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Warmth 1 - Separation (NC-17)
"I'll be in my ready room."
'How many times have we heard that in the last few weeks,' thought Tom. Glancing over his shoulder toward the ready room door, he saw the first officer bob his head as the captain walked off the bridge. For all the warmth between them, they might have been strangers who, after encountering each other's faces daily for a long time because they took the same route to their places of employment, had progressed to an occasional acknowledgment of the other's presence as they passed each other. On a starship that was literally lost in space on the other side of the galaxy from home, with every member of the crew depending upon every other one, this was Not Good.
The captain did not spend a lot of time on the bridge these days. Much of her time was spent with another project that was a byproduct of Voyager's meeting with the Borg and the virulent new species 8472, encounters which had shaken the composure of everyone on board. Harry Kim had barely survived them. He was now recovered and at his customary place on the bridge, but the relationship between Captain Kathryn Janeway and Lieutenant Commander Chakotay, the former Maquis rebel whom Janeway had named as first officer, had not recovered. Although their split over the way to deal with the crisis may have been predictable to those who knew their backgrounds, predictability, in this instance, did not translate into any feelings of comfort for the crew.
Since being thrust into the Delta Quadrant, Captain Janeway's position as the only Starfleet Captain in 70,000 or so light years had transformed her into a throwback to the captains of the early days of the Federation. When the Alpha Quadrant was largely unexplored and huge chunks of time were needed to get anywhere within the quadrant, due to slower warp drives, a captain had to make decisions quickly and learned to live with them. There wasn't any other choice.
Thanks to the Caretaker's dragging Voyager out of all contact with Federation space, Janeway, like Pike, Kirk and their ilk, was on her own. She relied on her crew, but even more, upon herself, to get out of tight scrapes. Sometimes, as Tom realized had happened with the Voth, they got out of these scrapes only because of an act of benevolence by the alien species. At other times, as with the Nyrians, they did it on their own. Kathryn Janeway had learned to take chances, and so far, only a handful of the crew had had to pay the ultimate price.
As a Maquis, Commander Chakotay had been on his own far too often during one-sided battles against the Cardassians. Although he had been with the commander only briefly in the Maquis, Tom had been with him long enough to appreciate Chakotay's ability to lead his people against incredible odds. Often, his Maquis had lived to fight another day simply by knowing when to slip out of harm's way, to hide out, lick their wounds, and get ready for next time. Plowing through without regard for the consequences was risky and could end any hope for ultimate victory. Everyone might end up dead. Chakotay had learned to pick his spots and to fight only when he could do sufficient damage to the enemy to justify the risk to his people.
As she had promised to her doomed exact duplicate, Janeway would get her crew home again safely, as soon as she could. If that meant having to deal with the Devil, in the form of the Borg, so be it. Her Starfleet crew wanted and deserved to get home.
Only a few months previously, Chakotay had been manipulated by a group of former Borg into helping them so that the few in their "Cooperative" could have their way over thousands, without the thousands having anything to say about it. He had been shown that the face of the Devil could be beautiful, and fair haired, and seemingly compassionate. Trusting the Borg could mean the enslavement of the galaxy--not so far from the fate that the Maquis and Tom Paris could expect when they returned to the Alpha Quadrant. Imprisonment was their most likely welcome home.
Faced with a choice that was no choice at all, to slug it out against the Borg or be annihilated by 8472, Chakotay had said: let's look for a place to hide out a while, and then look for another way home. Janeway had said, let's negotiate with the Borg and go straight through them. The immediate situation had been resolved and Voyager had survived with a souvenir of the adventure: Seven-of-Nine, a Borg isolated from the Collective and now living on Voyager under the captain's watchful eye.
Janeway and Chakotay had gone back to being captain and first officer, but the private relationship that had been the subject of so much ship's gossip had suffered from their disagreement. Exactly what form that relationship had ever taken was a matter of rampant speculation among the crew, but no matter what it had been like before, it was clearly suffering from their recent disagreement. The warm touches and intimate looks that they had shared with each other on the bridge--and who knew where else--were gone.
From the vantage point of being a Starfleet brat who had served with the Maquis, Tom's view was that, depending upon which aspects of the problem were being examined, both had been right, and both had been wrong. They had all been lucky to survive. Unfortunately, neither the captain nor the commander would admit it.
Tom was glad when his shift ended. Constant vigilance was necessary. The Delta Quadrant had shown that it was not finished with throwing bullies of all sorts at Voyager, yet the tension level on the bridge had remained far beyond what was necessary for the entire day. Let Beta shift deal with it now.
Looking over at the Engineering console, Tom checked to see if B'Elanna was going to be able to leave when he did. She didn't look ready yet. Tom took a few extra minutes with his replacement during the change of shift, stalling so that he could leave with B'Elanna. Eventually he had to give over the conn to Grimes.
"Going home anytime before midnight, Lieutenant?" he asked her lightly as he stopped by her console on his way off the bridge.
"Hopefully. I'm still trying to upgrade the long range sensors to give us more warning of anyone else who might be hostile to us. You go on ahead with Harry and meet Kes for dinner. I'll just grab something later, when I'm free."
Tom looked around to see if anyone else was paying attention to them. He didn't want to incite her into a scene on the bridge if he could help it. If he kept his voice barely above a whisper and in a casual tone, perhaps he could avoid an outburst. "B'Elanna, don't you think you could take one night off, to give yourself a chance to relax a little? You've been working as if you were the only one who can repair the ship or upgrade the systems. Just one night of rest--it might help you get over that fatigue you've been feeling every night."
Her glare was a good imitation of Janeway's. Whispering hadn't been quite enough after all. Fortunately, the cavalry was coming.
"Lieutenant Nicoletti, good evening to you," Tom turned and smiled graciously at the young engineer stepping out of the turbolift at the back of the bridge.
"I'm glad you're here, Nicoletti. I want you to run a third level diagnostic on the sensor arrays. If you need anything, I'll be down in Engineering."
"Lieutenant Torres, may I accompany you to the turbolift, at least?" Tom said, giving in to the inevitable. She shrugged her shoulders before turning back to her subordinate, who was already seated at the Engineering console. Tom walked up to the turbolift and waited for a few minutes until B'Elanna had finished briefing Nicoletti on the long list of tasks awaiting her during Beta shift.
"Hey guys, wait up," said Harry as the two lieutenants entered the turbolift. Tom gave Harry his own version of The Look, although it could not come close to matching Janeway's or B'Elanna's. With Harry along, Tom wasn't even going to be able to get more that a peck on the cheek from B'Elanna on the lift.
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The dinner hour rush had long since come and gone. Kes had been called back to Sickbay to help the Doctor with some tests he was running. Tom and Harry were still sitting in the corner of the mess hall, nursing mugs of replicated coffee, waiting for the still-absent B'Elanna. Several calls had been made to Engineering, a few times by Tom and a couple of times by Harry, gingerly asking the chief engineer if she were coming to eat soon. Each time, the answer had been a variation of "Soon, but not yet."
"I don't get it, Harry. She almost seems like she's trying to avoid me sometimes. And testy--it's like approaching a mountain lioness. I'm not sure what the Klingon equivalent is, but I'm sure there is one--sleek, lethal, always ready to pounce." Tom looked dejectedly at his half-filled mug of cold ersatz coffee. "I knew it was too soon for us to become intimate when we did, but what else could I do? She wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with her. And it was so damned cold, Harry!"
"It's difficult for her, Tom. I don't think she's had a lot of people that she's been able to trust before us. She'll come around. Just be careful you don't . . ." Harry paused, not being sure how he could put what he knew he should say diplomatically.
"Be careful about what? Loving her too much? It's already too late for that, my friend. Much too late."
"Just don't crowd her, Tom. She's used to being completely on her own. B'Elanna's proud of her self-reliance, of being in control. She likes to be outspoken and speaks her own mind. I think she could be afraid of losing herself in you. Libby and I had some dancing around to do when we first got together about that, and I still need to remind myself to be careful around Kes. She's so much stronger than she appears that I get a little overprotective sometimes. It takes time to work out all the little things, Tom. The big things always seem to take care of themselves."
"I hope so, Harry. I'm really trying not to push her, you know that."
"I know, Tom, but you know how B'Elanna is. Sometimes she sees a push when there isn't one." Harry was not sure Tom didn't have good cause to look as worried as he did. Harry had noticed a change in B'Elanna over the past week or so, too, a pulling back from the relationship she had been building with Tom since their return from Tantrum IV. It wasn't so much that she was taking her job so seriously--that had always been a given--but B'Elanna seemed to be using it to erect a barrier of work between Tom and herself. Meals were eaten on the run, in Engineering most of the time, and Harry knew that she claimed never to have time for anything other than work and sleep.
He would have been even more concerned had he known what Tom had chosen not to confide to Harry, despite their close friendship. More often than not, B'Elanna was now sleeping alone, too.
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"Torres to Chakotay."
::::"Yes, B'Elanna, what can I do for you?"::::
"I have those reports for you on the sensor array modifications. Do you want me to bring them to you tonight?"
::::"Hold them until tomorrow. I'll review them before the staff meeting."::::
B'Elanna hesitated before replying. She wanted to talk to someone about Tom. The reports were merely an excuse to approach Chakotay. B'Elanna detected a weariness in his voice, however, that suggested Chakotay would not be as accepting of a visit from her tonight as she needed him to be, certainly not enough for her to bring up the subject of the pilot with him. Tom and Chakotay had had troubles of their own in the past, and B'Elanna did not know what reservations the first officer still might have about Paris. Now that Chakotay was having relationship problems with Janeway--Tom's mentor--seeking out Chakotay's advice about Tom might be asking too much of him. If bringing the reports meant handing Chakotay a PADD and saying good evening, it would not be of much help to B'Elanna.
"Fine, Chakotay. I'll bring them to the bridge 15 minutes before the start of the staff meeting tomorrow morning. Torres out."
B'Elanna gathered up the report for Chakotay as well as some PADDs to bring with her to her quarters. She planned another working evening, with little time for romance. As that thought occurred to her, a vision of Tom's face flashed in her mind. And not only his face--B'Elanna vividly remembered the look and feel of his long body, lying beside her in the dim cavern.
Standing up abruptly, she tried to shake off the image of the helmsman embracing her in bed. Tom Paris invaded her mind as well as her body more and more every day and each night. Increasingly, she was unable keep him out of her thoughts. The weak feeling she felt in the pit of her stomach when she was with him disturbed her. Sometimes she felt it even when she was not with him. Lately she was always on edge, and there were times B'Elanna even felt light headed.
This depending on another for her own sense of well-being simply was not good for her. She had to do something about it, and soon.
Exiting her office with her armload of PADDs, B'Elanna heard raucous laughter coming from the area around the warp core. Three of her staff were standing by the core, apparently checking readings, but their laughter told a different story. Walking over to find out what was going on, B'Elanna noticed the laughter ceased as soon as she came into view. Several looks between her engineers were exchanged, along with a wink between Lieutenant Carey, who was commanding Engineering this shift, Ashmore and Henley.
"What's going on, Lieutenant?" B'Elanna asked of Carey.
"Nothing at all, Lieutenant Torres. Everything is under control."
Looking around at her staff, B'Elanna felt that there was much more going on than she could tell, but to yell at them for laughing at something seemed petty. There had been little enough laughter around Voyager lately. She could hardly come down upon them for getting a little of their high spirits back.
"Anyone care to let me in on the joke?" she asked.
The three exchanged nervous glances between themselves, but no one spoke.
"Apparently not," said B'Elanna, a little too sharply. "Well, carry on."
She turned to go. As she arrived at the doorway leading out of Engineering, one of the PADDs slipped out of her hand. Stooping down to pick it up, B'Elanna could hear a voice say something that sounded like "hot date," "Tom," and "needs it" before the three voices erupted in hoots of laughter again. Flushing deeply, B'Elanna almost turned back to confront them but stopped herself. As she stalked to the turbolift, however, she could feel her temper dragging at the leash, begging to be let loose.
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The wolf did not wish to be found. As he loped after her, trying to find her trail, he felt himself slipping away from the country that he had been traveling. A feeling of abandonment swept over him. His animal guide had never slipped away from Chakotay so completely before.
