Author's Note: So this is my first story! Reviews would be lovely - I need all the help I can get. Thanks!
Rescue
The irony was almost too much. She was the last person he'd ever thought would show up here. It's funny how things work out.
As she stood at the door, silhouetted by smoke in the dim light, he reached for another glass. Alcohol was such an easy escape for him. It crushed the need for any emotion. And right now, Tom Paris was free from emotion. He felt nothing, nothing except for the slight burn in his throat as he threw back another shot.
Maybe that was why it was so easy to turn his back to her. To pretend she hadn't just walked back into his life, like she had done so many years ago at Auckland.
He faked an interest with the barmaid, attempting idle conversation, rationalizing in his drunken stupor that if he just ignored her, she'd go away. He took another sip from his glass, swishing the liquor back and forth in his mouth, wondering why it didn't burn the same way it had an hour ago.
"They're thinking of pressing charges on you for going AWOL."
Her voice was muffled by the alcohol, and even without hearing it for three years, it still had the same effect. He unconsciously stiffened, and had to fight the ever-present urge to turn to her.
"Here to rescue me again?"
The words came out slurred and harsh, more so than he had intended. But this was not the time for pleasantry. If he had wanted companionship, he wouldn't be here. There wouldn't be the multitude of empty glasses on the counter next to him.
"Once a criminal, always a criminal, right? One man only gets so many second chances."
He turned to face her for the first time, hoping to emphasize in his expression the time she was wasting. He wanted her to leave, to avoid getting sucked into the Tom Paris abyss once more.
"Tom, you aren't the first person to go through this. And you sure as hell won't be the last. Eventually you have to move on… We all do."
In that very instant he hated her. Hated her for showing up, hated her for mentioning B'Elanna, hated her for the stoic "I'm still your captain" look on her face, but most of all, he hated her for trying to save him.
He threw back another shot.
"They send you to find me? Drag my sorry ass back to Starfleet Command to receive a reprimand from my father? Maybe a little brig time or –"
She cut him off mid sentence. "No, Tom, I came here on my own accord. You're father is worried. He doesn't have any idea where you are. Fortunately my intuition proved correct. I guess some good did come from those seven years on Voyager."
"Sandrine hasn't owned this bar for years," he spat.
"Tom, drinking yourself into oblivion isn't going to make her come back to you." She swallowed hard. She hadn't expected to find him like this.
She had tried her whole life to hide her emotions. Tom Paris wore his on his sleeve, and it worked for him. But she couldn't do it. She blamed it on the command structure, that it required her to be emotionally distant, but in reality, she couldn't stand losing control.
Fortunately, for Kathryn Janeway, those moments when she did lose control were often her strongest.
"Mark left me for another woman when we were on Voyager." She knew that he knew, but the finality of saying it out loud forced her to look away.
She had always tried to keep Tom out of her personal life, but for some reason, she always failed. Perhaps it was their shared history, perhaps the constant role his father played in her life. Either way, she had always had a soft spot for her former helmsman.
"We all had our reasons why we wanted to get home, and one day, I woke up, and mine was gone." She paused. "It was easy to lock myself in my quarters and down a bottle of wine each night. But it never really solved anything. Sure, I could lock away my emotions, but I still had to get up each morning and command a ship. And, Tom, it was awful. But each day it got a little –"
He laughed as he threw back his glass. "The great and glorious Captain Janeway found her relief in the bottom of a bottle?"
He wanted to hurt her. To make her feel what he was feeling. To punish her for coming to his rescue once again.
"Go away, Kathryn. I never asked for you to show up here. I don't need you." He tried to stand, but his body had met its limit. He stumbled against the counter, and felt her hand on his shoulder.
"Come on, Mr. Paris, we're leaving." Her face was stern and businesslike in the dim light of the bar. He had gotten to her, and he knew it.
As she escorted him out through the door, he felt her press a hypospray to his neck.
Slowly his coordination returned and he became very aware that his former captain was half carrying, half dragging him towards the transporter station.
He straightened himself up and turned to her.
"Cap – Admiral…I want to apologize…I wouldn't normally…" Tom stuttered, heat rising in his cheeks, forcing him to look away. "I know it's no excuse…but…" It was funny how after all these years Janeway still had an effect on him.
She interrupted him. "Tom, I know. You've been through a terrible thing. No father deserves to have his child taken away from him. I know things weren't going well with B'Elanna but…"
"Why did you stop coming to visit?" he asked. It was easier for him to change the subject than to deal with the finality of his situation.
