DISCLAIMER: All things Voyager belong to Paramount and
Viacom.  As always, I pay homage to them.  Send comments to:
AnnitaS@aol.com

Okay, guys, this is one of two stories I wrote way back and was
published in the multi-media zine, Pywacket's Eclectica.  Since PE
is now completely sold out and there are no plans to reprint, I'm
posting the stories here for your pleasure (?).  I hope you enjoy
them, but keep in mind, these were written during the early days of
my Voyager madness, right after "Blood Fever" first sucked me in! 
Be kind.

This story came out of my early exploration of the P/T relationship. 
I don't know if it still holds up.  You be the judges.

CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR
by Neetz

Part 1:  B'Elanna

     "Careful what you wish for, Lieutenant."
     B'Elanna Torres knew the minute she uttered those words
as she left Tom Paris standing in the turbolift that they would come
back to haunt her.
     But everything had changed.  There was no hiding from her
feelings anymore, try as she might.  When she looked back on her
life aboard the U.S.S. Voyager, her memories were inevitably
intertwined with her feelings about the ship's pilot, and those
feelings could be divided into distinct phases.
     Phase One:  The first time she had seen him, she had been
sick and had believed she was about to die.  Maybe she hadn't
exactly reached the point where her life flashed before her eyes, but
she had begun to feel the weight of unfulfilled dreams.  The arrival
of the rescue team from the Federation starship had been like a
reprieve, a second chance to do something with her life which up
until that point had seemed doomed to failure.  Her first glimpse at
her new life had come in the form of the golden haired young
human who helped rescue her from the Ocampan tunnels.  If she
were honest, she would admit she had been attracted to him from
the beginning.  She didn't even know his name then, knew nothing
about him.  And yet, his strength and determination were evident,
as was his courage when he chose to return into danger to rescue
Chakotay, Tuvok and Captain Janeway.  His appearance was also
evocative: handsome and fair, with a warmth and concern in his
features and a softness in his clear blue gaze when it fell upon her. 
From long experience, she had looked for the usual distaste at her
half-Klingon appearance in those examining eyes and was surprised
to find it missing.  Surprised and... somehow thrilled.  Then he
touched her, holding her body against his as he helped her climb
through the hole from the tunnel to freedom.  She remembered the
feel of him against her even now and the electric sensation it
generated in her own body.  Throughout that first of many battles
with the Kazon, she would catch herself looking at him and she
could still feel the tingle shiver through her.
     Her first impression did not last long.  After the crisis was
over, after she'd learned more about Thomas Eugene Paris, after
Chakotay had given her his view of the young man, she had
changed her mind.  She trusted her friend and mentor's opinion far
more than her own brief observations.  She had learned Paris was
the pampered son of a Starfleet admiral, a golden boy in more ways
than appearance, whose callous disregard and irresponsibility had
led to the deaths of three people, and driven him out of the service. 
He was also a traitor, first to the Federation when he had joined the
Maquis (where he also apparently failed in his mission), then to the
Maquis themselves when he had agreed to guide Voyager in their
efforts to capture Chakotay's missing ship.  He was the worst kind
of traitor: a mercenary, someone who believed in nothing but
himself and his profit.  Thus, began the second phase of B'Elanna
Torres' opinion of Tom as Paris the Pig.
     The more she watched him over those first few weeks, the
more that image hardened in her mind.  He was cocky, arrogant,
thought himself perfect at everything he tried, from piloting the ship
to his numerous romantic conquests.  In short, she couldn't stand
the sight of him.
     Yet even then she had moments of doubt.  Why did she
constantly find herself looking at him?  Why did she feel that twinge
whenever she saw him with some other female member of the
crew?  Maybe her mind had determined he was to be loathed, but
something in her still remembered his touch and the look in his eyes
when he'd first seen her.  Savagely, as only her Klingon blood
would allow her, she fought down those kinder, gentler feelings at
every turn.
     But it was increasingly more difficult to maintain her
repugnant view of him.  Sure, Chakotay had given her every reason
to despise Paris.  But Harry Kim considered him his best friend. 
Harry was everything Paris wasn't.  He was gentle and open, kind
and innocent.  And yet, B'Elanna learned quickly that Harry was
also intelligent and insightful.  And Harry was her first friend on
Voyager.  Why would Harry waste his time on a loser like Paris? 
What did he see in the man that she didn't?
     And there were other things that surprised her.  Glimpses of
the man she had first seen on the planet that sometimes escaped,
appearing in place of the usual arrogance.  A look of concern or an
offer of kindness to another.  The protective way he acted toward
Harry.  Of course, it was hard not to feel protective toward the
young ensign, but it seemed to be, for Paris, almost a mission to
look out for his young friend.