Opening his eyes, the commander surveyed his quarters without recognition. The familiar shapes were obscured, hidden, as if they were shrouded in a deep mist. Several minutes passed until his eyes regained their normal sight, before he could again see his desk, chairs, sofa, bed. Chakotay could not shake off the feeling that he had lost his way, here in the middle of what had been the most familiar of settings for most of his life.
Wrapping up the contents of his medicine bundle and putting it back on its shelf, the commander turned to the door. If one ritual, that of his ancestors, was illusive, perhaps that of his Voyager family would not be. Sandrine's was running tonight. To Sandrine's he would go, to try to forget.
~~~~~
When Chakotay entered the holodeck program, Tom Paris and Harry Kim were at the pool table, dueling Dalby and Bristow for replicator credits, bragging rights, and pride. All but Paris waved at the commander as he stopped at the table to watch Tom line up his shot, a difficult, but possible, bank shot around the eight ball. He missed the shot, hitting the eight ball instead. Tom and Harry groaned as Dalby and Bristow celebrated.
"Not your night, Paris?"
"Doesn't seem to be, Commander. Can I interest you in a game? I have to win back some replicator credits for Harry, here. I don't want to get him into any trouble with Kes." The smile was weak. Tom hadn't been looking too well lately. Chakotay wondered how things were going between Torres and him. They seemed like such an unlikely couple. Torres had stopped confiding in him, however, and he did not feel comfortable asking Paris about it. Their relationship really was none of his business, anyway. He had enough problems of his own in that regard.
Shaking his head, Chakotay walked over to the bar to order a drink and settled upon a seat in the corner, well away from the pool table and the couples that were dancing at the other end of the room. The room was full of crew; almost none of the holodeck characters were present. Only Sandrine, holding court at the bar and serving all comers, was there tonight.
Chakotay decided, from the looks of it, that he was not the only one feeling dispirited. Despite the crowd, the noise level was relatively low. Most people were sitting around talking, some earnestly, most lethargically. A few of them glanced over at the first officer upon occasion. He could guess that they were saying something about him and, probably, about the captain, as well. As he sipped his synthale he sighed. This may not have been such a good idea after all.
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B'Elanna Torres arrived at Sandrine's a few minutes past 2200 hours. The crowd was already thinning despite the early hour. Since the captain had not shown up and the commander had left after only a few minutes, the appeal of hanging around to gossip about them had not been sufficient to keep the clientele happy. No fireworks display in the replicated Marseilles tavern tonight.
Almost as soon as she entered the room, B'Elanna heard Tom call out to her. "B'Elanna, finally," as he rushed up and enveloped her in his arms.
"Please, Tom. I'm not in the mood."
"O-kay." Although he had stretched out the word, the helmsman stepped back with alacrity. "Kes and Harry are still here, although I think they're getting restless. They'll be wanting to go back to their quarters soon, I think. Why don't you go over to where they're sitting and I can get you something to drink."
"I'll get it myself, Tom."
She looked drawn and tired. "Are you sure? I'd be glad to help get you something to drink or to eat--have you eaten yet?"
"Tom! I'll get it myself."
The pilot raised both hands and stepped back in a gesture of surrender. "Sorry, I just wanted to give you a hand if you had a lot to carry."
"I won't."
"We're sitting over there, in the back corner." As he left her near the bar Tom shook his head. Testy, very testy. He knew she had a fear of being smothered, but since when was trying to be helpful smothering?
Tom looked back over his shoulder at her once he had taken his seat in the corner booth, across from Kes and Harry. They were so absorbed in one another that he had to clear his throat a few times to get their attention. Kes blushed as she turned towards Tom, but Harry just looked ridiculously happy. Tom was glad that someone was.
"I thought B'Elanna was here, Tom. Didn't I see her a minute ago?" inquired Kes.
"She's over by the bar." He looked back at B'Elanna again. She was leaning her entire weight on the bar. "Kes, don't you think she looks tired? B'Elanna's been like that almost constantly for the last couple of weeks. I think she's been working much too hard. What do you think?"
Kes shrugged her shoulders. "There has been an awful lot of work to be done after all that's happened. I'm sure she's just being careful that everything is being done right." Kes glanced over at B'Elanna, who was carrying a tray with some kind of drink and a sandwich over to the table. "Here she comes, now."
Tom slid over to the inside of the booth to allow B'Elanna a place to sit. "Prune juice? Again?"
"What of it, Paris? I like prune juice."
Time to back off, thought Tom, noting that he had been demoted to "Paris."
"Nothing at all, Be'. Nothing's wrong at all." He did not bother to mention the sandwich she was tearing into hungrily, even though it was a clear indicator that once again, she had worked for at least 14 hours without having had any kind of meal. Tom knew for a fact she had skipped lunch. He bit back a comment linking her lack of stamina to not eating. She was definitely too testy to bring up something like that tonight, even if it were true.
~~~~~
The friends sat and chatted, sipping their drinks while B'Elanna finished eating. B'Elanna had the least to say of any of them, but consuming her meal was not the reason. She was watching the newly married couple before her. Kes was constantly worrying that Harry's stamina was still suspect after his poisoning by Species 8472 and his brush with death. The Doctor had used Borg nanites to cure him, but even B'Elanna noticed that Harry had yet to regain all of the weight he had lost while he was so ill. B'Elanna herself loathed being fussed over the way Kes was fussing over him, but Harry did not seem to mind being the object of so much attention from his loving wife.
With the example of Harry and Kes before her, beautiful to look at together, so obviously in love, and temperamentally well suited to one another, B'Elanna reconsidered her relationship with Tom for at least the hundredth time. People said that they looked good together, too, although she personally couldn't see it. He was tall, blond, and good-looking; she was short, dark, and striking looking, perhaps, but certainly not beautiful. The sex between them was good, but how long would that keep him?
Tom had a tendency to fuss over her, too. He was always trying to do things for her, pushing his ideas on her about what they should do together, how to spend their time, yet he always backed off when she refused to do something. Between this pushiness and then his caving in to what she wanted, she never knew what to expect from him. B'Elanna did not trust ambivalence, and that is what she sensed from Tom.
B'Elanna was beginning to see that she didn't act like herself around him. She was not fond of personal contact, but she found herself wanting Tom to touch her constantly. He was going to make her love him, tie her to him--she could feel it--and then what? Although she tried to shy away from it, her mother's voice haunted her mind, as much as she tried to push it away: 'He is a human, and he will tire of you. He will betray you. Leave, before you are left.'
Lost in her thoughts, B'Elanna was disoriented a minute when Kes and Harry got up from their seats. "Going already?" B'Elanna asked.
"As a matter of fact, we are. We've only been trying to say 'good-bye' for the last ten minutes!" laughed Harry. "We have an early staff meeting tomorrow, remember? I have a few things to go over before I hit the hay."
"Have a good time, Starfleet. Kes." B'Elanna's expression did not match her words, and belatedly, Harry remembered that she was still a little touchy about being reminded of a haystack in a certain cave on the world of Tantrum IV.
"Good night, Tom, B'Elanna. You might want to make an early night of it, too," added Kes. She was smiling, but with some concern. Tom was not suffering from an overactive imagination after all, Kes realized. Something was bothering B'Elanna, but Kes could tell she would not speak of it, at least, not in front of them.
"See you in the morning," Tom added, as his friends departed. When he turned his attention to B'Elanna, he hesitated before saying anything else. She really did not look well. How could he ask her what was wrong without getting his head bitten off?
"So, now that you've eaten, would you like to go back to quarters and relax a bit?" He smiled at her with as much charm as he could in his worried state. "Come down to my place, B'Elanna. I'll put on some nice music and we can cuddle up for a while."
"That's your answer for everything, isn't it, Paris? A little sex, and everything will be fine."
"B'Elanna, I said relax, nothing more than that. I'm inviting you back to my quarters for the company, that's all. No lovemaking if you're not feeling well enough for it tonight. I can see you're tired."
"What do you think I am, some weakling? I'd like you to have the kind of day I had without feeling tired!"
"That's my point, Be'. You've been working so hard, you need to take a break and rest up a little. You've been . . . ."
"You always know what's best for me, don't you. Well, I did just fine without you before, and I can do just as fine again."
"Be' . . . ." Tom began to feel a little desperate at the direction this conversation was going. What did he say? Why was she getting so upset? And he knew very well that if he confronted her with those questions, she would be even angrier at him. His own anger was simmering under the surface, and that "hostility thing" that Klingons sometimes used as foreplay was not in evidence in B'Elanna's manner or expression. This was not a game. She meant it.
Confirming all of his fears, B'Elanna turned away, reluctant to face him directly, as she threw out, "Paris, this just isn't working for me. We've had some laughs, some good times, but this relationship is not what I want or need. Let's just go back to being friends and forget the rest of it."
"B'Elanna, it's late, we're both tired. Let's talk about this another time when both of us are in a better mood. This is no time to be talking about something so . . . "
"Paris, there isn't anything to talk about. Face it, we were better off when we were just friends. Let's leave it at that." By keeping her face averted from Tom's, she did not see his dismayed look transform to a stronger emotion. For weeks, for his lover's sake, Tom had been consciously suppressing that mask of nonchalance he had always worn to protect himself, since B'Elanna hated it so much. That backfired now. He could not keep his temper in check.
"Friends. You want to be 'friends.' You've shown me Paradise and now we're back to 'Hi, how are you, see you around?' " Tom grabbed her by both arms, pleading, "B'Elanna Torres, don't do this to us. I love you!"
"Let go of me, Paris, before I deck you!" she shouted. Breaking his hold, she stood up by the booth, taking a pace back when Tom jumped up as well.
"B'Elanna . . . ."
"Get away from me, Paris!" she screamed. "Enough! We've had enough! I've kept my damned promise to you, and now it's over!"
B'Elanna swiveled away from him, ran by the pool table, and out the door.
Tom held his position for several seconds, white-faced and trembling. After taking a few deep breaths, he became aware that there were no tavern sounds. A quick flicker of a look on each side of him showed that all of the remaining patrons of Sandrine's were staring at Thomas Eugene Paris.
Taking an agonized breath, Tom followed his love out the doors of Sandrine's, leaving behind a sudden outrush of sound as various crewmen called off the status of bets they had made concerning the length of the relationship of the ship's helmsman and the chief engineer. For the patient, there had been fireworks, after all.
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Tom was the first to arrive in the conference room for the staff meeting. The pilot generally sat to the left, next to B'Elanna and Tuvok. Instead of taking his accustomed seat, he stood until Tuvok, Harry, and Chakotay had taken their usual seats at the table. As he had expected, there was an open seat between Harry and Chakotay, to Janeway's right, which Tom promptly took. When the engineer entered the room, she took the chair nearest the door, next to Neelix, positioning herself so that she would not need to see Tom's face during the meeting.
Captain Janeway noted that her pilot and chief engineer had taken seats as far away from each other as possible in the small room, as well as the fact that neither had more than the barest minimum to contribute to the discussion. She looked over to Chakotay. His eyes were on Lieutenant Torres and Lieutenant Paris as well, and his face bore a troubled expression.
The staff meeting itself was routine compared to most of those that had taken since the Borg and Species 8472 first made their presences known. A few reports about repairs, supply status reports, and personnel issues were reviewed. For once, no one had a major problem or complaint to raise.
"Are there any other issues anyone wishes to bring up?" The captain looked at each of her officers in turn. No one spoke up. "I'd like to speak with you, Commander, but everyone else is dismissed." As everyone rose from the table, looks were exchanged between Janeway's staff. It had been quite a while since a meeting had ended with the commander and the captain remaining behind for a private discussion; it was no longer considered routine. Paris and Torres, however, hardly noticed. They were too busy avoiding each other. Paris hung back from the door until Torres was well clear and already striding toward the turbolift to go to Engineering.
"Commander, what's going on between Tom and B'Elanna? A lover's spat?"
"You didn't hear about what happened last night at Sandrine's? The story is already all over the ship. From what I heard, it sounds like a lot more than a 'spat.' " He told the captain what he knew.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Tom, in particular, seemed so happy with her." She looked up at him sadly. "Our discussions about the dangers of 'fraternization' now seem to have an 'Exhibit A,' don't they?"
"Yes, Captain." Privately, he thought that Paris and Torres might be 'Exhibit B,' but he was too tactful to bring it up. "Is there anything else, Captain?"
"No, Commander." After a short pause, she added softly, "Dismissed."