She paused. "I wasn't your commanding officer anymore. After I knew you, B'Elanna, and Miral had settled in, I didn't feel it was my place to intrude." The sad, distant look in her eyes unsettled Tom.
It was so like Janeway to avoid personal attachments. She had allowed herself to get so close to her crew on Voyager – her family on Voyager – and now, having returned to the Alpha Quadrant, they all led separate lives. Perhaps it was naïve of her, but she thought their shared experience would have kept them all closer together.
"There were rumors that you and B'Elanna weren't getting along. I felt like it would be best if I just stayed out of it. Voyager wasn't a part of your lives anymore." Her eyes glazed over as she looked away, and Tom was hurt by her distance. But he also understood that he deserved it.
"Miral missed you." Maybe the remark was a little maudlin, but the circumstances dictated it. The immediate awkwardness of the situation was passing, but Tom wanted nothing more than to erase the past three years, starting with tonight.
She could tell he was thinking hard, and she was tired of treating Tom like a stranger.
"Come on, Tom. This isn't like us. I haven't had to beat you off any women or threaten to take away your replicator rations." She chuckled, cutting the nearly visible unease in the air. "You didn't even challenge me to a game of pool!"
He smiled for the first time that night, letting his present situation fall to the wayside. He hesitated to respond at first, but the twinkle usually present in his eyes was slowly returning.
"Well, Admiral," he said, glancing at the ground, "I didn't think it would be fair to completely embarrass you when I hadn't seen you in so long." He looked up and their eyes met, Tom's both challenging and mocking her's.
She flashed a crooked smile. Janeway was beginning to hope that the broken man in the bar was nothing more than a side effect of alcohol.
"That's funny you would say that, Paris." She placed her hands on her hips, momentarily sending Tom into a flashback. It had been nearly ten years since he first saw this woman walk out on the bridge of Voyager, hands on her hips.
Tom laughed. "You're half my size, but even after all those years, that pose still terrifies me!"
She shot him a glance that would have brought Neelix to tears, but he kept laughing.
Somehow, within a matter of minutes, they both had gracefully eased back into the banter that had once defined their relationship. It hadn't taken the effort Janeway had predicted, but she often underestimated her relationship with Tom Paris. Aside from Tuvok, and perhaps Tom's father, there were few people Janeway felt more comfortable with.
"You're going to be eating those words in about fifteen minutes," she teased.
"Why's that?" Tom asked.
"Just wait and see. Let's head back to my house."
"Admiral, I'm not sure… I should probably head home and get everything together."
But she grabbed him by the arm before he could dwell on the situation.
And with that, Janeway and Paris headed to the transport station.
"Good God, it's huge!" Tom starred in bewilderment at Janeway's house.
"Oh please, Tom. It's not that big – and land around here is dirt cheap. Plus, the house is an antique!" While she outwardly fought the compliment, inside Janeway was happy to impress her former helmsman.
"It's absolutely beautiful! When was it built? Twentieth century? Twenty-first?" Tom showed the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning.
Janeway smiled. "I knew you'd like it. But you haven't even seen the best part yet. Come on, let's head in. I'm freezing!"
Tom ran up the brick stairs leading to the front door, and was inside before Janeway even had time to turn on any lights. She was glad to see no traces of the man she had found in the bar, for Tom, the aficionado of all things twentieth century, had taken over.
The house was large inside, and for the most part empty. Tom wondered briefly if she had recently moved in, but he had little time to dwell on the thought as Janeway grabbed him by the elbow and led him into the other room.
This room was also empty like the foyer, excluding the pool table placed meticulously in the center of the room.
Janeway snickered. "I told you, you'd eat your words."
"I would never have thought Admiral Kathryn Janeway would own a pool table." Tom was more than a little shocked. He knew she enjoyed a game now and again on the holodeck while on Voyager, but he never expected the straight laced Janeway to purchase a table for her own house.
But then again, this woman never failed to amaze him. If she could make a pact with the Borg, she could buy a pool table.
"It's one of the benefits of living alone in a big empty house. You have to have things to fill it."
They both laughed, but Tom could see the sadness behind her comment. She quickly broke their eye contact.
"Well I know you've been perusing every Parisian bar during the last week, but I'll let you break." The balls were already set up in the middle of the table, as if she had been expecting Tom all along.
