Ifs and Buts
By ralst
I am going to be a mother. Me, a mother. It still hasn't quite sunk in, the enormity of the situation too much to grapple with. Tom was pleased, well ecstatic would be a better word for it really, he practically squeezed the photons out of the EMH when he told him. The look on the Doc's face is one that will stay with me for a long time, pleasure turned to astonishment, turned to something just this side of revulsion. Poor guy, I know first hand what an over enthusiastic Tom Paris is like, a slobbering puppy but with a few less brain cells.
I shouldn't be so hard on Tom. He has a right to be happy. I think if my own happiness matched his I'd think his behaviour charming, or at least non-nauseating. Unfortunately it doesn't. Not that I didn't want children, or that I don't want this child, because I do. But. Why does there have to be a but? If there were no but in that sentence life would be simple now, but there is, and that particular but has a name. Seven of Nine, ex-Borg, ex-enemy, ex-love.
The ex-love bit is kind of stretching things. We have never been lovers, I have never even told her how I feel, although I've know for a while, I'm in love with her. But, and there is that horrible word again, I am going to be a mother, a mother to Tom's child, and that means I can't love her. I do, but I can't.
Those people who tell you not to rush decisions, to wait until you're sure, until you've got everything worked out, I hate those people. If I hadn't listened to them I wouldn't be in this situation right now. That's not really true. If I'd been brave enough to act on my feelings I could've had what I wanted, instead I'm trapped.
Trapped. I shouldn't be thinking like this. I know I'll love this child when it comes, and part of me is really excited by the prospect of being a mother, its just...I don't want to have to give up my hopes of one day waking up in the arms of someone I love completely, in her arms. Instead I shall go to sleep next to Tom, and wake up next to Tom, and every time wish I was somewhere else, with someone else. What is worse, I'll even have to pretend the prison of a marriage makes me happy.
I don't think I'm that good of an actor. I don't think anyone is.
I should have told him last week, when he started talking about getting back to the Alpha quadrant and meeting up with his father. The opportunity was right there, a simple 'I don't think we'll still be together by then' or even, 'I'd love to meet your father, but I think before we get home we should reconsider our marriage.' Okay, so they were all pretty lame openings, but at least I could have said something, instead all I did was nod and say how glad I would be to meet the rest of his family. Kahless! I was such a coward, and now I am being made to pay.
I wonder if she's heard already? The last I saw of Tom he seemed pretty keen on spreading the news to the farthest reaches of the Delta quadrant. She's bound to know, if not Tom then the Doctor will have told her. I wonder what she's thinking? My biggest fear is that she's not thinking anything at all, just stored the information away as a useful fact on crew statistics. It's selfish I know, but I want her to feel as cheated as I do, to curse the fates and wish to turn back time. I want to know if she feels anything for me.
I have to know if she loves me.
It started one day in engineering, a simple thing really, just a look, but with it a torrent of feeling and sense of joy. I'd been having a less than productive morning, the warp core was acting up and nothing I did seemed to make any difference, then I looked up to find her standing there. She was wearing her blue biosuit, the one that accentuates the colour of her eyes, and looming over me in her typical prim manner. My usual sarcastic response to her presents was poised on my lips, but for some reason instead of simply dismissing her unheard I took the time to look at her. Not just her body, or her face, but to look into her eyes, and that's when it happened, that's when I began to fall.
Began to fall! God, I'm beginning to sound like one of those soppy holo-novels, the next thing you know I'll develop a case of the vapours and faint ever time Seven walks into a room. Ha! Klingon's do not faint, not even half Klingon's, well unless there is medically something seriously wrong, even then we tend to grunt and sit down purposefully before with a glare at all those around us passing out.
I guess I acted rather strangely, but then how is a married half Klingon in love with a former Borg Human meant to act? As I may be the only creature in the universe to adhere to those criteria I suppose sending the object of your love to the other end of the ship in an attempt to stay as far away from her as possible, and then joining her there as you can't bear not to see her, is normal behaviour. I did it often enough. Each time the Captain would send Seven down to help out in engineering I would find some excuse to have her work as far from me as possible, for half an hour I'd manage to get on with my work before the need to see her became too strong, then I'd head off to find her. I'm surprised more people didn't comment on it, as it was Vorik pointed out to me that it would be more efficient to assign Seven to work in engineering if I was so concerned about the quality of her work that I had to continuously check up on her. So that's what I began to do.
