

Durst.

Durst... Her mind echoed, recalling her last view of the bloody, 

horrifying spectacle of the face of the gentle, soft-spoken lieutenant 

being worn by a Vidiian doctor. Durst who had, she recalled, 

occasionally given her shy glances aboard Voyager which had told her he 

was definitely not averse to a little inter-species communication...or 

more. Durst who had actually requested to come along on the mission of 

Paris, despite the fact that it promised nothing but several days and 

nights in the cold, damp rocky caverns deep within some alien moon, but 

then, B'Elanna had shrugged at the time, to each his own.

Now Durst was dead. Dead and his body parcelled out to dozens of 

Vidiian's. The very thought made her cringe now, a shudder wrenching its 

way across her shoulders and down her spine. She tried unsuccessfully to 

suppress the last image of his face she had seen again, worn on a 

loathsome, if equally soft-spoken Vidiian doctor. 

_No, not a doctor, a..._what was that term her father had once used 

telling her a scary story during that campfire sleep-out, one of the few 

activities her parents had mutually enjoyed was camping, one of the few 

happy times she could remember was being together with both her parents 

as her father told stories. _Oh, yeah, a mad scientist. That was what 

that-that piece of unspeakable slime was. He was definitely not a 

doctor._ Even the hologram which was currently frowning at a display on 

his computer terminal, held more feeling and compassion than that-that 

obscene alien filth.

Abruptly, B'Elanna felt ill again, woozy. A sensation in her stomach 

which literally felt like that Human phrase  guts turned to water . Of 

course, that phrase usually applied to feelings of cowardice which 

B'Elanna had not felt since she was a child, around the same age as that 

long-ago campfire sleep-out, not long before her father disappeared, 

never to return.

_Liar,_ she chided herself now. _You felt only fear down there. You were 

nothing *but* a coward..._ At least until it came to setting aside her 

fear to get them all out of that hell-hole of a place. Her overriding 

need to get the shielding down so that Voyager could lock on them and 

beam them away to safety had been very nearly as great as her fear. That 

fear had almost cost the lives of more of the team than Durst. Poor 

Durst. 

But Durst was dead, she told herself now, and frankly, even if it 

sounded cold, best forgotten, because to recall him only brought with it 

other horrifying images and feelings far too complex to analyze 

comfortably.

B'Elanna rubbed her forehead yet again. The smooth expanse of skin felt 

wrong, yet somewhere deep within, a thrill greater than any she'd ever 

felt before filled her at the sensation of the smoothness.

_Look at me!_ She wanted to shout, _I'm Human! I'm normal! For the first 

time, normal. But not for long, B'Elanna, because according to the 

Doctor you need to return. Return to the (hated) way you were before._

She frowned. _Do I really hate the Klingon half of me? Or just the 

things she steals from me? My inner peace, this lovely blissful feeling 

of just being, not feeling that inner drive of having to do something or 

else die. Is she the one who gives me my drive? What would she be doing 

now?_

Before she even finished asking herself the question, B'Elanna knew that 

the old  her  would be at the engine room, injury or no injury.

Else she would have followed Chakotay down that hall out of Sickbay and 

argued him into a deep, tumultuous tumble into the depths of bedroom 

depravity, as only a Klingon could experience. Anger and passion, love 

and violence, all the greater emotions of life encapsulated into 

searing, unthinking passion.

Her cheeks flushed at this, only partly because the sudden thought held 

great appeal at the moment. Partly because she had also suddenly 

realized what it was she wanted now for herself. Only for herself. The 

thing she deserved and could not get ever again because once the doctor 

started his treatment, she would never again be merely Human. 

_At least unless some Vidiians catch me again._ B'Elanna stood, not even 

thinking of how ironic this thought was since the old  her  would have 

added, _but that won't happen again because next time I'll kill them 

with my bare hands or die trying._ But this thought did not occur. 

Mostly because she was trying to figure out what to say if the Doctor or 

Kes brought up objections to her request. And only partly because she 

was trying to figure out how to ask Chakotay and what she would do if he 

refused...

        =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=

Chakotay picked up his fork, thanking the gods that his hand was again 

able to manipulate such small items. Only a few hours ago it had been a 

disgustingly twisted distortion of a hand, surgically altered to that 

appearance by the considerable talents of the holographic doctor.

How could the Vidiians live that way?  He pondered now. What if that had 

happened to his people? What if he were infected? The thought barely 

gave him pause. If the Doctor could not isolate a cure, then death would 

come by his own hand so as not to make of himself a burden to others, 

either by his weakness or because the sight of him would have been a 

terrifying imprint on their mind. A creature to be either feared or 

pitied. 

_Let me never be thus,_ Chakotay prayed with a small, barely suppressed 

shudder which made him quickly survey the small, nearly empty room which 

Neelix had surprisingly converted from the somewhat pretentious 

Captain's private dining room into a crew galley, which, in Chakotay's 

eyes, was far more necessary.

Of course, he would never admit such a thing to his captain. He smiled. 

_How pretentious she would probably make you out to be, Nature Boy,_ he 

thought to himself, gracing himself with the pejorative which his 

Starfleet Academy classmates had given him.

Now, twenty years past that painfully awkward period of his life, he 

called himself that privately and usually smiled, proud of the heritage 

which would make such a name, not belittling, but merely descriptive. 

_How far I have come..._ he sighed, then forked more of Neelix's special 

of the day into his mouth without breathing. He had learned that if he 

didn't breathe too much when he took a bite, the texture and heat of the 

food was far more palatable than the strange alien seasonings which the 

Talaxian sprinkled into everything that made mealtimes a matter of 

strange, new exploration, every bit as intriguing as the mission the 

starship was on.

_Getting old, there, Nature Boy,_ he mused, recalling how he had 

actually looked forward to sampling the alien cuisine he imagined would 

be found at Starfleet Academy. What he had found instead, had been a 

fully replicated menu of dishes from his own and other Indian tribes 

from around the galaxy, well-seasoned, just the right temperatures and 

something of an affront to the young, unseasoned cadet he had been.

It had bothered him that while he had thought no one could possibly 

understand the world he'd come from and that no one could possibly 

understand that corn meal was not merely a food but a sacred tool in his 

people's religion and not to be squandered, that eating animal flesh was 

never to be done without thanking the spirit of the animal for giving 

its life in order to sustain your own, here it was all condensed into 

small, descriptive blurbs on the console of a replicatotof a replicator 

in San Francisco harbor which, while not disrespectful, were also not 

all inclusive.

He had studiously avoided eating any of those replicated versions of his 

people's food. 'Bastardized' versions, he had called them in one of his 

letters to an uncle and so they had remained.

_Ironic,_ he thought now, _that I would give my molars to be standing by 

that replicator so that I could order blue corn stew and mushrooms and 

oregano tea and fill my mouth and nose and senses with just the taste of 

home. A home I may never see again._

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and the sudden discomfiture 

with a bracing swallow of ice water, closing his eyes and willing away 

the threatening tears and the momentary homesickness that washed over 

him.

_I need to meditate,_ he told himself, still drinking water, eyes 

closed. It was no wonder he was feeling uncharacteristically emotional 

considering the horrific nature of the mission he'd just accomplished 

and the spectacles he'd seen on that Vidiian moon.

He stopped drinking and set his glass down, opening his eyes. To his 

surprise, B'Elanna stood before him, watching him apprehensively. He 

blinked, noting she still wore the Sickbay robe and that she was 

trembling slightly. He stood, offering her the chair by him.

"B'Elanna, sit down." His voice was gentle, but firm and she did not 

argue with him, merely collapsing on the chair beside him as if her legs 

could not carry her any further. A brief assessment of her wan face made 

him wonder if that was indeed the case and as he sat, so as not to make 

any of the others in the room suspicious, asked, "Did the Doctor give 

you permission to leave Sickbay, B'Elanna?"

She nodded tersely and he relaxed slightly. While he knew she was 

capable of lying merely to keep him from ordering her to return, he also 

knew that in this instance, she was not. He knew this woman quite well 

and had, in fact, enjoyed a brief and tumultuous tryst with her after 

one harrowing Maquis mission which had turned out successful beyond 

their wildest dreams, netting them not just supplies, but three small 

ships.