"We have to make it fair." Janeway added quickly, raising an eyebrow in jest. She enjoyed teasing him relentlessly, feeling the longer they kept up this rapport, the better off Tom would be. But even when on Voyager, she enjoyed exploiting the competitive edge that was at the root of everything the man did.
Tom pocketed two balls first, but Janeway quickly took the lead. Within ten minutes, she had scored a lopsided victory.
"Hmm….seems I haven't lost my touch." She shot him a killer smile.
Tom was glad she had dropped the façade of command structure, as he enjoyed Janeway's company when she wasn't criticizing his piloting or taking away his replicator rations. In truth, he always relished his friendship with the woman beneath the captain, in a way that few people ever had.
In a different time, Tom may have succumbed to her charm. The thought had crossed his mind before, for there was something about the older woman he found rather appealing. However, due to their relationship, both professional and otherwise, he had filed Janeway into the 'completely unrealistic' category. He had long ago blocked away any sexual feelings, reserving a special spot in his heart for his undying devotion to his captain, something B'Elanna never truly understood.
And now he felt he was too old and too broken to ever pursue a woman again. B'Elanna had been the only woman in his life for so long, and now his only concern was with Miral, and his job – if he still had one.
Tom broke from his reverie. "I need to get back. I can't take this humility any longer." He laughed, but she looked hurt.
"Will I have a job to go back to next week?" He sensed her unease, as he suddenly turned serious.
Tom caught her a little unprepared with his question, and her eyes turned downward.
"I may have exaggerated a little when I stressed your predicament. Fortunately all the old crew has seven years worth of leave saved up." She paused to think. "I'm sorry, Tom. I was selfish in chasing you down – I wanted you back here….back in my life."
Her comment struck a deep chord within him. He placed a hand on her petite shoulder.
"Well then I guess you are a lucky woman. You seem to be the only one who keeps showing up during every crisis in my life. I guess I really owe you."
"Oh, get out of here before you make me cry, you sentimental fool," she quickly added, patting his shoulder.
She walked him to the door and down the brick steps before saying goodbye.
"You know I finally got the replicators working in this old, drafty house. Stop by for lunch tomorrow? I've been waiting to test out this glorified toaster."
He smiled as he wrapped his arms around his body to shield himself from the cold.
"Well, I guess I do owe you for dragging my drunken ass out of the bar. I'd be delighted, Admiral."
"Good, I'll see you tomorrow. And I expect champagne. We're going to celebrate."
She watched him disappear into the night before she went inside.
When Tom arrived the next day, a bottle of wine and a bottle of champagne in each hand, he walked into Janeway's house without asking for entrance. He figured she would appreciate the gesture.
He found her bent over the replicator, recalibration tool in hand. She was dressed in civilian clothes, a casual but flattering blue dress. Her hair, longer than it had been the last years on Voyager, was pulled back in a slight ponytail.
"Thank goodness you are here. This damn thing has some sort of vendetta against me. It burned the pot roast and now it won't do anything!"
He laughed, but immediately regretted it when she turned to shoot him one of her death looks.
Tom could almost feel her stress radiating throughout the room, and attempted to lighten the mood. "Move aside, Admiral. Let the man take care of it," he said in the lowest, manliest voice he could muster.
She scoffed at his comment, but stepped out of the way.
He fiddled with the machine for a few minutes, and then said, "Computer, one pepperoni pizza."
The pizza materialized in front of Tom, triggering a string of obscenities from Janeway.
"It apparently didn't like your idea of a pot roast. Pizza and wine, Admiral – it doesn't get much classier than that."
She rolled her eyes and ignored him, instead pouring herself a glass and setting the table.
He brought the pizza to the table, and the two officers fell into a companionable silence as they ate.
Even though it was comfortable, the two sitting without speaking, Tom had things on his mind.
"I put the house up for sale this morning." They had insofar avoided the topic of B'Elanna, for which Janeway was glad. However, she knew the Lieutenant well, and it was only a matter of time before he started to open up about his situation.
"Oh?" she said, unsure how to react.
"Everything in that house reminded me of her. Plus, it was too big for a bachelor like me. I figured I'd rent out an apartment before I can find a small house. I want something with a yard and a dog and a white picket fence. Somewhere for Miral to play, and a garage where I can work on old cars. If I ever get enough money together, I'd love to put in some holoemitters too."
Janeway laughed softly. "I never knew you to be such a romantic, Tom. White picket fence? It sounds absolutely lovely."
