TITLE: P/T DIAGNOSTIC
AUTHOR: DASIA
EMAIL: njpm143@hotmail.com
DISCLAIMER: Paramount/Viacom own
Star Trek and its
characters. I am just writing about
them because I love
them, definitely not for profit.
SYNOPSIS: Scenes missing from "Drive".
B'Elanna applies her
analytical skills to an important
decision. RATING: R, for
sexual content. For a PG-13 version,
email me at the
address above. DATE: February, 2002
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Many hands held
mine through this story's
lengthy gestation period. Heartfelt
thanks to Barb
(SamzMom) for keen-eyed and sensitive
beta reading, and to
Briar Rose, Brigid and Kat for moral
support and many
pertinent suggestions.
FEEDBACK: As a beginning writer,
I'd be VERY happy to hear
from anyone who enjoyed this story.
Even more so if they
said why!
NOTES: This is what (in my opinion)
we didn't see in
"Drive". I have avoided retelling
the episode except where
absolutely necessary, so if you
haven't seen the episode,
the story may not make sense.
AND: Please do not do anything with
the story without
asking permission.
P/T DIAGNOSTIC
Luminescent wisps of cloud enshrouded
the Delta Flyer.
Damaged and ominously still, it
hung on the fringe of the
nebula that had saved the shuttle,
and the surrounding
sector of space, from the full force
of the explosion of
the Flyer's jettisoned warp core.
There was grave concern
on Voyager for the fate of pilot
Tom Paris and engineer
B'Elanna Torres, because the shuttle's
position was
disturbingly close to the flashpoint
of the core breach.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief
when sensors detected
two life forms. They were transported
to Voyager
immediately, while the task of tractoring
the Flyer back to
its docking bay went on.
The two officers went first to Sickbay,
where the Doctor
tended to their relatively minor
wounds. Then they made
their way to Captain Janeway's ready
room and set off their
own bombshell there.
"Marriage!" exclaimed their startled
Captain. "Now, that's
an original way to divert me from
reprimanding you two for
conduct unbecoming senior officers.
You treated the
transporter room crew to quite a
display. Ensign Lang is
still blushing."
Tom's face was red too as he began
to apologize. "We're
sorry, Captain. We knew we were
out of comm reach, and that
we could be beamed aboard any time.
We should have been
more careful. But...well, it was
my fault. I was so happy
when B'Elanna accepted my proposal
that I guess I got
carried away..." He gazed at his
fiancé with his heart in
his eyes. She bit her lip and reached
out for his hand.
Kathryn had never seen them look
at each other in quite
that way. Her expression softened
and transformed into one
of genuine delight. "Well, if you're
sure, then...my
heartiest congratulations to you
both. It wil be a
privilege to join you in marriage.
We'll hold a celebration
for the entire crew, to mark the
occasion properly. Have
you thought about a date?"
"Yes ma'am," Tom answered. "We're
absolutely sure. We want
to be married, we just hadn't said
it clearly enough to
each other until now." B'Elanna
rolled her eyes and shook
her head slightly as Tom went on,
"Neither of us is very
fond of ceremonies, Captain. We
just want to make this
official, as soon as possible. We
were hoping the date
could be...well, today, if it's
all right with you."
Kathryn raised her eyebrows.
B'Elanna added, "We'll invite the
crew to celebrate with us
later, when the treaty functions
are done with. But we'd
like the--" she seemed to hesitate
over the word-- "wedding
itself to be as private as possible."
'These two!' thought Kathryn with
exasperated affection.
Did they think their volatile relationship
went unnoticed
by the crew or herself? They aired
private grievances in
the mess hall, gave each other the
cold shoulder
elaborately at senior staff meetings,
and then made up
their disagreements so enthusiastically
that their
deckmates had been driven to wearing
auditory inhibitors to
sleep. It was understood that even
under the threat of
court-martial, neither would leave
sickbay if the other
were seriously injured. 'They are
as essential to each
other as the air they breathe, but
the idea of admitting it
publicly has them tied up in knots,'
she said to herself.
But she nodded and agreed, "Well
then, if that's the way
you want it...come back here at
1600 hours. At the very
least we do need two witnesses."
"Harry," two voices chorused. "And
Chakotay," added
B'Elanna.
Kathryn smiled. "Excellent. I'll
be pleased to inform
them." Even the occupant of Voyager's
big chair looked
forward to the satisfaction of being
the bearer of such a
choice piece of news.
On the point of dismissing the couple,
the captain suddenly
looked serious again. "I take it
that your idea of a simple
wedding extends to skipping the
honeymoon?" She paused a
moment to relish the consternation
that immediately
appeared on the two faces in front
of her, before taking
pity on her lusty lieutenants. She
continued, "Assuming
Engineering can get the Flyer into
an acceptable state of
repair, why don't we say you two
take her out for a
seventy-two-hour 'test flight' on
impulse power? That
should see the rest of us past the
treaty festivities."
She interrupted their profuse thanks
to add, "And in the
circumstances, Mr. Paris, I won't
expect your report on the
sabotage incident until two days
after your return. But I
am anticipating a full account of
the race. According to
what Harry told us, you had stopped
the Flyer even before
he sent you the Morse code message.
Did you have reason to
suspect that Irina had tampered
with the fuel converter?"
"Uh, well...no, ma'am...but we were
experiencing some
unexpected turbulence in the Flyer
that required immediate
attention. It will all be in the
report, Captain."
"I must say I look forward to reading
it, Tom. Dismissed."
In the corridor outside the ready
room, Tom and B'Elanna
regarded each other. She rested
her head on his chest for a
moment, and took a deep breath.
He gripped her shoulders
and kissed the top of her head.
"This feels so right,
B'Elanna." Placing his fingers gently
under her chin, he
raised her face and softly kissed
the top ridge on her
forehead. "I'll replicate wedding
rings for us. Any
suggestions on style?"
"Just keep it simple. I'll give Engineering
the orders
about the Flyer, then go to my quarters
and get cleaned
up."
He noticed that her expression seemed
a little remote, and
reluctantly asked, "You're not having
second thoughts, are
you?"
"No," she responded slowly. "I'm
just overwhelmed. It's
been quite a day and it's not over
yet."
"You've got that right. The best
is yet to come." Tom
pulled her more tightly into his
embrace and kissed her
again. This time his mouth lingered
on hers, seeking to
reassure her wordlessly that the
feeling between them
deserved the recognition of the
step they were about to
take.
