Disclaimer: Voyager belongs to Paramount Pictures. No infringement intended.
When you've been sitting upright, in a chair, on the bridge for most of the day, there is nothing, absolutely nothing like slipping on a soft nightgown and relying on a pillow to balance all of your weight. You sink down into the softness that enfolds itself around your body, gracing your skin with a seductive warmth. And that only adds to the comfort that continually seduces you towards sleep. Add to that a cup of hot coffee, steaming off to the side of the bed, on the table and a PADD in hand; you're happy to be alive.
Reaching for the anonymous PADD, as I had so lovingly named it, I wanted to find out not only what was going to happen next, but who wrote the damned thing to begin with. It was a problem, this not knowing. But, I reminded myself of the kudos of upper command -- how my security codes could override just about everything on the ship.
But those sentiments of noble success always had an opportunity to vanish, especially when the Doctor hails you just as you bring the covers up to your chin, ready to settle in for the night.
"Doctor to the Captain."
Just like that. I wanted to screech like an Irish Banshee, rip out my hair like a madwoman and assimilate with a vengeance if only I still had a Borg nanoprob or two handy in my angry system.
"Doctor," staccato was ever so evident in my voice. "It's 1:23 in the morning. It's been a long day. This had better be good."
"No sooner do I return -- a salvaged hologram -- than I am --"
"Doctor," I stated warningly.
"As much as I hate to disturb you and be awarded with such an end-of-the day-foul-mood," he sighed, "Captain, you're needed in sickbay at once."
I smoothed my hands over my warm covers. I fingered the PADD longingly. I glanced sadly to the left at my cup of coffee whose temperature was cooling off to just the right degree. I. raised my eyes heavenward, toward the ceiling and then sighed, trying not to cry.
"Captain?!" the EMH stated again.
"On my way," I stated as dully as I had earlier, on the bridge, to that pussy-cat of the week.
"You know," B'Elanna smiled. "I think she was originally looking for you."
Chakotay was happy to be spending some time with B'Elanna, even if it meant having to keep with Tom Paris' company for the night. Tom and Lanna were sprawled out on the sofa and Chakotay sat comfortably on the floor, his back against the structure. They had decided to watch a movie on the TV set that Torres had, only a year ago, replicated and assembled for Tom Paris.
"Shh," Tom stated, trying to keep his hand over B'Elanna's mouth in an attempt to hush her. "This is the good par--Owe!" he exclaimed, as his finger was bitten.
"Is that my cue to leave?" Chakotay grinned, knowing all too well it wasn't, but implying the Klingon-mating ritual tidbit as a risky joke.
"Very funny," B'Elanna stated and rectified the damage done to her husband with a soft kiss to his cheek. "Anyhow--"
"Shh," Tom stated again.
B'Elanna ignored him, "As I was saying. I think she originally wanted you. To hold your hand. All of it."
"I'm not surprised," Chakotay stretched slightly. It was 1:35 in the morning and he was growing weary. "I'm her first officer and there would have been less risk using me than any of the other crew members."
Tom snorted.
B'Elanna and Chakotay looked at him.
"Does that mean anything in particular, Paris?" Chakotay asked.
"Less risk my ass. She was looking to actually take a risk today," he stated in response, his eyes not even leaving the movie on the tv set.
"What my husband-dear is trying to say is that the Captain wanted to peg you as her man, in front of the crew," B'Elanna explained.
Chakotay was silent with thought.
"Exactly," B'Elanna teased, seriously, knowing it was finally sinking in.
Chakotay got a slightly satisfied look to his face, "I wonder what she's doing now. Well," he said after a moment. "I think I'll be heading to bed now." He stood and smiled down at the young couple before turning to leave. "Good night.
"Hey, Chakotay!" Tom's voice halted him right at the door.
"Yes?" he asked and turned to face them both again.
"Sweet dreams!" B'Elanna stated, finishing what her husband had started.