He was pleased with himself. "I'm more than just a pilot, Admiral."
She hesitated for several seconds, but finally said, "Call me Kathryn, Tom. We're not on Voyager anymore."
Tom looked uncomfortable, but decided to try it out. "Ok, then. Well, would you mind pouring me another glass of wine…Kathryn?"
It sounded awkward and forced coming out of his mouth, but he liked it. He felt they had just crossed a major shortcoming in their relationship – whether or not it was truthful, he suddenly felt like her equal.
The two continued in this manner for more than an hour, Tom discussing his future plans and Janeway asserting her prowess on the pool table. Soon both pizza and wine were gone, and both Paris and Janeway were reveling in the slight effects of the alcohol.
"Maybe I'll just take a second job at the Academy, and before no time, I'll have a whole holodeck to my own!" The more Tom drank, the more grandiose his plans became. By this point, he was planning on owning several 20th century cars and the Delta Flyer.
Janeway was doubled over in laughter. She was glad to share this time with Tom.
"Tom Paris, you are a ridiculous man, I hope you know." She spoke loudly, more so than she had realized. "Why don't you just save yourself some money, and move in here until you find your little dream house?"
She wouldn't have said it if it weren't for the effects of the alcohol on her slight constitution. Always a stickler for the rules, Janeway was not one to so blatantly fraternize with lower ranks. She was far from drunk, but had lost much of the inhibition that usually defined her character.
"You sure I wouldn't get in your way?" he asked. "Maybe I should check with the little Irish hologram to make sure I'm not encroaching on his territory." He smiled, purposefully provoking her.
Janeway was not amused. "You are walking a thin line, Mr. Paris. I have three empty bedrooms you can use. The offer is on the table, either take it or leave it."
"Are you just asking me so you have a handyman to fix you replicators?"
"Would I ever do that to you?"
"Yes."
She paused, lips pursed, as if she were choosing her words carefully.
"When do I move in?" he said, smiling.
Before Tom had even moved all of his belongings into Janeway's house, the rumor mill had already churned out a variety of reasons for the new living arrangements.
"Apparently, you are pregnant with my child," Tom said, as he and Janeway walked through the campus of the Academy after lunch.
"That's funny. I thought we were plotting a return to the Delta Quadrant to destroy the Borg?"
This had become a daily ritual for the two, ridiculing the numerous rumors they combated while at work.
"You know, Tom, I'm not sure I would have ever extended the invitation if I had known it would have caused this many problems. It's almost to the point that it's undermining my authority," Janeway said, somewhat seriously.
"Oh please! What would people have to talk about if it weren't for us?" Tom flashed her a toothy grin as his combadge chirped.
"Kim to Paris."
"Hey Harry, what's up?" Tom responded.
"I just heard a funny rumor that you and the Admiral are plotting the demise of my relationship with Megan."
Both Janeway and Paris burst into laughter.
"Oh Harry, I thought you would have learned by now that the Delaney sisters can't escape the charm of Captain Proton," Tom said.
Harry, now a Lieutenant, stuttered before Janeway interrupted him.
"Lieutenant Kim, it's about time you stop believing everything you hear," she said as she patted Tom on the shoulder, walking back to her building.
"Yes ma'am" was all she heard as she waved goodbye to Tom.
By the time she arrived home that evening, it was well past dark.
Hanging up her coat in the closet by the door, she noticed Tom asleep on the couch in front of the television, which he insisted on keeping downstairs.
Her presence stirred him, and she replicated a dinner for two, bringing the plates over to the couch.
"You're home late," he said, his voice soft with sleep.
"Welcome to the life of an Admiral, Tom." She sounded exhausted and frustrated. "These are the days when I miss being the captain of my own ship."
"They are still in the process of putting together a crew for the Ulysses. Why don't you ask for a post? I took her out for a test flight yesterday – she makes Voyager look like an airplane," Tom said.
"I spent seven years trying to get home, Tom. I have no interest in leaving so quickly. For someone who has spent a majority of his life flying, you sure have been Earth-bound for a while yourself."
"I suppose you're right. I took the job at the Academy so I could spend time with Miral. But now that B'Elanna has her in the Beta Quadrant, I guess there's nothing keeping me here," he said.
The exhaustion in Janeway's face turned to something deeper, and Tom realized that his comment bothered her.
He took her hand and pulled her gently onto the couch beside him. She pulled away slightly, but was too tired to argue.