"Till 1600 hours," he whispered in
that breathy voice he
used only with her. It was barely
audible, but it never
failed to make her go weak at the
knees.
She managed a tremulous smile. "See
you there."
____________________________
B'Elanna started off toward Engineering,
but felt the
strain of the day weighing on her.
She decided she couldn't
face her staff in person just now,
and headed to her
quarters instead. Once there, she
communicated to Joe Carey
her request that the essential repairs
to the Flyer be
completed by late afternoon. Then
she curled up on the
couch with her legs pulled up to
her chest, clasped her
arms around them, and dropped her
head on her knees.
'Kahless, what have I done?' she
asked herself.
Away from Tom's seductive physical
presence, the analytical
and pessimistic elements of B'Elanna's
nature began to
reassert themselves. In mere hours,
she would relinquish
her independence forever. Had she
been too impetuous? Was
it really in her best interests
to fulfill her promise to
Tom and return to the ready room
at 1600 hours to marry
him? Vow to spend her life with
this man who, even after
proposing and receiving her acceptance,
had yet to come
right out and tell her that he loved
her?
Marriage had certainly not been on
her mind when she had
programmed their holiday, and wheedled
the holodeck time
for it from what had seemed like
half the crew. Yes, she
had hoped that during their time
alone she might have found
an opportunity to tentatively broach
the subject of their
relationship. They had never really
discussed how they felt
about each other; she herself had
only recently felt the
inclination to do so. But marry
him, just like that? At one
point this morning she had barely
been able to bring
herself to speak to him!
She remembered the bitter disappointment
that had flooded
her when Tom had heedlessly forgotten
their plans.
Naturally she wouldn't have wanted
him to go on their
holodeck trip if he would just have
been thinking wistfully
about the race. But if he really
cared for her, wouldn't he
have shown more regret over the
lost time alone together?
Oh no, far from it, there he had
been in the mess hall, the
life of the party as usual, kidding
around with the Voyager
crew and the alien competitors.
She had seethed, 'Typical
Tom. He takes me completely for
granted. I'm just one of
the many amusements in his endless
quest for diversion. The
exotic Klingon girlfriend. Maybe
he just doesn't find me so
intriguing any more...'
Now that was not quite fair, she
reminded herself...at
least among the myriad pastimes
there had not been any
other women. She remembered her
apprehension when the
statuesque and highly intelligent
Seven had joined the
crew. An obvious potential rival,
if there ever was one,
for either or both of B'Elanna's
loves, Tom and her engine
room. But there was some justice
in the universe, after
all; neither of those fears had
been realized. Even today
it had been clear that Seven saw
Tom purely as a colleague
and, in whatever capacity the former
Borg drone could
experience friendship, a friend.
B'Elanna had brooded for a time.
She'd paced distractedly
along Voyager's corridors, while
all around her the crew
buzzed with excitement about the
race.
Whatever it was she and Tom shared,
it had survived
personal crises, periods of numbing
boredom, and daunting
experiences that had made both of
them all too aware of the
risks of falling in love in uncertain
circumstances. There
<was> something there, something
worth preserving.
Eventually she had found herself
in the mess hall, where
Neelix made it clear that in his
opinion Tom deserved
another chance. The Talaxian was
a pretty astute observer
of human psychology... B'Elanna
had resolved to make one
more attempt to break through whatever
it was that kept her
and Tom from a deeper understanding
of what they meant to
each other.
Seven's reference to sharing Tom's
interests had hit home.
Wasn't there something a little
out of kilter if it had
occurred to <Seven> to improve
her relationship with Tom by
sharing his interests, but not to
her, his girlfriend?
'Hmm, a race,' she pondered, her
competitive instincts
kindling. She probably would have
been enthusiastic about
it from the start, if it had not
been responsible for
ruining their plans. Maybe it wasn't
too late to get
involved... but first, she would
have to ask a big favour
of a friend.
Requesting that Harry come to her
office in Engineering, so
she could speak to him without Tom
present, she began
ingratiatingly: "Harry, I bet you'll
be glad to hear you
can have your holodeck time back."
"What do you mean? What about that
trip you've been
planning for so long?"
She waited for the penny to drop.
Harry was sharp; it
didn't take long.
"Ohhh, the race..." He didn't seem
to want to continue, and
moved almost imperceptibly away
from her.
B'Elanna reached out--gingerly--and
put her hand gently on
Harry's forearm. "We can't go on
the trip, but Tom and I
really need some time alone together.
It's crazy-we live on
this small ship and see each other
every day, but we never
have time to really <see> each
other. A race is hardly what
I had in mind, but--"
Kind Harry made it easy for her.
"You want to take my
place."
"I know it's a lot to ask. You've
been looking forward to
it. And you do look so dashing in
that suit..."
Cutting short her feeble attempt
at humour, he put her out
of her misery. "Don't worry about
it. Tom was probably
going to add some extra loops and
spins along the way, just
to torment me. My stomach thanks
you."
B'Elanna let out the breath she had
been holding, and
squeezed his arm more firmly. "I
mean this, Starfleet,
you're a real friend."
Harry looked a little surprised;
they hadn't called each
other by those nicknames for some
time. But he just winked
and said, "Go get 'em."
Tom had accepted the change in copilots
with pretty good
grace; B'Elanna had tried to make
sure of that by waiting
until almost the last possible moment
to report to the
Flyer. 'This just might work,' she
said to herself, her
black mood behind her as Tom programmed
the last
coordinates. 'We'll win this race,
and the winning team
will have its own special celebration...'
Unfortunately, by the second day
of the race, winning could
not to be taken for granted, and
B'Elanna's good intentions
were being inexorably undermined
by still more obnoxious
behaviour from Tom. He put her back
up by insisting she
repeat that juvenile rhyme, and
his cheerfully oblivious
responses to her pointed observations
about Harry and
Irina's budding relationship irritated
her still further.
Exasperated by what was beginning
to seem like deliberate
obtuseness on his part, she lost
her patience and cut to
the heart of what was troubling
her:
"Maybe 'interesting' isn't enough
for me."
Tom's unexpected response threw her
completely off balance.