After he left her, Captain Janeway walked slowly to her ready room, ruminating on maintaining crew morale when their journey home, taken objectively, was still only in its infancy.
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"But Tom, what reason did she give for breaking it off?"
"Harry, I have no idea. She just said it wasn't what she wanted or needed. If she had an actual reason, she sure didn't bother to tell me what it was." The look in the helmsman's eyes was haunted and confused.
"Tom, you know how she gets sometimes. She'll come around. Just be nice to her when you see her. Don't crowd her, and this will all blow over."
"I hope you're right, Harry," Tom replied, in a hoarse, low tone. "This seemed different, somehow, though. She's been acting so strangely. And God knows, Harry, I did everything I could to avoid crowding her last night."
"She probably didn't see it that way."
"I guess not." Tom's sober expression was very unlike him. "Harry, do you think it is possible to love someone too much? I don't know . . . it almost seemed like she . . . she doesn't want me to love her."
"No, Tom, I don't think that's it. Maybe she just needs some time away from you to think things over."
Tom sighed. "I'm a little afraid that 'thinking things over' away from me will turn into 'out of sight, out of mind.' She can do that, you know, just by burying herself in Engineering. She can always find something that needs to be fixed or made more efficient." Harry had to chuckle at that. He had been dragged into "efficiency upgrades" by B'Elanna on countless occasions
The two friends sat quietly, finishing their meal, until Harry finally offered, "Why don't Kes and I invite her for dinner? You can just 'drop in' during the meal. "
"You don't think she might get angrier if she smells a set-up, do you?"
"Kes can soothe her. It's worth a try."
"I guess it is worth a try, Harry. Especially since I don't have any better ideas at the moment."
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If B'Elanna's staff thought their chief had been difficult for the past week or two, they quickly recognized their mistake. Everyone was running constantly, responding to demands from Lieutenant Torres for the improvement of the efficiency ratings for virtually every piece of equipment in Engineering. When she made noises about moving to other areas of ship's functioning, Lieutenant Carey appealed to Commander Chakotay. Apologizing profusely for circumventing the usual chain of command, Carey begged the commander to have a talk with the lieutenant. After hearing out Mr. Carey, Chakotay agreed that, in this case, the decision to come directly to Chakotay appeared to be justified.
A short meeting between the commander and the chief engineer took place later in the day, with the avowed subject being the prioritizing of assignments so as not to lower staff efficiency through staff exhaustion. B'Elanna took the hint, although not particularly graciously. When Chakotay tried to open the discussion to B'Elanna's own state of mind, however, his overtures were brusquely received by the chief engineer.
"I'm doing just fine, thank you, Commander. Is that it?"
"Yes, Lieutenant. That will be all." As she left his office, Chakotay sighed. He may have had his concerns about B'Elanna dating Tom Paris, but he was beginning to suspect it might be even harder on her--not to mention everyone around her--now that she was no longer seeing the helmsman.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
Neelix's holographic resort program was running that evening. After the exciting events in Sandrine's the night before, a large percentage of the crew were milling around, hoping for another show. There was a great deal of brisk action amongst those who were of the betting persuasion. By the time Captain Janeway walked in with her latest pet project Seven-of-Nine, intending to provide the exiled Borg with another lesson on appropriate socializing during off-duty hours, the conversations were buzzing merrily. Many of these had to do with Captain Janeway's previous reclamation project, one Thomas Eugene Paris, who was holding court in the center of the resort.
Playboy Tom seemed to be back. Every woman received a bit of the famous Paris flirtatiousness. A careful observer could see that the remarks, while pleasantly flattering and given with a smile, had no motivation other than to give the recipient a brief glow from being appreciated. Anyone, man or woman, who seemed in need of a few moments of attention received some. Even Seven-of-Nine was treated to a sample of Paris' gallantry when he came to where the captain and the former Borg were sitting, bringing each a drink. Upon being prompted by the captain, Seven managed a perfunctory "Thank you." Tom stayed to chat them up for several minutes before he floated off to another table. Captain Janeway was not fooled by his antics. The emptiness in his eyes told her all she needed to know.
"Tom, can we talk?" Megan Delaney waved him over to the table where she was sitting, alone at the moment.
"Sure. Need company? I thought I saw Gerron here before."
"He's over getting us something to drink. I don't suppose you want anything." She looked at his almost-full glass with a smidgen of disapproval. The colors in his glass had been changing all night, and she suspected that he was not limiting himself to synthehol.
Taking a seat across from Megan, Tom took a long swig of his drink.
"So, what do you want to talk about. Not me, I hope."
"Reading my mind, again, Tom? That's exactly the subject I had in mind. Or rather, we had in mind." Megan slid over to make room for Gerron, who was carrying a tray with two glasses of a fizzy pink liquid and a plate of hors d'oeuvres.
"I'm not a very interesting subject, even though I seem to be coming up in a lot of the conversations tonight." He took another long sip of his drink, then waved to a holodeck waiter to order another. Megan shared a glance with Gerron. It was even worse than they had suspected.
"Tom, it's obvious how much you're hurting. If there is anything we can do, all you have to do is ask."
"Thanks, Meg, Gerron. I know you'd help if you could. I'm not sure there's anything anyone can do." He paused, looking into the bottom of his now empty glass. "You know, I hailed her before I came here tonight. Asked her to dinner, just to eat. Promised to keep it light. She barely let me finish the invitation." He paused. "I'll give it some time, I think. Maybe work this out on my own."
When he looked up from his glass, he could see sympathy and concern radiating from both pairs of eyes. "Just remember that if there is anyway we can help, if you do need anyone to talk to, we'll listen. Both of us," Gerron said. Coming from him the offer may have meant even more than it might have from Megan. Tom had been close to her for a long time, but even though he had never been as friendly with Gerron, Tom knew the young Bajoran wasn't one to say anything he did not mean.
"Thanks, Gerron, Megan. I just may take you up on that." With the arrival of his drink, however, Tom made his good-byes and circulated the room once again.
"Do you think we'd have more luck talking to B'Elanna?" asked Gerron.
"Maybe if you did--you've known her longer than I have. I'm not sure what her reaction would be to me. I wish I knew what had gotten into her--they seemed so right for one another. I've never seen Tom like this before. He really has it bad."
Gerron put his arms around Megan and gave her a quick hug, to which she responded with a smile and a soft kiss. Seeing Tom's pain made them even more gratefully aware of their own feelings for one another.
Tom's social butterfly persona was in evidence all evening. Janeway, Megan, and Gerron were not the only ones to realize it was a mask. When he left, Tom was intoxicated by something much stronger and more painful than synthehol, and no one failed to notice that he left alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After checking the chief engineer's whereabouts via the comm system, Kes accidentally-on-purpose ran into B'Elanna outside of Sickbay. The plans for a quiet dinner that would be interrupted by a certain tall, blond and blue-eyed human male had gone awry, simply because B'Elanna had not made herself available for an invitation when Harry had tried to ask her during the previous three days. Now it was time for the less subtle approach.
"Hi, B'Elanna, I've been looking for you."
"Here I am."
"I wanted to ask you about something."
"Not now, Kes. The Doctor is waiting for me. It's time for his weekly diagnostic."
"That's convenient. I was just going to go to Sickbay myself. I have a few things to finish up before I meet Harry for dinner."
Smiling sweetly, Kes led B'Elanna into Sickbay. B'Elanna breathed in heavily but managed to keep herself from making any more noticeable sign of discomfort. She had been diligently avoiding Kes since the breakup with Tom. If anyone could recognize the tumultuous emotions that she had been trying so hard to keep in check, it would be the gentle but perceptive Ocampan woman.
When the two women entered Sickbay, the Doctor registered their approach with what appeared to be some surprise. "Kes, I thought you were going to dinner."
"I had a few things to check up on in the lab." While saying this, Kes raised an eyebrow, tilted her head slightly, and then flashed an intent look at B'Elanna before staring back at the EMH.
"Oh, of course, I remember now. Go right ahead. Carry on."
If B'Elanna didn't know better, she would have sworn that the Doctor was actually getting flustered about something. "Are you experiencing some kind of difficulty in your programming, Doctor?"
"No, no, everything is just fine. That's why you're here, isn't it? To assure me that everything is fine."
B'Elanna stared at him. His behavior was decidedly odd. She would need to take extra care in her testing this evening.
~~~~~
B'Elanna checked the reading on her instruments. "That's the last one, Doctor. According to the diagnostics, your program seems to be working perfectly. Do you have any concerns?" She was relieved that his unusual behavior did not appear to be due to any problems with the EMH system itself. After having an ample opportunity to put away her equipment without a reply from the Doctor, however, B'Elanna looked up at him. His usual answer was a brusque, "No, Lieutenant. Have a nice day." There was no doubt about it. He was looking at her with an unreadable look. He was definitely acting abnormally.
"Doctor?"
"I, uh, don't have any concerns, exactly, but I was wondering if we might discuss something of a programming nature."
"Really, Doctor, I don't advise adding any more personality subroutines to your matrix unless you're going to delete something. There are already so many variables in what constitutes your . . . ."
"Lieutenant, I'm not asking about your making any adjustments to my matrix. Not directly, at any rate." He stopped and cleared his throat for a second. B'Elanna wondered where that particular mannerism had come from. Had he been fooling around on his own again, or was it characteristic of one of the many doctors upon whom the EMH had been based? She was on the brink of asking him about it when he continued, "I was thinking about my family. I'd like to extend the family program."
Of all the things that the Doctor might have said to B'Elanna, that was the least expected. "After all the pain you went through, when your daughter . . . . Doctor, do you really want to go through that again?"
"Of course I don't want to go through that kind of pain again, but going back to my family doesn't mean I will, necessarily. That kind of tragedy doesn't happen all the time, Lieutenant. I know it can happen more than once. I've been reviewing the literature. Hopefully, Jeffrey and any future children would grow up hale and hearty."
"Future children!" B'Elanna looked at the Doctor and Kes in shock.
The Doctor made a face. "Well, the cat's out of the bag, as the saying goes. I don't even want to know how that particular saying got started, truth to tell. Well. Yes, I am considering having another child with Charlene. My wife. Jeffrey's mother."
"I know who Charlene is, Doctor. How could I ever forget her?" The saccharine sweetness of Mrs. Doctor as originally programmed had given B'Elanna a bad headache. "But, 'having a child?' "
"Kes and I have been talking it over. She feels that I gave up on the program too soon after Belle's death; that I didn't tie up all the loose ends, as it were. Since the program has never been deleted, I decided to go back a few more times. I did do a little programming, Lieutenant, I admit, but it was with Mr. Paris' and Mr. Kim's assistance. They only helped me to advance the program a few months. I just couldn't--well, I had already gone back to the time immediately following my loss sufficiently for that. When I went back, Charlene was so glad to see me she broke down in tears. I found myself grieving with her for Belle again anyway.
"What Mr. Paris told me was true, Lieutenant Torres. Allowing myself to truly experience the grief and grow past it was beneficial. After I visited several more times, I realized how much more there is to family life than that I could experience with the program as it had been originally designed. I had completely missed pregnancy, childbirth, infancy, and early childhood. I jumped into my examination of family life far too precipitously, failing to gain valuable insight from dealing with a younger child that I might have used to avoid the pitfalls of dealing with teenagers. Charlene and I have been discussing having another baby. I think it would be an excellent opportunity for me to explore other aspects of family life. Will you help me, Lieutenant?"
"I really think the Doctor is right about pursuing this, B'Elanna," Kes jumped in eagerly. "Time can be telescoped a bit throughout the program--the Doctor and his family wouldn't be subject to the laws of real time that you and I are, so the pregnancy doesn't need to take nine months in real time as it usually does for humans--but think how much the Doctor could learn! He's been doing so much better in his interactions with the crew just from what he's learned already."
After thinking about it, B'Elanna could see benefits in the plan. "All right, Doctor. I'll give it a try. While I'm at it, I'll look at the randomizing elements I added before. I think I may have gone a little overboard with the negatives after seeing that first version of the program." B'Elanna couldn't keep herself from cringing. That first look at the family over dinner had been a sickening experience. She was sure she'd overreacted when she "tweaked" it. "We'll get rid of Jeffrey's Klingon friends, and I'll make sure that future elements are fair to you in . . . "
"Lieutenant, you don't have to delete Larg and K'Kath. Once I got to know them and set some reasonable limits concerning Jeffrey's activities with them, it turned out they weren't such bad influences after all. They were a great deal of help to Jeffrey when he was getting over the loss of his sister."
