Author: Briar Rose
Rating: [PG-13], just to be safe.
Synopsis: Missing scene from ‘Shattered’. Tom makes up for lost time. He and B’Elanna never met in the Maquis. Short and sweet. This one’s for you, Liz.
Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager and her crew are, of course, owned by Paramount/Viacom. I thank them for the loan.
Date: January 2001
Chakotay had warned him and he had agreed. After all, they were dealing with the Temporal Prime Directive. But as he was standing there so close to her, with the adrenaline of the recent fight with the Kazon making the blood pound in his veins, he caught the scent of her hair and it totally unnerved him. He had forgotten how vibrant she’d been then; so angry and vulnerable and full of passion. He quite literally couldn’t help himself.
The Captain was speaking, "…If the time-line’s restored, the rest of us should have no memory of what’s happened here. So I’d like to thank you now…" she looked at each of them and Tom thought he caught a look of censure in her eye as she noted how close he stood beside B’Elanna. "…for putting your doubts aside…and helping put mine aside as well. Good luck to each of you."
With this short speech, Janeway nodded and they began to file out. He was headed for the mess hall, Harry to the bridge, and B’Elanna…he’d been warned, but he just couldn’t help himself.
"B’Elanna!" he called her name and she swung around to face him. She stood there, her arms a barrier across her chest, glaring at him. She must have just come on board, he reasoned. She was still in her civvies, but she had managed to clean up and replicate that shampoo he loved so much.
"What do you want, Paris?" she demanded, still belligerent even knowing what she did of the future—though obviously not aware of as much of it as he was.
Ayala had moved ahead of them and they were alone in the passageway outside main Engineering. He moved in close to her and swiftly put his hands around her narrow waist. His long fingers slid under her leather vest and gripped her tightly. "I’ll see you in a few hours," he whispered into her ear. "After shift. Wear the boots." And with that he took her fully in his arms and pushed her against the bulkhead. He pressed his long body against hers and kissed her. He hadn’t seen her in days, he’d had no way to escape the mess hall to search for her and he’d been numb with fear thinking she was dying the same slow, painful death that had claimed Tuvok.
B’Elanna was stunned. And aroused. She didn’t know weather to punch him or pull him closer. Her hands went to his shoulders to push him away. Instead, her fingers curled into the cloth of his ‘fleet jacket and she dug her nails into the firm muscles of his upper arms.
‘Softly,’ he thought, ‘keep it light.’ But then her arms came up around him and he deepened the kiss. He sucked her bottom lip in between his own and bit lightly. He knew the effect it would have on her. Her sharply drawn breath and the way her body involuntarily arched against his confirmed it. He breathed in the warm, spicy scent of her skin and it almost undid him.
Of course, Ayala picked that moment to come back around the corner looking for B’Elanna. "Hey!" he said. "What’s going on?"
Tom had to give the big man credit. He looked ready to toss Tom away from B’Elanna at the first sign from her that Tom’s attentions were unwelcome. No wonder Tuvok had claimed him for security.
Tom released her and she swayed slightly on her feet. "I’ll see you at home at 1700. I always did love those boots."
He shot Ayala a small smile and left her, weak-kneed and breathless leaning against the bulkhead. She was grateful for the support. ‘At home?’ she thought. What had Chakotay not told her? Chakotay—her Chakotay—had told her all about him. It seemed impossible to believe that she and that liar, that drunk, that traitor…
But this Chakotay seemed to trust him, even respect him. And he had obviously left something out of the tale.
She put a shaky hand to her mouth and exhaled slowly, willing her pulse to slow down. Ayala was looking at her oddly—no wonder. Maybe sometime in the coming seven years her opinion of Tom Paris would change too. Kahless, she hoped so.
OK, the title’s cheesy, if you can think of anything better let me know. I love feedback and I respond.