He'd abandoned the precious race,
and with them in the
lead! Turning the tables on her,
he stunned her with his
honest disbelief that she could
possibly not know how he
felt about her. Suddenly finding
herself on the defensive,
she was no match for the onslaught
of persuasion he
unleashed. He melted her resentment
with his sweetest
kisses and stated with real conviction
that she was the
most important person in the world
to him. But then, just
when things were moving along very
promisingly, he alluded
to "happily ever after." 'Sure,'
was her first thought,
'like now he's going to ask me to
marry him. Why does he
have to joke at times like this?'
Everything he had just
said and done had been spontaneous
and heartfelt, but if he
truly wanted to marry her, wasn't
there one thing he had
neglected to say?
Still, there had been a certain look
in his eyes as he had
knelt before her and touched her
as though he was afraid
she might break; a look that had
taken her breath away...
Blindsided by Harry's shocking message,
they had just
seconds to avert a disaster, and
the only possible action
could easily have cost them their
lives. In the euphoric
moments immediately after their
survival of the warp core
explosion, it had seemed unthinkable
to refuse Tom's
proposal. Hadn't fate had just handed
them a second chance
at life and happiness? And if that
wasn't enough,
B'Elanna's mind was whirling at
the revelation that Tom did
indeed care very deeply for her.
He had not been joking
about the "happily ever after",
nor had he proposed only
because they were seconds from death.
Carried away by his
wholehearted enthusiasm, B'Elanna
could muster no
convincing reason to delay their
marriage. Which brought
her to this point, a few hours from
entering a state she
had regarded dubiously since childhood.
B'Elanna's grandmother L'Naan had
held her counsel about
her daughter Miral's marriage to
John Torres. While the
union lasted, she had treated her
human son-in-law
cordially and had made an effort
to overlook his lack of
regard for Klingon ways. Even after
he deserted his wife
and child, she had tried to spare
Miral further humiliation
by keeping her views on their ill-fated
marriage to
herself. However, during a stay
at her grandmother's home,
B'Elanna had heard L'Naan refer
to the "bad match" Miral
had made. Not wanting to confirm
her fear that she had
driven her father away, B'Elanna
had not asked her
grandmother for details about her
parents' estrangement.
Now, she wished she had. She had
such brief experience of
marriage to go on, so little of
it good. How could a person
really be sure she was making a
"good match"?
John and Miral must have loved each
other a great deal to
have embarked on the relatively
uncommon path of an
interspecies marriage. On the point
of following in their
footsteps, B'Elanna yearned to know
what had gone wrong.
Had their love not been strong enough
to bridge the
differences between them?
B'Elanna shuddered at the memory
of her mother's black
moods and short temper. At one time
she had assumed that
they were directed at her, for her
part in driving her
father away. But now, from the perspective
of an adult, she
realized that Miral had been in
the throes of depression,
and she wondered if she had she
ever really recovered.
B'Elanna knew she had inherited
that tendency...would it be
better not to put herself in the
position of being
vulnerable to that awful desolation?
Would she be any more
able than her mother to bear the
betrayal of broken vows,
if it ever came to that?
Then again, Tom sincerely respected
Klingon culture. She
sometimes felt he regarded it more
highly than she herself
did. He actually seemed drawn to
her Klingon side, although
they had never really talked about
that either. She knew
only too well many human men found
Klingon women sexually
exciting, but she had not wanted
to consider the
possibility that that could be all
there was to their
relationship. And in any case culture
was only part of a
match. Not that that was such a
comfort...she and Tom had
such different personalities...she
regarded his hobbies as
childish, they had few common interests...he
thrived on
social interaction, while for her
a little of it went a
long way...
B'Elanna abruptly propelled herself
off the couch. Time was
marching on, and she had better
make some preparations in
case she did decide to carry through
with their plans. She
removed her torn and singed flying
suit and headed for the
sonic shower.
But a water shower was more appealing
today. She dimmed the
lights, lit aromatic candles and
surrendered herself to the
water's soothing warmth. As residual
aches and pains
receded, her thoughts turned to
a more agreeable aspect of
her relationship with Tom. She smiled
ruefully. She had to
admit, there was one thing they
certainly did enjoy doing
together.
Her physical attraction to Tom had
begun as soon as it
dawned on her that he was not quite
the pig he so
convincingly imitated. At first,
she had felt chagrined to
discover that she was just as susceptible
to his blue eyes
and boyish charm as were the other
women on Voyager. Even
the captain seemed to take every
opportunity to get her
hands on the attractive pilot. Gradually,
though, as she
came to know Tom as a friend, she
began to appreciate the
sensitive person masquerading as
Voyager's resident Don
Juan.
As friendship imperceptibly transformed
itself into a
deeper emotion, she had successfully
concealed her growing
desire to make love with Tom. But
every day it became
stronger, fed by dreams and fantasies.
When had Tom
displaced Chakotay as the lover
in her dreams? She smiled
to think of the difference between
that old infatuation
with her Maquis comrade and the
real thing. But what had
been unfolding naturally, at its
own pace, deep within her
heart--and, she knew now, in Tom's--had
been prematurely
and violently ripped from its sanctuary.
Seized by the ponn farr, the instinctive
urge to mate, she
had been powerless to control her
actions. She had made a
public exhibition of her interest
in Tom by marking him in
the most primitive way known to
her mother's people. Even
now, in full knowledge of his longstanding
feelings for
her, she reacted to the thought
of that blatantly carnal
act with revulsion. Vigorously scrubbing
at her arms and
legs distracted her from the humiliating
memory.
B'Elanna preferred to dwell on what
had followed her crude
proposition, the deed by which her
suitor had won her
heart. Thinking back on it, she
realized that if she had
consciously set out to do it, she
could not have devised a
more effective way to test Tom's
honour.
In most ways a very practical woman,
B'Elanna nevertheless
had a romantic streak, nourished
by reading the Klingon
romance novels L'Naan had introduced
her to. The elder lady
had noticed how her granddaughter
sought refuge in
literature, and tried to impart
to her an understanding of
fundamental Klingon values through
a medium that she
obviously cherished. The plan had
worked only too well. If
just one aspect of Klingon culture
had imprinted itself
indelibly upon B'Elanna's impressionable
young psyche, that
one was very firmly rooted. Never
would she be able to
settle for a lover who was less
than wholly honourable.
Once she knew her friend to be a
fundamentally good person,
Tom's chequered past and the devil-may-
care alter ego he
showed the world troubled B'Elanna
not at all. The notion
of a romantic relationship between
them began to seem less
a fantasy, and more of a real possibility.
