Star Trek: Voyager Title: Inflicted Wound Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Paramount and Viacom. No money is being made and no infringement is intended. Rating: PG Codes: T Written By: LittleBee Dedication: To Elsa, who didn't stay long enough, and to Kes, who keeps fighting. Summary: Set almost 20 years before Caretaker. B'Elanna goes through the worst night of her life. She crawled further back against the wall, hiding in the small gap between the couch and the old terran grandfatherclock that stood half-hidden behind a brown leather armchair. She tried to tune out the yelling and namecalling, which she did not fully understand, while clutching her teddybear to her chest. The words they spat at each other echoed in her mind as she tried making any sense of them. She knew that this particular fight had not yet culminated, since they still had both furniture and porcelain intact, but she couldn't judge how long it would be until the first vase flew towards her father. As she sat there, tears rolling down her cheeks, she tried to label the fight, something she had always done, and thought very important. How bad was this fight really? What could make it stop? A kind word? An accidentally inflicted wound? Or was this one of those fights that only passed when, and if, the two belligerent parts had gotten themselves a night's sleep? By the sound of their yelling and the rate at which her mother sputted out Klingon epithets, the girl guessed that this was another of those fights, which could last for days, if not weeks, and always made her father decide to sleep at work. Closing her eyes, and letting her teddybear fall to the floor, she put her hands over her ears and tried to pretend she wasn't there. Once again she tried tuning the fight out, but with little success. During the last months or so she had got a lot of practise and one would think that it would be easy for her to do so, but an especially harsh word, a threat or something breaking against a wall would always bring her back from the pink dreamworld she tried imagining. She was so afraid. She loved both her parents dearly, and never wanted them to be hurt. The things her mother said, the threats, the accusations, while they were cruel and could well mean disaster if implemented, were infact just threats. Her mother was not a very strong woman. She had her Klingon physical strenght, and with that she could kill, no doubt. She had her temper, and her headstrongness. She was not an easy woman to live with, but the angry threats rarely turned real, and in that sense she was weak. The girl's father, though, was a very consequent man. He was physically weaker than his wife, he was human, but yet, what he said was law. What he said always came true and they all feared him for that. Right now they were arguing about something she didn't understand. She had heard her name being mentioned a few times, thrown in among the Klingon curses, and she knew that somehow she had to be the reason behind this fight too. She knew vaguely what she had done. She had put up a fight when her daddy had come to pick her up from school. She had shown her Klingon side and all the ugly features that followed, and accidentially kicked her father. She hadn't meant to, by Kahless, she loved her father and never wanted to hurt him, but the ugly Klingon-ness had taken over. Admittedly, that had been the only incidence, but she knew deep down that she had behaved badly for a longer period of time. She didn't know how long exactly, but she estimated, in her own childish way, that it must have been about a half eternity. However, during this half eternity she hadn't only showed proof of her Klingon side, she knew that full and well. Her mother continuously told her when she acted like a coward, a p'tahk, a human. It wasn't deliberately, god knows she tried her best to be strong and courageous, but it wasn't always that easy when the boys at school made fun of her ridges, and she knew that she disappointed her mother by not fighting them back. The thought made her stomachs turn all inside-out, and her heart cringe with pain. She wanted their love so desperately, like a Targ that had been starving for months. She wanted them to be proud of her, Klingon and Human. She had seen the 'normal' children in the colony when they were with their families. She'd seen how they never needed to act up just to please or avoid arguments. She wished that she was normal like them, so that her parents could enjoy the time they spent with her without being bothered by her faults and losses. She wished she wasn't such a burden. ~*~ ~*~ The breaking of a vase hitting the wall right above her head woke her from her thoughts. She closed her eyes hard as the pieces rained over her head and tried to avoid getting them into her pyjama jacket. She smiled a little, and took comfort in the fact that at least her father hadn't been hit yet. After all this was all her fault and he shouldn't be punished for what he hadn't done. Another vase broke against a wall and she knew confidently that it would soon be over. 