B'Elanna stared at him. This was getting stranger and stranger, but at least she finally understood the Doctor's earlier behavior--not to mention Kes' unexpected presence in Sickbay when she should have been having dinner with Harry. "Fine, Doctor. I'll work on developing the birth and early childhood development program. Make sure that you let me know if you think about anything else. I don't want you tinkering with the program yourself." She picked up her instrument case and started to leave when an idea struck her. "Doctor, how do you want to . . . start this baby."
"What do you mean? Oh!" The Doctor looked shocked. "I hadn't really given that any thought, Lieutenant."
"You'd better."
"Perhaps you can give the Doctor the capability of choosing whether or not to experience that himself, B'Elanna," said Kes quietly. "Can you do that?"
"I believe I can. I know of a few holodeck programs that are pretty--explicit--in that regard. We can make that one of the elements you can control yourself, if you like."
"That would be acceptable." The Doctor's voice trailed off, but he was smiling especially broadly, his eye gaze far away.
Kes and B'Elanna exchanged grins. Apparently the Doctor was running through the possible scenarios already. B'Elanna had a feeling she already knew what his choice would turn out to be.
~~~~~
Kes followed B'Elanna out of Sickbay. "B'Elanna, wait a moment. I have something else I want to ask you."
"Yes, what is it?"
"Since it's so late, I thought you might like to join Harry and me for dinner in our quarters. We were going to replicate something for dinner anyway. We expected the Doctor would make his request to you tonight." Her smile was genuine, welcoming.
"Thanks for the invitation, Kes, but I want to get back to my own quarters early tonight. I've got a busy day coming up tomorrow."
"It's been a long time since we had a chance to talk together. We were really hoping that you'd come by, B'Elanna."
The half-Klingon engineer appraised her companion with a suspicious air. "Not to talk about a certain pilot, I hope," she snapped.
Kes' facial expression revealed the true agenda. Only the truth would satisfy her friend now. "That was one of the subjects, I admit. But B'Elanna, he's been so unhappy, and . . . well . . . it seems like you've been avoiding us all since you argued with Tom. If you really don't want to talk about it, of course we'll respect that."
"I suppose he was going to 'just happen to drop by' while I was there?" Her eyes were flashing dangerously.
Kes sighed. "That was Harry's original plan, but I put a stop to that. Tonight we were really only going to talk. Please forgive us. We care about you both. I'm sorry if I've put you into an uncomfortable position by asking you this."
The earnest look displayed upon Kes' face sapped away B'Elanna's anger. It was hard to remain angry with Kes for long; her sincere desire for others to be happy was a well-known, foregone conclusion. "I know you meant well. Give my regrets to Harry."
As B'Elanna strode determinedly away, Kes found that she had to lean against the corridor wall, all of her energy drained away by her conversation with the engineer. When her strength did not return as much as she expected despite resting for a few minutes, Kes signaled her husband to meet her in front of Sickbay. She wouldn't need to reveal the real reason she'd wanted him to come. He would offer her his arm automatically out of courtesy.
While waiting for Harry, Kes decided that if this was typical of the way it was going to make her feel, matchmaking was not an activity she intended to be doing very often in the future.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Paris to Torres."
::::"Torres here."::::
"Lieutenant, if you're free tonight, I'd like to invite you to dinner. No pushing. No pressure. Just two old friends having dinner. What do you say?"
::::"Thanks for the offer. I'm busy."::::
The filtering effect of the comm transmission did not obscure the finality of the rejection in her voice. Asking her if she'd consider having dinner tomorrow, or the day after that, or the next day, would undoubtedly elicit the same response.
"Another time, then, Lieutenant."
::::"Fine. Torres out."::::
Tom leaned against the wall in his quarters. At least she had answered his hail this time. That might be progress; but more likely, she thought of it as her duty, in case he had some engineering problem to be addressed. He had better not think of it as an opening for any future involvement. For the hundredth time he cursed himself for letting her get to him the way she had; but gotten to Tom, she had. No question.
If Tom thought the fantasies he'd had about getting physical with Lieutenant Torres had preoccupied him before they first slept together, he now knew better. Those fantasies were nothing compared to the sharp, painful clarity of his memories of their time together on Tantrum IV, or on board Voyager since their return. Over and over again in his head he heard echoes of her voice, felt the whisper of her touch, sensed the breath of her mouth on his. He shook his head to free himself of his fantasies the way a dog shakes water off its body. He had to get a grip on himself.
And he had to get himself to the bridge. It was time for his shift. Quickly tugging on his boots, Tom left his quarters for his duty station at the helm.
~~~~~
Tom's shift had been boring. Nothing new or interesting occurred to divert his attention from the grim thoughts that wereplagued his mind. There was one good thing about that boring day: a certain chief engineer had no cause to appear on the bridge during the entire shift. He would be thankful for small favors.
After a sparse, replicated dinner of chicken soup and crackers (he had to get the damned thing programmed for a good bowl of tomato soup someday; he just couldn't seem to get it right), Tom paced restlessly. Unfortunately for him, pacing reminded him of someone else he knew well who was well-known for her pacing.
Groaning, Tom leaned his head in his hands for several minutes before deciding he was being absolutely ridiculous about this. He needed to provide himself with a constructive outlet. 'Write a holonovel for the crew to enjoy, Tom--Janeway has given you carte blanche to do one. Let's see, how about a holonovel set on a lonely world of perpetual winter. Let's call it Temper Tantrum. There's an idea--the crew will love it. Instead of having everyone ask about what happened, they can live it!
'The men get to be the feckless Starfleet helmsman, hopelessly in love with the ex-Maquis engineer. The women, of course, take on the role of the brilliantly talented chief engineer, who finds the helmsman's attentions hysterically funny, and ultimately, absurd. If the crew liked Insurrection Alpha, they'll love this one.
'Ah, no, Tommy, that won't do. No point in writing a program that couldn't run on the holodeck. The safeties that prevent someone from getting hurt wouldn't allow for this program to run at all. No way for someone not to get hurt. Too bad.'
He laughed. It was a bitter laugh, perhaps, but it was a laugh nonetheless. 'Tom, you really are wallowing in it now. You're feeling sorry for yourself, and that is a very, very, very bad place for Tom Paris to be. Tom Paris has done some stupendously stupid things when he was in this kind of mood--joining the Maquis, for instance. Going to the Resort, drinking himself silly, and making a fool of himself the other night was only the most recent example. When your ex-girlfriend and her new lover try to cheer you up, you know you've hit bottom. And the hangover the next day . . . whoa! Forget going out, at least in public, Paris.'
Visiting Mr. and Mrs. Kim might be a possibility, as it wasn't like going to Sandrine's or the Resort. Harry and Kes had invited him over to their quarters, but he felt awkward being in their company right now. They were so obviously honeymooners, practicing for Kes' Elogium, no doubt. Thinking of Harry caused a genuine smile to cross Tom's face. When Harry finally decided to get on with his life, he did it in spectacular fashion, that was for sure. They had much better things to do with their time right now than to play nursemaid to Tom Paris' broken heart. 'Much better things, things I'd like to be doing with B'Elanna right now.'
Thinking her name made him remember the hunger he had awakened in her. It was her due, that power of a Klingon woman in full sexual arousal that no one had ever bothered to nurture in her before Tom. As painful as it was for him to admit, he had to say he now knew what all those gross comments made in those crummy bars were about. If nothing else, he had experienced a Klingon woman--'or a half-Klingon, to be precise,' Tom smiled wanly. The half-Klingon may have been enough. He doubted he would have survived anything more intense than what they had experienced together.
Maybe she'd just realized the truth about him: he wasn't really her type, after all. 'Maybe, Tom Paris, you should be grateful that you had a chance to experience that Klingon woman. Even more, you should be proud that you were the one responsible for awakening her to her own powers, even though another man would get the benefit someday, unfair as that might seem. Maybe giving her the gift of finding out that about herself should be enough for you. Too bad it doesn't feel that way, but some things just are. You should have learned that by now, Tom.'
Enough with the self-pity; Tom decided to do something constructive. He had work to do. There were reports due about training flights for several of the crew's personnel records. Jim Joseph, especially, should be commended. Chakotay had mentioned his flying the Sacajawea for the monitoring flights. While Tom knew that the commander had filed his own reports, Tom wanted to make some comments of his own to tie in Chakotay's reports with his own recommendations. Jim was ready to serve as a pilot on some missions, not just as a co-pilot or for routine testing on repaired shuttles. Tom should make the entries. Work was good. It was apparently what she was doing since the break-up. He sat at his desk to do some nice, boring paperwork.
For over an hour, recording comments in the personnel files of his students occupied Lieutenant Paris' time. An entry to his official log, and another, short personal log entry followed. Then, when Tom remembered that he had forgotten to make an entry for one student, he turned back to the personnel files to make it up. That was it, though, and not even two hours had passed, including the time he had spent having dinner. 'Now what? Finish reading *Women Warriors at the River of Blood?* Guess not, no reason to finish that one now,' although Tom was curious to know how it ended.
Tom was about to click on the story reader program when a fragment of memory about looking up a certain personnel record flashed into his mind. An officer named Torres, about whom he actually knew very little, not even the man's first name. He hesitated. Now that B'Elanna and he were no longer together, he had little reason to look up that file. Ethically, he probably shouldn't. But as a senior officer of Voyager, he was authorized to enter such files. What if he found out something important, something that B'Elanna SHOULD know about her father?
After wrestling with the moral issues for a few minutes, Tom succumbed to temptation. "Computer, access Starfleet Personnel Archive files, code Paris gamma-rho-theta."
::::"Working."::::
"Computer, cite personnel records of active or inactive officers fitting the following established parameters: Last name, Torres."
::::"There are 5647 entries that correspond to that request."::::
"Okay, how about "Home world, Earth."
::::"There are 3284 entries that correspond to that request."::::
"Cross reference to entries citing the name of the planet Kessik IV."
::::"There are 4 entries that correspond to that request."::::
Now that was a surprise. A chance similarity of names? Or did B'Elanna have family members that she didn't even know about that lived on Kessik IV? Maybe he would have to look them all up, but first, a narrower approach.
"Cross reference to entries having the name B'Elanna Torres included in the entry."
::::"There are 2 entries that correspond to that request."::::
'Ah hah! Bingo!'
"Computer, display those two files."
Tom's computer screen lit up with the loaded files. The first was easy to dispose of: it was the record of one B'Elanna Torres, Starfleet Academy drop-out. Tom lingered over the record anyway. He felt a pang of desire as the image of a young and belligerent-looking woman of half-Klingon, half-human blood glared out of the screen at him. If they could only have gotten together earlier, would it have been different for both of them? He hadn't really gotten to be a 'pig' until he made his big mistake at Caldik Prime and was cashiered from Starfleet. Would respect for the honor of the Klingons, absorbed earlier, have enabled him to speak the truth from the beginning, when a minor reprimand instead of dishonorable discharge would have been his discipline? Could he have helped her cope with the Academy's demands and to gain confidence in herself sooner in life? He would never know. Tom reached out to give the image's cheek a whisper-soft graze of his fingertips.
After touching B'Elanna's image, Tom moved his thumb to advance the screen to the next file. He leaned his chin against his hand as he perused its contents. Why the marital breakup had occurred he could not say after reading the records; but that was an answer he'd never expected to glean from the Starfleet records anyway. That did not alter the fact that the file of Lieutenant Commander Rafael Torres was an illuminating one in many ways. There were answers for B'Elanna here if she chose to search for them, but Tom doubted she ever would access this file.
It was just a shame that it made for such depressing reading.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Torres to Sickbay."
::::"Yes, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?"::::
"Doctor, are you free at the moment? I've completed that bit of programming for you that you wanted."
::::"Yes, I'm free, Lieutenant. No one is here at the moment. Would you prefer to meet me in one of the holodecks?"::::
"I was thinking of that; but I checked; they're all in use at the moment. If you don't mind, I'll just drop this off to you. We can work on the installation another time."
::::"I'll be waiting, Lieutenant Torres.":::: The cheeriness in his voice was evident. It occurred to B'Elanna that she was glad that someone was going to be happy to see her, but she ruthlessly suppressed that train of thought. There were plenty of people that were glad to see her. Kes and Harry, for instance. Of course, they liked to see everyone. Her staff in Engineering didn't seem happy to see her lately. They would probably start rejoicing as soon as she left at the end of her shift.