More importantly, Chakotay trusted B'Elanna. They both came from the 

background of the outsider and well they understood it. Their 

recognition of the other was based on it and it formed the basis for all 

else that would follow from it for them.

"I asked him if I could and he said it should be alright." she answered 

now, somewhat breathlessly. Since she did not appear to be in physical 

distress, Chakotay took this as an indication of stress. "He said the 

replicated-Klingon-DNA material wouldn't be ready until tomorrow 

afternoon and gave me a hypo of something to keep me steady on my feet 

until then."

She reached for his nearly empty glass of water and he did not stop her, 

merely noting the fine tremble of her lean, usually strong fingers. Now 

they appeared weak to him. Is it because she's Human right now? 

He frowned slightly and murmured, "Are you sure it's working?"

She stopped with the glass half-way to her lips and noted his steady 

gaze on her hands. She smiled slightly, sardonically, and sipped a 

little water, then shrugged. "That's not me. That's just fear."

Her frank response made him blink. B'Elanna was not one who faced her 

fear well. Her response to fear, in the Maquis, had been fearsome in 

itself. It enraged her and enabled her to accomplish feats during her 

missions that left their enemies in awe. But that was a different woman.

This slight, very Human-looking woman with the large, vulnerable eyes 

made Chakotay feel intensely protective, despite himself. Even in the 

middle of the galley, he felt the sudden desire to enfold her in his 

arms and he found himself gripping the table edge slightly as he leaned 

closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Do you want to talk about it, 

Relampaga?" 

His use of the private nickname her father had given her (indicating a 

female bolt of lightning) and which the Maquis had learned of after a 

very long celebratory night which had seen much quaffing of d'gaHL, a 

potent Klingon wine, by B'Elanna, made her smile somewhat sadly; she had 

not seen her father for so long and still loved him despite his 

desertion of his family. She was also feeling somewhat shy due to her 

reason for seeing Chakotay now. Oddly, it was this shy smile that made 

him react; much as he'd wanted to hold her earlier, he now found himself 

wanting to do far more than just hold her.

"Yes, Yes, I do." She replied, looking around the room, then back at 

him. Her voice dropped lower. "It's really a...a favor I'd like to ask. 

Could we go to your quarters? Or could you come to mine?"

Chakotay considered this. To his surprise, he realized that, aside from 

incessant requests for newer equipment and better tools to service what 

equipment they had, B'Elanna Torres had never asked him for a favor of 

any kind before. He nodded.

"I'll walk you to your quarters," he said quietly, making his choice 

based on the fact that her quarters were much closer and that she looked 

even more drawn and pale than when she'd first walked up to his table.

Her smile widened and her eyes dropped slightly. He almost didn't hear 

her whispered, "Thanks."

Chakotay wondered what request would be so important that she would come 

to see him when she obviously did not feel well, or for that matter, be 

so momentous as to make the strongest woman he knew to feel so shy. 

_Only one way to find out, Nature Boy._ 

He stood and escorted B'Elanna out of the galley, food forgotten.

        =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=

2B cont'd

VOY [R] A Whisper To A Scream, 2/5 (C/T, 1st season)

DISCLAIMER:  This non-profit material was produced out of love for Star 

Trek: Voyager and is not intended to infringe upon the Star Trek 

copyrights of Viacom, Paramount Pictures Corporation, nor those of any 

other legal holders of Star Trek copyrights, in this or any other 

universe...

        ----------------------------------

A Whisper To A Scream, pt. 2

by (-|-)* Judith (odogoddess@odospadd.com)

"I'm not sure I follow." Chakotay's voice was quiet and reasonable, with 

no hint of disapproval, for which B'Elanna was grateful.

She was also aware of the time passing which could never be 

reexperienced. Desperation tinged her voice as she suddenly turned away 

from him and whispered, "Don't you understand? I want you to make love 

to me!"

A sob escaped at the end of this declaration and she stifled the desire 

to weep by holding her breath and closing her eyes, her hands clasping 

her elbows, hugging herself as she faced away from this man who was the 

only one on the ship, indeed in either the Delta or Alpha Quadrant of 

whom she would have made such a request. Or would have wanted to.

She was so wound up in trying to figure out how to express herself 

better that she didn't feel the warm hands on her shoulders until they 

gently squeezed, then urged her to turn around. B'Elanna did, burying 

her face against Chakotay's warm, broad chest and allowed the tears 

she'd been fighting to fall.

"Relampaga..." He murmured, the rumble of his voice as comforting as its 

loving tone. His strong arms held her against him, soothing away the 

fear and the shame that made her tremble.

B'Elanna sighed now, content just to be in his arms, although she sought 

and still hoped for more. She pulled back now to look at him.

"I need you to understand, I'm not asking you for a permanent 

arrangement, Chakotay. I'm not even asking for..." Her voice faltered 

and she changed tack, "What I... what I'm asking I won't be able to ever 

ask you again. And there's no one else I want to ask. I think you 

understand me better than anyone on this ship. Maybe I kid myself 

thinking that I understand you--"

"Stop, B'Elanna." His voice was gentle, but firm and he urged her to 

come sit beside him on her couch, side by side, not letting go of her 

hand. He smiled gently now, no hint of anger or disapproval or, worse, 

amusement, in his dark brown eyes.

"According to the doctor, this process will take about eight days or so 

and will probably be painful.  Painful, but necessary  was how he 

described it. I don't care about that, but...for the next three days, 

until the re-coding procedure starts to take effect, I'm going to be 

Human, looking like this." She stopped talking to touch her forehead, 

then looked back into his eyes, her own filled with so much need that 

Chakotay found his body responding, much as it had earlier.

He swallowed and nodded. "I understand." He reached out and gently 

touched the oddly smooth forehead, which on B'Elanna, seemed alien to 

him. Alien, but still incredibly lovely. He added with certainty, "You 

want to experience love-making, as a Human. Only a Human. Like you won't 

be again, very soon."

Chakotay knew his phrasing was not eloquent, but between B'Elanna and 

him, eloquence was not a significant factor. What mattered was they 

understood one another. Or at least, he felt they did and maybe *that* 

was what was significant.

B'Elanna nodded, the rush of relief passing through her so great that 

she found herself nearly bursting into tears again. Instead she smiled 

and nodded and said, "I'm so glad you understand."

Suddenly her smile died and she pulled her hand free of his, her eyes 

turning away from him, apprehensive. "Gods, what a calculating bitch I 

must sound like!" She turned back to him, said with fierce sincerity, 

"I'm so sorry, Chakotay! I didn't realize what--"

The touch of his hands on her lips shushed her and she looked up to find 

him moving closer, his fingers now tracing her face gently. He shook his 

head. "Don't be sorry, Relampaga. I'm honored you would think of me. 

It's been a long time. What we had once is a memory I still treasure."

She looked up at him, then extended her own hand up to his face, traced 

the lines of the tatoo on his temple, then stroked his thick, cropped 

hair, enjoying the way it felt against her fingers. He nodded assent.

"Go on." His voice was a deep, husky whisper, giving her permission to 

continue the exploration she had begun.

Without further fanfare, she slid closer to him, cupped his face, 

feeling its texture beneath her fingertips. He tilted his head 

apologetically. 

"I haven't shaved since yesterday."

B'Elanna could feel the tingle of bristle which started at his jawline, 

angled along his cheek. She found her fingers smoothing over his thick, 

sensuous lips. Chakotay didn't move, allowing her to learn his face, let 

his body respond as it would to the unfamiliar sensation of her now 

smooth, uncalloused fingers. Previously, her fingers had been 

persistently calloused, roughened by work and her Klingon physiology.

He recalled now the last time they'd had a tryst. 'Making love' was not 

the term that entered his mind when he thought of it. It had been 

passionate, thunderous and unmercifully brief. It had, he recalled, left 

him throbbing with unrelieved tension, as well as several painful 

bruises, yet desirous of more.

