by Lizzie
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DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns all. They can have this, if they want it, though I don't think it quite fits in with their POV. Rated G because it's completely innocuous. It refers to a m/m relationship, but really, what nine year old's going to corrupted by that?

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It's cold. In fact, it's snowing. I hurry on through the gray streets, turning up the collar on my coat. I've never much liked the finality of snow, the way it has of wiping out the things behind it, and I'd much rather be inside, away from the biting, bitter little drops that freeze on the tip of my nose.

I stumble on the curb in my rush to cross, and I fall forward, bumping into the person ahead of me. He turns to see what's happened, and my breath catches. Oh God. It's him.

"It's you!" He seems as stunned as I am. When he turned, his hand had gone out involuntarily to help me regain my balance, and I realize he's still clasping my arm. I pull away quickly.

"I'm sorry. I fell," I say by way of explanation. I haven't seen him since we got home. It must be almost three years now. Those years have been good to him.

"It's good to see you," he tells me.

I smile briefly and lie to him. "I'm glad to see you too."

"Tell me what brings you here," he continues, trying to draw me out. "It's been a long time."

"Three years," I remind him.

Pain flickers across his face as he remembers what happened between us three years ago. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," I reply. It wasn't, and I know that in my head, but my heart seems to have a bit of trouble with it.

"Have you found anyone?"

Oh, real tactful there. I decide to tell the truth, even though I know it will hurt him. Maybe because I know it will hurt him. "No."

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I know that," I tell him. It still hurts, though. "Are you happy?" I ask.

"Yes, we are." It takes a moment before he realizes what he just said. "Oh no. Oh no, I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't feel guilty," I reassure him. "I knew you loved someone else. After all, that's why you left me." Why am I comforting him when it was he who broke my heart so many years ago? Oh, admittedly that's a melodramatic way of putting it, but I do still love him. The realization shocks me. I love him. Of all the stupid, adolescent things to do, I had to fall in love with him.

"I'm sorry," he tells me yet again.

"You didn't love me," I remind him.

He nods wordlessly.

"If you had stayed with me, you would have been miserable. I would have been miserable. We all would have been miserable."

He nods again.

"You're happy now, aren't you?" I ask.

"Yes, I am." Oh, but he looks so sad.

"Are you really?" I demand. "Forget about me. It doesn't matter. That's all in the past. Think about the life you have now. Does it make you happy?" I feel like a Starfleet counselor, dispensing meaningless, feel-good drivel in an attempt to connect with him. I feel a bit sick at the pep talk, but I know this is what he needs. I want him to be happy. I know he is happy. I just want him to realize it.

"Yes. Yes it does."

"I'm happy for you," I tell him. I am, actually. I'm glad that he's able to go on.

"Thank you," he replies.

"You're welcome." We both fall silent, and rather than continue looking at each other, we glance at the pedestrian traffic surging around us.

"Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?" he finally asks.

I look up at him. No. Not yet. "Maybe in another three years," I say.

He understands, fortunately, and doesn't push it. "Will you keep in touch?"

"Yes. I will."

He smiles, and bends to kiss me. It's the kiss of a friend, and it's nothing like the kisses we used to exchange all those years ago. It's the kiss of a friend and nothing more.

"Good-bye, B'Elanna," he whispers.

"Good-bye, Tom."

I stare after him as he turns and continues the way he was going. I hope he's going to Harry. I'm glad the two of them are happy together.

And the snow continues falling, carefully erasing the past behind it.

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End