"Kathryn, you have done more for me than any person ever has. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. You're the only thing keeping me going these days. My father would have laughed in my face if I told him his protégé would become my best friend." He smiled a corny smile, and she seemed appeased.
"Am I really that readable?" she asked, chuckling.
"You're emotions aren't nearly as hard to follow as Harry and Chakotay always made them out to be. Maybe I did learn something from Tuvok – he always seemed to know what was going on in that head of yours," Tom said.
"Put on a movie, Tom. I want to lose myself for a while – and I'm too tired for the holodeck. I'd rather spend some time with my charming pilot."
"Charming, eh?" He teased.
"You always know how to ruin a compliment, Paris," she said, smacking his shoulder. "You certainly are no Marlon Brando."
Tom started "A Streetcar Named Desire," Janeway's new favorite 20th century entertainment.
When they finished their meal, Tom turned down the lights and pulled a blanket over Janeway and himself.
He rubbed her shoulders slowly as they lay on the couch, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach.
When Tom awoke, the movie had ended and Janeway's head lay on his shoulder. She had long ago fallen asleep.
He took this time to study her features, for she looked most at ease while she slept. This had become a routine for the two – a movie, a shared blanket, the Admiral falling asleep before the movie was half over. Tom took great pride in the fact that the two officers had obtained this level of comfort. Captain Janeway certainly would never have considered sharing body heat with Tom Paris.
Although she had aged some since the days of the Delta Quadrant, her hair slightly grayed at her temples, Tom was still amazed at how beautiful and dignified she was. He had never allowed himself to think of her as a woman while on Voyager, only as his captain, so he welcomed these stolen moments. As he tucked stray hairs behind her ear, it suddenly dawned on him that he had never shared peaceful moments like this with B'Elanna – and the thought deeply disturbed him.
With B'Elanna it was all about passion. I hate you, I love you, I need you, I'll kill you. The intensity of their relationship excited Tom, and as time past, that intensity waned, and their relationship floundered. He had loved her, and she had loved him – but perhaps a Klingon and a Human were not meant to be together.
Tom had heard nothing from B'Elanna or Miral for more than a month – he expected she was still upset over the news that he had moved in with Janeway. Although there was nothing inappropriate about their relationship, B'Elanna still could not control her jealousy over the fact that Tom was living with another woman.
He looked away from his sleeping housemate and shifted his weight, careful not to crush the feet nestled under his thigh. Janeway, however, was a light sleeper, and she awoke from the slight movement.
"What's wrong, Tom?" she asked, placing her hand on his.
"Nothing, I was just thinking about B'Elanna. Don't worry about it. Let's go to bed," he suggested, standing up and placing a kiss on her head.
At the top of the stairs, before she turned into her room, Janeway placed her hand on Tom's shoulder.
"You know, if you ever need to talk about it, I'm here for you."
Between her touch and the intense eye contact, Tom became uncomfortable. Her hand lingered for longer than usual, and he suddenly found himself challenging his self control.
She was his best friend, and they shared almost every moment of their day together – often sharing physical contact such as this. But for some reason, Tom's realization on the couch had changed something.
He took a step towards her before his realization kicked in.
"I should go," he said softly.
As he walked towards his room, Janeway stayed in the hallway, wondering if she had misread what had just happened between the two of them.
As the weeks past, the rumor mill finally gave up on interpreting the relationship between Janeway and Paris, and the two became an accepted anomaly.
As with every other day, today Tom met Janeway in her office to escort her to lunch.
"I'm sorry, Tom, I'm going to have to cancel on you today. There is some trouble out in the Beta Quadrant. It seems the Romulans have decided to raid a Federation colony. There are rumors about a mutiny on the Romulan ship, but we are not sure why they broke the peace. I'm sorry I didn't let you know before you walked over here."
Her face was sincere, and Tom understood that while at work, her job trumped their friendship.
"Don't worry about it, Admiral. I'll see you at home," he said, hoping he could still catch Harry for a quick bite.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and after his shift, Tom rushed home so he could prepare a nice dinner for Janeway. He knew that she would be tired and irritable after such a busy day.
He was surprised when she arrived an hour earlier than normal.
"Tom, we have to talk," she said, before she had even taken off her jacket.
Between her body language and her facial expression, he could tell she was stressed and tired.
"Remember at lunch when I told you about the Romulan attack? Well, we sent a Federation ship to investigate. There was an ambush waiting. The ship was destroyed."
