The BLTS Archive- Exposing The Cliché by Suz Voy (suzvoy@tesco.net) --- Date: 6 September 1999 Morgan and I were discussing how tired we are of cliché stories...so decided to write one. The idea is hers, the story is mine. Archive: Sure! Just mind that bit of..oops. Too late. Disclaimer - Paramount...oh how I wish they'd give them some personality. --- This years Prixin celebration had gone very well. In fact it had gone a little too well for some people. Kathryn managed to keep her head upright but was leaning on Chakotay far more than she would admit to any of the crewmembers they were passing. To words of "Good night" and "Sleep *well* you two" they made it to her quarters. He'd decided she'd much prefer to suffer through a little innuendo (or knowing this crew, a lot of innuendo) than pass out in front of them. She never seemed to learn. He'd seen her drink whisky, wine, even cider with no trouble. There was just something about the fruits Neelix fermented that...took more than one leg from under her. Kathryn's head was spinning and she felt decidedly nauseous. But Chakotay was here...he was lowering her gently onto the bed and pressing something cold onto her face. Swallowing repeatedly, she attempted to sit up only to find him holding out a glass of water to her. "Here," he told her softly. "It's best that you drink this before you fall asleep." She didn't take the glass but managed to prop herself up despite how rubbery her neck was feeling. Chakotay. He was always there for her. Always being so damn *nice* no matter what happened. And she never told him how much she appreciated him, his friendship, his closeness. She had never once told him how she felt. Leaning forward Kathryn opened her mouth to whisper his name and blurt out everything...and actually ended up blurting out *everything*. He remained still as she heaved out the contents of her stomach, arm still extended with the glass in hand, smile fixed on like he was a statue as opposed to a man whose face had just been covered with someone else's vomit. Sitting back, Kathryn reached up and with the back of her hand wiped away what was dribbling from her mouth. "Ugh..." she muttered. She hadn't thrown up like that in years. Her attention -- what there was of it -- focused back on the sick-splattered man still half-bent towards her. She hiccuped, marvelling at the way his hair still looked good with...well it must be leola root *something*...hanging from it. She grinned. "I love you." The spell seemed to be broken. Falling back painfully onto his rear he tried not to spill the water and realised how absolutely absurd that was when he considered his current state and the fact that large pieces of vomit were clunking inside the glass. Placing it down on the floor, he only then noticed that his hand was shaking. Trying not to notice the moistness soaking into his uniform or the stench emanating from both of them he looked at her. And smiled. She was drunk, looking at him with a lopsided grin and still had a piece of something that resembling carrot clinging just underneath her mouth. Her lips moved and she repeated the phrase. "I love you." She laughed. He grinned at the whole ridiculous situation and found himself repeating her words, with feeling. He had never, in all the time he had known her, expected it to happen like this. And he laughed. --- The End