TITLE: REFLECTIONS OF A BRIDE
AUTHOR: RFK
SERIES: VOY
CODE: T/m
RATING: [PG]
SUMMARY: Bride-to-be, B'Elanna Torres,
reflects on her choices
for a mate minutes before her wedding.
Set in mid-Season 6.
FEEDBACK: june_daley@rocketmail.com
- Be my guest. But
please, be kind.
DISCLAIMER: Tom, B'Elanna,
Harry and all other characters
related to Star Trek Voyager belong
to Paramount, Viacom and
the usual Trek Powers to Be.
Dammit!
"REFLECTIONS OF A BRIDE" by RFK
Married. Kahless, I can't believe
it! I, B'Elanna Torres,
will be getting married. Never
in my wildest dreams did I
imagine I would find someone willing
to put up with a volatile,
unattractive half-Klingon.
But apparently there was someone.
It seems strange that I would marry
someone whom I considered
as a friend for such a long time.
From the moment we first
met, he accepted me. He never
backed away, hid or ran
screaming for his life. Instead,
he simply offered his
friendship. I like that.
Not many people - including me -
seem willing to accept me so quickly.
Well, I can think of one
other.
The door chime rings. Ah, speak
of the devil. It's Chakotay
here to escort me to the Mess Hall
and the groom. Good old
Chakotay. Hmmm. There
was a time I would have longed to marry
him. After all, I did maintain
an infatuation of Chakotay for
over two years.
"B'Elanna." He greets me with
that dimpled smile, which has
dazzled so many women throughout
two quadrants. "Ready to face
your future husband?"
I smile as brightly as I can.
"I've been facing him for over
five years. Today shouldn't
be any different." Kahless! I
almost sound like a Vulcan.
Chakotay responds with another smile.
"Then I guess today
should be a piece of cake."
"Maybe," I grumble. "I know
that I look like one." I am
referring to, of course, my wedding
dress. I can't believe I'm
wearing one. I wanted to wear
my formal uniform, but my fiancé
convinced me to wear a dress.
With a veil. Gods! What was I
thinking?
Chakotay assures me that I look beautiful.
Naturally, I don't
believe him. If I was completely
Human - like 85 to 90% of the
women aboard this ship - I would.
The Best Man once suggested
that I wear a Klingon wedding dress
- red leather. I
appreciated the suggestion, but
decided to disregard the Best
Man. As usual.
We leave the sanctuary of my quarters
and proceed along the
corridor, toward the turbolift.
Staring ahead, I try to ignore
the stares from passing crewmen.
I should have known this damn
dress was a mistake. I should
have worn my uniform. Okay,
B'Elanna. Calm down.
Just calm down. We're almost at the
turbolift.
Did Mother go through this barrage
of nerves on her wedding
day? I doubt it. Not
Miral, daugher of L'Naan. I bet that
she wore red leather, despite marrying
a Human. Maybe she
should have been nervous -considering
that Human turned out to
be the wrong man. And
John Torres was the wrong man. Can I
say the same about my future husband?
Finally, the turbolift. Chakotay
and I step inside and my
train nearly gets caught between
the doors. Damn dress! "Deck
Two," Chakotay orders and the lift
moves. He turns to me.
"Still nervous?"
I give him my darkest glare and growl.
Not very matrimonial,
but he did piss me off. "I'm
not nervous," I snap back. "I
haven't been nervous at all."
The smile on Chakotay's face
tells me that he believes otherwise.
Bastard.
Okay, I don't really mean that.
Chakotay is probably one of
the most trustworthy men I have
ever met. Probably the most
trustworthy. But he does not
understand me. Not really. He
accepts me - to a certain degree.
But he always lectures me
about my temper. I get
the feeling he would prefer if I
suppress it, Vulcan style.
Or obliterate it completely. My
temper seems to make him uncomfortable.
He dislikes bloodwine
- can't really blame him, there.
And when I had approached
about my visions of Grethor some
four or five months ago, he
dismissed them as possible illusions
on my part. Strange, he
never harbored such view regarding
his own spirituality.
My fiance's views on Klingon culture
is a little more open.
Somewhat. He takes them in
stride. Sometimes. Okay, in
reality, he is really no better
than Chakotay, but I don't have
to listen to lectures on temper
control from him. Besides,
his attitude really suits me, just
fine. I no longer mind
facing my Klingon side every now
and then. Somewhat. But you
won't catch me becoming a born-again
Klingon.
The turbolift stops at Deck Two.
Chakotay steps out. I
hesitate. Why did I hesitate?
I'm getting married, for
Kahless' sake! To the one
man who has been consistent during
the last five years of my life.
He has stood by me during so
many crisis in my life - those early,
difficult months in the
Delta Quadrant; the aftermath of
the Vidiian mines, my
infatuation with Chakotay, those
telepathic dreams, thanks to
Jora Mirell; the embarrassment of
Vorik's pon farr; news of the
Maquis' destruction; my depression
. . . Gods! I have been
through a lot! And he has
been with me every step of the way.
The wrong man? Hell, I can
think of other men who probably
deserve that title.
"Coming B'Elanna?" Chakotay asks.
He gives me a questioning
look. Okay, I am nervous.
Nervous, but determined. I step
out of the turbolift and we proceed
along the corridor.
The wrong men in my life. Let's
see. How about Roberto from
the Maquis? Poor Roberto.
Either he is dead or languishing
inside a Federation prison.
The same Roberto who used me to
get over his fiancée, murdered
by the Cardies. I didn't mind.
I used him for sexual release and
nothing else.