She did not have to continue, he understood where she was going.
"The Beta Quadrant?" he asked half-heartedly.
Her eyes were facing downward as she responded. "Tom, I…"
"Are they both dead?" he interrupted, somewhat in denial of the question he already knew the answer to.
"I'm so sorry, Tom," was all she could manage. She placed her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off.
"If you don't mind, I need to be alone right now," he said, before going upstairs.
She knew he needed his space, and let him go.
The day had been emotionally exhausting, as she and Admiral Paris had been under much scrutiny for sending B'Elanna's ship after the Romulans. Janeway was used to feelings of guilt – she had spent every waking moment on Voyager regretting stranding her crew in the Delta Quadrant. But in the end, she had gotten almost every single man, woman, and child home.
This was different. She was directly responsible for the deaths of every single person on that ship – including her best friend's child.
For the first time in years Janeway broke down and cried. This decision was irreversible. She could not fight tooth and nail to bring these people home. She had killed them and there was nothing she could do.
As tears wracked her body, the overwhelming desire to go to Tom took over. At one time she would have preferred the privacy of this moment, but she had changed, and she wished to share her grief with Tom.
She knocked gently at his bedroom door, but he did not respond. She tried the door and it was unlocked, so she asked for no entry.
He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his back turned to her. For a moment she thought he might be asleep.
"Tom?" she asked carefully, knowing well that he did not deal well with tragedy. It had not been long since she rescued her pilot from a French drinking binge. She wasn't ready for him to succumb to his emotions again.
"You don't need to check on me, Kathryn." His voice was unfeeling, and she silently wondered whether he blamed her. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she fought back the tears that welled in her eyes.
"Why don't you come downstairs for dinner? Maybe I'll even try my hand at a pizza," she said, trying to express lightheartedness.
"Please just go away. I want to be alone. I'll come down when I'm ready." He had raised his voice, and she could tell he was teetering on a very dangerous edge. She knew Tom's anger well, and she also knew when she shouldn't provoke it. For some reason, however, that never stopped her.
"You can blame me, Tom, that's fine. I don't care. But you can't stay locked in your room all day. It's not healthy. Please just come downstairs, I need you." And it was true, she did need him. She couldn't stand the thought of him suffering alone. And she selfishly wanted him near her.
"For someone who seems so in tune with her outer world, you sure don't get it," he said, rising from the bed.
His eyes were puffy from crying, but it was the intensity behind those tears that somewhat frightened Janeway. She regretted disturbing him, and for laying her emotions on the line.
His eyes were glued to hers, and she prepared herself for what he would say next.
"It's about time you stop blaming yourself for everything. You weren't the only one that sent them after the Romulans. You had no way of knowing what would happen. So just stop it." He was speaking louder than necessary, negating the sincerity with which he spoke. "They're dead and they aren't coming back. So you just need to move on. It's a tragedy for both us – I lost my only child! But, damn it, Kathryn! I'm not going to let you beat yourself up with guilt!" He was nearly screaming, and as he took a step towards her, she backed away.
"Tom, I'm not the one who has closed myself off," Janeway said, trying to keep her voice steady.
He scoffed. "Did you ever think that maybe I knew what you were thinking – that you are destroying yourself with guilt? And I couldn't stand being near you? I'm so tired of you taking everything upon yourself! The pain from Miral's death will heal. But I'm not sure I can stand being near you. I know you, Kathryn! I heard you crying. I can't take two tragedies at once!"
"Tom, stop trying to put it on me. I know I made a mistake, but it's your child that is dead – not mine! I don't care what you think of me – I'm concerned for you. If that's what you want, I'll leave you alone. I'll be downstairs when you decide to join me."
She couldn't stand him yelling at her – especially because everything he said was true. She turned slowly and walked towards the door.
His hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"Don't go," he said almost in a whisper, taking a step towards her.
And that was their undoing.
In one fluid motion he pressed her up against the wall, pinning her hands above her head. His reaction was so sudden and unexpected that Janeway didn't have a chance to respond before his lips were on hers.
He pressed his body into hers as he kissed her, removing all space between the two. His tongue fought her mouth open forcefully, and Janeway had no other option than to permit him entry. Her mind had yet to catch up with her body, and she acted solely on instinct.
All she knew was that her body was eagerly responding to his lips on hers, and this was quickly heading in a very dangerous direction.