This current tenderness was as opposite an expression of physical desire 

as one could get. She leaned closer to him, and then gently touched her 

lips to his, less than a kiss, but far more than a caress; it was almost 

as if she was trying to decide how it felt. She kissed him with more 

force, no urgency, merely a testing, tasting gesture which made him 

close his eyes, much as her own had.

Her fingers continued their exploration as their lips merged and re-

merged, one caressing his broad chest, the other slipping lower across 

his abdomen, causing his stomach muscles to flutter. She smiled against 

his mouth and he felt that hand drift lower. He closed his eyes tighter, 

holding back the desire to pull her into his arms and re-experience her 

as he had the last time. It was not, he knew, what she wanted or needed 

now.

Then she pulled back. He looked at her with curiosity. "B'Elanna?"

Again, she graced him with the shy, tentative smile of before, then she 

shrugged, gestured with her chin. Her voice was low. "Should we...?"

He briefly looked to the indicated bedroom, then back to B'Elanna. After 

a moment of reflection, he nodded.

Standing with care, he extended his hand to her, aware that his desire 

was now in blatant evidence, further aware that it was precisely what 

this woman wanted, a happenstance he had little experience with; between 

his desire to excel, his hard-driven career goals in Starfleet, his 

conversion to the Maquis, then a hard-scrabble existence which was one 

long fight to survive and to keep those under him alive, his past goals 

all conspired to leave him few opportunities in this area of life.

_How long, Chakotay, since you've been with a woman? Any woman? And how 

long until the next time?_ He smiled at her now, shutting these thoughts 

away.

It had rarely given him pause, during his moments of reflection, that 

other men such as Paris were considered masters of matters sexual. His 

own personal code required that women, all women, be treated with 

greater respect than mere receptacles for the sowing of seed. Chakotay 

truly valued women and their contribution to society. Much as men had 

their innate attributes, women, to Chakotay's way of thinking, made life 

bearable.

Thus, while he had not often availed himself of sex and never simply to 

experience it as some men did, he was confident that any possible lack 

of expertise was more than made up for by his genuine respect and 

earnest entreaty for the woman to tell him, show him what pleased her 

best.

To his delight, every single woman he'd ever given himself to, had been 

different. And every one had found his attitude refreshing and sexually 

provocative. And everyo one of his past partners was still a friend, 

something he doubted a man like Paris could boast. Even Seska...

The traitorous Seska had still held him in enough esteem to allow him to pinpoint her as a saboteur aboard Voyager. And she was a Cardassian!

_Slept with the enemy..._ A brief shudder ran through him as the thought 

entered his mind unbidden. B'Elanna stopped her careful removal of his 

jacket and waited.

Chakotay realized she thought she'd hurt him somehow with her action and 

he shrugged the jacket off, turning to her. The thin robe was all she 

wore and he allowed her to keep it on, but he unfastened the gathers of 

it and let it hang open, smiling at her with unspoken desire. Then he 

sat and kicked off his boots and gestured for her to come to him. He let 

her finish undressing him, as he could see the curiosity, the longing in 

her eyes that spoke more eloquently than words. It was as if, he 

thought, it was their first time.

It was, he realised now. He had never made love to this Human woman. And 

this Human woman had never made love to him. Or to anyone. It would be 

as if it were her first time, he thought warmly, the warmth mixing with 

the fiery desire which was building within his veins and surging to his 

loins to harden him to a fiercely demanding ache that craved his joining 

with this woman, to finally become one with her, as she finished 

undressing him.

She carefully slipped off his uniform trousers and uncovered the aching 

evidence of his desire and he took her hands in his lest he lose himself 

in the excruciating need he felt. A look in her eyes told him that she 

also felt the same. He let her hands go to gently slide the robe off her 

smooth, shoulders.

He marveled at the warm, soft and silky skin beneath his hands. The 

woman she'd been before (and would be again) had vestiges of additional 

ultra-dense muscle layers along her shoulders, her chest and spine, part 

of the armor that made Klingons seemingly impervious to mere blows. Even 

during love-play.

He skimmed a hand down her arm, burying his face in her shoulder and the 

hollow of her neck and smelling deeply. An intensely warm and Human 

smell greeted him. It was different. A different woman. _A woman I've 

never been with before,_ he sighed, then lost himself to the slow press 

of flesh against his own as he lay down with her, concentrating on her 

response in order to fully pleasure this beautiful woman.

"Beautiful woman..." Chakotay murmured against her breast.

To his befuddlement, B'Elanna stiffened, and he stopped. "Did I hurt 

you?" He whispered regretfully, uncertainly.

She didn't immediately answer and he pulled up to cup one side of her 

face with his hand and ask her, "What is it, B'Elanna?" adding 

pointedly, "You can tell me if I hurt you."

She swallowed and he noted the tears brimming on her lashes. Frowning 

slightly, he moved up further and brushed them free, then kissed her 

eyes, her cheeks. 

By this time, tears were streaming from her eyes, so he moved aside and 

gathered her to him, letting her cry against his shoulder, ignoring the 

unrelieved throbbing of his body, as he whispered, "I'm sorry, B'Elanna, 

for whatever I did." 

She nodded, didn't respond and finally he was constrained to gently tilt 

her head to meet his gaze and asked, "Can you tell me what I did?"

Her voice was a raspy husk of sound, barely audible despite his 

closeness. Her head dropped against his shoulder before she spoke. "No 

one's ever said that before. And... and the last time you and I did 

this... you didn't say anything at all to me, Chakotay."

He considered this, thought back over recent events and then hugged her 

tight to him. "When I called you a beautiful woman, B'Elanna, that 

wasn't an indication that I felt any differently for you then. If you 

remember, when we...had sex...last, it didn't leave much time for 

exchanging words or much of anything. It wasn't even making love. It was 

quick, almost brutal, and I was afraid of hurting you...or you hurting 

me."

B'Elanna held onto him for a few moments, then looked up at him. She'd 

stopped crying and now she smiled wistfully. "I'm sorry, Chakotay. I 

told Paris on the planet that I think this processing the Vidiian's did 

to me did more than just extract my Klingon DNA. It feels like it took 

some of my common sense and my...shielding from me."

"Along with the armor?" Chakotay teased, running his hands along her 

smooth shoulders. As he intended, B'Elanna relaxed and smiled.

"Along with the armor." 

He caressed her again and hugged her briefly, tightly. "Don't worry. I 

apologize for speaking without thinking. But then," He kissed her 

forehead, "You have the tendency to make me do that, Klingon or Human or 

both."

B'Elanna smiled at this and they kissed, then he added, "And you are a 

very beautiful woman in either of your incarnations, Relampaga. Don't 

ever forget that."

She nodded, then touched his face with one hand, the other gently 

stroking him back to the fierce, rigidity of before. He groaned now and 

buried his face against her as he took her in his arms and allowed his 

body to learn hers in its entirety. Neither of them said anything more 

as desire swept over them in warm, pulsating waves which they allowed to 

carry them along.

The only sound aside from his breathing, which slowly grew harsher with 

his urgency, was a single uttered gasp which was unexpectedly wrenched 

from her when he eased his way within her. For several moments he held 

still, allowing her to set the tempo.

After this brief interlude, she urged him onward and he slowly 

recommenced his climb, striving to take her with him to the summit of 

passion. Another sharp gasp suddenly sounded against his ear, but before 

he could ascertain if he'd hurt her in some way, he felt her convulse 

around him and lost himself utterly.

Trembling in his seemingly endless release, he heard her series of 

accompanying gasps of breath against his ear and felt the inner 

contractions that signalled her own release, and he spent himself within 

her, profoundly glad she'd found some of what she had sought.

It wasn't until several moments later, that they discovered she was 

bleeding.

        =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=

Chakotay's voice was even and calm, and he forced himself to walk with 

deliberate precision as he led the Ocampan medic to B'Elanna's quarters. 

"I really appreciate this, Kes." 

He had no desire to create any rumors aboard the too-small ship by 

communicating the urgency he was feeling to the crew members which they 

passed. For her part, Kes merely nodded at his statement and matched his 

steady, unhurried steps.

"The doctor has impressed upon me the importance of being available to 

the crew as well as the significance of remaining discreet, Commander," 

she informed him.

