Title: Counterpoint and Beyond: Captain's Log Continues Author: PJ in NH Series: VOY Codes: J, P/T Rating: R Synopsis: AU account of the Captain's personal log of events following Counterpoint through Gravity explaining how desperately she yearns to be in B'Elanna's place. (Wouldn't we all?) Follows my story: Thirty Days--Captain's Log, which can be found at: http://unix.worldpath.net/~kelhapam/30days.htm. Email: kelhapam@worldpath.net Posting: OK to ASC, ASCEM, & BLTS. Please notify me if you post anywhere else. Disclaimer: Paramount owns Voyager and its characters. I've only borrowed the characters to satisfy my own creative urges. Archiving is okay, just e-mail me. Please keep disclaimer and my name attached. Recognition of Appreciation: Many thanks to Patti Heyes, Jamelia, Ann Harding, and Phyllis Sutherland for betaing/proofing this story for me, and to Laura Hale for use of her pictures. Counterpoint and Beyond: Captain's Log Continues by PJ in NH 7/99 Captain's Personal Log Even after Tom's incarceration in the brig for thirty days, I still held out hope. Hope, that I could convince him that it was me he wanted and not *her*. I tried by keeping them apart. I began by placing them on different shifts, thus minimizing their time together. Then I made sure that Tom would happen to run into me--in the mess hall, the holodeck, or any number of other places on the ship. It was easy for me, as the captain, to arrange these chance meetings, but alas it accomplished nothing. I had it on good authority that they were still seeing each other; in fact it was rumored that he seldom slept in his own quarters, at least not alone. When Kashyk started making inspections of my ship, I tried to convince myself that my yearning for Tom Paris was a waste of time. I told myself that if he didn't want me and I should just simply take advantage of the opportunity that Kashyk offered. Kashyk was after all, even for an alien, a handsome man, and he seemed to share my love for music. So I tried to become interested in him, tried to convince myself that it was him that I wanted and not Tom Paris. What a fool I was! He could never be Tom Paris. Never. I've been spoiled. It is either Tom or nothing. I would settle for nothing less--a captain shouldn't have to. Selfishly, I continued keeping Tom and B'Elanna on separate shifts. When Chakotay asked me for the reasons behind my request, I said just two words: "Captain's prerogative." Being a good first officer, he didn't question me any further. He just nodded and resumed his work. It was about then that I noticed, though I can't for the life of me figure out why I hadn't noticed it before, that Tom had stopped saying 'Yes, ma'am' to me. It was as if he had decided that to say those words bespoke of a closeness that he no longer felt towards me. From the expressions on the faces of the bridge crew, Tuvok included, I could tell that they had noticed this change as well. Fine. If Tom wanted to play these games, then so could I. Unexpectedly before I could act, there was an incident with the Doctor which had to be take care of. Many months ago, at Paris' urging, the EMH had to decide between two crewmembers--one to die, the other to live. He chose Harry Kim, while Ensign Jetal died from her injuries. It was a situation that almost destroyed him before I ordered that his memory of that incident be erased from his files. I was on my way to the holodeck to sit with the ship's troubled doctor, when I happened to catch Tom and B'Elanna exiting one of the turbolifts. Their clothes were in disarray and their hair was ruffled--not their usual tidy appearance. Seeing me, they both came to a halt. I questioned their actions, telling them that kind of activity would not be tolerated on my ship. I informed B'Elanna that if it were to happen again, she *and* Tom, would be occupying cells in the brig--separate cells. They acknowledged their wrongdoing and looked duly chastened. B'Elanna headed to her cabin, and Tom to the bridge. I couldn't really blame them for their actions, or should I say *her*? Being trapped in a turbolift with Tom had been a dream that had been visiting me in my sleep for months...no, make that years, ever since I met him in New Zealand. How could I blame B'Elanna or any other female, and to be honest even some males on the ship, for wanting what I had wanted for such a long time? Soon after, I sat with the EMH on the holodeck while he tried to resolve what had happened to him. Reading a book of poetry, and trying to avoid all the pieces of poetry that reminded my of my blue-eyed god, my emotions started to seep through my