     Then there was his loyalty to the crew, a crew which, for
the most part, didn't seem ready to accept him.  His devotion to the
captain was obvious to anyone, and Janeway, in turn, seemed to
have complete trust and confidence in him.  At first, that had
lowered B'Elanna's opinion of her new commanding officer.  But as
she grew to know more about the captain, she found her respect for
her growing as well, both as commander and as a woman.  Surely
there was more to Paris than was obvious if Janeway was willing to
put her faith in him.
     And yet, almost every time B'Elanna began to rethink her
opinion of him, he would act like a pig again!  He seemed to have a
rare talent for infuriating her.  Just when she'd start to think maybe
there was something to like there after all, he would act like the
self-centered jerk she had pegged him to be.  Maybe a part of the
anger she felt was because deep down she had wanted her first
impression to be right, even if all rational evidence pointed to the
contrary.  In any case, Paris was still a pig.
     Until the fateful mission when they were captured by the
Vidiians.  She had never felt so weak and vulnerable in her life, or
so frightened.  Split into separate human and Klingon halves, she
had lost the only identity she ever had, as ambivalent as that identity
had always been.  She had lived her life with two conflicting forces
constantly at odds with each other within the same body.  Now, the
conflict was gone, but that very war within her had been somehow
reassuringly familiar.  Without it, she didn't know what to do or
where to turn.
     She had found her answer in those same eyes she
remembered so well from the Ocampan homeworld.  For the first
time, she felt their gentleness and concern focussed upon her.  She
saw the Tom Paris her heart had always wanted to believe existed,
despite what her mind had argued.
     No longer the carefree buffoon she had so often disdained
when she'd observed him in Sandrine's, he became the strong team
leader, taking charge and taking responsibility for both her and
Durst.  It wasn't the mercenary who was always looking out for
number one who tried to convince the Vidiians to take him to
almost certain death instead of the frightened junior officer.
     And he had been worried about her, protective of her.  She
registered the care he took to listen to her fears and never once
crack a careless remark at her vulnerability.  He seemed to see
beyond the image she had always projected and into her very soul. 
She found herself trusting him, telling him things she had shared
with no one, not even Chakotay.  And in the end, he saved not only
her life, but her sanity.
     The trauma of being split in two and watching her Klingon
half die had left her with much to think about in the weeks to
follow, even after her Klingon DNA was restored and she again felt
the struggle within her that at once brought turmoil and reassuring
self-knowledge.  When she had finally reached acceptance of her
dichotomous nature once again, it was with new insights and even
more questions.  One of those questions involved her baffling
feelings toward Tom Paris.  If he could take the time to see beyond
the surface with her, could she do any less for him?  No longer
content with blindly accepting Chakotay's early opinion of the man,
she decided to form her own.
     And so she had sought out Harry and for the first time put
voice to the question that had bothered her for so long.  What was
it that he saw in Tom Paris that made him want the man as his
friend?  And the answer both surprised and intrigued her, and for
the first time, she began to consider why Paris projected the image
that he did.
     "He's really a decent, caring guy, underneath that cynical,
materialistic exterior," Harry had insisted.  "He's just afraid to let it
show."
     B'Elanna had laughed in disbelief.  "Oh, come on, Harry. 
Paris?"
     But Kim was serious.  "I think he's been hurt a lot in his life
and he's afraid of being hurt again."  He smiled gently at Torres. 
"You, of all people, should understand that, B'Elanna."
     His words caught her up short.
     Harry continued.  "He doesn't want to care because he
knows how dangerous it is, but he can't help it.  It's who he is.  He
thinks if people think he's a jerk and a coward, they'll stay away and
he won't have to care.  All that's ever brought him is pain.  You
know, he'd laugh to hear me say this, but I think Tom's one of the
most courageous men I know, because he does take that risk."
     "He seems to care about you," she replied.
     Kim smiled.  "Yeah, he's let me see behind the mask a little. 
It's hard for him as well as dangerous, but I'm not the only one he
cares about."
     "You mean the captain?" she asked quickly.
     Harry nodded.  "Yes, for one.  Tom would walk through
fire naked if the captain asked him to.  She believed in him when no
one else did.  Yeah, he cares a lot about the captain and living up to
the trust she's put in him."  He stopped to consider for a moment. 
"Do you know about his relationship with his father?"
     She shook her head.  "Not much.  I know he was an admiral
in Starfleet and that he disowned Tom after he was courtmartialed."