They reached the door and Chakotay seemed reluctant to continue. 

Finally, Kes turned to him and suggested, "Perhaps you could wait in the 

main room while I examine the Lieutenant."

Chakotay nodded gratefully and, activating the door mechanism, they 

entered. He stepped to the replicator across the room, studiously 

ignoring Kes' heading for the bedroom area. He ordered a very hot cup of 

cinnamon tea, something which braced him when he felt the need, and sat 

with it at the small dining table, watching the steam rising from the 

cup.

        =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=

2B cont'd

VOY [R] A Whisper To A Scream, 3/5 (C/T, 1st season)

DISCLAIMER:  This non-profit material was produced out of love for Star 

Trek: Voyager and is not intended to infringe upon the Star Trek 

copyrights of Viacom, Paramount Pictures Corporation, nor those of any 

other legal holders of Star Trek copyrights, in this or any other 

universe...

        ----------------------------------

A Whisper To A Scream, pt. 3

by (-|-)* Judith (odogoddess@odospadd.com)

"As I told the Commander, the doctor has impressed upon me the 

significance of remaining discreet, Lieutenant." Kes said gently, noting 

the woman's discomfiture and frightened appearance in one glance.

The entirely Human-looking B'Elanna Torres sat huddled at the edge of 

the rumpled bed, the Sickbay robe wrapped tightly around her slender 

form as if warding off a chill. However the room was of a comfortable 

temperature and Kes could sense the shame and the echoes of fright which 

B'Elanna had experienced earlier, so now she sat carefully beside her 

and touched her arm gently. "I don't judge. I won't. Just tell me: what 

is wrong?"

B'Elanna hesitated, then pulled back the bedspread and pointed out a 

drying stain. Kes' blue eyes looked into B'Elanna's dark ones with 

curiosity, then she waved her medical tricorder over the area. "Blood, 

type O-negative."

B'Elanna finally admitted, "I'm still bleeding. A little. It started 

right after I...after I had sex." She shrugged and added, "It's never 

happened before. It...scared me a little."

Kes' face showed comprehension and she carefully ran the tricorder over 

B'Elanna's pelvis and groin. She studied the results and nodded, saying 

in a clinical fashion, "You experienced a slight tearing of the hymenal 

membrane. A happenstance which occasionally ensues during a Human 

female's initial sexual intercourse."

She got up and opened the small medical kit she brought with her. "I 

will need to perform an internal exam, but this can be accomplished with 

a small med-probe. Are you in pain or can you lay back?"

B'Elanna stared at Kes for several moments before she finally found her 

voice. "Kes...I've had sex before. Why did it happen this time?"

Kes frowned slightly, "If I understand the Doctor's evaluation of you 

after your return to the ship, the Vidiian's removed your constituent 

Klingon DNA and reconstituted you without them."

"Yeah," B'Elanna nodded.

"You are, in essence, a new woman, B'Elanna. You were physically a 

virgin during this sexual encounter, despite the fact that your memories 

are those of a sexually experienced woman," Kes explained, then asked, 

"Did you not bleed during your first sexual encounter before this?"

She frowned. "I don't remember. I was...had been...drinking. But I had 

expected to be bruised and bleeding after the first time, when I 

was...the way I was before. My mother so much as told me to maybe even 

expect a broken bone. She told me a Klingon female could break one or 

have one broken and wouldn't feel it until after. Of course, I didn't, 

but her warning pretty much scared me away from the experience for the 

longest time. That's why I, uh, drank so much. I was a little afraid of 

getting hurt...or hurting my partner."

_Good grief, are Klingons animal?_ The same thought had occurred to her 

when her mother had spoken to her and it resonated in her mind now. Were 

Klingons animals? There was violence even in so fundamental an aspect of 

life for a Klingon and B'Elanna hated violence. Yet you seem to seek it 

out. Or maybe it just finds you.

_You can't escape your heritage, child ._

Her eyes filled with tears now, as her mother's words echoed in her 

mind, and just as it had back when she'd been a burgeoning young woman, 

fear and shame nipped at her defenses.

Kes' deeply compassionate nature took over as she noted her patients 

discomfiture and she sat beside B'Elanna. She laid a warm hand on her 

shoulder. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, B'Elanna. Many species exhibit 

uncontrollable behaviors during their reproductive cycles or during 

rutting. It's perfectly natural and doesn't mean there's anything wrong 

with you."

"But...I'm not just Klingon. I'm Human, too." The woman whispered 

brokenly, then lamented, "Why can't I just be one or the other? Now that 

I'm just one, why can't I stay?" 

Having voiced her thus-far unexpressed disappointment, B'Elanna Torres 

fell against a pillow and allowed her tears to pour forth. They had been 

threatening to fall since Chakotay had first noted the alarming bloody 

dampness of the sheets. The stress and embarrassment of the situation 

had finally won out.

Kes wisely allowed the trembling woman to cry without pause, merely 

patting her back occasionally and waiting in silent commiseration for 

the deluge to show signs of ending.

        =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=

"I'm so sorry, Chakotay." 

B'Elanna's voice was small, quite unlike her normal one and for a 

moment, Chakotay thought he'd merely imagined he heard her until he 

looked up from their mostly untouched meal to her drawn face beside him.

He reached across and stroked her cheek and she leaned into his touch. 

_You fool, she's been needing you and you've pulled away like a 

frightened boy._ Without thinking, he moved closer and gathered her in 

his arms.

"It's alright, Relampaga, I'm not upset. I was mad at myself for not 

being careful enough," he admitted softly, kissing her hair.

She pulled back from him, shaking her head. "You didn't do anything 

wrong at all, Chakotay. It was...it happens sometimes to women." Then 

she appended with a small shrug, "Human women anyway. I guess I'll go 

back to not having a category, won't I?"

Chakotay's eyes were warm and he shook his head. "You're in a class all 

by yourself, B'Elanna Torres. And Human or Klingon, I would find you 

hard to resist."

Her head dropped at this and to his delight, a blush colored her cheeks. 

He had never before seen this woman blush and he privately doubted it 

would be possible again, once the Doctor completed reconstituting her 

genetic makeup. He took her hand in his and gently squeezed.

He sighed. "B'Elanna, I wish..."

She blinked and looked at him guilelessly. "What?"

"I wish you could have what you wanted. Not for me or anyone, but for 

you, because it would make you happy. But I think that before all this, 

you were the most interesting and spontaneous and spirited woman I had 

ever met." His eyes grew warmer still as he held her hand with his own 

and the truth in them was undeniable as he concluded, "Or ever will."

        =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=

"So you repaired a small perforation in her vaginal wall?" The Doctor's 

face was impassive as he questioned his student, notating his personnel 

files as he did.

"Yes. I used the probe's cautery. The perforation was less than a 

centimeter in length and the edges were smooth. I deemed it did not 

require a more exhaustive or time-intensive technique." Kes said, 

explaining, "The patient was discomfited with the procedure and I had 

already ascertained the blood flow had effectively kept the wound from 

contamination. There was no need to prolong the experience for her, nor 

to employ the use of further equipment."

The Doctor nodded, pleased. "Just so. You have an admirable grasp of 

patient sensitivity, Kes." For not the first time, the Doctor found 

himself wishing the young woman would live longer than the decade which 

her physiology provided. And that he would not at the end of her life-

span find himself as the sole Doctor aboard the ship. He wondered 

briefly if he should, perhaps, broach the Captain about obtaining 

another volunteer to learn emergency medicine, then considered her 

previous choice of medical assistant and pursed his lips. 

_Perhaps, if this ship is still lost in five years time, and Kes begins 

showing evidence of elderly frailty, I will speak with the Captain about 

this issue._ He made a mental note to discuss it with her in exactly 

five years from the current Stardate, then returned his attention to the 

situation at hand.

"The Klingon DNA should finish replicating this afternoon. Did 

Lieutenant Torres indicate when she was going to report?"

Kes smiled, "I think she'll take as long as she's able. She isn't 

exactly looking forward to returning to the way she was."

