AN: the idea for this one shamelessly comes from something I've read. Sorry, I can't remember the author or title or even which website I read it on. I thank that person for the initial muse. As with many of my stories, I've morphed it into my Purge UA, with a small prologue from "The Swarm" which also deviates, ever so slightly, from cannon. A small explanation will be offered as to the events in my version of "Blood Fever" allowing the reader context for this story.
Prologue: The Swarm.
"You have a big dinner date or something?" Tom teased the woman sitting in the co-pilots chair.
Torres finished complaining about their elongated mission for the third time in as many minutes. It wasn't as if Tom had contrived to be alone with B'Elanna for the last five hours, or that he couldn't locate the intermittent energy signatures Harry detected from his station on Voyager which lead to this away mission It was, however, obvious Lt. Torres had become irritated with the enforced immobility in such close quarters. It wasn't so clear if his presence added to her irritation.
Immediately on the defensive, B'Elanna turned toward her companion and gave him an assessing glare. They were known for bickering at the slightest opportunity. She didn't quite know how to take the man at times, and this was one of them.
"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked.
When Captain Janeway first ordered the Chief Navigator and Engineer on this little outing, Torres rejoiced, not that she was about to let Tom know how much she'd come to enjoy his company. It would give her time to spend with Paris under the guise of orders. Over the last two years they'd gone from former Maquis conspirators, to begrudging acquaintances, to friends and now, well, B'Elanna didn't want to put a name to their relationship. Tom Paris still got under her skin, just not quite as much as he once had. Unable to distinguish when she started to enjoy their interactions, at some point they came to know each other better. He'd proved himself caring in the Vidiian Mines, intelligent while working on the Warp Ten project and honourable when rescuing the entire crew from Hanon IV. Not to mention all the times he'd rushed in to save her, the Pralor robot fiasco came immediately to mind. Then there was the whole leaving Voyager to confront Seska and uncover the spy constantly meddling with her engines. Tom Paris wasn't such a bad guy, if only he'd drop that cocky, arrogant shell to protect himself from getting to close to anyone.
Like you don't do the same! It takes one to know one, Torres, so just calm down, B'Elanna ordered her chaotic mind. Tom's just teasing, like he always does, with any woman or most of the crew. Tom Paris is a flirt. It's not like he'll ask you out and really mean it.
"Well," Tom spared the woman a sideways glance, intrigued by her volatile moods which didn't seem to be in evidence today. In fact, B'Elanna seemed to be enjoying their banter, and almost but not quite, flirting back. Her response encouraged Paris to continue. "You've been angling to get back to Voyager for about two hours now. Just thought maybe there was a reason?"
"Five hours in this box with you is about as much as I can take," B'Elanna retorted with a smirk. The usual heat accompanying her acid tone had disappeared. Only the lack of movement truly irritated her. Crossing her arms over her chest was about as much protection as she could gain in the close quarters because B'Elanna Torres would never admit to enjoying Tom Paris's company.
"I guess you'd feel better if the Captain assigned Ensign Bristow as your pilot," Tom continued to mock. Oh, he'd noticed the interest from several other male crew members. Luckily their mutual friendship with Harry gave Tom more access to B'Elanna's off duty hours his competition could only dream about. Trouble was, he wanted her attention without Harry around to act as a third wheel. "I've noticed he's been making any excuse to hang around engineering and especially you," Tom used his eyebrows to give the words extra meaning.
"Freddie Bristow is a child," B'Elanna retorted, watching Paris's reaction.
"Oh, really," Tom returned his attention to the console and attempted to appear unconcerned. Yet he really wanted to know if the man was a threat to his long term goals. "He looks like a grown up to me. Tall, good-looking and I hear he plays a mean set of Pareses Squares."
"I played one game with him, and I whipped his butt," Torres smirked with elation, remembering how Freddy underestimated her skill and agility. That should have been the end of his attraction, but the silly kid couldn't take a hint. Besides she'd been so angry at Paris, B'Elanna used the ball as if it were his head, hitting it with all the force she'd really wanted to expend on Tom. "Look, he has a crush on me. I can handle it." Suddenly, B'Elanna understood. Tom was jealous. She'd seen glimpses of it before, when someone interrupted one of their infamous arguments. They both enjoyed the verbal foreplay.
Where the hell did that come from, B'Elanna asked herself, before demanding from the man sitting next to her, "why are you so interested anyway, Paris?"
"I'm just curious how someone with Klingon blood seems to live the life of a Tabern monk," he offered softly, shrugging his shoulders as if it didn't mean anything more than playful banter.
"Who said I live the life of a Tabern monk," she shot back.
Chuckling, Tom's attention returned to the woman seated beside him. "Voyager's grape vine is alive and well, B'Elanna," he stated with a wide grin. "Everyone would have heard if you were seeing someone, or even had a date. Even you have to admit the ships so small, there's bound to be someone misconstruing something."
"The gossip is usually about your dates, Lieutenant," Torres fired back, wanting to turn the conversation back on Tom, "and your exploits after you've wooed your lady of the week on the holodeck."
"Bet you haven't heard anything much lately," he responded easily. "I'm waiting for the right woman to share my next creation. So, if you ever have a free evening, I have a holodeck program you might enjoy. Sailing on Lake Como?"
"A date?" B'Elanna scoffed.
"Two friends getting to know each other," Tom offered, but there was a note of hurt in his tone.
Watching him carefully, B'Elanna suddenly realised he was serious. Tom's body language had changed, becoming stiff and formal. He expected a rejection. Pleased she had Paris on a taught string, Torres offered, "I do enjoy sailing. You're on Lieutenant, tomorrow night, 1900 hours. Oh," she added with a teasing smirk as he turned to look at her with astonishment, "it's not a date, just two friends going sailing together. Your booking it using your holodeck time and rations for dinner."
Tom Paris was many things, but stupid was not one of them. He simply nodded his agreement, pleased to get B'Elanna to do anything with him. While considering what he could serve for their evening meal on the small skiff, all hell broke loose and two unidentified reptilians transported onto the shuttle. It was just as well they'd made their visit to the Holodeck for tomorrow evening, because it didn't look like they'd make it tonight.