Title: A Whisper to a Scream, part one
Author: Judith Medina
Email: odogoddess@aol.com
Size: 18K
Rating: R
Codes: A, F; C/T
Teaser: Set just after Faces, B'Elanna is set on enjoying her new-found -
though short-lived - 'humanity'.

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 Medina (OdoGoddess@aol.com)

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


After Chakotay left the 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