The Doctor frowned, wondering why Kes would make such an assessment when 

he himself had not noted this attitude in the Lieutenant. _She had,_ he 

thought, _seemed a bit surprised when I indicated I needed to return the 

Klingon DNA to her genetic structure, but little else. She did not cry 

out, storm out of Sickbay or emphatically refuse._

"What makes you say that, Kes?" he asked now, curious as to what the 

Ocampa woman read into the situation.

Kes merely smiled now. "B'Elanna told me."

"Ah." The Doctor nearly sighed, then turned back to his perusal of the 

tissue replicator's data-stream, feeling the odd sensation he'd just 

experienced being analyzed by his logic circuitry. After a moment, it 

diagnosed the feeling: disappointment.

_Why should I be disappointed that the crew feels more able to discuss 

things with my authentic humanoid assistant rather than myself? After 

all, I'm merely a hologram,_ he reminded himself unnecessarily. Unknown 

to him, a peevish expression had wavered momentarily across his face 

before being relegated to a well-hidden ancillary reaction file without 

his knowledge, as his creator had designed it to do.

Unbeknownst to the Doctor, his creator had taken great pride at having 

contributed in the construction of the new starship Voyager and despite 

(or maybe because of) the fact that no one ever saw his contributions to 

it and several other smaller fleet vessels he had also equipped with 

Emergency Medical Programs, he had spent many spare hours fiddling with 

his simulation of a doctor, imbuing it with various expressions and what 

he had thought of as  quirks  into its programming.

If his program was ever employed, Holographic Engineer Lewis Zimmerman 

wanted to receive some form of recognition of his technical expertise, 

even if it was negative in nature. Nothing like someone acknowledging 

your work, he had thought at the time.

The Doctor was not aware of any of this background about himself. He 

merely felt a vague dissatisfaction which grew as Kes placed a warm hand 

on his arm, making him look up into her incredibly limpid, blue eyes as 

she said, "Don't be so hard on yourself, Doctor. You have the weight of 

the well-being of the entire crew on your shoulders. I think some of the 

crew sense this and so, they tend to speak to me rather than waste your 

valuable time."

For a sharp and poignant moment, the Doctor remembered his brief 

excursion to the holodeck and the desire he had seen expressed in the 

eyes of a fellow hologram. A hologram which had faithfully executed it's 

creator's envisioning and died to save him, never realizing her own 

holographic nature. 

_Ah, what bliss you lived in, Freya,_ he sighed. _You had no idea you 

lived and died a hologram, probably reanimated anew whenever that young 

Ensign Harry Kim gets it in mind to utilize his program. The way I am 

when someone needs to utilize mine. Except that I don't forget what went 

before. I can't, not and still perform my job._

Again, without his awareness, a dark scowl crossed his face, then 

cleared into the nether regions of that hidden ancillary reaction file. 

Instead, after this rather lengthy, four millisecond introspection he'd 

allowed himself, the Doctor merely leveled an even look at his 

assistant, saying, "I see you have also learned the intricacies involved 

in...finessing...your patient."

"Doctor." Kes voice held disapproval and he found himself regretting his 

cynical tone. _What is happening to me? Is this truly what Zimmerman 

intended when he designed my program? Why do I have so many unnecessary 

thoughts? So many unresolved or unresolvable issues?_ He avoided using 

the term  feelings, since it was quite ludicrous to think a hologram was 

capable of such complex functions, even one so application-driven as he.

Still, there were those moments; he pondered in the two point one five 

milliseconds which followed this introspection; which begged for 

resolution, demanded explication.

_If I ever do return with this ship, and if Zimmerman is alive, I will 

demand an accounting,_ he decided. With customary brisk efficiency, he 

relegated this notation to his personal file, along with the one to 

speak to the Captain in five years regarding training another person as 

a medical assistant. Then he looked up at Kes.

"I take it you wish to witness the tissue infusion, Kes?"

To his unexpressed pleasure, Kes smiled broadly, a beatific expression 

that elevated her already surreal beauty into a new and virtuous realm, 

thrilling him down to his unsuspected depths as she replied, "I always 

enjoy watching you work, Doctor."

        =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=

2B cont'd

VOY [R] A Whisper To A Scream, 4/5 (C/T, 1st season)

DISCLAIMER:  This non-profit material was produced out of love for Star 

Trek: Voyager and is not intended to infringe upon the Star Trek 

copyrights of Viacom, Paramount Pictures Corporation, nor those of any 

other legal holders of Star Trek copyrights, in this or any other 

universe...

        ----------------------------------

A Whisper To A Scream, pt. 4

by (-|-)* Judith (odogoddess@odospadd.com)

It was actually four days from the primary DNA infusion in which 

B'Elanna experienced her first symptom of change.

She had spent two days with vague feelings of unease which she concluded 

were caused by stress rather than an indication of any physical response 

to the infusion procedure. Most of it stemmed from the fact that 

Chakotay worked more than his usual shift and they barely saw each 

other.

The third day she'd come down with a fever which had made her feel tired 

and out of sorts. Chakotay had stayed beside her, brought her endless 

cups of tea and sponged her heated cheeks and arms to make her 

comfortable. His calm ministrations had been as soothing as his 

presence.

They had made love more than once that day, despite her condition. Or 

maybe because of it, she decided later, since the fever was so obviously 

an indication that the great and irrevocable change approached.

The next morning, she'd woken with a start to slap away an intruder's 

hand which turned out to be Chakotay, who was gently tracing the tender 

ridges which had sprouted on her forehead, literally overnight. Her 

entire face ached and her teeth felt as if they did not fit together 

quite right.

"Please don't touch me," she told him, then stilled at the deeper, more 

resonant sound of her voice. Momentarily transfixed with intermixed fear 

and shame and an inexpressible sense of loss, she'd touched her face, 

closed her eyes and utterly refused Chakotay's efforts to comfort her as 

she wept.

        =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=

"So I take it Lieutenant Torres will be back to speed sometime in the 

next two days? I'll be glad to have her back in Engineering." Captain 

Janeway's tone was off-hand, this datum merely something to be tucked 

away after being relegated to the orderly filing system she maintained 

in her own mind.

Chakotay bristled at this presumption, about to speak and suggest to the 

Captain that after a harrowing mission in which B'Elanna had been 

physically changed and upon her return being made to change again, and 

worse, being made to change into something she did not wish to be, might 

require rather more sensitivity than a quick and ill-considered return 

to duty, when another voice beat him to it.

"Captain, if I may point out," the Doctor's pedantic voice essayed from 

the terminal interface which was his customary position during these 

senior staff meetings. "Lieutenant Torres will likely require more time 

off than merely that in which to complete the infusion procedure. She 

has, after all, undergone a quite radical physical change which placed 

great mental as well as physical stress upon her, not just once but 

twice, in a very short period of time. Placing her so quickly back on 

duty is ill-advised."

Janeway considered this without expression, then she nodded, "Noted, 

Doctor. However, I surmise the Lieutenant prefers to keep busy rather 

than brood over matters. Still, I am not insensitive and I will leave 

the matter up to her. If she feels she needs more time, I will, of 

course, provide her with it. And if she'd rather get right back to work, 

I will accommodate her."

The Captain turned to Tuvok, "Now, Mr. Tuvok, if you would be so kind as 

to provide the senior staff with your evaluation of this, our second 

encounter with these Vidiians..."

        =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=

She appeared much as she had when he'd first met her, Chakotay realized 

as B'Elanna stalked out of her cabin's bathroom. Her stride was 

familiar, graceful and predatory. The extra-muscle layers were also 

back, he noted, able to since she only wore a robe, having obviously 

enjoyed a hot shower. Wisps of steam rose from her collarbones, the wet 

skin gleaming in a manner which he found incredibly arousing.

"I...I came to tell you...you, uh...don't have to return...quite so, 

uh...soon, B'Elanna..." His throat caught on anything else he might have 

wanted to say.

Chakotay had intended to inform her that Lieutenant Carey had completed 

a warp core re-alignment and that if she desired some extra time off-

duty he could readily give it to her. Instead he found B'Elanna stepping 

up to face him, utterly unconcerned with his temporary insensibility. In 

fact, she seemed amused.