     "Tom spent his whole life trying to live up to his father's
expectations of him and he never could.  In the admiral's eyes, he
could always have tried harder, done better.  Tom's mom died when
he was young, so the only person he had to look to for affection
was his father.  From what I gather, he didn't get much.  So he tried
harder and still it wasn't enough.  It was never enough.  I think by
the time he graduated the academy, he would have done anything to
have received just one 'well done' from the admiral, but he never
got it."
     "Then came the accident.  And, B'Elanna, it was an
accident.  Tom made a mistake, but a hundred other pilots could
have made the same one.  It never would have cost him his career if
he'd owned up to it from the beginning."
     "Then why did he try to cover it up?" she asked.  She had
always thought it had been a stupid move, even for Tom Paris.
     "I used to wonder about that, but I believe I understand
better now.  Even when he was as near perfect as a human could
get, his father found fault with him.  Can you imagine how he
would have reacted if Tom had admitted to making a mistake that
cost the lives of three other people?"
     "So he covered it up."
     "And no one would have known, B'Elanna.  No one.  The
only ones who could have disputed his story were dead, the
recording instruments on the shuttle were destroyed.  Tom was the
only one who knew what really happened."
     "But he couldn't live with it," she whispered, realizing the
truth for the first time.  "Even knowing that admitting to falsifying
reports could get him cashiered, and knowing how his father would
react..."
     "He had to tell the truth," Harry concluded.  "And he paid
for it."
     "Then he joined the Maquis.  I still don't understand why,"
she shook her head.  "And don't try to tell me he believed in the
cause."
     Harry laughed.  "Probably not.  But where else did he have
to go?  His whole life had been wrapped up in Starfleet and making
his father proud of him.  That was gone.  He was a failure, a misfit. 
But he was a pilot, and a damned good one.  It was the only thing
he had left that made him who he was.  He never talks about it, so I
don't know if he sought out the Maquis or was recruited, but I
imagine considering his skill, they were glad to have him."
     "And he was caught on his first mission."
     "And sent to New Zealand.  I can't even imagine what that
was like for him.  No one would have befriended him there.  Not
the Maquis who considered him a failure and a mercenary and
certainly not the Starfleet inmates who probably considered his
crimes far worse than theirs, whatever they happened to be."
     B'Elanna hadn't voiced her thoughts, there was no use in
making Harry's image of Tom's time in prison worse, but she had
heard stories from people who had spent time incarcerated and even
Federation prisons were not immune to the horrors that were often
perpetrated by inmates upon their fellows: beatings and worse. 
Boyishly good looking and isolated, Tom would have been the
perfect candidate for such atrocities.
     "So," Harry continued, "you can imagine just what it meant
to him to have a chance to get out of there.  And when the captain
showed she was willing to give him that chance..."
     B'Elanna nodded.  No wonder Tom idolized Kathryn
Janeway.  In his view, she'd saved his life.
     "If you ever start to believe Tom is incapable of caring
about anyone besides himself, just take a look at yourself."
     She started at Harry's words.  "Me?"
     "You," Harry stated.  "I think your opinion of him matters
more to him that he's able to admit.  But you saw the real Tom
Paris on that planet with the Vidiians, didn't you?"
     She smiled.  "Maybe."
     Harry shook his head.  "You're just as stubborn as he is!"
     B'Elanna had laughed, but Harry's words rang true.
     The next time she saw Tom had been in Sandrine's a few
nights later.  He was playing pool with Harry and a couple of other
crewmen and acting like the Paris she had come to expect.  Once
again, she found herself watching him as she sat with Chakotay and
another former Maquis officer instead of listening to their
discussion of the latest crew gossip.  She could see the reaction of
the two crewmen to his arrogance and his crude remarks and she
realized they were only seeing what he wanted them to see.  Truly
for the first time, she could recognize the mask for what it was. 
She should have seen it sooner, because she knew all about masks
herself.  She understood more than she'd like to admit how easily
you could be hurt if you let others see beneath.
     As Paris and Kim won the game, Tom strutted like a
peacock and the losers walked away with a faint look of disgust on
their faces.  They would never take the time to wonder about the
man behind the facade because they never recognized what they
saw as not being the real Tom Paris.  Suddenly, with a flush of 
self-realization, she knew a few weeks ago, that same intolerant
attitude would have been hers.
     "B'Elanna?"
     She jumped at Chakotay's voice.
     "Are we disturbing you?" the commander asked teasingly.
     "Not at all," she replied flippantly.
     "Well, you certainly had your mind elsewhere."
     "I'm tired of idle gossip," she replied.
     "And just what were you thinking about?" he asked.