And then alone
in the caves of Sakari, with no
one else present to impress
with his principled behaviour, Tom
had proven beyond all
doubt that he was the very soul
of honour.
The ponn farr was an elemental life
force for the Vulcan
race. Skilled as they were at controlling
their emotions,
they bowed before the mating imperative.
It had come upon
B'Elanna with no warning or preparation.
Her instincts
aflame, she could stop at nothing
to have her way with the
male of her choosing: Tom <had>
to be hers. She tried
assaulting him, seducing him with
a wantonness she hadn't
known was in her, and even, most
shamefully, appealing to
the feelings she suspected he had
for her. How he had done
it, she still did not know, but
he had held firm against
all her wiles. Nothing but the certainty
of her imminent
death would convince him to take
her when he was in doubt
of her true feelings for him. Even
though his own desire
had been unmistakably, achingly,
obvious.
And afterward, too...his caring and
discretion in that
unspeakable time had confirmed her
perception that here was
a man worthy of her love.
For a time, she had kept that knowledge
to herself. Reeling
from the shock and embarrassment
of the way she had thrown
herself at Tom, she could not bring
herself to expose even
feelings she knew to be genuine.
She wondered if that
newborn love would have survived
if Tom had not in the most
tactful way possible refused to
pretend the whole
mortifying affair had not happened.
She smiled to recall how he had made
it all seem so much
less ugly by lightly referring to
his hopes of seeing her
"big, scary Klingon side" again.
It had taken her some time
to trust that he meant what he said.
But eventually,
reassured by his unobtrusive attentiveness
and by the
knowledge that the events on Sakari
were not making the
rounds of ship's gossip, B'Elanna
let down her guard. And
inevitably, the desire reasserted
itself.
Not, thankfully, that frenzied hunger
that had threatened
her sanity. But her nights were
now enlivened by dreams of
wrestling his tall body to the soft
bed of a forest glade.
His scent had been imprinted in
her being, and when she
encountered him during the course
of their daily life--
which somehow seemed to occur quite
frequently--she drank
it in. Mixing with the oxygen in
her bloodstream, becoming
a part of her, it drew her ever
closer to him. She longed
to taste his lips again, to feel
the weight of his body on
hers, to drown in his passion-filled
gaze as she told him
yes, truly, she had wanted this
for so long...
They flirted, courted and struck
sparks off each other. And
became Voyager's main topic of gossip
again. She struggled
to master her desire, torn between
the voluptuous thought
of just giving in to it--it was
beginning to seem as much
of a fever in her blood as the ponn
farr--and her
reluctance to make a spectacle of
her personal life again.
On a day she faced the prospect of
death with dishonour,
she broke through her reserve at
last. She simply could not
let Tom go to his death not knowing
he was loved. The
inadequate verbal response he made
to her confession had
disappointed her, though loss of
consciousness had blunted
its sting. Later, though, his physical
answer had more than
met her expectations. As she stammered
that she didn't
really expect him to reciprocate
her feelings, he cut short
her nervous chatter and launched
himself on her with a
display of masculine aggressiveness
such as she had dreamed
of since their lamentably aborted
foreplay on Sakari...
And then came the wonder of their
first night together.
Comfortable in each other's company
after sharing a good
meal and an excellent wine, they
savoured the novelty of
being alone with time to indulge
in holding each other,
kissing and laughing about the misunderstandings
which had
kept them apart for so long. Free
at last to explore bodies
they had undressed many times in
their dreams, their first
tentative touches soon became eager
caresses. Tom gave in
to his yearning to kiss and nuzzle
B'Elanna's graceful
neck. She gasped as his lips found
a sensitive spot, and
her heart leapt at the murmur of
appreciation that escaped
him. He nibbled her earlobe and
cupped a breast in his
hand, and she marvelled that the
merest brush of his
fingers could make her wish their
clothing would just--
disappear.
Because of their previous intimacy,
brief and ultimately
frustrating as it may have been,
this time Tom and B'Elanna
were more prepared to deal with
the unfamiliar erotic
responses of a different species.
When he gently reached to
remove her dress, he was not taken
by surprise when she
instinctively growled and pushed
him firmly away. His eyes
gleamed, and he snarled, "No, you
don't, woman." He seized
her wrists and held them above her
head, pinning her under
him. His breath heated her neck
and his teeth grazed her
bare shoulder, sending a delicious
thrill of anticipation
through her whole being. He understood!
He was challenging
her to display her womanly power.
She gathered her
considerable strength, freed her
hands, and threw herself
over him in turn.
They wrestled on his couch, laughing
with the pleasure they
took from this battle in which neither
would be the loser.
Finally, she pulled him down on
top of her, panting,
inhaling his intoxicating maleness.
Running her fingers
through his hair, she drew his face
down to hers and took
possession of his lips. She tasted
the potent desire he was
no longer called upon to restrain,
and her body responded
instantly. She was back in that
cave, every part of her
alive with the need to touch him,
taste him, feel him
inside her...but this time she was
in full command of her
mental faculties. Separating only
the distance necessary to
look deep into each other's eyes,
they affirmed what had
been unequivocally clear in that
delirious kiss: it was
time to leave the couch for the
bedroom.
She no longer resisted Tom's efforts
to undress her. As she
felt his fingers slip the straps
of her undergarments from
her shoulders, B'Elanna revelled
in the gentleness of his
touch. This time she did not see
it as human passivity, but
as an expression of the tenderness
that essentially Tom. He
was taking her there in his own
way...she lay her head on
his shoulder, and his arms enfolded
her.
Clasped against the full length of
Tom's naked flesh,
B'Elanna felt that she had come
home. They fell to the bed
clinging together. He bent his head,
his hair brushing her
chest as his lips captured one of
her nipples. With that
simple intimacy, he made her his
own.
B'Elanna abandoned the last of her
self-consciousness and
entered a realm of pure emotion
and sensation. There were
no more barriers between them, no
need for words. He told
her how much he cared for her by
his sensitive response to
her every movement and cry; she
divined his need to be
unreservedly embraced by another
living soul and opened
herself totally to him. When he
entered her, she knew
beyond all doubt that at that moment
there was nowhere in
the universe she could possibly
belong more rightfully than
joined with this man in this place,
lost in rapture as
Voyager slipped through the stars.