She was. Throughout the day she had found herself moving with ease 

again, with confidence. Her body felt like it was once again her own, 

rather than a strangers. She knew this body. Suddenly, she found herself 

filled with a yearning to know his again...in this body.

She snatched up his hand, smelled his palm deeply, which action caused a 

flood of memories for the suddenly aroused Commander of their first time 

together. It was what she intended, he realized; a way of reclaiming 

what her new-old body declared by its very configuration. Then she was 

in his arms.

"I want you, Chakotay," B'Elanna intoned with dark sensuality.

Commander's voice faltered as she began to open his uniform with quick, 

efficient fingers. Those self-same, now roughened fingers administered a 

harsh caress along his torso, slipping down to encircle him and making 

him groan. "B'Elanna..."

"I want you, Chakotay," she repeated thickly, taking his hand and 

bringing him down to his knees in her living area, sinking down on the 

floor, then hauling him down atop her, half his uniform still on.

The air in the room was cold, the floor colder, their position was not 

entirely comfortable and the tips of his boots dug small whorled tufts 

into the carpeting, but neither of them noticed these facts until much, 

much later.

        =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=

"Good to have you back, sir." 

Lieutenant Carey's voice sounded completely sincere, although privately 

B'Elanna had doubts as to its authenticity despite the fact that she 

nodded her thanks for the gesture he'd probably made out of politeness.

_Well, what do you expect? You broke the man's nose, for goodness sake!_ 

She snorted derisively, still unconvinced that her little off-hand 

cuffing could have broken Carey's nose. It broke when he fell because he 

was too uncoordinated to stop the fall.

This was her belief in the matter, if anyone had asked, but no one did. 

The rumors regarding her temper had grown amazingly in the short time 

the Maquis had been aboard the starship. This was little surprise, since 

among the Maquis, the rumors of her temper and her fighting ability were 

legendary and only partly due to the nickname which they'd learned the 

meaning of and which Chakotay had quickly taken to using at odd and 

private times.

_Relampaga, eh, Chakotay?_ She smiled slightly, a little sad now as she 

recalled the way he'd said that right before her first tryst with him. 

They hadn't bothered waiting until they reached the Badlands in their 

Maquis ship, merely going to a dark corner of the cargo bay and never 

minding that any passing Maquis could hear... or watch. It had been 

wonderful. He had been wonderful. Was that because they'd nearly died 

that day or because she truly felt more for him than she cared to admit, 

she wondered.

_And you've almost died now twice since coming to this Quadrant. Well, 

if the bloody Caretaker didn't kill me with his manipulations and the 

diseased Vidiians didn't kill me with their damnable phage, then there's 

a reason for all I've been through. There's a reason to my survival._

"What the hell could that be," she murmured now under her breath.

"What the hell could what be, B'Elanna?" 

The amused voice made her turn with a start and she was faced with the 

all-too-Human face of Tom Paris, randy pig of a Lieutenant. 

_Just look who's saying the engine's overheated...!_ Her face flushed, 

although with her Klingon complexion, the increased blood flow did not 

register.

"What do you want, Paris?" She asked now between gritted teeth.

His toothy smile dimmed slightly and he sighed. "I just dropped in 

before my shift to wish you a welcome back, but I guess you're busy." He 

turned on his booted heels and began to stride out of Engineering.

As he turned the corner, B'Elanna was suddenly visited with the image of 

the man who had endured capture with her, even tried to fight off a 

Vidiian who took her back to the barracks in the grubby mining compound 

and more important, listened to her fears and tried to calm her when 

she'd been frightened and sick and faced with the prospect of imminent 

death.

_Why do I do things so...abruptly?_ She sighed now as well and took off 

on a trot after him. "Lieutenant!" She hailed as soon as she got around 

the corner, ignoring the curious looks from the Engineering crew who 

stopped momentarily to see what had made her shout.

This was partly because most thought she was yelling at Carey and were 

expectantly waiting for one of their typical full out, shouting thrash-

meets which occurred with dreary regularity in the Engine room. For a 

brief moment, which she would analyze later in the privacy of her room, 

B'Elanna Torres scolded herself for allowing her reputation to grow in 

this negative manner.  _After all the times Captain Janeway's warned you 

about your indiscretions..._

Paris stopped in his tracks, surprised by her shout as much as by the 

expression on her face as she stepped up to him. An uncertain smile 

half-hovered over his mouth as he nodded and responded in a kind and 

quieter tone of voice.

"Lieutenant...?"

To his further surprise, he suddenly realized that B'Elanna's expression 

was not one of entreaty, but of regret. She was oddly breathless when 

she reached him and despite himself, he reached out both hands and 

steadied her. The fact that he'd never done so before except in the 

Vidiian mining compound when they'd both been Human did not enter his 

mind.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked her gently.

She shook her head. "I'm fine, I'm just..." She stopped, suddenly at a 

loss for words. _Just like before, B'Elanna, as inelegant and ineloquent 

as ever._

"It's just I wanted to say thank you, Tom. For what you said down on the 

moon, for helping me, and... and that, that I'm glad we both made it out 

of there."

The shy smile that punctuated this rambling statement completely undid 

Tom's resolve and he smiled broadly and brought B'Elanna to him for a 

quick, close hug, a gesture of friendship so completely unconscious and 

unabashed in its execution that despite her surprise she could not help 

but respond with a brief tightening of her own arms. When he released 

her he slid his hands down to her own and gripped them tight. His 

whisper was equally tight.

"I'm glad, too." 

Then he let her hands go, flashed her a boyish grin, and turned on his 

heels, headed for the turbolift.

        =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=

As B'Elanna left Sickbay from her final infusion session, Tuvok 

approached her in the hallway, his dark face as impassive as ever. She 

had not seen him since her arrival on the ship nearly ten days ago and 

he looked the same as always.

B'Elanna suspected he would look this self-same way when she died of old 

age still striving to get this ship and it's remaining crew or their 

descendants back to the Delta Quadrant. She rarely let the thought 

bother her, but suddenly the passage of time grew enormously in the 

space between herself and Tuvok in this otherwise deserted corridor of a 

ship which was over seventy-five years from home. It was a return voyage 

she would not be likely to complete, but which was merely a delay in the 

life of the man who stood in front of her and she blinked to clear her 

somewhat dismal thoughts.

"Tuvok. It's good to see you again," she said politely, even inclining 

her head in the approved Vulcan fashion.

He followed suit, although his expression did not change. "It is equally 

gratifying to see you, Lieutenant."

He extended a computer disc to her which she simply looked at for a 

moment. It was something out of character for the Vulcan Security Chief 

to give her anything unless it was some form of work and she did not 

feel at all up to a supplementary job right now.

He did not pull his hand back, simply explaining, "It is from Mr. 

Durst." This had the opposite reaction from what the Vulcan intended, 

causing B'Elanna to withdraw even further and he frowned now. "Is 

something wrong, Lieutenant?"

"Durst?" Her voice was dry and tight.

"Yes. As Chief of Security, part of my job entails seeing to their 

personal effects," Tuvok patiently replied, becoming aware of what was 

causing the young woman's reluctance. In this case, it was the 

irrational fear of touching something which had belonged to a dead man 

which plagued B'Elanna, he knew. It was a groundless if understandably 

humanoid reaction caused by their own fear of dying. 

Of course, as a security officer, he had come to learn that those 

humanoids with little or no fear of death were those which seemed to 

cause the most trouble of all to their fellow men and women and added 

now without a pause in his mental ruminations, "Mr. Durst's memorial 

service took place during your recuperation, one week ago. He left 

instructions that this be given you on the event of his death."

He angled the disc up closer to her eye level and she finally closed her 

fingers around it, taking it, although she did not examine it yet. She 

merely nodded at Tuvok.

"Thank you, Tuvok," then she shrugged. "I'm sorry."

The Vulcan tilted his head. "For what are you  sorry , Lieutenant?"