Starfleet- trained exterior. To feel his arms around me was my desire, never to feel them would be a terrible waste. To feel his lips pressed against my own was my paradise; never to experience that intimacy my hell. I was just on the verge of losing my composure when the good Doctor noticed my discomfort. He felt my forehead and deemed that I felt warm--he deduced that I was ill--he was right. I was love sick. The Doctor demanded that I go to Sickbay and that Mr. Paris treat me. The very thought made me flush with excitement. I resisted a bit for show, and the Doctor pleaded. So I left, and for a change, followed the good EMH's instructions to the letter. Tom was a bit surprised to find I was his patient that evening. I'm sure that he expected to find someone else, anyone but his Captain waiting for him. It was only due to willpower and an ounce of self-respect that I hadn't already removed my uniform. That I wasn't waiting for him, perced ont he biobed with just an examination sheet wrapped around me. It was as if he could almost read my mind and knew of my intentions. He acted very professionally -- too professionally. The only time that my flesh met his was when I shifted deliberately on the bed, forcing him to brush up against me. One time I struck the bulls-eye, when I moved to the left and he to the right, his elbow made contact with my right breast. For a moment, I was in heaven--one of my goals had been achieved; though only a minor one, but one had to accept these little moments when they happened. My little moment didn't last long though; from the look on my helmsman's face I could tell that he hadn't even noticed. He hadn't even detected my increased heart rate--some nurse he was. Promptly prescribing an analgesic and bed rest he said I could leave. Bed rest? I don't need best rest, I wanted to shout. I need you resting in *my* bed! With his dismissal, I left feeling every bit like an ensign. I had too much pride to stay. So taking the analgesic hypospray that he gave me, I went to my cabin, and took something that would be even more helpful--a cold shower, but it did no good. My night was filled with another restless sleep and visions of Tom Paris stretched out on my briefing room table, clad in nothing--not even his briefs. But every time he reached for me to touch me and bring me pleasure, I would awaken. Then we encountered photonic beings who thought we were not real, which in turn trapped Voyager in their segment of space like a insect on flypaper. Again we found that nothing is ever dull in the Delta Quadrant. I was to find out first hand how unusual things could get. We met in the ready room to discuss the situation. While Tom was trying to explain the inside and out of his holographic character Dr. Chaotica and the world of Captain Proton, there was more communication between us than there had been in a long time. When he suggested that I play the part of Queen Arachnia I pretended to resist looking over my shoulder at Seven, but I already knew that I would say yes. In my heart, I knew that I would have done anything he asked of me. Tom was back, and smiling at me. How could I have refused him anything at that moment? It was a role of a lifetime, Tom said. Me, Queen of the Spider Seople...well you take what you are offered, and I played it for all I was worth. Not only for the good of the ship, but for Tom Paris as well. I almost cried when Chaotica *died*. I didn't want this holoprogram to end. The question mark on Dr. Chaotica's imagizer gave me hope that Dr. Chaotica would live again, and hope that Mr. Paris would include me in some future adventures. A sequel of say: "Queen Arachnia and the Capture of Captain Proton" would be certain help to display my theatrical talents. Well, I can hope. I can also dream. For the next several nights, my dreams were permeated with visions of Captain Proton stretched out on my torture table while I seduced him with my pheromones and my charms. In my dreams, he succumbed to my ministrations and pleasured me beyond belief. Another particularly vivid dream woke me much too early one morning. It felt so real that I couldn't go back to sleep, so I opted for a cold shower instead--an all too frequent occurrence of late. If it kept up, I'd be an icicle. As it was, it was the only way I could function in the morning without actually jumping my hunk-of-the-helm. What's gotten into me? Normally I wouldn't express myself in such a fashion, but I haven't been myself lately. I've been...obsessed. After toweling off, I donned my uniform and headed to the mess hall for an early breakfast. What I didn't expect to see was