B'Elanna shivered, remembering the
sound of her voice
calling to Tom as the ecstasy took
her, body and soul, and
the answering light in his expressive
eyes--almost a
benediction--as he held himself
still deep inside her.
Anchored in his arms, she floated
in bliss, never able to
recall for how long. Then, as the
waves of delight within
her gradually subsided, Tom began
to stir. She heard him
take a shuddering breath as he thrust
into her with renewed
power, burying his face in her hair
and uttering incoherent
endearments as he came to her. They
lay locked together for
a last few glorious moments as one,
until his fierce grip
on her loosened, and he began to
return to himself. Kissing
and caressing each other's shoulders,
chests and faces,
they prolonged that precious sense
of connection for as
long as they possibly could.
"So beautiful," Tom whispered, his
fingers delicately
tracing a path from her jawline
to her forehead, his
expression unguarded, adoring. With
a sigh of deep
contentment, he nestled his head
next to her neck and
shoulder, and pulled her closer,
murmuring: "I could stay
like this forever." His words went
straight to B'Elanna's
heart, and her satisfaction was
complete. To think that he
had found that ease of body and
spirit in her...
She drifted to sleep cradling her
lover in her arms,
profoundly at peace.
Surely the perfect accord they had
achieved that night, and
many times since, was proof they
belonged together. That
feeling of transcending her individuality,
of sensing his
essential self...it had to be more
than simply the joining
of two people with strong sexual
appetites who gave each
other more pleasure than any other
lover ever had. Perhaps
they really were drawn to each other
on some subconscious
level, and their driving need for
each other was its
physical manifestation...
B'Elanna shook her head as she emerged
from the shower and
patted herself with a towel. Fanciful
thoughts for a nuts-
and-bolts girl like her! She and
Tom both had that ironic
element to their personalities that
made them feel faintly
ridiculous when they tried to put
such evanescent emotions
into words. But that did not mean
that they could not
acknowledge what those feelings
were telling them, even if
only in their hearts. If she felt
their love become a
living presence in their most intimate
moments, wouldn't
he, too? In any case, she knew that
never being with Tom
that way again would leave her bereft.
Whatever name you
gave it, something deep within her
found its fullest
expression when they completed the
act of love.
B'Elanna slipped into her soft dressing
gown and carried
the candles into her living area.
Tuvok was right, they did
help her to relax and focus her
thoughts.
Nights of glorious passion, moments
out of time--yes, they
had those. And she knew how few
were so blessed. But what
about the rest of the day? What
about real life as Tom
Paris' wife?
She surveyed her tranquil, private
realm and contemplated
the coming change in her living
arrangements. The TV had
been an inspired gift for Tom, and
she loved watching him
enjoy it, but would she be able
to stand listening to those
silly cartoons and noisy detective
programs night after
night? And she was not the only
person on Voyager drawn to
Tom's infectious sense of fun. The
more sociable members of
the crew tended to gather in his
quarters. Where would she
find the solitude so essential to
her?
Of course, she did have a tendency
to shut herself off in
here and brood her way into melancholy.
Hadn't Tom's
company charmed her out of a bad
mood after many a
frustrating day in Engineering?
With his understanding of
human nature--she shook her head,
smiling ruefully, he
actually delighted in the perversity
of the species--he
helped her see the lighter side
of the personnel issues
which were the one part of her position
as chief engineer
she heartily disliked. He entertained
her with his
affectionate observations about
the foibles of the bridge
staff, and put into perspective
the inevitable frustrations
of living cooped up with a small
group of diverse
personalities for an indefinite
period of time.
With a start of guilt, she wondered
if he was having second
thoughts about being exposed to
her formidable temperament
for many more hours of the day.
And their fights...she was
quicker to anger, but they were
both stubborn, strong-
willed individuals. Would they clash
more often if they
shared quarters? She shuddered,
remembering her parents'
heated confrontations, her little-girl
self hiding from the
angry voices. She had sought refuge
in books or outdoors,
fearing the worst only to see it
happen. But fighting
didn't faze Tom...he even considered
it "interesting" to
"scrape shields." Only this morning,
he had clearly been
dismayed by her lack of understanding
of how he felt about
her... but he had not hesitated
to go ahead and propose
marriage.
Time was marching on. B'Elanna went
into the bathroom and
began to apply her makeup: a wisp
of powder, and the rose
lipstick Tom said made her lips
look "even more kissable."
With practiced strokes she smoothed
her hair into its usual
shining, precise arrangement. She
liked the way the style
expressed the professional control
she exercised in her
work life...but she loved it even
more when Tom's fingers
twined through it, disarranging
it and tempting her to
abandon that control...
She had to admit that the signs of
his growing seriousness
about their future together had
been there. It was just
that her eyes had not been ready
to see them for what they
were. After he had returned from
being stranded on that
godforsaken planet with Tuvok, Tom
had made love to her
with even more than usual intensity.
She had been thrilled
by his ardour, but had assumed his
not having been with her
for so long accounted for the deep,
fervent kisses, the
lingering, almost reverent caresses
and possessive
embraces. He had been taken aback,
even hurt, to learn that
she had not missed him as much as
he had her. She winced to
recall that she had even made light
of it, quipping that
she had barely had time to miss
him at all. And, with
another pang, she realized that
it hadn't been long before
their relationship was back to its
secondary position in
their lives.
He had been against her going on
that mission to the Borg
cube, even suggesting he would not
be above committing
sabotage to keep her secure on Voyager.
Preoccupied with
her preparations for the mission,
both practical and
psychological, she had not given
as much consideration to
his feelings as she should have.
She heard again the quiet
conviction in his voice when he
had told her it would be
worth the loss of his new rank,
just to keep her safe. It
struck her then: that was how Tom
expressed his feelings
when he could not avoid putting
them into words. He would
make a brief, elliptical reference,
one that could, if need
be, be explained away as a joke,
while he watched for her
reaction.
The deceptively light statement,
"I'd wouldn't mind seeing
it again sometime," echoed from
that long-ago conversation
in a turbolift. Until that moment,
she had been sure she
had repelled him forever with that
unbridled display of the
Klingon side of her nature. She
knew now that for Tom,
especially in those days, that seemingly
offhand remark had
been a baring of the soul. He had
cared for her even then,
but he had left the next step up
to her. She had finally
taken that step--more like a terrifying
leap--into his
arms. But even then, glad as he
had been to catch her, he
had assured her he never would be
"so presumptuous" as to
assume they would have a future
together.