B'Elanna had managed to avoid Paris since turning down his most recent dinner invitation; he now seemed to be avoiding her as well. Neelix fawned on everyone; and expecting a Vulcan to be "happy" to see anyone was a fantasy. Janeway and Chakotay didn't seem particularly happy about anything lately. B'Elanna was at a loss to figure out what Seven-of-Nine was thinking or feeling at any given point. Growing up Borg did not lend itself to the expression of personal feelings. B'Elanna shuddered. As much as she had struggled against her Klingon heritage, that was nothing compared to what it must have been like to have been raised by the Borg.
As B'Elanna traveled from Engineering to Sickbay in the turbolift, another spell of lightheadedness assaulted her. She had to grab hold of the bar inside the lift to keep her balance. 'Burying yourself in work all the time isn't a good idea,' she told herself roughly. 'But burying myself in work is the only think that keeps me from thinking about Tom,' she countered mentally.
B'Elanna did not want to think about his smile, or the sound of his voice as he told a joke, or his beautiful hands as they pranced over his keypad at the helm, or the way they felt when he . . . . "Stop it!" she shouted to herself, glad that no one was with her in the turbolift.
B'Elanna felt her stomachs lurch again as the turbolift reached Deck 5. Just thinking about her handsome former lover was turning her stomachs, now. What a perfectly un-Klingon thing that was. She sighed. If she had wanted to keep thoughts of Tom from invading her mind, breaking up with him seemed to have been the wrong way to go about it.
The Doctor's "Hello, Lieutenant!" was particularly enthusiastic as she walked into Sickbay. B'Elanna returned his wave. Yes, the Doctor was happy to see her this evening. She handed him the PADD with the family program modifications.
"Here it is, Doctor. I've loaded in the parameters for human pregnancy, childhood and adolescence. I've also worked on the algorithms for a fair randomizing of all the variables in the program, including the gender of the child. You may get a baby that cries all the time, Doctor. I'm warning you. This is not going to be a lollipop kid. There are no guarantees about bad things not happening this time, but I've taken special care that the probabilities for illnesses, disabilities, and accidents are all exactly in line with norms on Earth. That's what you said that you wanted."
"It is indeed, Lieutenant. If I am to derive any value from my family, I must leave some things to chance. I've learned my lesson."
"Still, if you want any specific modifications to the program before you decide to install it, hail me and I'll take care of it. Oh, by the way, the random elements include that one choice you have about, uh, how to initiate the modification. You can jump into the scenario before or after the pregnancy actually starts, it's your choice."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. That's very thoughtful of you." B'Elanna shook her head, even as she grinned. This whole thing was simply--weird.
Shaking her head may not have been the best idea. The room swirled, and muttering "*baQa'*," a Klingon curse she almost never used, B'Elanna had to grab onto a biobed to keep from losing her balance the way she had in the turbolift.
"What's wrong, Lieutenant Torres? Are you ill?"
"It's nothing, Doctor. I'm pretty tired. I've been working much too hard lately, I think. Unless you have some of those Macroviruses floating around in here again. My stomachs are--unsettled, like when we were invaded by those flying monstrosities.
"If that's the case, Lieutenant, you should have availed yourself of my professional services sooner. That is, after all, my true purpose on this ship. Come over here and let me scan you."
"Doctor . . ."
"I know how much you hate my interventions, Lieutenant, but I insist. Have you any other symptoms that you can tell me about?"
Glancing upwards in exasperation, B'Elanna considered bolting for the exit, but another sudden roll of her stomachs made her decide to cooperate with the Doctor's inquisition. "Well, I've been a little lightheaded, sometimes. Not too often, but sometimes. My staff would tell you that I'm irritable, I guess. Everyone is walking on eggshells around me. Or so Kes tells me. I seem tired all the time lately. I think that's because I haven't been sleeping very well. I've tried exercising to make me sleep deeply, but it doesn't seem to help. I've also tried sleeping extra hours, but I can't seem to shake the fatigue anyway. And my . . . ." She hesitated. It was probably nothing, but he was asking for symptoms. This might be one. "Well, my breasts have been really sore the last few weeks. Swollen, I guess. I just can't figure out what's wrong with me. You don't think I am really, seriously sick, do you." Suddenly B'Elanna was worried. Maybe she had been too laissez-faire about her health.
As she had been reciting her symptoms, the Doctor had been moving his basic medical tricorder over B'Elanna. Grunting a quick, "Fascinating," he moved to his instrument console, switched on a computer screen, and took hold of another probe. This time all of his attentions were centered upon his patient's abdomen.
"Doctor, what in the name of Kahless is wrong with me! Tell me, now!" B'Elanna began to get alarmed, which resembled anger to the untrained eye.
"Actually, Lieutenant, nothing is 'wrong' with you. You are simply experiencing a perfectly normal bodily process. What a coincidence that we should be talking about my family program at a time like this!" The Doctor beamed at B'Elanna. "Congratulations, Lieutenant. You are going to be a mother."
"I'm going to be a WHAT?!"
"A mother. In about seven or eight months, or thereabouts. With the blending of species, I can't be precise as to the actual length of your pregnancy at the moment."
"That's impossible," B'Elanna said, flatly.
"What do you mean, Lieutenant? I seem to recall that there was evidence to believe that you and Mr. Paris have had an intimate relationship. Am I in error?" The look of a raptor appeared in his eyes. "So far, the literature has never been able to confirm a virgin birth, but . . . "
"I don't mean it's impossible that way. But it just can't happen."
"Of course it can, Lieutenant, especially to someone who is as lax about their contraceptives as you have been. My records indicate that you did not come back to renew your implant when it passed its effective limit three months ago. You will recall that you said that you would 'come back later' for it when I examined you after your experience with Mr. Paris on that Tantrum world. Not that that is particularly unusual, of course--no one ever listens to my advice. I don't know why I persist in giving it."
"Doctor, what did I need it for! There aren't any other Klingons within thousands of parsecs from here!"
"Why did you think that you could only have a child if you had relations with a Klingon? Do you think I'm in the habit of prescribing medications and treatments for my patients that aren't needed?" His indignation was aroused.
"Doctor, I know I can't have children with a human so easily. Klingon and human matings need 'technical assistance' to happen. Do you know how much my mother had to go through to get me? She told me about it enough! Every time she was angry at me, in fact, which was pretty often!"
"I am familiar with the technical aspects, Lieutenant," he said dryly. "It is precisely because it is so arduous an undertaking that almost all couples make arrangements for the reproductive compatibility of the resultant offspring with one species or the other, based on expected lifestyles. Since your parents obviously were not sure from which species your most likely mate might come, they made sure your reproductive system was compatible with both humans and Klingons. Quite prescient of them, and an amazing technical achievement, I might add. They found so elegant a solution to the problems of interspecies mating that I almost might have thought of it myself."
B'Elanna looked at the Doctor in complete confusion. This can't be happening. "This must be a mistake. My organ systems are Klingon."
"Most of them are, Lieutenant Torres. Not the reproductive system. At least, not entirely. Your uterus is capable of nourishing an embryo fertilized by either species, and the hormones to maintain pregnancy are virtually identical for both. We can see that 94.7% of the eggs in your right ovary are compatible with Klingon sperm; while in your left ovary, 97.3% of the eggs are human-compatible. I would say that you would be slightly more fertile with a human, actually, given that ratio. The egg for this pregnancy must obviously have come from the left ovary." The EMH walked over to his scan display and punched the console several times. "Yes, there it is. I totally missed that during your examination when you returned from the planet. A new protocol is indicated, I think . . . "
"DOCTOR!"
"Oh, yes, Lieutenant. Sorry to have gone off on that little tangent. As far as your symptoms go, they all sound perfectly reasonable for someone with mixed human and Klingon heritage. The swelling of the breasts, in particular, is associated with both Klingons and humans. We'll be needing to see you every . . . "
B'Elanna screeched the EMH into silence. "I can't have this baby, Doctor! I am the chief engineer of Voyager! I work hours on end. Sometimes I'm not home long enough to get any sleep myself! How can I care for a baby? There are all kinds of dangers in Engineering--radiation, accidents. I can't do this! I'm alone!"
"I hardly think that's true, Lieutenant Torres. Ensign Wildman has had many of the crew help her with Naomi. And Mr. Paris would certainly help you. He's quite sympathetic when it comes to families. He was extremely helpful to me when . . . ."
"Don't you DARE tell Thomas Eugene Paris about this!"
This outburst managed to silence the EMH. After successfully achieving a modicum of control over her temper, B'Elanna went on. "Besides, Doctor. Since I had no idea I was pregnant, I've certainly exposed this baby to radiation hazards."
The Doctor picked up his medical tricorder, checking B'Elanna's abdomen again with care. "You had no idea, Lieutenant? Just how long is your normal menstrual cycle, then? And how many days does it last, on average?"
"Four weeks. Give or take a day or two. It usually lasts for about four days." B'Elanna felt her throat suddenly go very dry.
"Hmm. And you had a normal cycle last time?"
"It was a little short."
"How short, Lieutenant?"
"A day long. Maybe less. Maybe . . . a couple of hours." She exhaled sharply. How could she have been so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!
"A little spotting during implantation in the uterine wall. Perfectly normal, then." He scanned her abdomen one more time. "And I can detect no problems at all with the embryo. A perfectly normal, healthy, three-quarters-human, one-quarter-Klingon female fetus. Now that we know, protective measures can be taken to prevent any radiation exposure to her." He smiled encouragingly at B'Elanna.
'Oh, great. It's a girl too. What kind of mother is B'Elanna Torres going to be, with such a great role model to follow!' "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I can't do this. I need to end this. Now."
The Doctor's smile faded. While he still might have needed some work in regards to bedside manner and the evaluation of a patient's emotional status in certain situations, the Doctor did not need assistance in interpreting the look on B'Elanna's face. Furious, yet frightened, too, although she would have throttled anyone who dared suggest to her that she was the latter.
"Am I hearing you correctly, that you are saying you do not wish to carry this child to term?"
"You are hearing me correctly."
"I will do a termination of pregnancy if you insist, but there are certain regulations restricting this procedure. There is a waiting period."
"How long?"
"The procedure cannot be done prior to the passage of at least a 72 hour period from the time the pregnancy is confirmed, to make sure that the mother is not making a snap decision influenced by being in shock from first learning of her condition."
B'Elanna looked at the chronometer. "I'll be back three days from now, at 1933 sharp."
"Lieutenant Torres, shouldn't you talk over this decision with Lieutenant Paris, first?"
"I told you not to bring him into this."
"But Lieutenant . . . "
"We're not together, anymore, Doctor. There's no point to it. Leave him out of it. In fact, I don't want anyone else to know about this but you and me."
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but I cannot do the procedure without my assistant's presence. That is by Starfleet regulation, also."
B'Elanna bent her head down and closed her eyes. Kes. Kes would have to know. Her stomachs did another leap over each other. She did not want to think about the look that would be in Kes' eyes when she heard about this, but it couldn't be helped.
"All right. You'll have to tell Kes. Make it clear to her that NO ONE ELSE is to know. Not even Harry. And especially, not Paris."
The Doctor bobbed his head. B'Elanna leaned on the biobed again. Her stomachs were really flopping around now.
"Lieutenant," the Doctor said softly. "Are you in need of any assistance?"
"Can you make my stomachs behave for the next few days?"
"The literature suggests that keeping the stomach filled sometimes helps. Human females often have extreme reactions to pregnancy, with nausea very common and vomiting occurring frequently. Your Klingon stomachs should protect you from the worst of such symptoms; but if not, come to me and I will give you something. Try food first, Lieutenant, the blandest you can find."
As B'Elanna exited Sickbay, the Doctor regarded her thoughtfully. This was another aspect of the family that he had not considered. The subroutines in his program for sadness and regret were activated.
