Faking It | PG13 | Star Trek: Voyager
Title: Faking It
Prompt: She feels nothing.
Challenge: A to Z Drabble Meme; B is for B’Elanna
Fandom: B’Elanna, Star Trek: Voyager
Requested by: theoriginalshorty
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 466
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Set post-Extreme Risk.
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B’Elanna stares at the swirling blue of the warp core and feels nothing. There was a time when she would look into its shimmering depths and feel a surge of affection for the heart of her ship. She’d behold it with such reverence, such appreciation for its beauty.
Now when she looks at it, she sees only a mass of energy, an inanimate thing. The memory of her love for Voyager’s engine room resides within her, but she can no longer recall the sensation of warm affection she’d once felt.
Life is different now without emotions. She feels as though she’s no longer seeing the world in color, instead only viewing her surroundings in shades of gray. There is no warmth, no laughter, no purpose. There is only numbness.
Since the day Chakotay intervened and forced her to confront her pain, B’Elanna has been trying to come back to life. Though she’s no longer drifting absent-mindedly through the motions of her days, it’s taken a supreme amount of effort to try and engage with her job and her peers. It feels so much like she’s faking it and she bristles at the notion. She hates people who are inauthentic, who hide behind completely forced facades. She never thought she’d become one of them.
If her mother could see her now, she’d likely call her a disgrace to her Klingon heritage. Klingon’s don’t disengage or hide-to do so would be an act of supreme cowardice. Despite the turmoil that exists between mother and daughter, B’Elanna cannot help but wish that Miral were there to provoke her into an angry confrontation. She’d at least feel something, and anger is an emotion B’Elanna’s familiar with. She needs that push; she won’t ask for help, but she knows she needs it.
B’Elanna’s never been a patient woman. That’s the hardest part of what she’s going through: the endless wait for things to return to normal. When is it supposed to happen? How will it happen? Will a switch be thrown in her head, allowing her to feel again? She suspects that it won’t be that simple. If there’s one thing she’s learned as a half-Klingon, it’s that if you want something, you have to make it happen yourself.
She breaks her gaze at the warp core and picks up a spanner, crouching down to the open panel that she’s been neglecting. She still feels disconnected from her work, from her life, but she can’t sit idly by while it continues on without her. Perhaps she will be faking it. Perhaps she will simply be going through the motions. She can no longer search for her humanity through pain, so she must content herself with the alternative.
B’Elanna longs for the day when she won’t be faking it anymore.
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Prompt: She feels nothing.
Challenge: A to Z Drabble Meme; B is for B’Elanna
Fandom: B’Elanna, Star Trek: Voyager
Requested by: theoriginalshorty
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 466
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Set post-Extreme Risk.
-
B’Elanna stares at the swirling blue of the warp core and feels nothing. There was a time when she would look into its shimmering depths and feel a surge of affection for the heart of her ship. She’d behold it with such reverence, such appreciation for its beauty.
Now when she looks at it, she sees only a mass of energy, an inanimate thing. The memory of her love for Voyager’s engine room resides within her, but she can no longer recall the sensation of warm affection she’d once felt.
Life is different now without emotions. She feels as though she’s no longer seeing the world in color, instead only viewing her surroundings in shades of gray. There is no warmth, no laughter, no purpose. There is only numbness.
Since the day Chakotay intervened and forced her to confront her pain, B’Elanna has been trying to come back to life. Though she’s no longer drifting absent-mindedly through the motions of her days, it’s taken a supreme amount of effort to try and engage with her job and her peers. It feels so much like she’s faking it and she bristles at the notion. She hates people who are inauthentic, who hide behind completely forced facades. She never thought she’d become one of them.
If her mother could see her now, she’d likely call her a disgrace to her Klingon heritage. Klingon’s don’t disengage or hide-to do so would be an act of supreme cowardice. Despite the turmoil that exists between mother and daughter, B’Elanna cannot help but wish that Miral were there to provoke her into an angry confrontation. She’d at least feel something, and anger is an emotion B’Elanna’s familiar with. She needs that push; she won’t ask for help, but she knows she needs it.
B’Elanna’s never been a patient woman. That’s the hardest part of what she’s going through: the endless wait for things to return to normal. When is it supposed to happen? How will it happen? Will a switch be thrown in her head, allowing her to feel again? She suspects that it won’t be that simple. If there’s one thing she’s learned as a half-Klingon, it’s that if you want something, you have to make it happen yourself.
She breaks her gaze at the warp core and picks up a spanner, crouching down to the open panel that she’s been neglecting. She still feels disconnected from her work, from her life, but she can’t sit idly by while it continues on without her. Perhaps she will be faking it. Perhaps she will simply be going through the motions. She can no longer search for her humanity through pain, so she must content herself with the alternative.
B’Elanna longs for the day when she won’t be faking it anymore.
---