Author: Amiroq. the KiTfox

Email: fitchett@netaccess.co.nz

Size: 8K

Rating: G

Codes: Angst, Song story

Summary: B'Elanna takes a certain piece of news a little badly and tries to blame the messenger

Disclaimer: Trek is owned by Paramount, Blame it on the Weatherman is owned by B*Witched.

I pull the PADD away from my chest and gaze for a few moments at the picture on it. He looks great, his charcoal black hair falling in his dark mahogany eyes and the most amazing grin on his face that almost has me melting on the spot.

Not again, I tell myself. Not now.

It was Tom who told me the bad news. Three days, eleven hours ago. Damn you, Tom Paris. It's all your fault, you know that? If it weren't for you.... Breathe. Count to ten slowly. One, two, three. In, out.

But he must have had something to do with it. Harry wouldn't do that to me. I know he wouldn't. And Tom still loves me, I know he does. He must have said something...

It's easier out here, of course. Being away from everyone, away from work, away from all the pressures and stresses and responsibilities. I look at the picture again, and suddenly I have an urge to throttle Tom Paris. You took him away from me. You don't deserve this shore leave.

I hurl the PADD out to the sea in my rage and watch with satisfaction as it splashes in the foamy water.

A few seconds later I am hit with remorse, and so I'm glad when it washes back onto the shore. I climb down the cliff path and retrieve it. Lucky for me these things are designed to be waterproof. Harry's image is still on it, grinning at me. A native seabird squawks, and the waves wash onto the sand before my feet, reminding me that there's no one here besides me. No one to hear me, no matter how loud I yell. What the hell?

"HARRY!" The name echoes off the cliffs and reverberates back at me. "HARRY! Harry! Harry! Harry..."

I smile grimly and sit down, lie back, and stare up at the clouds above, the only witnesses to my pain. The only things that will ever know how Tom hurt me when he told me: the clouds, the cliffs, the water, the sand. And

the PADD with Harry's image on it. Damn you all. Why did you do this to me? Tom, Harry? The universe?

I know that as soon as I get back everything will be the same. I'll have to work, and they'll both be there, in Engineering, in the messhall, at staff briefings. I'll see them both every day, for weeks and months and years,

until we get home or die trying. I know my only respite is going to be the times I can get away, like today, so I'd better enjoy it while I can.

Not that I can enjoy it, of course but... y'know.

I start to sing, softly, the song he used to sing for me when I told him all those things about my childhood, like when my father left, when I was beaten up on my eighth birthday, and then on my thirteenth when I was raped and Luz Mejia was murdered. I close my eyes and remember it, the way he used to hold me in his arms and sing until I stopped crying, and how good his arms felt around me, like a blanket, a blanket of love. It was a pop song, I believe, by StreetYs, but one of those sweet ones that sounds like it should be a lullaby.

Remember I am near.

Yeah, right. If you meant it... You couldn't even tell me yourself. You had to send that... Tom. That jerk.

There's nothing I can do, of course, I know that. No matter how much I beg, or pray, or wait. My God can't do anything to help me here, and I know that if I stand by and wait he'll find another girl. But if I beg him he'll Just get embarrassed and awkward and I'll lose his friendship as well. I don't want that, I love him so much... I just want to be close to him. Damn you, Tom Paris. I know, I've said that so many times.

But I can't blame him. I always do this, don't I? Look for someone to blame, I mean. Either me, or the wrong person. It's not his fault. I don't suppose it's anyone's really.

I gaze at the clouds, and the cliffs, and the water, all those things that have listened to my thoughts this past half hour or so. Goodbye. I should go, now, back to Voyager, back to Engineering, back to work. Goodbye, Tarsos. Thank you for listening. For being the only one to do so.

And so I walk off, up the cliff path, the PADD still in my swinging hand. I glance at it again, at the picture, and make up my mind. I'm moving on. And the first step...

"Hey, Tarsos! Something to remember me by!" And I fling the PADD out to sea. This time it doesn't wash up.

Goodbye.

FINIS