The BLTS Archive- Waiting Geron #9: Anger by Karen (CP4Karen@aol.com) --- Disclaimer: Paramount owns them. I imply no copyright infringement. c1998 Karen --- It's dark and my love's breath is warm against my neck. Lying here in the middle of Tom's 'lieutenant-sized' bed, I enjoy the peace and quiet after twenty-four hours in sickbay. I also know that it isn't permanent, but for a little while, I can pretend. It feels wonderful. The doctor hadn't been pleased at Tom's demands to leave, but it was a given once he improved enough to notice his surroundings. "C'mon, Doc! These biobeds are murder to sleep on. I promise to take it easy. The only thing I plan on doing is sleeping and eating...well, I may hold off a bit on the eating part." His smile, while only a fraction of his usual grin, was worlds ahead of anything that I had observed in the last twenty-four hours. So, with promises that I would ensure that he actually did some of both, we had made our slow way to Tom's quarters. He was amazingly docile as I helped him to undress; but from the small smirk I saw briefly creep across his face, I suspected that his idea of taking it easy might not match up with the Doctor's. I carefully ease my way out of his arms, and I must confess that the softly purred "Gerrrrr" before I press my pillow into his arms pleases me to no end. In less than a week, Tom has come to need me in his arms. Not Harry, not B'Elanna-- and although it scares me to think of the possibility, not Chakotay. I wrap myself in Tom's robe and slip out into the main room. As I expected, the terminal shows that I have a number of messages. Most are from well-wishers, assuring me that they were backing us all along; but a few are from friends containing half-hearted apologies. I cannot tell which anger me more. I sigh and rub my temples. I don't want to be angry. Prophets know that I spent most of the first eighteen years of my life that way. Angry for the loss of my home and village. Angry at the death of my mother and sister. Angry at my father's death that finally left me totally alone. Angry that no matter how many Cardies we killed, others would always be waiting to take their places. I stand and stretch the kinks from my back. Part of me wants to go back to Tom and surround myself with his warmth. But there is the other part, the angry Geron, that instead moves to the replicator for a strong cup of coffee. I have think about what must be done. --- I fight my way up out of the nightmare of remembered pain and suffocation and miss Gerrie's warmth like a lost limb. It momentarily stuns me to realize just how much I've come to need him with me. I hear his quiet movement in the next room and consider going to him. I listen as he replicates coffee and lie wondering what has driven Tem from our bed. While still wonderfully loving and tender, his anger is palpable and I'm sure that I'm not the only one who's noticed. I sigh in frustration. It is only the knowledge that there is more than one kind of suffocation that keeps me here. I fall back to sleep wondering ruefully if this is how my past lovers felt when I did the same to them. --- The coffee does its work and I begin mine. There is nothing in the public security logs about Tom's attack. I consider asking Greg for any information he might have and then realize that Tuvok would have placed him high on the list of suspects. Tuvok. I take a deep breath and begin to weave my way through the various menus and subroutines that manipulate the ship's logs and reports. It is easy to enter the senior logs, and surprisingly easy to find Tuvok's personal journal for the case. Too easy? I put any possibilities out of my mind; I will deal with any ramification of my behavior later. Right now, I need to know what is being done to find this bastard and keep Tom safe. Complete DNA scans have been taken of the mess hall and Tom's quarters. Even the fluids that came from Tom as he vomited were scanned for any trace genetic material. I laugh to myself and for a moment hope that little task was assigned to Greg or Chell. The routines that have been installed to monitor all traffic in our corridor, replicator, comm and ventilator usage, even a running log of waste disposal, amaze me. Tuvok, of course, is deadly serious in his efforts to protect Tom-- Cascara sagrada. I almost missed the small tag at the end of today's log entry. Cascara sagrada was found replicated at the main replicator in cargo bay two.... ...And it appears that the stupid son of a bitch actually used his personal codes. Of course that isn't the terminology that Tuvok used. I think his head would combust if he ever swore. Why hasn't he arrested him? Why-- I quickly log off and return to the bedroom for my clothes. My Chesei is still sleeping, a half smile the only sign that he feels my kiss. Tuvok may have decided to wait until morning to arrest this bastard, but there's no reason that Ensign Randall and I can't have a talk first. --- "Computer, initiate personal log." "Recording." "I have perpetrated a somewhat unorthodox deed this evening. However, activities were carefully monitored and there were no significant injuries. I am reasonably assured that there will be no repercussions due to my actions. If there are, I will accept full responsibility. Crewman Geron will not be censured for his part in the confrontation and has been sent back to care for Mr. Paris. Any complaint from Ensign Randall is doubtful. He confessed that a fractured nose and three weeks under house arrest was preferable to other possibilities mentioned by Mr. Geron, in repayment for the illness inflicted upon Lt. Paris. Upon completion of my report, Captain Janeway stated that she preferred a more by-the-book resolution, and perhaps any future 'frontier justice' should be approved before commission. A later comment from the Captain, and agreed upon by Commander Chakotay however, stated that while my methods were unorthodox, they were also rather satisfying. Additionally, upon observation Crewman Geron seems much less disturbed after having defended his mate; a result that all agree may more than justify the means. Log entry complete." --- The End