~~~~~
Her thoughts in a jumble, B'Elanna moved as if on automatic pilot out of the Sickbay door. She found herself in front of the turbolift, stepping aside for Ensigns Lang and Ashmore, who eyed B'Elanna curiously as they exited. Entering the half-filled lift, B'Elanna meant to say "Deck 11" to return to Engineering, even though she had no good reason to go back there tonight. Lost in thought, she said nothing and instead found herself on Deck 2, standing in front of the mess hall door. B'Elanna was briefly confused, but then mentally shook herself. 'It's dinnertime, Torres,' she said to herself. 'The doctor said that eating would help your queasiness.' After her mental pep talk, she entered the mess hall.
Of all the people who had to be standing in line in front of her, why did it have to be Thomas Eugene Paris, the last person she wanted to see? B'Elanna could not believe her bad luck. Compounding her distress was the sensation that her second stomach was trying to rise up through the first one and exit her body via her throat. She absolutely refused to be sick! At the very thought, her anger began to assert itself.
Tom, who was awaiting his turn to accept Neelix's dinner offering, turned around to greet the person who had just came in the door. He was momentarily staggered to see the one person he had been longing to see, the person who had been so assiduously avoiding him for the last several days. Calming himself the best that he could and smiling warmly, he quietly said, "Hello, B'Elanna. It's good to see you again."
Her temper erupted at her hapless ex-lover. "It is NOT good to see you, *petaQ!*" Pivoting on her heel, she ran out of the mess hall.
"And a fine day to you too, Lieutenant Torres," Tom said grimly to her trim back as she retreated to the safety of the corridor.
From his position in line directly in front of Tom Paris, Lieutenant Commander Tuvok stared at Lieutenant Torres as she stormed out the door. Neelix, after a brief hesitation while he observed the outburst, handed the security officer his meal, shaking his head in wonderment as he did so. Despite a careful evaluation of the exchange between his two fellow officers, Tuvok could detect nothing in Mr. Paris' words, tone, or attitude to account for her behavior. Shifting his attention to Paris, the Vulcan was struck by the young man's extreme pallor, closed eyes, and ragged breathing.
"My word, Tom! What was that all about?" Neelix asked breathlessly as he leaned over the counter.
Through clenched teeth, the helmsman said, "Lieutenant Torres has apparently decided to eat dinner somewhere else. I think I may do the same." Tom backed up a step to deposit his tray back on the stack.
"That is unfortunate, Lieutenant. I had thought to ask you to join me for dinner," said Tuvok.
Tom turned to the tall, dark man beside him in some surprise. Tuvok seldom ate meals with anyone, other than for an occasional meal with the captain. "I'm not very hungry today, Tuvok. You'd do better with someone else for a dinner companion."
"I do not see anyone else in the mess hall that I would prefer sharing a meal with, Mr. Paris. If you are not hungry, you might do me the honor of sitting with me anyway to share some conversation, which, I might add, is considered an invaluable aid to the digestion." He did not elaborate on the fact that it was particularly helpful when eating a meal prepared by Neelix. Despite his emotional turmoil, Tom was perceptive enough to recognize Tuvok's unvoiced comments, not only about Neelix's cooking, but also the desire to speak with Tom.
"Are you sure? My 'conversation' might not be particularly enjoyable for a Vulcan to hear right now."
"'Enjoyable is not a necessary condition of the invitation, Lieutenant Paris. On the contrary, any sort of conversation you care to make will be satisfactory to me."
After considering the request for a few seconds, Tom placed his tray back on the counter and chose Neelix's special of the day, which happened to be Vargallian casserole with sweet tubers and bread pudding. During his wait for Tom, Tuvok surveyed the room and noted a seat for two people that was about to open up at the far end of the mess hall. He nodded towards the table when Tom turned around with his food. As he was about to walk away with Tom, the Vulcan heard Neelix hiss, "Mr. Tuvok!"
Tuvok looked back at Neelix. The Talaxian's face was glowing in approval. "People skills, Mr. Vulcan! Glad to see those people skills!"
With an expression that could have been interpreted as distaste if observed on the visage of a being that was not a Vulcan, Tuvok followed the helmsman to the table they had found.
~~~~~
"I guess you can tell that my relationship with our chief engineer is 'kaput.' "
" 'Kaput,' Mr. Paris?"
"That means ended, finished, absolutely over, a snowball's chance on Vul . . . ah, let's just say permanently and completely dead, and leave it at that."
"Oh. That has become common knowledge, Lieutenant." Tuvok, after taking a few bites of his food, added, "But is your relationship really over? Her reactions just now were extreme, to say the least. Since you gave her no apparent cause to be upset, something else must be bothering her. Perhaps she is now regretting the loss of your friendship."
The helmsman sighed as he picked at his food. "I wish I could agree with you, Tuvok, but she's made it very clear that she doesn't want to have anything to do with me." Tom looked out the windows of the mess hall to the stars beyond. The idea that B'Elanna might have finally figured out that Tom was not good enough for her crossed his mind, but he could not bring himself to burden the Vulcan with this revelation.
"I would not be so certain of that, Mr. Paris. The two of you seemed quite well suited to one another. You share temperaments that are somewhat prone to impulsivity and which lack a measure of reserve, making them volatile, that is true. Disagreements tend to be frequent in unions between beings that share these traits. A significant amount of time needs to be spent by the respective parties in 'making up,' or so I have observed."
Tom managed a weak smile. "You're absolutely right, Tuvok. 'Making up' would constitute a great deal of our lives together. The trouble is, the 'respective parties' have to be speaking with one another in order to make up. You saw what just happened when I said, 'hello!' "
"May I suggest that you give her a little time before approaching her again."
Now there was some advice that he hadn't been hearing more than a dozen times a day. "I'll think about it, Tuvok. Not only is it the logical thing to do, it's the only thing to do. She'd probably break something, preferably something on me, if I tried to speak to her now." Despite the surface lightness of his words, the helmsman looked anything but lighthearted. Taking a few bites from what was on his plate before toying with the rest of it, Tom looked up tentatively to meet the eyes of the Vulcan. "I don't mean to pry, Tuvok, but I've heard a little about how strong Vulcan marriage bonds are supposed to be. I know that you've been married a long time. Does that famous Vulcan logic mean that you can count on always being able to figure out what is going on with a Vulcan woman? That you can avoid having misunderstandings?"
"I have found that it is impossible to live with any sentient being for very long without a certain number of misunderstandings occurring. It is a natural part of any relationship."
"That sounds like 'no,' Tuvok."
"The sharing of information between partners is never perfect, Mr. Paris. One believes that the other knows about something, without stopping to recall that the other party has had no opportunity to gain such knowledge. Assumptions can be made that are inappropriate in consequence. It is not logical, I must admit. But it is true that misunderstandings can occur between members of any race, including Vulcans. The difference is that we are trained from childhood to deal more appropriately with such misinterpretations than by pure emotion." Tuvok paused a moment. He was not quite sure how much more to say to Tom.
"You mean you actually talk about your differences instead of trying to take the other's head off when something really threatening is said? Such as, 'Hello,' for instance?"
"I am not sure I would usually phrase it quite that way, Mr. Paris; but yes, I believe your statement is essentially accurate."
Tom gave up all pretense of actually eating his dinner. The tubers conjured up memories of much pleasanter meals eaten in a harshly cold cavern on Tantrum IV, and he did not seem to have a taste for any casserole or bread pudding tonight. After taking a sip of coffee, Tom decided that if he was ever going to ask the question he had been burning to ask, it would have to be now.
"I don't know if it would work with me, Tuvok, but I've heard that humans sometimes have successfully studied Vulcan philosophy and techniques, to assist in controlling anger and other strong emotions. Would you consider helping me learn to control mine better? Of course, I'm not sure I have any right to ask this after I gave Harry so much grief for coming to you for help when he had that problem with Marayna."
"You have every right to make the request, Lieutenant, and I am more than willing to work with you. Your method of dealing with Mr. Kim's obsession would have been just as valid an approach as mine, had she actually been a holodeck character."
"Do you think it might help?"
"I would never advise anyone against making the attempt to improve their self-control."
"Thanks Tuvok. I really appreciate this. When can we start?"
"Come to my quarters when we finish here. We will begin at once. I promise no miracle cures, Mr. Paris, you must understand."
"I'm not expecting any, Tuvok. I'm not even expecting you to help me fall 'out of love.' I'd just like some help in learning how not to display my heart on my sleeve for anyone who looks at me to take potshots at. Especially her." Lieutenant Commander Tuvok did not need to ask who "her" was.
"The practicing of meditative techniques will be beneficial in and of itself, Mr. Paris."
The two men left the topic of human emotional attachments for several minutes as they talked about other things. As Tuvok was drinking the herbal tea that he favored, Tom queried, "Tuvok, I don't mean to be insulting. I know how sensitive . . . certain functions . . . are to a Vulcan, but I was wondering. About this bonding thing. You do it when you're children? Picking a mate, I mean."
"That is the traditional way. The parents find partners for their children who would appear to make satisfactory mates."
"Does it ever fail to 'take' with one partner or the other?"
"Yes, Mr. Paris. If the bond between the partners does not take hold sufficiently, the completion of the ritual of *koon-ut kal-if-fee*, about which you have become aware, is often the consequence."
From the finality evident in Tuvok's voice as he finished this statement, Tom decided that to inquire further might jeopardize the meditative exercises Tuvok was willing to give to him, and Tom did not wish to do that. A safer topic might be family. Tom asked Tuvok about his children. All the pilot knew of Tuvok's family was that he had some.
"My three eldest children are all male. They each have bondmates, but none had reproduced as of the last time I had contact with them. The youngest, our only daughter, was an unexpected arrival. She was born thirteen years after the birth of our youngest son."
"You must miss them a lot, Tuvok."
"No day passes without my experiencing a desire to see them."
As the two officers stood up to return their trays to Neelix, Tom asked Tuvok, "What is your wife's name, Tuvok?"
"She is called T'Pel."
"Do you have a holographic image of your wife, Tuvok?"
"There are images of T'Pel and my children in my quarters."
"Is she very pretty?"
It was the Vulcan's turn to gaze out of the window towards the stars. In his quiet voice, Tuvok replied, "T'Pel defines beauty for me, Mr. Paris."
Tom studied the Vulcan's seemingly impassive face. It was truly amazing how much Vulcans could express in a few spare words, despite their masking of emotion, if one took the time to look for it. Tom began to feel hopeful that Tuvok could help him get over B'Elanna. And if the Vulcan was accurate in his appraisal of the reason she exploded at him a while ago--perhaps he might even have a chance to win her back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The chime to the quarters of Lieutenant Torres sounded. "B'Elanna, are you there?"
"Yes, Kes. Enter."
Kes walked into her friend's quarters. The lights were down to 20% illumination, with B'Elanna sitting in the darkest corner of the room. A half-filled plate of dry crackers and a glass of water were sitting next to her.
"He didn't waste any time telling you about it, did he?"
B'Elanna's voice was deceptively calm, and Kes quailed at the feelings of murderous rage and self-disgust that she could perceive emanating from the half-Klingon woman. Taking a seat on the couch, at less than an arm's reach from her friend, Kes tried to project as much sympathy and soothing thoughts as she could toward B'Elanna.
"The Doctor said you had no idea such a thing could happen accidentally."
"She never told me! Kes, she never said anything at all about it! How could she keep such a thing secret!" B'Elanna jumped up and began to pace. "She warned me against getting involved with humans, that was true, but she never said anything about my being able to become pregnant by a human! I was told my major organ systems were Klingon. You'd think being honest with me about what my parents had done to my reproductive system would be obligatory for an honorable Klingon! The fact is, she avoided talking about sex as much as she could, except to tell me not to do it."
"Did your mother take it for granted that Klingons wouldn't ever put you into this position in the first place? I mean, knowing that Klingon tradition dictates mating for life."
"Oh, she didn't take that for granted. She told me, 'Never become *par'machai*, B'Elanna.' That means being a lover instead of a wife. 'You bring dishonor upon our House if you do.' That's a dishonor she never had to worry about! No Klingon male ever wanted to have anything to do with me. I was too ugly for them."
"B'Elanna, we've been over this. You know you aren't ugly. Lots of men feel you are attractive. Harry has told me how beautiful he thinks you are. I'd be jealous if he didn't prove all the time to me how much he loves me!" She tried to cheer B'Elanna with a light giggle.
B'Elanna was not mollified. "Sure, lots of men. They've been swarming all over me ever since I got on board Voyager."
"There is one who has made no secret of how he feels about you."
"That was just sex, and you know it, Kes. He's over me already."