     "About... you and I knocking a few balls around a table and
knocking that smile off Paris' face," she replied.
     Chakotay grinned.  "It would be a pleasure."  He stood and
called across the room.  "Gentlemen, I believe the lieutenant and I
would like a chance to take some of those replicator rations off
your hands."
     Both men turned toward them, and instantly Harry's face lit
up with a smile.  "You can try, Commander," he responded.
     B'Elanna watched Tom's expression flit past surprise to
wariness to curiosity then a hint of pleasure before the cocky image
reasserted itself, all of this so quickly that if she had blinked, she
would have missed it.
     "By all means," he waived broadly from them to the table. 
"Always up to a challenge."
     "Be careful what you wish for, Paris," B'Elanna had
remarked, then felt the familiar tingle down her spine as Tom's eyes
settled upon her with a spark of pure devilment.
     She and Chakotay had lost, predictably since there were few
who could beat Paris when he was determined to win.  The
commander made a parting remark that what with Sandrine's being
Tom's program, he wouldn't be surprised if Paris had programmed
the pool table to never let him lose.
     Tom feigned a wounded look, but with her newfound
insight, B'Elanna detected a slight tensing in his body that betrayed
the fact that the remark had stung.
     "I'd be surprised," she heard herself replying.  When Tom
looked at her in genuine surprise, she continued, "It's only fun when
you can win for real, huh, Paris?"
     His eyes narrowed, and she could almost see the wheels
turning before he answered.  "You ought to know, Torres."
     Their eyes remained locked for a long moment, then Paris
turned and called to Sandrine for another round for himself and
Harry and the two lovely young ladies at the nearby table who had
been watching the game with unconcealed admiration for Tom's...
skill?
     Okay, B'Elanna admitted.  Maybe Tom Paris wasn't a pig
after all.
     But he could still act like one!
     That was the beginning of Phase Three Tom Paris, the
friend.  Suddenly, they could share unspoken jokes with each other,
laughing at those around them who didn't get it.  She spent more
time with Tom and Harry, which gave her a great deal of pleasure. 
And she started to appreciate Tom for his intelligence, something
she hadn't really thought about before.
     She found she enjoyed working with him.  He would never
know a tenth of the things she knew about the workings of this
ship, but he always brought her a new perspective, that of a pilot
who was so in tune with the feel of Voyager, he was almost a part
of the ship.
     She also found that he tended to drop most of the pig image
when they worked together on a project.  They seemed to become
more their real selves, both of them, when they were absorbed in
their work.
     She found herself mesmerized by the way his body moved
when he flew the ship.  She could watch him for hours from her
station on the bridge.  She started noticing his hands and, for the
first time, realized how beautiful they were.  And how smoothly he
moved them over the instruments, like the buttons and controls
were an extension of his own body.  Funny how she was becoming
aware of him in bits and pieces.  First the eyes, then the hands. 
What was next?
     His voice.  She began to be able to read his mood almost
instantly by the tone of his voice.  Tom the jerk had a arrogant tone
that sounded as fake to her as she knew it was.  In the midst of a
battle, there was an edginess and a crispness that revealed an
excitement tinged with just a hint of fear.  She realized he found
danger exciting, as long as he felt himself in control.
     Rarer were the times she heard the real Tom Paris' voice.  It
was softer, not quite a whisper, but with a gentleness that almost
took her breath away.  It didn't happen often, but it happened when
he let his guard down, just a bit.  And since they'd become friends,
he did let her see behind the mask, only a glimpse, occasionally.
     When he started acting like a jerk on duty, warning bells
went off in her head.  She sensed something was wrong.  One of
the things she had come to count on was the professional Tom
Paris.  He had always kept things light on the bridge with a ribald
comment here or there, but never, never anything that interfered
with his duty to the ship and her captain.  Suddenly he had become
erratic, and instead of putting it down to his enigmatic personality
as she once would have, she found herself concerned.
     She'd listen to Chakotay complaining about him and find
herself wanting to come to his defense, but she didn't have an
explanation for the change in attitude.  For the commander, he saw
it as confirming his original opinion of the pilot.  But instead of
automatically agreeing with her mentor, B'Elanna found herself
more worried than angry.
     As they worked together one day in engineering, she'd
asked him about it, and had been granted another rare glimpse
behind the mask.  Something was definitely wrong, but she couldn't
put her finger on it, and before she had a chance to try again, he
announced he was leaving the ship.