my Chief Pilot and the Chief of Engineering necking in a dark corner. As it was only 4:15, they had the place to themselves and didn't notice when I entered. I waited by the door, but they were too involved in each other to see me or hear me. But I heard them. She spoke to him of her hopes, her dreams, and how he had been the one to make her spirits soar to unbelievable heights. Then Tom told her how her love for him had made him believe in himself again, made him have hope for the future. Then he told her that he loved her. Damn him. It was to *me* that he was supposed to say those words. It was *me* that gave him the opportunity to pilot a starship again. Not her! That's it! I tried to convince myself. Who needed him anyway? But I already knew the answer--*I* needed him. With hopes of a cup of coffee forgotten and being too outraged to maintain my dignity, I left them there. I devised more ways to keep the pair apart. I scheduled one for a double shift, while the other worked the remaining shift. Thus the only time they might actually meet would have been during a dinner break. I wasn't stupid though, I made sure that if Paris was on the bridge, that he couldn't get away at the same time B'Elanna could to have a meal together. Then I sent him on an away mission with Tuvok, when normally I would have included an engineer. What use did it serve having a security officer on the mission, even if he was the Chief Tactical Officer and a Vulcan? It served me by keeping Tom apart from B'Elanna. Little did I know at the time, how long that time apart would be. The unthinkable happened, Tom and Tuvok disappeared down a gravity well. I instantly regretted my selfishness. If B'Elanna had been on the mission, perhaps she could have worked one of her miracles and saved them...saved *him*. Then when Chakotay came to me to tell me that not only had they been sucked down that one-way funnel, but there was also a time differential involved, I felt not only dismay but a strange sense of hope. Dismay because I didn't want to lose the blue-eyed pilot of my heart; and hope because if we could rescue them, then he would have had, by our calculations, approximately two months to get over his infatuation with that half-Klingon. Literally under the gun we rescued them, and to my dismay immediately after leaving the transporter platform, Tom headed off to find her. He bypassed me and took the first turbolift to find B'Elanna. I followed to remind him that he had to go to sickbay and be examined. Granted I could have contacted him by his commbadge, but I felt this warranted the personal touch, and besides I wanted to tell him how much he was missed, if even for a couple of days by Voyager's time. Arriving in Engineering just after he did, I saw him greet B'Elanna. He was obviously overjoyed and rushed up to her and swept her into his arms. She though, to my relief, didn't show the same exuberance. Yes, she hugged him but not with the same passion he displayed. Upon releasing her I could see that he was disturbed by her lack of emotion, just before he erected the famous impregnable Paris walls. Now was my chance. Maybe now, he would notice. Maybe now, he would forget her and come to me. He almost didn't see me standing there when he walked out of Engineering. Instructing him to go to sickbay, he turned and acknowledged me, albeit absently. Perhaps it was too soon to approach him, I determined, and resolved to wait until that evening to express my relief at his return to the ship. So evening came, and I changed out of my uniform and into a special lounging outfit that I replicated especially for the occasion. It was made of a soft mint green fabric that clung to my curves. The dress portion of the outfit fell to just past my knees over a pair of matching slacks. It looked good on me and I knew it. Adding a spray of perfume and clipping my hair back over my left ear with a sparkling barrette, I left to go to Tom's cabin. Afterwards, I sat in my cabin having drunk my fourth shot of bourbon, skipping the ice, reflecting on what had happened. I hadn't needed to enter the cabin, even from the corridor I could hear the sexual union that was going on inside. The walls vibrated with the ardor of their copulation. Hearing the sound of something heavy impact with the door followed by B'Elanna throaty demand of: "Take me now!" I left. Now sitting here recalling what I had heard, I regret not heeding an old saying. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." The End. Email is most welcomed, in fact it is craved. Please send any comments to: kelhapam@worldpath.net , or use the form below.