B'Elanna's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

By Katherine O'Riley

Codes: P/T, bit of J/C

Disclaimer: Paramount owns all characters mentioned. I own my brain. This story is a by-product of my brain. Therefore, this story is mine. That's a logical sequence some ancient Greek guy came up with, according to my history book.

Archiving: Feel free, just please e-mail me at CptKate327@aol.com first. I'd like to know where it goes.

Other: This is part of my "Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" series. As of March 7, 2002, the other ones in this series include an already written "Tom's THNGVBD" and one for Captain Janeway that is still in my brain. Keep watching.

Lt. B'Elanna Torres, personal log

Looks like my traditional Day of Honor luck has started early. My day was horrible!

I woke up this morning and was sick. I had to go to sickbay. I was too sick to eat or shower and barely able to get dressed and walk to sickbay.

Of course, the Doctor had no idea what I was sick with, and it took him three hours to figure it out. Next time that happens, I swear I'm going to rip his holographic head off. Or reprogram him somehow.

That, naturally, meant I was really late for my shift. Carey had been holding the fort, but he was as irritated as I'd ever seen. Apparently, he'd worked a double shift, without telling me, and was waiting for me to get in. He was pretty grumpy. And they accuse me of having a temper?

Then the holodecks broke, and I was so busy fixing them that I'd only just finished an hour and a half later when the captain told me her replicator broke. She hadn't had her coffee. You could tell. Again, and *I'M* supposed to have a temper? I don't know why Chakotay's got such an awful crush on her. And it isn't like he's kept it secret. Everyone on the ship knows it, and the captain and Chakotay have no clue we know.

Like I'm the one to talk. I love Tom Paris, and he hasn't got a clue. And there's no way I could tell him. I'd have to be a minute away from dying before I did. That's not going to happen anytime soon.

He was talking to me in the mess hall after our shifts. He'd heard I was sick. He checked that I was all right.

Then that Borg, Seven of Nine, came over and he talked to her. He was totally involved in talking with her. I left.

I knew I always hated the Borg. Captain Janeway is a great captain, Chakotay isn't the only one who thinks so, but why did she let a Borg on the ship? As long as Seven of Nine stays away – far away – from my engines and Tom Paris, I'll be happy.

Well, I need to get to sleep. I still have some work to do on a engineering report. Besides, tomorrow is the worst day in the year for me, the Day of Honor. Just great. With my luck, things will be breaking right and left and Tom will declare he's madly in love with that Borg.

End log.