Maybe at one time he had been as
wary of commitment as she
was. But more recently--could he
have been worried about
frightening her away? Perhaps he
had been trying to walk a
fine line between letting her know
how he felt, and not
putting pressure on her. Was that
why his messages were so
subtle that someone not attuned
to hearing them could
overlook their significance? Someone,
well, like her, till
just now?
B'Elanna threw down the brush. Some
engineer she was! She
had been so distracted by surface
noise, like his
thoughtlessness about their weekend
and their different
preferences in leisure pursuits,
that she had overlooked
the pure, clear signal that had
been sounding steadily in
the background all along.
Hurrying out of the bathroom, she
dressed in a clean
uniform, pulled a carryall out of
her closet and returned
to the bathroom to tuck a few toiletries
into it. She
picked up the tiny vial of perfume
that Tom had replicated
for her last birthday. He had chosen
well; every time she
put it on she appreciated how the
freshly natural, but
elegant floral scent eased the transition
from her
utilitarian work world into their
private sensual realm. It
did have a strange name, though:
"Ma Griffe." Tom had just
smiled enigmatically when she had
asked him what it meant,
and suggested she look it up in
the database of regional
Earth dialects. She made yet another
mental note to do just
that.*
Checking her image in the mirror,
B'Elanna suddenly had to
laugh. 'Who are you kidding, Torres?
Look at you--dressed,
groomed, ready to go with time to
spare.' There was no way
she was not keeping that appointment
at 1600 hours. She
loved Tom, and had never been as
happy as she had been
during their years together. There
was no denying that he
had his own demons; Tom unquestionably
did. But she dared
to hope that she was equal to the
challenge of helping him
deal with them. And if they kept
him from saying out loud
that he loved her, she would just
have to live with it,
because she couldn't live without
him. Taking his love on
faith would be a fair exchange for
his understanding of her
temperament, the value he placed
on her lineage and the way
he could transport her to the heights
of ecstasy with the
touch of his knowing hands.
'Diagnostic complete,' she said to
herself. She had reached
her conclusion: taking into account
the known capacities
and limits of the mechanisms involved,
allowing for a
reasonable margin of error, and
accepting a certain measure
of inevitable risk, the Paris-Torres
system was definitely
viable, its parameters well within
the limits necessary for
a safe mission into marital territory.
She felt a sudden surge of joy. It
was her wedding day.
And there stood the bride, neatly
attired in her everyday
uniform. They had agreed that uniforms
would do for their
no-fuss ceremony, but suddenly she
felt the need to do more
justice to the occasion. Tom was
replicating their rings,
and he hadn't mentioned her sharing
the considerable cost
in rations. What gesture could she
make to show him how
much the day meant to her?
She let her mind wander back to the
time when a little
half-Klingon girl had dreamed of
her wedding day. An idea
began to take shape...she moved
to the computer console and
accessed the Klingon cultural database:
'Female Clothing,
Ceremonial.' She punched in commands
to replicate a gown of
bold design, fashioned of a rich
bronze-toned fabric and
trimmed with metal and leather in
a manner that accented
womanly curves. Clinging here, flowing
like molten mist
there. She paused; she couldn't
imagine appearing before
anyone but Tom dressed like this...so,
why not create a
dress just for private viewing?
She entered modifications:
lower the neckline, push up the
cleavage; make the fabric
more translucent, shimmering with
golden highlights. The
Delta Flyer certainly did not have
the spectacular tropical
ambiance of Gedi Prime, but if she
had anything to do with
it, Tom Paris would have a memorable
sight to behold on
their wedding night.
Daring to wear this for him would
show him how far she had
come in accepting the Klingon within
her, and pay tribute
to the part he had played in that
arduous quest. She hoped
Tom would also see it as a testament
to the high regard his
half-Klingon bride had for her groom's
own honour. She
pictured again the anguish and regret
in his eyes as he had
refused her advances on Sakari,
felt anew the control he
had forced on himself in spite of
his own rampant desire.
Because he was her 'friend.'
Yes, her grandmother would have considered
him a worthy
mate for a Klingon, a member of
that race for whom honour
was more important than life itself.
L'Naan had promised
B'Elanna that one day, she would
find her honourable
warrior...and she had told her what
the women of her house
did when that day came. Did she
dare follow that tradition
now that, yes, she felt certain,
it had?
She just might. 'If Tom's in the
mood to take vows today,
maybe he will go so far as to take
an oath with his mate
tonight,' she said to herself. It
was second nature to
B'Elanna to be prepared with the
proper implements for any
eventuality she might reasonably
anticipate...her fingers
danced over the computer console.
So absorbed was she in her task that
the door chime only
registered as a distant distraction.
The spoken message,
"Chakotay to Torres" got her attention,
though, and she
invited the Commander to enter.
"It's getting close to 1600 hours.
I was wondering if you
would like an escort to the ready
room," he offered.
"That's thoughtful of you, Chakotay.
I'd appreciate it."
Still intent on her work, B'Elanna
tapped in the last
commands, then sat back. The replicator
hummed in the
background.
"This is all pretty sudden. I went
to congratulate Tom and
asked him why the haste. He said
he was afraid you might
change your mind."
B'Elanna smiled. "He knows me only
too well."
"So you are having second thoughts?
You shouldn't feel you
have to go ahead unless you're absolutely
sure this is the
right thing to do."
"I admit, I needed to take some time
to think it over,"
B'Elanna answered slowly, meeting
her friend's eyes. "But
now that I've looked back over our
time together, I can say
I'm willing to trust the instinct
that tells me Tom and I
are right for each other."
"You're sure you don't need more
time?" he persisted.
"No...you know, Chakotay, I'm used
to dealing with things
that can be taken apart and analyzed,
to gathering data and
making calculations, and drawing
conclusions based on the
scientific method. I've tried to
do something like that in
making this decision, but it seems
that, in the end,
intuition has a part to play too.
Something deep inside me
tells me I <do> want to build
a life with Tom, and that we
can make it work, even though it
may not always be easy.
And he's right--why not start right
now? If we wait until
every detail of our relationship
is perfect, we won't be
married till we're seventy, if then."
"I must say I admire you both. You're
not afraid to act on
your feelings."