     She couldn't understand it.  For the first time in his life, Tom
was beginning to find acceptance.  He had friends, not a lot, but
good friends, like Harry and Kes and even Neelix who had finally
come around once he'd decided Tom wasn't competing with him for
Kes' affections.  Before Tom's recent decay in attitude, even
Chakotay was beginning to show a grudging respect for him.  But
now, he was leaving and she'd never been able to tell him how
much she had come to like him.
     She almost did.  She almost went to him to try and convince
him to change his mind, but she didn't.  She couldn't.  Because if
she did, she was afraid she'd have to admit to feelings she wasn't
ready to acknowledge, even to herself.
     And so he'd left.  And for the first time in a long time,
B'Elanna Torres felt like crying.  She didn't, of course, but her eyes
had stung and she didn't feel like doing anything, even working with
her beloved engines.  Tom took something important with him
when he left, and she was afraid it was a part of her heart and he
would never even know he had it.
     Then, suddenly, it was all clear.  It had all been a plan,
engineered by Tuvok and approved by the captain, to catch the spy
on board Voyager who had been sending information to Seska. 
The very thought of the woman made B'Elanna want to spit!  But
all of Tom's behavior had been a fake.  He wasn't so miserably
unhappy on Voyager after all.
     When she learned the truth, she had been on an emotional
rollercoaster, for only minutes after she learned the truth, she
learned that Tom had been injured in the shuttle trying to get back
to Voyager.  More than anything she wanted to fly down to sickbay
to make sure he was all right, but her duty kept her in engineering. 
Once the crisis had been averted, she headed out at a run, only to
encounter Harry on her way.  He assured her Tom was okay.  She
overcame her desire to see for herself and went back to her duty
station.  But she couldn't seem to help beaming at him the first time
she ran into him and Harry in the mess hall.  Everything was fine
now.  More than fine.  Finally, the majority of the crew had been
presented with irrefutable evidence that Tom Paris was truly a
valuable and trustworthy member of the crew.  People would come
up to him and tell him how much they admired him.  And Tom
seemed to glow.
     After that, she found it almost impossible to get angry with
him, even when he was in full pig mode.  Frustrated, yes.  Annoyed,
yes.  Even exasperated on occasion, but never red-tinged anger. 
Tom was her friend, and she was proud he was her friend.  Proud
that she had seen it before the others.  Unashamed to let them all
know they were friends.
     Friends.  It could never be more.
     Although she began to get the feeling about this time that
Tom might want there to be more.  For the first time, she began to
notice that he watched her.  And it was more than a little
disconcerting.  But whenever he brought up the subject of them
going on a "date," she managed to fend him off by reverting to the
verbal sparring that had always been a part of their relationship. 
She wasn't ready to admit to herself, much less to him, how
attracted she was to him.  And if she had faced facts at the time, she
would have seen that she was just as afraid of letting him know she
cared as he was.  Maybe more so.
     Things went along well for a time until Ensign Vorik's pon
farr put an end to the Tom Paris Friend phase.
     Many times in her life, her Klingon side had gotten the
better of her, but always in the form of anger.  Now, for the first
time, she could not control her passion.  Later she would tell herself
that she would have been as out of control with anyone, but the
truth was the intensity of her desire was all focussed on Tom Paris
from the moment it started.
     She couldn't control herself.  She wanted him.  Wanted him
now!  Wanted to tear off his clothes and throw him to the ground. 
Just the opportunity Paris must have been dreaming of.
     Except, it wasn't.  All those times she had deflected his
advances came back to haunt her.  He believed she only want to be
his friend, nothing more.  He actually thought she wasn't attracted
to him.  And he would not take advantage of her illness knowing
how he believed she felt.
     Talk about frustration!  And yet, the fact that he refused
her, even in the face of his obvious desire for her, was a part of the
real Tom Paris.  There was not a trace of pig in the man that had
been trapped with her.  Despite the fact that he wanted her, and she
was begging him to take her, he would not risk hurting her or
destroying a friendship he valued so highly.  In the end, when it had
seemed there was no choice, he did risk that friendship in order to
save her life.  She would always wonder how it would have turned
out if Vorik hadn't interrupted them.  Tentative at first, even gentle
in the face of her raging Klingon hormones, Tom had started to
relax, to begin to enjoy himself, and she had found herself filled
with delight.  Was it any wonder she had wanted to tear Vorik's
head off and feed it to the nearest targ?
     When it was all over, she felt embarrassed.  No matter how
many times others told her, how many times she told herself, that it
wasn't her, that it was the blood fever, she knew that wasn't the
whole truth.  She hadn't just wanted sex.  She had wanted sex with
Tom.  And worse, she still wanted it.