'It won't be long!' She told herself, as she brushed the shards of her pyjamapants and crawled behind the armchair. If she leaned enough to the right, she could see them where they stood, her mother holding a procelain figure in her hand, her father fuming with anger. The girl knew that the piece had been in the Human part of the family for ages, and that her mother had avoided it so far for that reason. She knew that her mother was going to throw it at her father, and that it would break, but she didn't care, as long as her father had time to move out of the way so that he wouldn't be hurt. The figure, though, was still placed securely in her mother's hands, as the woman glared at her husband. "You are a disgrace to your family, p'tahk. If you were a Klingon you would be dead long ago. If you weren't such an unworthy opponent I would kill you myself!" The words were spoken slowly, but yet they seemed as if they'd been spitted out. The girl held her breath. This was the crucial moment. One word could make everything alright again. The question was just if it would come. "I'm so damn sick of your 'honour', your temper, your fucking Klingon headstrongness! I can't stand either of you any longer... You sicken me!" He spat defiantly on the floor near his Klingon wife's feet, turned on his heals and marched out of the room. The porcelain figure joined him, closely followed by two others. The girl dove down into the safe space between the clock and the couch again as glass pieces, and eventually furniture, started to fly through the room. The girl, knowing by experience, a safe was out started to make her way behind the couch to the sanctuary of the corridor. She crawled out of the door as she heard her mother start screaming. ~*~ ~*~ A big brown trunk was on the bed. The girl peeked carefully around the corner before daring to sneak inside. She eyed her father suspiciously, and hesitantly sat down next to the bag. She could hear her mother howling from the familyroom, telling her husband to get 'his sorry ass' out of her life. He was throwing down clothes into the bag, avoiding to look at his daughter, knowing that she understood what he'd said before. That he couldn't stand her. Her Klingon-ness. He shoved her out of the way as she tried to get his attention by acting like a baby, wanting him to hold her in his arms. "Daddy?" She whispered, feeling an all too familiar lump in her chest. "Daddy! Mama didn't mean it. She's just angry, she'll take it back. Please daddy, stop packing!" He held up for a moment and met her desperate brown eyes. They were wet and dimmy, and he knew that she was on the verge of crying. He wanted to take her in his arms and make everything alright, but knew that if he did, he would stay and this whole circus from hell would start over again. "You don't know what you're talking about!" He snapped, knowing that he made her cry, and wanting to die for it. He closed the bag and locked it with two loud click's and practically heaved it off the bed. "Daddy!" She squeaked desperately, gripping the handle on the trunk so desperately that her knuckles turned white. "Daddy! Don't leave!" He looked down at her, his eyes glittering in the faint light. "Let go of the bag!" He ordered, the glittering long gone. She stared up at him defiantly. "Do as I tell you!" He barked, making her throw herself flat against the wall behind her. "Don't leave please! Mama loves you! I know that. Please don't be mad at her for throwing things at you. Please stay here with us. Mama loves you!" 'And so do I!' She added in her mind, but she knew that he wouldn't want to know that. Not now. Not ever. No one wanted to be loved by her, the ugly half- Klingon. Never full anything, he would probably not believe that she could love him with all of her heart. Maybe she couldn't. Perhaps that was the problem. She watched him pick up the bag and slowly walk out of the room. She stared after him, paralyzed, before she set off and trew her arms around his waist. Slipping down, she grabbed a tight hold of his left knee. "Daddy!" She yelled, crying full now, unstoppable, desperate. "Daddy! I promise I'll be better. I won't fight any more. I won't make any trouble, never again. I'll do what ever you want, I'll go to bed without a fuss, I'll eat all the peas... and the porridge." She was pleading now she knew it. Her mother would yell at her for it later but she didn't care. She wanted her daddy to stay, more than anything. He shook her off his leg, and squat down beside her where she lay, in a heap, shaking with fear and sorrow. "I have to go, Bee." He stroke her cheek. "Make sure nobody pushes you around. Ever! Promise me that!" She nodded, not knowing what he meant but knowing that she had to nod. She wanted to tell him so many things, she wanted to know when he'd be back. The door shut in front of her; her body felt so cold. He hadn't hugged her, had hardly touched her... Leaning her hands on the door she threw herself forward, banging her head against the hard metal surface. "Daddy, don't leave! Please come back... I promise I'll be better." She heard hard footsteps on the floor and knew that her mother had come to stand behind her. She could hear by the growls that she was still angry. "Don't sit there crying over things you do not have the power to change. He is a coward, he won't come back. He never loved us, we are Klingon, and he is human..." She didn't continue, but the girl knew it was merely because her mother didn't want to say it to her face. She was the one who was too Klingon. He'd known what he bargained for when he married a Klingon, but the daughter, he couldn't have imagined that someone half-Klingon could be so Klingon. Maybe, infact very likely, she was to blame. She had scared her father away and now they might never be a family again. ~*~ ~*~ The sound of glasses breaking woke her up from her nightmare. She had dreamt that her father hadn't come back. Ever again. She wiped her tearstained cheeks and whished her father was there to kiss her and tuck her in. She heard her mother growl quietly, although heartbreaking. It was a hollow sound, echoing in the house, sounding much like a wolf that cries towards the moon. The girl closed her eyes again as she put her head back on the pillow. 'It won't be long!' she thought. She tried sleeping, and as she was taken away to dreamland the thought hit her that it would infact be very long. Her father wouldn't return. Ever.