"I don't know about 'not afraid.'
I've gone into battle
feeling less nervous. That's one
reason I just couldn't
invite the whole crew. Saying those
words out loud to
Tom...somehow it just feels like
the most private thing in
the world. I can't explain it any
better than that."
"Knowing you both, I think I understand.
But I am honoured
to be on the very exclusive guest
list," said Chakotay,
smiling more broadly.
With a final click, the replicator
presented a resplendent
golden gown. B'Elanna snatched it
up, shook it out and
folded it as best the leather and
metal trim would permit.
The bronze metalwork twinkled in
the candlelight for just
an instant, as she whisked it into
her carryall. Chakotay
blinked. His glimpse had been brief,
but the design of the
dress appeared to be provocative
in the extreme. He
ventured, "Tom seems to think you
are getting married in
your uniforms."
"That's right. This is for later."
B'Elanna's tone invited
no further comment.
A small dagger followed the dress
out of the replicator.
Its scabbard was embellished with
a raised design, a motif
of two opposed shields entwined
in a complex scrolled
pattern. B'Elanna grabbed it and
reached for the carryall
again.
Chakotay appeared to weigh the advisability
of commenting.
He decided to risk it. "You know,
I don't think Seven ever
finished her comparative study of
mating habits. She would
be very interested in all this."
B'Elanna froze and fixed her gaze
intently on her
Commander. "If Seven ever mentions
anything about this,"
she intoned, "I will know exactly
who told her. And there
will be repercussions." She drew
the dagger from its sheath
and closely inspected its keen edge.
Chakotay stifled his smirk. "Understood,
warrior woman.
Now, shall we?" He waited as she
placed the dagger in her
carryall, then picked up the bag
in one hand. He offered
her the other.
B'Elanna extinguished her candles
and took his arm. "I'm as
ready as I'll ever be. Lead on."
As they waited for the turbolift,
Chakotay turned to his
companion. "You know, I'm glad you've
come to this
decision. You and Tom are both so
different from the way
you used to be: you're more assured,
much more comfortable
with yourselves. Part of that has
come from meeting the
responsibilities of your command
positions. But you've also
brought those qualities out in each
other. You didn't ask
me, but for what it's worth to you,
I think you're doing
the right thing."
"Thanks, Chakotay. I guess you could
say I just ran a
complete diagnostic on our relationship
and came to the
same conclusion."
_______________________________________
Tom was waiting in the corridor
outside the ready room.
Chakotay clapped him on the back
and went into the room
while B'Elanna stopped beside Tom.
"Still sure you want to
do this?" she asked him.
"More than ever." Taking her hand,
he placed two rings on
her open palm. "What do you think?"
B'Elanna picked up the smaller one
and noticed the letters
inside the perfectly polished, gleaming
gold circle: 'BT &
TP ~ wa' tIq.'
Her glance flew to his. "'One heart.'
That's just right,
Tom. They're beautiful." She handed
the ring back, and they
stood in silence for a moment.
This was it.
Tom motioned toward the open door.
"The Captain is
waiting."
Barely hesitating, B'Elanna reached
for his hand and nodded
firmly. 'Steady,' She told herself.
'Just take hold of his
hands, say the words, and it's done.
How hard can it be?'
Harry rushed up to them. "Hey, Maquis!
When you said you
wanted to be his copilot, I didn't
think you meant for
good!"
The three friends laughed, and B'Elanna
felt some of her
nervousness fade away. Harry went
on, "Sorry I'm late.
We've been busy down in Engineering,
it took quite some
work to get the Flyer back in shape
in such a short time."
"No problem, Harry. And don't think
we don't appreciate
it,' Tom told him, continuing, "Here,
will you keep track
of these for a while?" Tom handed
his friend the rings, and
the three entered the ready room.
Tom and B'Elanna took their places
in front of Captain
Janeway, flanked by Chakotay and
Harry. The five officers
exchanged glances acknowledging
the special bond they
shared, and the Captain began to
utter the first words of a
traditional Earth wedding ceremony.
B'Elanna realized then that it wouldn't
have mattered after
all if they had invited the whole
crew, or indeed everyone
gathered for the treaty festivities.
As Kathryn's first
words reached her ears, her perception
of everything around
her shifted. Suddenly she was aware
only of Tom's face, his
hands clasping hers, and, from somewhere
far away, the
Captain's voice. She was mesmerized
by Tom: the naked
honesty on his face and the rock-steady
grip of his hands,
as he made his promises in a voice
resonating with
sincerity. For only the second time
in her life, B'Elanna
experienced the sensation of time
standing still.
How could she have thought this ceremony
would be a mere
formality? The last time she had
felt such a sense of
rightness had been when she had
joined her body with Tom's
for the first time. He really means
what he is saying here,
she thought, awed. How she loved
him, this man who had had
the insight, the courage, and the
patience to look past his
own self-doubts and insecurities
and see through hers as
well. He had given them both the
chance to reach for the
kind of life neither had once dared
envision for
themselves. Thrilled to the depths
of her soul, her own
expression as radiant as her groom's,
B'Elanna repeated the
vows the Captain recited, aloud
and again in her heart:
"Love, honour, cherish..."
'I do, Tom, I do.'
As she lifted her face for his kiss,
B'Elanna felt Tom
tremble in her arms. One more reason
she was glad she had
married him came to her: Tom needed
her, her strength and
her belief in him. She felt both
humbled and proud to think
of what she meant to him, and vowed
to do her best never to
let him down.
The witnesses watched the couple,
lost in each other. Harry
pictured another bright-eyed, vibrant
engineer, far away on
her chosen path of exploration.
He wondered if she thought
of him as often as he did her. 'One
day, he promised
himself,' rejoicing for his two
friends, 'I'll find a love
like theirs.'
Kathryn and Chakotay regarded their
protégés with something
like parental pride for the part
each had played in
bringing them together. The feeling
was tinged with regret
for what might have been, if only
another couple had been
able to surmount the barriers that
had kept them from
reaching out to one another...
When at last Tom and B'Elanna drew
apart and turned to the
others, the Captain moved first
to hug B'Elanna. "You're a
beautiful bride, 'Lanna," she told
her. "You both deserve
all the happiness in the world."
She brushed tears from the
younger woman's cheeks, tears B'Elanna
had not been aware
of shedding.