Before she could form a coherent thought, he had lifted her off the floor, wrapping her legs around him, pressing her harder against the wall as his hips ground into hers. She heard herself moan as his free hand slid under her uniform jacket, and immediately forced her mouth to part with his.
Even as she broke the kiss, she could feel his hot breath on her neck, and she felt the urge to grind her hips against him.
"Tom," she said breathlessly, "this is wrong."
He carefully let her slide to the floor, and out of his arms.
"I know," he said, his eyes staring at the floor. "I'm sorry. My reaction wasn't exactly…appropriate."
She sniggered at the simplicity of his comment. The moment was gone.
Laughing softly, she watched Tom's new found preoccupation with the floor.
"Well, Mr. Paris, I will admit, you almost made me forget myself for a second there," Janeway said, smiling.
"I am rather charming, aren't I?" he said chuckling, but never letting his eyes leave the ground.
"The Delaney sisters were much more truthful than I ever gave them credit for," she said, as a slight blush crept across Tom's cheeks.
Tom's gaze met hers, trying to gage her reaction to what had just occurred.
"Stay with me tonight. I promise no more funny business – I'll be a good housemate," Tom said, hardly above a whisper.
"A good housemate?" Janeway questioned.
"I won't touch you. I won't even open my eyes once you are in the room," he said with hesitation.
"Has Harry told you I sleep naked? Or wear some sort of shameful lingerie? I'll have you know, Tom Paris, that I will be wearing dirty, oversized sweatpants!" She laughed softly.
"So you'll stay?"
"I'll do anything you need of me tonight," she said seriously.
"Stay because you want to, not because you need to," he whispered, sliding his hand into hers.
Following the evening of B'Elanna and Miral's death, things slowly returned to normal between the pilot and the Admiral – Janeway returned to her bed the next morning, and stayed there. They never spoke of what occurred between them, yet both individuals were much more conscious of keeping a certain level of personal space.
At the Academy things continued as before, as both Janeway and Admiral Paris were pardoned for what occurred in the Beta Quadrant. The Romulans responsible for the attack were apprehended, and excluding the typical problems with the Ferengi, the Federation was at peace.
Tom had repeatedly apologized to Janeway for his actions, explaining that he had misinterpreted the emotional arousal from his grief as something else. She had forgiven him, and Paris had put the event behind him. For the most part.
"Harry, I did something stupid a couple of weeks ago," he said one day at lunch with Lieutenant Kim. Janeway was in meetings all day, so Tom had to brave a meal with Harry.
"Should this surprise me? I know you've changed – but you are still Tom Paris," he said, laughing.
"No, Harry, I mean – really stupid. And it was with…well…" He paused.
"Janeway?" Harry asked, as if he expected this all along.
"How did you…"
"Please, Tom. You could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife. And I know you've wanted in her pants since…since you were what, twelve? Not to mention you are attached at the hip and live together. You have all the makings of a sordid love affair, without any of the good stuff. It's about time you opened your eyes. So…was she any good?" Harry said, laughing.
Tom had to do everything in his power not to deck Harry in front of everyone.
"I didn't sleep with her, you bastard," Tom said through his teeth, a little too seriously. "I just kissed her…or well, mauled her. The night when B'Elanna and Miral were killed."
He smiled halfheartedly, to show Harry he meant no harm by his overreaction.
"Well, good for you," Harry said, slightly concerned by Tom's clenched fist. "So are you guys finally going to get together now or something?"
"No. And I don't want us to. I just want things to be as comfortable as they were before." He paused. "And I definitely did not having feelings for her when I was twelve, just so you know. In fact, I kind of hated her."
"But you have feelings for her now," Harry said. "You need to tell her, Tom. A woman like that won't be around much longer."
"You really think so, Harry? Tom Paris and Kathryn Janeway?" He asked, smiling a crooked smile.
"I'm telling you, Tom. She's not going to wait forever."
As if in response to Harry's warning several days before, Janeway dropped a bomb on Tom one evening during dinner.
"I won't be home for dinner tomorrow, so feel free to have all the pizza you want," she said, shooting Tom one of her lopsided grins.
"Oh, late night in the office?" he asked.
"Not exactly. I'm going out with a friend."
"The male kind?"
Janeway paused, as if to gauge his reaction. "Yes, Tom. I hope that's ok. It's really not a big deal, he's basically just a friend from the office. He's been bugging me about some place in downtown LA for ages."