"I'm sorry Durst is dead," she replied simply, feeling completely 

inadequate in her ability to truly explain the magnitude of feelings 

which swept over her, but also unable to simply let the moment pass. The 

man was dead and dead because of her. She did not know why she felt this 

way, but knew with a rock-solid certainty that it was so. It was also 

something she would never tell another soul despite the fact that the 

feeling would continue to haunt her at odd times throughout her entire 

life.

Tuvok seemed to take this with equanimity; he merely assumed this was 

yet another example of the humanoid predilection to express regret over 

their own mortality by solemnizing another's death. So he simply nodded 

and responded, "As am I. He was an able crewman."

Tuvok turned back and headed down the hallway to the turbolift at the 

end of it, fully intending to notate his daily log, assign shifts for 

his department for the upcoming two weeks and then submit his daily 

report to the Captain before turning in for evening meal which he was 

fully expecting to be hot mushroom soup a-la-Neelix and a cup of herbal 

tea, as the Talaxian cook had cheerfully informed him earlier in the 

day. Therefore, he did not notice B'Elanna still standing in the hallway 

as if rooted to the spot, clutching the disc with a troubled look on her 

face.

        =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=

2B cont'd

VOY [R] A Whisper To A Scream, 5/5 (C/T, 1st season)

DISCLAIMER:  This non-profit material was produced out of love for Star 

Trek: Voyager and is not intended to infringe upon the Star Trek 

copyrights of Viacom, Paramount Pictures Corporation, nor those of any 

other legal holders of Star Trek copyrights, in this or any other 

universe...

        ----------------------------------

A Whisper To A Scream, pt. 5

by (-|-)* Judith (odogoddess@odospadd.com)

"Chakotay, why didn't you tell me Durst left me something in his will?" 

B'Elanna asked him later that evening as they finished dinner, having 

already enjoyed a quick and rather unceremonious lovemaking session upon 

arrival into her quarters earlier.

The Commander blinked. "You were still off-duty, on sick-leave and you 

had a lot on your mind, B'Elanna. I told Tuvok to hold onto whatever it 

was until you were back on duty, feeling better."

"Hmm." It was the only response B'Elanna made and suddenly Chakotay had 

the impression she was going to ask him to sleep in his own quarters 

tonight.

_Well, she has the right to,_ he argued to himself. It wasn't as if they 

were an  item, merely old friends who had enjoyed one another once, and 

now again when one of them had required support the other would readily 

give, as only such good friends as they were and remained, would give, 

and he could not fault her wanting to distance herself again. It was not 

the same as a true relationship and probably wouldn't be unless they 

chose to make a permanent commitment to one another some time in the 

unforeseeable future. This wasn't impossible he knew, since they were 

both seventy-five thousand light-years from a home it was unlikely they 

would ever see again and all this crew had was each other. He would not, 

however, press the issue; B'Elanna had gone through enough these last 

two weeks. Still, he hoped now that she did not regret what they'd done.

_Seska isn't here anymore and this is one of the few women on board that 

you wouldn't mind staking claim with, Nature Boy,_ he reminded himself 

now. Despite his preternatural awareness, her sudden statement still 

startled him.

"Chakotay...I think I need to be alone tonight." 

He sighed and nodded, not regretfully, but aware that their easy 

familiarity would return once again to shipboard co-worker/friends. 

_It's better than nothing at all, Nature Boy, eh?_ He went to her.

"Let me know if you need anything, all right, Relampaga?" he whispered 

against her ear, then kissed her cheek with warmth and tenderness 

unfeigned. 

She closed her eyes and cupped his face for a moment, then smiled at 

him. "I'll give a yell."

"I'd know your yell anywhere, B'Elanna Torres," Chakotay responded as of 

old and then he gracefully strode from the room.

The woman sighed deeply, feeling the tension inside her ease. She had 

set aside the disc into a pocket and now she fingered the edge of that 

same pocket, feeling the hard, even edge of the disc casing, then 

fishing it out into her palm where she studied it. The uneasiness had 

returned.

The disc had no label and B'Elanna was suddenly stricken by the fact 

that aside from his last name and rank, she knew nothing of this man 

Durst. With the same troubled expression on her face, she strode to her 

terminal, already ordering, "Computer. Access personnel file on 

Lieutenant Durst and display."

"Working."

As she reached the terminal, the screen lit up with an image of Durst's 

face and she swallowed down conflicting feelings to examine the 

adjoining personal statistics alongside the standard head-and-shoulders 

Starfleet identi-scan shot.

DURST, PETER BENNETT, Lieutenant, senior specialist/geology, 

astrophysics - Born 2336 at University of Betazed, Institute of 

Biological Medicine, mother's name: Jenetra Ch'liie Durst of Betazed, 

father's name: Darren Durst of Rigel VII. Died 2371 in the line of duty 

during investigative mission in Delta Quadrant.

_Betazoid,_ B'Elanna mused now, _Durst was half-Betazoid. What else 

didn't I know about this man?_

She eyed the disc, her fingers feeling the smooth edges and finally 

sighed and slipped it in the access-inset of her terminal, clearing the 

screen with a tab of the panel.

"Computer, review file contents on disc and replay."

"Working."

Momentarily the image of Durst filled her screen again, but this time 

animated. It was so startling and surreal that B'Elanna found herself 

hard-pressed to continue watching.

"B'Elanna...uh, Lieutenant, that is. Not that it matters, right? I'm not 

here anymore." Durst shrugged, his gentle eyes flicking unconsciously 

away from the screen, a nervous gesture she'd seen him emulate during 

life. Durst, she recalled, had seemed shy to her and her guess had been 

an accurate one.

"If you're wondering what I could possible have to say to you, well, 

I've been thinking the same thing myself. I mean, I never could just 

come out, or rather, come up and talk to a woman. Any woman. Even though 

I could tell if she was interested or not because of my empathic sense," 

he paused, then shrugged again. "You probably know by now my mother was 

Betazoid. She was beautiful. I guess I took after my father..."

The image of Durst smiled ruefully at this little attempt at humor, then 

blinked away this train of thought. "Well, I left this for you because I 

wanted you to know how I felt...even if it's once I'm dead. It's a 

comfort, believe me, to know that one way or another, you'll find out. 

And if we die together...well, I suppose I expect we'll all die out here 

in this quadrant. I've always expected to die in a Starfleet uniform so 

that's not so bad. I guess I just never expected to die so far from 

home. But it's not so bad since I'm not alone. I mean, we all have each 

other out here. And with you here...well-" B'Elanna blinked away tears.

"Either way, I...I wrote a poem for you. I'm, uh, not so good at it, not 

like my father was; leastwise my mother always said it was his poetry 

that won her over, but well...I try," Durst smiled shyly at the 

viewscreen, then looked down and away, as was his wont. B'Elanna 

recalled several instances she had seen him do this and smiled now, 

feeling a pang of remorse which she swallowed. "I won't read it to you, 

since my recital is probably worse than my poems, but it's recorded on 

this disc in an appended visual file, Lieutenant...uh, B'Elanna."

For a moment Durst's face froze and she thought the transmission had 

come to an end, then he looked up and said her name again. "B'Elanna. 

B'Elanna Torres. You know, I think your name is as beautiful as you are, 

were...to me."

Durst swallowed, then said, "Well, I'll let you read it now. Pete Durst, 

signing off." The viewscreen displayed his poem:

B'Elanna

by Peter Bennett Durst

You stalked past me to your cabin

and filled the hall with righteous anger

froze my simple heart with dread

and seared my soul in fire

And I dreamt of you that night

a glorious, stormy, passion-dream

that filled my mind with visions of you

and burned me with desire

Thus have passed the many light-years

faraway from all we knew and know

still I'm glad to work beside you

on the journey which remains

For should we never reach our goal

has mattered little since I felt

the fiery tendrils of your passion

burning deep within my veins

But for the chance to lie beside you

on some forbidden heated night

held tight within your strong embrace

not just a waking dream

I would strive to give you wholly

of self and soul, if only, you would

out of isolation lift me with you

from a whisper to a scream

B'Elanna sat, stunned, unmoving, but not unmoved, overwhelmed with a 

sense of loss greater than tears could express, greater even than how 

she'd felt when she discovered her Klingon features had reasserted 

themselves and marked her again as a Klingon. Poor Durst...