     So she avoided him.  Until, by accident, they ended up on
the same lift.  At first, she thought he was going to let it pass with
small talk, ignoring the situation.  But then he'd called a halt to the
lift and she was trapped.  Yes, that's how she felt.  So she did the
first thing that instinct demanded, she denied everything.  Not only
did he not let her get away with it, he went on to declare that wasn't
frightened by what he'd seen, that he wouldn't mind seeing her
"scary Klingon side" again.
     It had made her nervous, but it also aroused her more than
she wanted to admit.  And so, when she exited the lift, she shot
back her closing remark, knowing he would be too stunned to call
her on it... then.
     What she hadn't counted on, or even considered, was that
he would call her on it later.
                     ***
Part 2:  Tom

     "Careful what you wish for, Lieutenant."
     Those words caught him by surprise.  But then, when hadn't
B'Elanna Torres caught him by surprise.
     From the first time he saw her, he'd thought how beautiful
she was and so unique.  Far from being disgusted by her Klingon
features, Tom found them exotic and strangely appealing.  She, of
course, hadn't been at her best when they'd met on the Ocampan
homeworld, but something about her attracted him even then.  And
later, when he saw her fiery temper up close, saw her challenge the
captain over her decision to destroy the array, their only means of
getting back home, he knew this was one women he truly wanted to
get to know.  And at the same time, he recognized the danger
involved.
     It wasn't easy.  There was the fact that he was practically
certain she was in love with Voyager's new first officer.  He was
sure Chakotay had brought her up to speed on his own version of
the history of Thomas Eugene Paris which couldn't have endeared
Tom to her.  Maybe it was fate.  That attraction he had felt when
he'd first laid eyes on her was most assuredly fated to die a quick
death due to her obvious loathing of him.  Why did it matter to him
so much?
     He hadn't had much trouble winning most of the other
females on board with his rakish charm.  But those conquests were
empty, not that he had expected them not to be.  In fact, had it been
otherwise, he would have sincerely regretted it.  He wasn't looking
for love, just sex.  A little short term fun and a means to keep up his
playboy image.  If a woman had taken him seriously, he would have
run for the hills, not just because he wasn't interested in the dreaded
"c" word, but because he had no desire to hurt anyone.  So he kept
it light and made a point of being sure his partners knew it.  Maybe
that's why he spent so much time with the Delaney sisters.  They
were only in it for a good time, nothing to worry about there.  But
not much in the way of fulfillment either.
     But he wasn't looking for fulfillment, was he?  Then why
was he constantly looking at B'Elanna?  Watching the way she
moved, appreciating her strength and grace, thrilled by her shows of
temper to the point that he purposely provoked her just so he could
watch her go ballistic.  It was somehow very erotic to see her
angry.  It could also be suicidal if he pushed her too far, but then,
that was part of the fun... the danger.
     The more he watched her, the more he wanted her to like
him.  And yet, the more he was around her, the more he pushed her
into hating him.  Maybe this was a pattern in his life.  Maybe he
couldn't face the idea that she might ever come to care about him. 
That was a different kind of danger, one he wasn't ready for.
     So he teased her.  He acted even more outrageously
arrogant when she was around, just to get a rise out of her.  But a
part of him was sad to know she would never guess what he really
thought about her.
     He wasn't sure when it was he learned about it, but
somewhere along the way, he found out that B'Elanna considered
herself ugly.  She believed that no one could ever find her as
beautiful as he found her and that made him feel something even
more amazing protective.  If there was ever a woman in the
galaxy that didn't need protection, it was B'Elanna Torres!
     He tried to push those feeling aside, continued with the
game.  He'd bait her, tease her, then show his worst side and make
her so angry he could almost see the fire flash in her eyes.
     And it worked brilliantly.  Until they were captured by the
Vidiians.  Here she was, for the first time, truly vulnerable, so
helpless and frightened that all he wanted to do was hold her and
tell her it would be all right.  But he couldn't do that.  This was
B'Elanna.  He couldn't take advantage of her sudden fragility, no
matter how much he wanted to protect her.  So he talked and he
listened and he tried to show her that she was still strong.  He
needed her to be strong.  And he couldn't let her give up, even
though his heart was breaking at her pain.
     But still he couldn't suppress the protectiveness he felt.  He
would rather die than let anyone hurt her.  It was so natural at the
time that he didn't realize until later how surprising it really was. 
When did he come to feel so strongly about her?  Yes, he'd been
attracted to her, intrigued by her, but the depth of his feelings were
a revelation to him.  He had wanted to cry when he'd watched her
holding the body of her other self as she died.  He'd wanted to help
her through the time after when she would have so much to come
to terms with.  But he also realized from his own struggles with
self-revelation that she had to face her demons on her own.