We'd be working at one of the engineering consoles, our shoulders brushing against one another, the heat from her body seeping into me, spreading a different kind of heat throughout my body. Occasionally her fingers would graze mine, or our legs would touch for a second as we adjusted our stance. Neither of us mentioned using the next console to give us more space. I know why I didn't say anything, I just wish I knew why she didn't.
Would knowing she feels the way I do make things easier? Or would the knowledge of what I could have had make me all the more miserable? Would it be fair to her to reveal how I feel? Could I explain properly how the baby has changed everything?
How can I explain that leaving Tom is no-longer an option? She is so rational in her thinking process, I can hear her now, 'You are not in love with Lieutenant Paris, so it is illogical for you to remain married to him.', and she'd be right. What I need for her to understand is that I'm not staying to be a wife to Tom, I'm staying with him to provide a father for my child.
One of my earliest memories is of my father playing shuttles with me, taking my arms and swinging me around in a big circle. I felt loved, and wanted. Memories after that are filled with my mother and her anger and a big gaping hole where my fathers love used to be. It's not just that I lost a father when he walked out, but in someway I lost my mother too. I've watched Samantha Wildman with Naomi, the love and trust that's between them, and know it was missing in my own childhood, and I won't let that happen to my child. If that means giving up Seven, then I will.
I must.
I just wish I knew if she loved me.
Lieutenant Torres is expecting a child. I was informed of this fact at 16.49 hours by Lieutenant Paris, her husband, the child's father.
Since becoming an individual I have never wished assimilation on anyone, until today. Standing in that small group with the Captain and Commander Tuvok, listening to Paris telling everyone about 'his' baby, I could almost feel my assimilation tubules begin flight towards his neck.
I did not assimilate him. Not today.
On prompting from the Captain I even managed to offer him congratulations. The offer was not sincere. I do not care how many children Thomas Eugene Paris fathers, I just care that he has fathered one with her.
Standing in that group, listening to talk of baby showers and the sleepless nights of teething, I tried not to think of her. But her name was everywhere. 'B'Elanna will make a wonderful mother', 'how did B'Elanna take the news', 'what does B'Elanna want a girl or boy?' Every time someone mentioned her name I could see her in my mind, her face open and smiling that special smile I had come to treasure over the last few months. Each image became a pain digging in my chest, each recital of her name a reason to run from the room.
I stayed. I couldn't let Paris see how upset the news had left me. I couldn't betray my feelings to him, and perhaps with them her feelings. If her feelings were what I thought them to be. If she shared even a fraction of the love I felt for her. If. Only one word, but encompassed within it are all the doubts and hopes I am capable of feeling. I once took pleasure in that if, it was safe to think but not know how she felt, it meant I had hope. Now hope is irrelevant. If she loves me it is too late, if she doesn't... It is strange, knowing if she loves me can only bring pain, but still I need to know.
She will make a good mother. I could help make her a good mother.
No. She has Paris to help her raise the child, he might even been sufficient for the task, but I will inform Mr Neelix to stand by with parenting advice. I could help, in some small way, I've had experience with children. I would like to help with her child. It will be a beautiful child, it couldn't be anything less with her as a mother, but I fear for the ships soundproofing when it decides to be stubborn and refuse something.
She won't leave him now, not with a baby coming. I've heard the way she talks about her father leaving, the hurt that's still barely contained under the surface. I can understand. I may not agree but I do understand, I too know what it's like to loose a parent. I lost both, and my childhood, I will not make her choose a course of action that she believes will deprive her child of a parents love. Not that I think it would happen, for all his faults Tom Paris would not neglect his child if B'Elanna left him. Unfortunately I don't think she realises that, or is just too scared to take the chance.
I do not even know if she would want my help with the child. If she loves me would she want a reminder of what cannot be so close at hand. If she does not love me would she think to allow me into the life of her precious child. If she loves me.
I can carry on this with life as it is, my work, my friendships, but I need to know.
Does she love me?
The End