_Peter,_ her mind chided. Peter forever gone. With only this poem to 

speak of the man he'd been. A man of hidden passions. Much as she was a 

woman of hidden tenderness. Opposites...and yet.

She tried to recall all the times she had passed him, worked with him 

and the only time she could recollect was that first chilly day on the 

Vidiian moon, still free as they'd clambered around stalagmites, 

scanning for useful minerals. He had stayed close to her, but now 

B'Elanna remembered how she had simply assumed this was some misguided 

sense of concern over her welfare. 

_Just because I'm a woman,_ she'd sneered, annoyed. This attitude was 

especially strong in Human males and it had made her lose patience with 

him more than once. To her shame, she now remembered having snapped at 

him, "Stop hovering, Durst! Do you think I'm some helpless female?"

What had the hapless man replied? "Never that, B'Elanna... er, 

Lieutenant."

She'd merely snapped back, "Then stand aside while at least one of us 

gets some work done!"

B'Elanna winced now. _I was more right than I knew when I told Chakotay 

I must sound like a bitch! And I was completely Human when I said that. 

Human as in humanity, as in humane. Why must that side of me stay 

hidden? Why am I so... brusque, so abrupt?_

She found herself standing and striding from the room without pause.

        =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=  *  *  *  =/\=

Captain Janeway seemed only mildly surprised to find her Chief Engineer 

at her door. Her tone, however, remained calm and congenial.

"Lieutenant Torres, what can I do for you?"

Without asking to enter, still standing in the hallway, B'Elanna replied 

breathlessly, "Captain, I know I agreed to start back today, but would 

it be alright with you if I took tomorrow off? Just tomorrow, then I'd 

go back."

There was a momentary silence in which she found herself regretting 

making the request. _Still acting without thinking first, B'Elanna! Will 

you never learn?_

"Funny you should ask that now, Lieutenant," The Captain's voice 

interrupted her thoughts, "because I've been doing some thinking along 

those lines myself. Please, come in."

B'Elanna hesitated, then stepped in. She stayed standing as if expecting 

to get evicted within moments. Janeway did not notice, though, setting 

aside a cup of coffee she'd been drinking to turn and say, "Mr. Paris 

informed me you appeared a bit short of breath today in Engineering, and 

you do seem a bit breathless to me."

"Oh, no, Captain! That was because I ran to catch up to Tom," B'Elanna 

insisted. "And right now I just got it in my mind to ask you about 

tomorrow so I just hurried on over." _Great, go on, B'Elanna, now you 

sound like some erratic crank!_

Janeway merely arched her brow at this and said, "Well, regardless, I 

have been thinking about giving you some time off."

"You have?"

"Yes," The Captain admitted, then her expression sobered and B'Elanna 

felt her stomach sink, wondering what she'd said or done wrong. Janeway 

sighed and spoke carefully, "Since... since that unfortunate incident 

regarding the Sikarians, you have been working non-stop, double shifts, 

even coming in during your off hours sometimes for special projects and 

it's got to stop."

"It does, Captain?" B'Elanna felt her stomach sink even further. 

Thoughts began to circle in her head like hungry vultures, threatening 

to swoop down and pick at the fragile defenses she currently had. 

_So. Now how will I show you how much this posting you've given me 

means? How serious I am? How committed? I'll work my fingers raw for 

you, Captain, but if you don't let me then how can I ever hope to prove 

to you that I'm worthy? If not of this uniform, then at least of your 

trust? Of your confidence?_

"Yes, it does." Janeway's voice brooked no argument and she added, "I 

want a Chief Engineer, not an automaton."

"Yes, Captain." B'Elanna's voice was even, but her eyes revealed the 

trepidation she was feeling. "I'll do as you ask."

"I know you will, Lieutenant," Janeway smiled, transforming her face 

into a warm and gracious one which reminded the beleaguered B'Elanna for 

one painfully poignant moment of her long-gone Human father. Then she 

sobered and added, "You've been giving me nothing but your best since 

your arrival on board, despite the circumstances, and I need you to know 

it's not been unnoticed. On this last mission, you acted above and 

beyond the call of duty. You gave of yourself in order for the team to 

return. I find that exceedingly honorable."

B'Elanna shrugged, "That was my counterpart, Captain."

"That was you, B'Elanna. She's in you now. She always will be. Don't 

ever make the mistake of thinking you don't have that strength, because 

it's in you. I've seen it. And I'm very lucky to have you working for 

me. You must have been a formidable Maquis." Janeway smiled again, this 

time tempered with a touch of humor and B'Elanna shrugged.

"I suppose I was. But the Maquis never had anything so fine as the 

equipment on this ship," B'Elanna sighed, admitting, "Ships like this 

are the reason I entered Starfleet."

"And Captain's like me were the reason you left?" Janeway quipped, then 

waved her hand. "Never mind. Strike that. Just a bad joke."

"Yes, Captain. It's true," B'Elanna merely said, arresting the Captain's 

reaction with her solemnity. She locked her gaze on Janeway and said 

with soft sincerity, "Captain's like you made me realize I could never 

hope to earn the right to wear the uniform, to...to live in their world 

of rules, to ever aspire to follow or ever be half as good as any of 

them."

Janeway was frozen in her astonishment, but she managed to shake her 

head. "You should never allow anyone to strip away your feelings of self 

worth, B'Elanna."

"I know. And that's why I left Starfleet, Captain. It's taken me a long 

time to accept that it was as much self-preservation as bad judgement."

Kathryn Janeway's gaze remained on her Chief Engineer for a moment, then 

she said quietly, "Request granted, Lieutenant."

"Captain?"

"Your extra day. You can have it. Or more if you need them," Janeway 

clarified without expression.

"No, just the one, Captain. I..." B'Elanna hesitated, then confessed, 

"It's about Durst. I missed his memorial. I feel like I should...I don't 

know, observe the day somehow."

The Captain nodded sadly. "I understand. I barely knew him, but he was a 

good man, a good worker. A lot of the crew miss him." 

This said Janeway sighed, then shook her head regretfully, looking very 

like any other woman tired at the end of a long work day to the 

engineer. Yet this woman held the weight of the ship and all the lives 

contained therein on her shoulders. 

_How does she do it? And not blow her stack or get brusque, the way you 

are? I'd follow her anywhere now. Could I say the reverse would be true? 

And believe it?_

B'Elanna nodded. "Thank you, Captain. I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it." 

Janeway led her to the doorway and B'Elanna found herself in the 

hallway, musing over the days events and musing about the man who had 

loved her, despite the fact that she was not exactly regulation, not 

exactly congenial.

_But he loved me anyway, Klingon half and all, but then, he was half-

Betazoid himself._ She frowned at this thought. _He was a man, B'Elanna, 

that's all. His genetics wouldn't have mattered if you'd found out 

before. Why should yours?_

_It doesn't matter,_ she suddenly realized. She thought this over, then 

found herself believing it for the first time in her life.  _It really 

doesn't...all that matters is Peter loved you and now he's 

gone...forever._

B'Elanna Torres began to slowly walk back to her room, one line in his 

poem echoing in her mind. _From a whisper to a scream..._ This seemed to 

speak not just of Durst's passion, but of her reversion. From wholly 

Human back to her hated halfling state. Or was it? 

_I don't hate it, I guess I have her to thank for that,_ she sighed, 

recalling the conversation she'd had with her other wholly Klingon half 

on the Vidiian moon and amended, _I can thank *me*. She *was* me, she's 

in me now...and I am better for it, stronger and...whole._

_...from a whisper to a scream._

"I won't forget you, Durst...I swear it," she whispered now in the 

silent corridor of this Federation ship so far from it's resident's 

home. "Because if you truly loved me the way I was, then I can accept 

myself...just the way I am."

_And I guess I have._ B'Elanna shook her head ruefully then sighed, 

weary, but at peace with herself for the first time in a very long time.

        ~~ finis ~~

----------------------------------------------------------------------

May 1995.   Not meant to infringe on copyrights held by Viacom, 

Paramount or any other legal copyright holders of Star Trek. Please do 

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