"Don't worry about it. Have fun." He tried to seem happy for her, but swiftly rising from the table the way he did, didn't leave the impression he wanted.
"It's just dinner, Tom. I thought you'd be happy for me."
The next day passed painstakingly slowly for Tom. Every time he started to accomplish something, his mind returned to Janeway and her date. How serious was this dinner? Was this mysterious man looking for something more than a meal with his colleague? Would he kiss her? Would she even come home at all?
Ten hours and a gigantic pile of unfinished paperwork later, Tom sat on the couch in the house he and Janeway shared, enjoying his television and a large glass of whiskey. He was tired and it was getting late, but his desire to see Janeway surpassed his exhaustion.
When he finally heard her voice as she walked down the sidewalk outside, he leapt from the couch in order to meet her at the door. Hoping to spoil any attempt at a goodnight kiss, he stepped outside into the cold, dry air, and watched as Janeway and her date walked toward the house.
Her date's hand was on her back as they walked side by side slowly up the sidewalk.
Tom became acutely aware of an acidic feeling in his stomach, as an animalistic jealousy overtook him. Even so, he knew Janeway's happiness trumped his irrational feelings, so he made no effort to move from the door frame, even as cold air rushed inside the open door of the house.
"Tom!" Janeway yelled, once she was reasonably closer to him. "I'm so glad you stayed up! I want you to meet Captain Johnson. Not only did we have a wonderful dinner, we just found out that the Captain was awarded command of the Ulysses!" she said, a little too enthusiastically for Tom's liking.
"Congratulations," Tom said, in as monotone a voice as was possible. "I'm Tom Paris, it is nice to finally meet you. The Admiral talks about you all the time," he said, bluffing.
"Oh, really?" Johnson responded, somewhat taken aback. "And to think – the way she talked about you, I was afraid I was going to have competition for the lovely lady's affection," he said, a little smugly.
Tom clenched his fists at his side, preparing himself to lock horns with this man.
"She really is quite a lady, isn't she?" Johnson said, smiling at Janeway. "I thought she was never going to agree to let me take her out!"
Tom laughed, solely to fill the awkward silence that followed, his aggravation growing with each passing second.
Johnson then gestured toward Tom before saying quietly, "Hey buddy, if you don't mind, could you step inside for a second? I want to give the Admiral a proper goodnight." He winked at Tom and then smirked, as if he were the cleverest person in the world.
And Tom hit him. Square in the jaw.
"I'm not your buddy," he said, rubbing his still clenched fist, as he stood over Johnson's crumpled body on the ground.
"Tom!" Janeway shrieked, an octave above her normal voice. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"
"What I should have done twenty years ago."
He grabbed her roughly, shoving her inside the house, slamming the door in Captain Johnson's face.
"Tom, are you out of her mind?" she yelled, still unaware of what exactly was going on.
He took advantage of her momentary confusion, pressing her against the closed door, and covering her lips with his.
She struggled at first, but Tom only forced her harder against the door until she slid her hand around his neck and kissed him back.
"Tom, this would never work. We can't keep doing this," she said, out of breath.
"Kathryn, we've already been doing this for a year, just neither one of us was smart enough to open our eyes. You can't tell me you have ever been happier than when you lived with me."
She looked unsure of herself, so Tom continued.
"The other day at lunch Harry said I've wanted you since I was twelve. Do you remember when we first met? I was just a boy – and I hated you for taking away my father. But you know what – I've never stopped thinking about you from that moment on. I was a twelve year old boy who cleaned up his act so he could impress his father more than you did."
Her eyebrows rose, as she listened to him speak.
"And guess what? I made it to Starfleet. And I was a hell of a pilot before I screwed everything up. And you know who saved me? Who from that moment on would keep showing up in my life at the most opportune times and bring me back to the real world? It was you Kathryn, and I love you for it. I was just never man enough to admit it to myself."
"Now, Tom," she interrupted, "don't do this just because…"
"No, Kathryn, let me finish. I've loved you since I was twelve years old. There was a reason I kept ending up with you again and again since that first time you walked into my house. Since you sprung me from Auckland, the French bar, from my own fucked up emotions. I just hate it that Harry had to show me how I really felt – that it had to take my child dying for me to realize what you meant to me. Dammit, Kathryn Janeway! I've spent the best years of my life with you. And I'm not ready for that to end!"
He leaped at her, crushing his lips down on hers.
"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, trembling in anticipation.
"No, Tom. Not this time."