"Really? Then how come he's been dragging around with the face of doom since that night at Sandrine's? B'Elanna, he's been suffering . . . "
"Leave him out of it, Kes. I am not exactly thrilled with him at the moment. Look what he's done to me!"
" 'Done to you?' I'm sorry, B'Elanna. I had been led to believe that your relations with Tom were by mutual consent."
At Kes' frigid tone, B'Elanna was brought up short. "I don't mean to imply there was any coercion on his part," she stammered. "If there was any coercion, I guess I would have to say it was on my part. But that's my point. He was very reluctant to even have sex with me on Tantrum. I mean, it was obvious. I was available and willing. My looks have nothing to do with what happened between us."
"He didn't seem at all reluctant to me. In fact, Tom told Harry that the reason he held back was because he was afraid that it was too soon for the two of you to become intimate. He said he was afraid that you would be frightened off by getting involved too deeply, too soon."
"I am never frightened," B'Elanna stated emphatically, a chill entering her own voice. "And I see that his promise never to talk to anyone about what happened on that planet has been conveniently forgotten."
Kes sighed. She had infringed upon the Klingon cultural imperative of never admitting to fear, even though B'Elanna professed that she wanted nothing to do with Klingon culture. She would have to tread carefully from now on. Mildly, the blonde haired woman responded, "He's only mentioned it to Harry once, and that was just in passing. And you know, B'Elanna, you've been talking about what happened on Tantrum to me right now."
That brought B'Elanna's pacing to a halt. Even in her fury, B'Elanna had to agree with the basic unfairness of that. "So, I won't rip his heart out for talking, then, but the situation is still the same. He doesn't care so much about me that he'd want to deal with a pregnancy. I'm sure of that!"
"How can you be sure? Did you ever talk to him about having children someday?"
"We never discussed it, no. Well, maybe we did, on Tantrum. But that was only when we talked about how we . . . he was talking about us being Adam and Eve . . . that's a story from an Earth religion, Kes . . . and I said we couldn't, because a human and a Klingon couldn't on their own without technology . . . and he said he was glad that we couldn't have a child . . . that it was probably a good thing." B'Elanna's voice began to fade out as she recited this to Kes, remembering the context. The Ocampan woman was not fooled. She knew there was more.
"A 'good thing?' Why?"
"Because he said that Tantrum wasn't the garden of Eden--not a very good place to have children, he meant. We didn't have much chance of surviving ourselves for a long time, let alone be able to raise a baby." She fell silent, remembering the rest of the conversation.
"And . . . " Kes added insistently.
"And . . . " B'Elanna sat down on the couch next to Kes. "Nothing. It was nothing. It was a joke."
"What kind of joke?"
"Oh, he was always asking me if our having had sex together meant we were mates. The Klingon way, you know. He said something about that then."
"B'Elanna, how many times has Tom asked you to marry him?"
"I don't know. A few times, I guess."
"Isn't it true that the reason he stopped asking was because you got mad at him for asking you all the time?"
"He was joking with me. I didn't appreciate it."
Kes looked at B'Elanna with exasperation. "How do you know he was joking? I'm sure Tom wouldn't play games with you like that. He jokes around, but not about the really important things. Just talk to him about this. Get his help."
"No, no, no, Kes--I don't want him involved."
"Then take a little more time about it yourself, then. Deciding whether or not to have a child is one of the most important decisions you will ever make--believe me, I know. And for you there's no going back from this decision. A life is involved, and you must make the right choice. For you, for Tom, for the child you are carrying. You mustn't make it without giving it a great deal of thought. You don't want to make a snap decision that you'll regret for the rest of your life."
Kes' pleading finally broke through B'Elanna's resolve. Much as she wanted to have this thing over with, she had to agree that giving herself a few extra days to think about it was probably a wise thing to do. Not that she would change her mind, but careful consideration was not out of place.
"All right, Kes. Reschedule the 'procedure' for a week from now instead of three days to give me a little more time to think things through. But I still don't want you to breathe a word of this to Tom. Or to Harry, because that's the same as telling Tom."
"All right, B'Elanna, I promise." As she rose to her feet, Kes swayed a little.
"Are you okay, Kes?"
"I'm fine. This has just been such an emotional conversation."
"You're telling me!" After a short pause, B'Elanna added, "Kes, I do appreciate your coming to me like this. I know you did it because you care for me."
"I'm not the only one, B'Elanna. I want you to know that."
Even though she knew that Lieutenant Torres was not much for hugging, Kes could not resist giving her one before she walked out of the lieutenant's quarters. Not feeling quite herself, the lieutenant accepted the hug without any fuss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The lesson with Tuvok went fairly well. Tom found that meditation as practiced by Vulcans was relaxing and surprisingly enjoyable. That first night, Tuvok instructed him in the clearing of the mind to prepare for meditation and showed Tom several exercises to assist in reaching this goal, including the use of certain breathing techniques. Tuvok also suggested that Tom download a copy of *The Principles of Logic* by Surak of Vulcan into a PADD to study at his leisure.
"I don't need to, Tuvok. I already have a copy in book form that I replicated some time ago."
"You already have a copy? This is quite intriguing. Why did you choose this as a book you wished to keep?"
"I've always been interested in Vulcan philosophy, possibly because it is so foreign to my own nature," admitted Tom.
"But you didn't seem to know anything about T'Hain's *Principles of Poetics*."
"I wasn't interested in poetics, Tuvok. Maybe I should have been," he added, muttering under his breath.
"What did you say?"
"Uh, nothing. Weren't we talking about Surak?
"Yes, we were. Have you read *The Principles of Logic*, then, Mr. Paris?"
"A couple of times, yes. I don't pretend to have understood it all, but some of the concepts seem to be truly universal." For about an hour, Tuvok queried Tom on Surak's writings and found that Mr. Paris had, indeed, absorbed a significant portion of the wisdom found in the book. From this starting point, they discussed several other works of philosophy from human, Klingon, Vulcan, and Bajoran sources, about more than a few of which Tom had retained at least a smattering of knowledge.
Tuvok found himself reappraising the helmsman. He had always thought that Mr. Paris was most interested in playing pool and searching for female companions during his off duty hours. Obviously, this was not entirely the case.
When Tuvok shared this insight, Tom laughed. "I'm not saying I haven't been interested in pool and 'feminine companionship.' But I haven't spent all my time in Sandrine's or the Resort, either. That gets pretty boring after a while." The younger man fell silent for a few moments, with the Vulcan receiving the distinct impression that the human was collecting his thoughts before proceeding with more revelations about his true character. "There have also been some times in my life when pool and women were not options for my 'off duty hours.' Such as when I was a resident of New Zealand, for instance."
"I understand, Mr. Paris. However and whenever you acquired this knowledge, the fact that you have it will certainly facilitate your studies with me, should you decide to pursue them."
With sincerity and directness, Tom addressed the Vulcan lieutenant. "I do want to pursue them. If nothing else, you've helped me tonight when . . . well, Tuvok, I'm sure you realize that tonight was not a good night for me."
Tuvok nodded his understanding. He had been a spectator at an ugly scene.
The two lieutenants agreed to meet every other night for the foreseeable future, duty schedules permitting. Several readings were suggested for Tom to pursue. "I hope these readings will not prove to be too onerous for you, Mr. Paris," stated Tuvok. "I have heard some humans complain that they are 'dull reading.' "
A little of the pilot's sense of humor emerged. "If they are too dull for me, Tuvok, then they'll help put me to sleep. If they aren't too dull, then I'll learn something new. Either way, they should help me with my immediate problem. Thanks." Tom strolled towards the exit, then halted suddenly. "Oh, by the way, weren't you going to show me that hologram you have of your family?"
The Vulcan walked to a niche in the wall of his quarters and returned with a disc-shaped object. Pressing on the underside, Tuvok produced the image of a classically handsome Vulcan woman with deep bronze skin. He pressed the underside several more times. The faces of family groupings of what were clearly Tuvok's sons and their bondmates, plus the visage of a beautiful young Vulcan woman, appeared successively before T'Pel's image was again visible. Tom gazed at the woman's face, then met her husband's eyes, saying simply, "I hope I get to meet your family someday, Tuvok. And I see what you mean about T'Pel's beauty," The Vulcan lieutenant acknowledged the compliment with the barest of nods.
As the Vulcan watched the tall young human retreat down the corridor on his journey back to his own quarters, he reviewed what he had learned of the helmsman during the mind meld that they had shared a few years ago, during a murder investigation. From his recollections of that meld, Tuvok realized that he already should have known that there was much more to Mr. Paris than usually met the eye. He resolved not to underestimate Mr. Paris again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Several times in the ensuing days, Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres spent time in the same room together. Usually, it was on the bridge, where Tom performed his duties at the helm while B'Elanna sat at the Engineering station. Neither one spoke with one another, as direct conversation was not needed. All communications went through the commanding officer.
The chief engineer noted unhappily, however, that the helmsman's mood and demeanor on the bridge were on a much more even keel than they had been at any time since the ending of their relationship. Any slim hope she might have harbored that Tom Paris still had feelings for her faded as she listened to his calm, "Yes, Captains" and "Aye, Commanders." That a sly "Yes, ma'am" never escaped his lips and that the pilot's usual hint of insouciance was absent from his replies were facts which eluded her.
B'Elanna was too busy pondering her own dilemma to consider that he might have been trying to deal with a broken heart. She was puzzled when she heard that he was spending as much time with Tuvok as with Harry, but Harry's deep involvement with Kes was undoubtedly a factor. As for Tom becoming a friend of Tuvok's, well, there was no accounting for taste.
Off the bridge, they ran into each other twice. The first time was in the messhall. This time Tom nodded to her but said nothing as he walked past the table she was sharing with Harry and Kes. Tom sat with Megan Delaney and Gerron Tem. The other was a short, uncomfortable trip on the turbolift. Again, Tom acknowledged her presence but said nothing. B'Elanna recalled that their trip in the turbolift after they had returned from the Sakari world began much the same way; but Tom, eager to clear the air between them, had halted the lift and confronted her about what had happened. She did not consider that this time there were three other people on the lift with them.
Since B'Elanna was not telepathic, she also did not perceive that Tom frantically recited two verses of Vulcan philosophical poetry, a psalm from the Bible and several Bajoran proverbs during the course of the trip in an effort to maintain his composure. He was successful. B'Elanna ascribed his detachment to a lack of caring for her, if, indeed, he had ever cared for her at all.
Much as she wanted to believe that she had never meant anything to him, however, her mind turned back to the long days and nights spent on Tantrum IV. She began to remember things about their stay, long talks in the dark, and especially, all those times that he had offered to marry her when she thought he was just joking. Now, she was not so sure.
B'Elanna vacillated between being certain that his treatment of her had been all a game to the idea that she had hurt him so terribly when she had thrust him away that she had killed the love he had professed for her. And he had professed his love, on the planet, and once they had returned to Voyager. She hated to think of what she had said to him that night at Sandrine's, and that tantrum she had thrown in the mess hall the evening she had found out she was pregnant!
B'Elanna knew more surely every day that she must end the pregnancy. There was no future for a child having B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris as her parents. She was sorry that she had promised Kes to wait an entire week before having the procedure completed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Warp core problems have a habit of occurring at the most inopportune moments. On the day that B'Elanna Torres was expected in Sickbay at 1933 hours to undergo the procedure for the termination of her pregnancy, the magnetic constrictor couplings froze. A tense several hours passed in frantic efforts to repair the couplings and in getting the warp core back on line.
Deviating from her usual practice, B'Elanna had not personally performed the warp core repair work, which carried a risk of exposure to radiation. Reasoning that her bouts of vertigo might interfere with the completion of the task, she sent Mr. Carey and Ensign Ashmore to complete the repairs in her stead. The chief engineer remained in her well-shielded office, coordinating the repairs. She was still busy with her final report to the captain when she was hailed.
"Torres here."
::::"Lieutenant, it is now 2253 hours. Don't you recall that we had an appointment this evening at 1933 hours?"::::
"I'm sorry, Doctor. I've been so busy I forgot it. I'm afraid that I won't be coming tonight at all. I have things to do here that can't wait."
::::"Will you reschedule the appointment, then?"::::
"Yes, the same time as tonight, but three days from now."
