DISCLAIMER: Angst. This has a whole lot of angst, no joy here. This was put to paper during a recent time of darkness. It was originally a stand - alone, but a second part needed to be done, and then the third.
I don't own the ship or those that sail in it. I am just a writer using the characters for non profit. Ok, I think that covers it all.
A big thank you goes out to DeeJay. Thanks for the kinds words and encouragement when it was needed.
In the flames the Phoenix will die, and all that is left is ashes and dying hope.
Our baby died today. Our little precious bundle who barely had a chance at life ceased to function at precisely 14:32:02. Weighing a mere 6 pounds 4 ounces. Such a tiny thing, yet she was capable of bringing such untold bliss to us.
The moment I held her in my arms, a warmth like no other came into my heart and found residence there. Who knew that within hours she would be cruelly ripped from our grasp and is now nothing more then dead organic matter and memories.
B'Elanna is inconsolable. My wife who proudly held her and wept for joy over her. Now she unashameably weeps for Kahless himself to take care of little Nikita. Our little warrior. Brown eyes, blonde hair and little ridges. I still hear her little cry, and see those little hands reaching out for a warm body.
Harry sits by the crib, holding a little rattle in the shape of twin hearts. Our rock that selflessly gave us his seed. Now he sits a shattered man, his once always happy face shiny and wet with tears.
We still don't know how it happened. One minute we were toasting new life, the next we found ourselves on the floor, piping and wires hanging from the ceiling, the foul smell of fire and burnt flesh everywhere. When I got to my feet, I found them both under a fallen bed. Little Nikita was cradled in the arms of Tom when the blast ripped through the sickbay. Both were killed instantly.
I now find myself wandering the ship, trying to find the cause and seek answers.
I once prided in my ability to remain free of human weakness. This ex Borg was not going to allow weakness to mar the perfection she sought.
I hadn't counted on my wife B'Elanna courting me and winning my heart. She pursued me, until her love I couldn't escape. Nikita came only months after our wedding.
I find myself back at the crib with Harry and my beloved. My wife, whose quarters were devoted to work and was sparsely designed, became filled with items devoted to a new life. From the crib, to a stuffed Targ to little bootees. The gifts from our fellow crew still unopened.
Now the room just mocks us. A reminder of what we have lost and shall never have.
The ache I don't think will ever leave.
It is a wound that I cannot erase, heal, or seek to understand.
How do we go on, when I don't have the heart to?
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