     Still, he made sure he was available, went out of his way to
let her know he was there.  And finally, and also surprisingly,
something changed.
     He carried in his mind a very clear picture of that night in
Sandrine's when B'Elanna the fully restored, half-Klingon
B'Elanna had offered her friendship.  Not directly, but the offer
was made nonetheless, and there was no doubt about it in either of
their minds.
     He had been watching her sitting at the table with Chakotay
until the play at the pool table had demanded his full attention. 
Once he and Harry's opponents had been dispatched, he had been
taken by surprise at the commander's challenge.  But it had been the
look in B'Elanna's eyes that had amazed him even more.  She was
looking at him as if she really saw him.  It had frightened him and
exhilarated him at the same time.  As they played their game, he
noticed a new tone to their teasing wordplay.  Instead of getting
angry, B'Elanna was really teasing back and seemed to be enjoying
it as much as he did.
     When Chakotay had offered his slightly malicious remark
about rigging the pool table, she had actually come to his defense. 
It had been subtle, but for the first time, she was sharing the joke
with him instead of her former Maquis commander.  She was telling
him she was ready to be friends, and he found something even more
enjoyable than baiting her into anger having her give as good as
she got.
     From the moment B'Elanna accepted him as her friend, he
knew that deep inside, he wanted more.  Once he had seen her
smile, really smile, at him, he lived for the next time he was treated
to that stunning sight.  When he heard her laugh, it was as if her
fingers were playing up and down his spine.  He thought the sound
was exquisite.  Every time it happened, he could feel a foolish grin
spread across his face.  Then her face would light up at his
expression and she'd laugh even more.
     So, she liked it when he smiled almost as much as he liked it
when she did.  Interesting.
     And he saw her concern for him reflected in her dark eyes,
especially after his strange transformation following his 
record-breaking warp 10 flight.  She cared.  She really cared.  Well,
so did Harry.  After all that's what friends did for friends, wasn't it. 
He tried not to make more of it than was really there.
     Even if things never moved beyond friendship, she cared
about him and he could make her laugh.  Things were going great.
     Then Tuvok had his brilliant idea.
     Of course, he was perfect for the job.  It wouldn't take
much of a stretch of the imagination for anyone on the crew to
believe in Lt. Paris' lapse back to his old undependable self.  It's
what most of them wanted to believe anyway.  It confirmed their
suspicions.  "I knew it all along," they'd say.  "He's always been a
no account screw-up!"  Especially Chakotay.  Although he did take
a small amount of pleasure at getting under the commander's skin,
he was surprised at how it bothered him to see the small amount of
acceptance Chakotay had given him taken away.  Still, this was for
the ship, for the captain.  Chakotay would know the truth after this
was all over.  Only Tom wasn't really sure if he'd be around to see
it.
     While most people seemed to take his deteriorating attitude
on face value, there were three notable exceptions:  Kes, who
always seemed to know what he was thinking (disconcerting to say
the least to count a telepath among your friends); Harry, who being
Harry and being close enough to really notice the extent of the
change, was naturally concerned at Tom's suddenly slothful,
disrespectful manner; and... B'Elanna, who actually took the time to
ask him what was wrong instead of instantly berating him.  Kes and
Harry he'd been prepared for, but that newly appreciated look of
concern on B'Elanna's face was almost his undoing.  It really hurt
that she might once again think of him as a jerk.  After she had
cornered him in engineering, he found himself avoiding her more. 
He kept telling himself she, too, would learn the truth once the plan
was carried out, but it really upset him to think he might go to his
grave with her expression of disappointment as the last thing he
remembered.
     Only the captain would ever know about the vid he left...
just in case.  He knew Harry well enough to imagine he'd feel guilty
for ever doubting him and he wanted to make sure his best friend
knew he understood how he really felt.  He also wanted to tell
B'Elanna how he felt, but he was afraid a posthumous declaration
of the depth of his feelings for her might have the opposite effect. 
So in the message he left her, he thanked her for her friendship and
told her it meant a lot to him.
     How much she would never know.
     Well, he survived... barely.  And she didn't even come to
sickbay to see him.  Uh oh, he thought, she must be really steamed
at me.  But he was wrong.
     He actually saw her eyes light up when she saw him in the
mess hall.  He was basking in the glory of being the brave officer
who'd risked his life for his ship and she didn't even try to put a
damper on his ego... well, not much.  Harry told him later than
she'd even taken up for him against Chakotay who was still steamed
at having been left in the dark and feeling like the dupe to Paris'
hero.  Well, things were definitely looking up!