::::"I will be here."::::
The EMH turned off his communicator, noting that rather than rescheduling the appointment for the following day, as he might have expected of her, she had set it for three days in the future. Since this was a procedure he did not particularly wish to perform, the Doctor did not care how long the lieutenant chose to postpone it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Only one figure remained in Neelix's mess hall at 1430 hours ship's time the next afternoon. Lieutenant Torres, as usual, was absorbed in her work. Several data PADDs were scattered around the booth where she was sitting while she finished her midday meal. Not that Neelix minded late diners that much usually, but he had promised Lieutenant Commander Tuvok that he would do an inventory of the condition of the phasers in the locker on Deck Six, Section 3, and he did not wish to be late. As it was, time would be short before he had to be back in his galley preparing dinner.
"You don't need anything else at the moment, do you, Lieutenant? I have some duties to perform for Mr. Vulcan."
"I'm fine, Neelix. I'll be finishing up here in a few minutes." She raised her glass of prune juice to take another sip. Neelix was a little surprised that Lieutenant Torres was replicating so much prune juice lately, but she seemed to have lost her taste for the raktajino that she had previously favored.
As he hustled out of the door, he could see the lieutenant was still absorbed in her work. Her professionalism was impressive.
~~~~~
An hour later when Neelix returned to the mess hall, he noticed that one data PADD was lying on the seat where Lieutenant Torres had been sitting, and a second had fallen on the floor. It certainly was not a wonder that she had forgotten them, considering how many she had with her. Neelix stooped down to pick up both of them. He was about to hail the engineer when he thought it might be best to check what data they contained. There was a slight possibility that an earlier diner had left them. Lieutenant Torres would be quite upset if he bothered her unnecessarily; she had been notably quick to anger recently. Many of her subordinates had mentioned that to him in passing when the Talaxian had struck up conversations with them. It was one of his responsibilities as morale officer, after all.
Neelix turned on the first data PADD. It was titled *Honor's Path: Raising the Klingon Child in the Traditional Way*. Neelix was glad that it was in Federation Standard and not Klingon. He was proud of his increasing fluency in Standard, but he had not been able to learn any Klingon at all, as of yet. Of course, if they never got back to the Alpha Quadrant, he would not need to know Klingon any more than the rest of the crew needed to know Talaxian. Neelix pressed the on button for the second PADD and read, *The First Twelve Months of Human Life*. Neelix was surprised; he had not realized that Lieutenant Torres had any interest in child development.
Suddenly, Neelix stood up abruptly. No, it was not at all surprising, if he really thought about it. What had happened not long ago in this very mess hall--that awful scene with Lieutenant Paris--no one had been able to explain it to him. Now, her reaction to seeing Tom Paris did not seem very odd to Neelix at all. He was shocked. Neelix would never have thought that Tom Paris could be so cavalier. Then again, perhaps Tom had an explanation for his behavior. This situation appeared to need the investigative savvy he had been acquiring as the host of *Breakfast with Neelix*. He just had to find Tom and find out what he had to say. Turning around to begin his search, Neelix found himself face to face with Lieutenant Torres.
"You may need to rethink your plans about becoming a security guard, Neelix. If I'd had any evil intent, you'd be a dead man right now." The lieutenant was smiling when she said this, but she stopped smiling when she saw that the PADDs he was holding in his hand were operating. Wordlessly, Lieutenant Torres held out her hand. Neelix handed her PADDs back to her. From the seething glare boring into him as she switched them off, Neelix was relatively sure that saying anything at the moment would not be in his own best interests--not that such a trivial item as self-interest was important at a time like this.
"Lieutenant, if there is anything I can do . . . "
"Nothing, Neelix."
"Lieutenant Paris would . . . ."
"If anyone at all hears about this, you're liable to find yourself floating in space. Without an EV suit. Do you understand me?"
"Perfectly, Lieutenant. But if Lieutenant Paris is being a cad about this, the captain . . . "
"No one, Neelix. NO ONE AT ALL."
"Understood."
As the lieutenant barreled out of his mess hall, Neelix sat down at the booth that lately had been occupied by Lieutenant Torres. Tom wasn't being a cad after all; he obviously didn't know. Neelix wondered if there was some way he could inform his friend of the facts without getting himself spaced.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
B'Elanna lay sprawled on her couch, half asleep, the PADDs that Neelix had returned to her just two of the many scattered on the floor in front of her. She shook herself awake. The PADDs must have landed on the floor when she started to drift off. This lassitude was upsetting, even though the pregnancy texts all stated that fatigue was a very common symptom of pregnancy. Fatigue equaled weakness in B'Elanna's mind, and she hated being weak. Yet, a voice was echoing in her head, accusing her of being weaker in spirit than body by thrusting away someone who had shown he had cared for her--by not facing that someone and confessing the truth.
B'Elanna imagined what he would look like if she told him that he had fathered a child. Would he be upset? Angry? No, she doubted that. More than likely Tom would don that self-satisfied smirk of his with this proof of his virility; he would undoubtedly strut around and spread the news all over the ship. The fragile ego of Tom Paris, which she had done such an excellent job of trashing, would get a much needed boost. But how would he feel about her? She could no longer say.
She berated herself. 'Torres, you've made a mess of things. Warp coils, fine. You know how to make them hum to absolute peak efficiency, but let you near anything resembling a being with feelings to be hurt, and you'll find a way to do it. And Tom Paris certainly has feelings, even if he does always try to hide them behind that ridiculous "I Don't Care Anyway" mask of his.' Any love Tom might have once felt for her, she was sure, had been smashed to smithereens.
The engineer looked down at the PADDs on the floor. Technical manuals, to be sure, but of a very different type than the ones she was used to reading: not ways of achieving efficiency goals and teaching junior officers the tricks of the engineer's trade, but the kind that had as their focus the raising of a healthy, happy child. 'I wonder how many of these Mother ever bothered to read?' thought B'Elanna. She wasn't sure why she was reading them. What was the point? She was going to get rid of the child.
B'Elanna's stomachs churned. She did not like thinking about that. Getting rid of the child. It sounded so much uglier than "termination of pregnancy."
A hail from the captain saved her from any further thoughts about this extremely unpleasant topic.
~~~~~
"Captain, you wanted to see me." B'Elanna walked into the Captain's ready room. Tom Paris was sitting in one of the chairs. A cool nod from him was his only greeting.
"Yes, Lieutenant, sit down. I wanted to talk to you about a mission we need to undertake. You recall those dilithium crystals that you mined with Lieutenant Paris?"
As if she could ever forget them. "Yes, Captain."
"We have been contacted by the Telteskor Trading Coalition. It seems they are very interested in trading for some of them. They have pergium, coradisium, and small amounts of other rare materials that we need. Here is the complete list." The captain handed her a data PADD, which B'Elanna quickly reviewed. "Voyager's direct path to the Verdiliak's world is in a very different direction from the present location of these traders, and we need the supplies the Verdiliak are offering us as well. The Telteskor have proposed that we send a shuttlecraft to meet them at a nearby Traveler's outpost close to where they have some representatives stationed. The materials they are offering are not very bulky, and a two person team should be able to complete the task without overburdening the shuttle with too much mass on the return trip. Lieutenant Paris has already agreed to pilot the shuttle, Lieutenant. I'd like you to assign one of your engineers to go with him."
"Of course, Captain. I'll go myself."
There was an awkward silence. "Are you sure, Lieutenant?"
"Captain, some of the materials on this list can easily become contaminated when stored for any length of time. Sending a more junior officer seems too risky to me. We don't know much about these traders. I would prefer to be able to test the materials myself to make sure that they are all they are purported to be."
"Mr. Paris, are you still interested in going on this trip? I can always assign another pilot."
"I don't anticipate any problems with the mission, Captain."
The captain looked from one lieutenant to another. It was time to be completely candid with both of them. "Lieutenant Torres, Lieutenant Paris, I had heard that your . . . friendship . . . was not what it once was. This mission will involve spending about four days in transit in addition to whatever time you need to complete the business at the outpost, away from any of your fellow crewmen. Are you sure you're ready for this?"
"We're both professionals, Captain," said B'Elanna.
Tom nodded in agreement. "It's time that we put any past awkwardness behind us, Captain. We can handle this. No problem."
Captain Janeway looked at the two of them. To her they both appeared to be so vulnerable right now, but it was true that she needed her senior staff to be able to work together. So far, despite a certain amount of tentativeness, there had been no sign that the two could not work together. Perhaps it was time to demonstrate to herself as well as both of them that the end of their personal relationship would not interfere with their professional duties. "All right, it's settled then. Plan to leave tomorrow at 0900 hours. Dismissed."
Had Captain Janeway been able to read the minds of her two lieutenants, she would not have been quite so sanguine about sending them off together, despite their assurances. The helmsman stopped by the security station on the bridge to talk to Tuvok on his way back to the conn, arranging to meet with the Vulcan for dinner and for a lesson in meditation afterwards to prepare himself mentally for the task.
As the chief engineer left, she tried very hard not to think of anything at all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As B'Elanna packed, she tried to keep her mind devoid of any thoughts about the upcoming mission, but it was hopeless. Carey could do it just as well. Why not ask Joe Carey to do it? Even Vorik or Nicoletti could handle it. B'Elanna knew that had Tom assigned another pilot to the mission, she would probably have assigned one of her subordinates to go, admonishing them sternly to test every one of the trade items for purity. She did not want to think about why she had to be the one to go along with Tom.
Tucking the last of the clothing she was taking into her bag, B'Elanna responded, "Enter," to her door signal as it was activated.
"Hello, B'Elanna. What are you doing?" Kes greeted B'Elanna with her usual mild and friendly manner as she surveyed the state of the engineer's quarters. Usually neat to the extreme, the sleeping area was cluttered today.
"Packing for an away mission."
"Oh? What mission?"
"Kes, knowing your abilities, I imagine you could have told me that before I went to see the captain."
Caught, Kes laughed musically. "I did hear you were going on a trading expedition. Is it true--you're going with Tom?"
"Yes."
"A week ago you didn't even want to have dinner with him."
"Duty calls, Kes. We have to get back to normal."
"So what is 'normal.' Are you going to be having a baby, or not?"
B'Elanna hesitated. "I'm still not sure what to do about the baby." She sighed as she sat at the end of her bed. "I've been turning it over and over in my mind, and no matter what, I can't seem to say 'yes,' or 'no,' for that matter."
"You're supposed to have your procedure the day after tomorrow, aren't you?"
B'Elanna nodded. "I'm just going to postpone it again. I won't cancel yet, until I know for sure what I want to do about it."
"You might as well just cancel it. I know you will eventually. Why torture yourself? Just accept that B'Elanna Torres is going to be a mother, and a wonderful one, at that."
B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. So patient and loving."
"You will be, you watch." Kes suddenly swayed a little.
"Are you okay, Kes? You look unsteady on your feet"
"It's nothing, B'Elanna."
"You're not going through your Elogium, are you?"
Chagrined, Kes said, "Everyone keeps asking me that. Until you see me eating everything in sight, dirt, bugs, and all, you'll know it hasn't started yet. Harry can breathe easy for a while yet. I've lost a couple of pounds, and I guess I need to put them back on, that's all." They laughed together, pushing away for the moment the deadly serious topic that Kes had arrived to discuss. "Speaking of eating, how are you doing now, B'Elanna? Are you still feeling sick all the time?"
"No, I've been better. The Doctor was right. My stomachs aren't so queasy when I eat bland food. Of course, that means I have to stay out of Neelix's mess hall . . . Kes, what's the matter?" The Ocampan woman had suddenly turned her attention to a spot past B'Elanna's shoulder, looking as if she were stunned by something that she saw there.
Turning to look in the direction Kes was staring, B'Elanna at first saw nothing but the empty doorway to her bathroom. She walked nearer when she realized that an indistinct shape was coming into existence before her. A dim memory from her childhood suddenly popped into her head, and without thinking, B'Elanna cried out. "*qa'Dol*," naming a kind of Klingon spirit or entity which had been the subject of many stories that her mother had told her when she was a child.
She was about to hit her comm badge to signal an intruder alert when Kes moved in front of the apparition and cried, "Father!" B'Elanna was shocked; she knew that Kes' father Benaren had died before she had climbed out of the underground refuge on her homeworld to the planet's desolate surface. Only the sight of Kes' blissful face as she regarded the apparition stopped B'Elanna from alerting Security.
For several minutes the small figure of Kes stood in front of the mysterio