As Chakotay reached out to kiss the
bride, Kathryn turned
to Tom. 'Funny,' she thought. 'This
morning I fully
expected to be congratulating him
for winning that
race...but he's won the highest
prize in a much more
important contest, and doesn't he
just know it. Protocol be
damned.' She took the tall man into
her arms for a long,
loving embrace. As she released
him, she looked deep into
his eyes and told him smiling, but
with absolute sincerity:
"Your parents would be so proud
of the man you are now,
Tom."
"Captain, I'll never be able to thank
you enough for giving
B'Elanna and me the chance to prove
ourselves. Everything
we have, including today, came from
that. We'll never
forget it." Beside him B'Elanna
nodded in agreement.
"I don't think I really took all
that much of a risk,"
Kathryn said, trying to lighten
the mood before she
disgraced herself by bursting into
tears. A Captain could
only let herself go so far...she
finished, "Now, Mr. Kim
here: there was a challenging reclamation
project..."
It worked. They all left the ready
room laughing.
____________________________________
The wedding party entered the
shuttle bay to the applause
of most of the crew. B'Elanna gasped,
but was immediately
disarmed by the sight of Naomi Wildman
advancing toward her
and Tom, arms full of an extravagant
bouquet of fresh
flowers. "On behalf of everyone
on Voyager," the beaming
child recited, "May you always be
as happy as you are
today."
B'Elanna bent to kiss her and take
the flowers, while Tom
thanked them all, adding, "We should
have known it would
take more than just the Engineering
staff to fix the Flyer
that fast."
His wife found her voice. "Yes, thank
you, everybody. We do
appreciate it, very much."
Neelix stood behind a table full
of glittering champagne
glasses. "Everyone, take a glass
so we can drink a toast to
the bride and groom!"
B'Elanna felt a stab of guilt. "Neelix!
I'm so sorry. You
of all people--you should have been
at the wedding."
"No need for apologies, my dear."
the Talaxian assured her.
"I'm just thrilled it all turned
out this way. And some of
us had quite a lot to do down here,
you know." Harry
coughed and gave him an eloquent
stare, and Neelix took the
hint.
"Still, I wish you had been there,"
insisted B'Elanna. "The
talk we had yesterday...it made
quite a difference..." She
took hold of his hands and kissed
him on the cheek. Before
moving away, she whispered, "You
were right. Thank you--and
thanks for always being there for
me."
Neelix squeezed her hands, his eyes
misty. "It does my
heart good to see you and Tom 'tie
the knot' at last." He
told Tom, "You're a very lucky man,
you know."
"That's for sure," Tom agreed, putting
his arm around his
bride. "So it was you who gave B'Elanna
the idea to take
Harry's place in the race?"
B'Elanna answered him herself: "Not
exactly. To give credit
where it's due-- I decided to foist
myself on you as
copilot after a chat with Seven."
Hearing her name, Seven strolled
over to join Neelix and
the newlyweds, announcing in her
distinctively flat,
carrying tones: "My congratulations
to both of you,
Lieutenants." Turning to B'Elanna,
she continued, "And I am
pleased to hear our discussion about
my relationship with
Lieutenant Paris was helpful."
A hush fell over the room. Harry's
mouth dropped open.
The doctor looked stricken. From
some ancient lexicon in
his database, the words 'cad' and
'bounder' leapt out and
set his optronic pathways ablaze.
Chakotay hid a smile as he bent to
stow B'Elanna's carryall
just inside the door to the Flyer.
'Perhaps I have
underestimated Seven,' he mused.
'The woman has a sense of
humour almost as twisted as my own.'
Stalwart Neelix stepped into the
breach. "A toast, my
friends! To our intrepid pilot and
his resourceful chief
engineer, as they start out on life's
journey together."
The company saluted the pair, and
a buzz of conversation
broke out.
Tom was aghast. It was just not fair.
Okay, he had screwed
up by being so careless about their
plans. But did he
deserve to have some stupid misunderstanding
mar his
wedding day? For the second time
in two days, he prepared
himself to face a furious B'Elanna.
To his infinite amazement, when he
did he saw she was--
giggling! 'Women,' he said to himself.
'You can work with
them, sleep with them, fight with
them and love them to
distraction, but can you ever possibly
hope to understand
them?'
As he made his way back to join Kathryn,
Chakotay overheard
Tom whisper to B'Elanna, "What in
the world did she mean by
that?" He almost choked at her terse
response: "She made a
clean breast of it, Helmboy. I suggest
you do the same."
B'Elanna saw the adorably baffled
expression she had
captured with her camera just before
the race appear on
Tom's face again. Really, he was
heartstoppingly handsome.
And all hers! She almost burst out
laughing, so overflowing
was her joy, but she managed to
hold back. She and Tom
would share the joke later, when
she explained Seven's
comment. Not a bad way to start
off a marriage, with
laughter. In the meantime, thanks
to their unlikely Borg
matchmaker, the crew would have
something besides their
honeymoon to speculate about. 'The
Paris legend,' she
observed to herself, with an outbreak
of giggles that she
just could not contain, 'is undimmed.'
B'Elanna picked up a bottle of champagne
and handed it to
Tom. She helped herself to two glasses
and entered the
Flyer cradling her armful of fragrant
blooms. They would
toast their good fortune with the
champagne, but the wine
couldn't possibly raise her spirits
any higher. No
intoxicant could even come close
to pure happiness.
They settled into their seats, only
to freeze at the sound
of the communicator.
"Bridge to Lieutenants Paris and
Torres."
It was Tuvok. The newlyweds exchanged
a look of dismay, but
Tom made the automatic response.
"Paris here."
The Vulcan's gravity would never
have permitted him to say
a word like "Gotcha!" but Tom heard
it loud and clear
nevertheless, as the answer came
in tones warmer than usual
for Tuvok: "You are cleared for
departure, Lieutenants,
with the best wishes of the crew
on the bridge. And--Tom
felt it coming, the coup de grâce,
and saw from her gleeful
expression that B'Elanna did too--my
friends," he
continued, after an impeccably timed
pause, "Live long, and
prosper."
*"La griffe" literally means "the
claw." It also appears in
these idiomatic expressions: "Je
suis entre ses griffes" (I
am in his/her clutches) and the
verb "griffer" (to seize,
to stamp [with signature, etc.]).--New
Cassell's French
Dictionary.
The End