     All these things had brought Tom to a certain self-revelation
about his feelings toward the chief engineer.  More than anything,
no matter how much he tried to deny it, he wanted more than just
friendship with B'Elanna.  So, he started his campaign.  The trouble
was, she didn't seem to take him seriously.  And the few times he
managed to keep her from joking her way out of his invitations for
dates, she had seemed ill at ease.  Okay, so she didn't feel the same
way toward him.  She was his friend and that's all she wanted.
     He could live with that.  They would be good friends. 
Close friends.  Loving friends.  No, don't try to take it too far, Tom,
he'd warn himself.  But it was too late.  He couldn't stop hoping. 
But he also valued what they had too much to risk it.  Some
dangers were not fun, and Tom Paris knew the difference.
     It wasn't until he was trapped below ground with an 
out-of-control, horny half-Klingon in the throws of a telepathically
induced blood fever that he realized just how far he'd have to go to
preserve that friendship.
     God, it had excited him when she bit him.  He knew enough
about Klingon mating rituals to know what that meant.  But this
was not really B'Elanna.  He had to keep reminding himself of that. 
She would never had done such a thing of her own volition.  Then
later, dear Lord, she was practically begging him to take her right
there, right now!  And, oh, he was tempted.  The human side of
B'Elanna had always brought out his warm, protective nature, the
gentler side of love, but the wild Klingon side had attracted him
sexually, and, boy, did he have his hands full of the Klingon side
now.
     When she had thrown it in his face that she knew he was
attracted to her, had wanted her for some time, it was all he could
do to hold back.  But she'd made it clear in the past, as he reminded
her, that she wanted only friendship from him.  He wouldn't risk
that, and he wouldn't hurt her.  Strange, it was the same thing he
felt when confronted with the vulnerable human B'Elanna when
they had been held by the Vidiians.  Two sides to the same woman,
and it seemed he cared for both of them, or more precisely, the
blending of both... cared too much.
     It hurt him as much to see her beg him for sex and it had to
watch her cower with fear.  Neither was truly B'Elanna.  And yet,
both were.  If his B'Elanna, the complex combination of two very
different worlds, had only asked him, he wouldn't have hesitated,
but rejoiced in his change of fortune.
     When Chakotay and Tuvok found them, he was so relieved
that another alternative had been found.  Then, that relief had been
snatched away.  They couldn't contact the ship.  If he didn't "help
her," as Tuvok put it, she would die.
     Okay, no choice anymore.  He didn't want B'Elanna to hate
him, but he would accept that if that's what it took to keep her
alive.  So he'd approached her cautiously... and she'd practically
dragged him into the woods!
     It had been the strangest feeling.  Tom Paris was certainly
no boy scout and he was no stranger to sex, but this time, this time
it really mattered.  And he wasn't sure what to do!  After having
admitted as much to her, he tried to follow her lead.  She bit at
him he bit at her; she growled he growled.  Although it sounded
very strange to his own ears, it must have sounded better to
B'Elanna because she immediately threw him to the ground.
     "What are you doing?" she snarled at him.
     "Enjoying myself?" he ventured.
     "Then show it!"  And she laughed.  It was B'Elanna's laugh,
and suddenly he thought, this might not be so bad after all.  Maybe
this is what we needed.  Maybe once it happens, she'll admit how
she really feels about me when she's not under the influence of
hormones run amok.
     Then Vorik intervened, and the rest, as they say...
     And all his fears seemed to have come true.  She was
avoiding him.  She was going out of her way to avoid him.  And he
was very much afraid their friendship had suffered an unrecoverable
injury.
     Inevitably, they did meet.  Alone, in the turbolift.  They
actually spoke to each other.  Inconsequential things.  She was back
on duty and feeling fine.  The refitting in engineering was going
well.
     Suddenly, he couldn't stand it any more.  It was now or
never.  He called a halt to the turbolift.  He had to get her to admit
something had happened between them and they needed to talk
about it.  But she didn't seem willing.  So, he told her.  Flat out. 
He'd seen her at her Klingon worst and he wasn't at all put off by it. 
Quite the contrary.  Now, the ball was in her court.  He called for
the lift to resume and held back a sigh as she walked off without so
much as a glance in his direction.  Maybe that hadn't been his best
idea.  Then, she said it.
     "Careful what you wish for, Lieutenant."
     It had been with those very words that their friendship had
begun.  Now, did they signal a resumption of the relationship they
had enjoyed before, or were they a promise of something more?
     Before he could recover from the shock, the doors closed
and the moment was gone.  But Tom Paris wasn't about to let her
get away with the last word.
     No, sir.