Another candidate - Ensign Freddie
Barstow. He had a crush on
me, once. I wonder if he still
does. Of course, I couldn't
care less. I still find him
shallow. And he is still a lousy
Parises Square player.
Vorik was the first man to ask me
to marry him. Naturally, I
said no. Vorik is a nice man.
And warm for a Vulcan. But I
don't think I can deal with years
of Vulcan stoicism,
punctuated by pon farr, every seven
years. And to be honest,
Sakari IV will always come between
us. I suspect he remains
privately horrified by his actions
and my humiliation of him.
And I keep a wary eye on the calendar,
knowing that his next
pon farr is due in another four
years.
And then there was Max Burke.
My old Academy boyfriend. He
was not the sort of man one would
seriously consider as a mate.
Thank Kahless I didn't. Ten
years after we dated, we had a
reunion when Voyager encountered
his ship, the Equinox, in the
Delta Quadrant. A reunion
that turned into a major
disappointment, especially after
we learned that Max, his
captain and the remaining Equinox
crew were killing alien life
forms for fuel to get their ship
back to the Alpha Quadrant.
Max had changed from the charming
and smooth man I knew into a
genocidal killer.
The doors to the Mess Hall slide
open. It looks like many of
Voyager's crew had gathered for
the wedding. This is a
mistake. I should break away.
Escape. But I have no reason
to run. I'm going to marry
a wonderful man. The most
dependable man I have ever met,
next to Chakotay. I can always
depend upon him to make me happy.
Not leave me. He is no Max
Burke.
My eyes focus upon the two men standing
before the Captain. I
smile at the shorter man.
The groom. Next to him stands the
Best Man. The same man who
had suggested I wear a Klingon
wedding dress. The same man
who once propositioned me during
an Away mission. The
same man whom I tried to mate with,
while in a state of pon farr.
And the same man with whom I
nearly died, while we floated in
space over two years ago.
He reminds me of Max Burke so much.
Perhaps, too much. The
Best Man, I mean. Both possessed
the same superficial charm,
smooth tongue and ability to shut
people out. I'm not saying
that he may become a killer, like
Max. But I simply cannot see
him as the type to commit to a permanent
relationship. I'd
rather live with his friendship
than with the fear he might get
bored with me. Or worse, leave
me. So, I kept my distance
from him, as much as possible.
Until he finally realized that
I was not interested in romance.
After I stop before my husband, I
release Chakotay's arm. I
smile at him. The groom, I
mean. And try to ignore the taller
man at his side. Captain Janeway
smiles. "Ready?" she asks.
We both nod. Then she begins.
"We are gathered here today,
as friends, to celebrate the marriage
of two family members.
As captain of Voyager, the honor
falls upon me to join them
together as husband and wife."
Yes, this is a Federation ceremony.
The Best Man had suggested
to include a Klingon ritual in the
ceremony, but the decision
was left to me. I said no.
He became disappointed. Why? Why
is he still so interested in Klingon
culture?
"Henry Kim," the Captain continues,
"do you take B'Elanna
Torres as your lawful wedded wife?"
Henry? Huh.
In a firm voice, Harry, my future
husband, answers, "I do." Oh
Gods! The point of no return.
The Captain turns to me. "B'Elanna
Torres, do you take Henry
Kim as your lawful wedded husband?"
My mouth gapes open. What will
I say? Yes? No? Memories
flash through my mind in an instant.
Memories of a fair-haired
man comforting a frightened Human
woman in the Vidiian mines.
Three friends sharing pizza inside
my quarters. Harry's
pleasant kisses. Those disturbing
kisses in the Sakari caves.
Max Burke's smooth face. Me
comforting Harry after his
experiences with the Nakin memorial.
A wedding proposal.
Max's dispassionate voice.
An announcement. Shock, followed
by disappointment in a pair of blue
eyes.
Say no. Say no, B'Elanna.
You know this is wrong. In your
heart. Max's face appears
once more. Then it transforms into
Tom Paris' face. I open my
mouth. The words spill out. "I
will."
Harry and I exchange rings.
I try to ignore those same blue
eyes drilling into the back of my
neck. Oh yes, the Captain.
"Ensign Henry Kim. Lieutenant B'Elanna
Torres. With the power
vested in my by Starfleet Command,
and the United Federation of
Planets, I now pronounce you husband
and wife." She smiles.
"Well, ensign. You have my
permission to kiss the bride."
Laughter fills the hall. Harry
grins. I give him a weak
smile. Warm, pleasant lips
press against mine. Forbidden
memories of Sakari IV rise appear
in my mind, again. I quite
forcibly erase them.
Time to congratulate the bride and
groom. The Captain gives
each of us a hug. So do Neelix
and Samantha Wildman. Seven
offers us her congratulations -
Borg style. The Doctor's
felicitations are more warmer.
Tuvok's more solemn. Chakotay
pecks my cheek and shakes Harry's
hand. After nearly everyone
else has rushed forward to congratulate
us, it was the Best
Man's turn. I hold my breath.
Tom gives Harry a bear hug.
"Congratulations, buddy," he says
warmly. "You are one lucky
man." Now why didn't he say that I
was a lucky woman?
Then he turns to me. Blue eyes
seem darker than usual.
Hypnotic. "B'Elanna," he greets
in a soft voice.
"Congratulations." Warm, soft
lips press against the edge of
my mouth. I inhale.
His scent fills my head, making me dizzy.
The truth finally hits me.
I have made a mistake. A big
mistake. Thanks to my cowardice,
I have married the wrong man.
And now I'll have to live with this
mistake for who knows how
long. Kahless! What
am I going to do, now?
THE END