TITLE: Rock and Roll Heart
AUTHOR: Brenda Shaffer-Shiring
FEEDBACK TO: shafshir@microconnect.net
RATING: PG, mild language
PART: 1/1
CODES: C/T (P/T in past tense). AU, obviously.
ARCHIVE: Sure, why not? Just let me know.
DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the characters and the general situation, though they probably didn't anticipate this particular use of same.
SUMMARY: When Chakotay devises the ideal present for B'Elanna, she invites him to share it with her. A response to "New Horizons" Narrative Challenge #4 (general): "Write a story where B'Elanna has taken an interest in repairing old cars (like Paris's Camaro) and rock & roll music. Include Chakotay somehow. Bonus points for making it romantic."
Rock and Roll Heart
by Brenda Shaffer-Shiring
It lay strewn over half the holodeck: carburetor, tires, radiator caps, battery cables and more bits and pieces of 20th-century mechanical minutiae than any sane 24th-century engineer should have been able to identify by name, much less by function. The central, and largest, piece, was the long-lined shell of an ancient motorized conveyance, its original colors -- white body, silver trim, black canopy -- nipped by rust and dulled by age, dirt, and smudges of grease. Half-hidden by the opened hood were yet more arcane metallic shapes. From long practice, B'Elanna recognized the Chevrolet automotive company's symbol just above the grille, though the legend on the vehicle's side was new to her: "Corvette."
Whatever a Corvette normally was, this particular vehicle was a grade-A authentic *wreck*. And it was hers, all hers.
B'Elanna Torres couldn't have been happier.
Grinning, she turned to the man beside her, designer of the holodeck program dubbed "B'Elanna's Chariot." "This is terrific!"
A smile turned up the corners of Chakotay's full lips. "I knew you'd like it."
"Like it? I love it." Crouching, she examined the contents of a heavily-laden toolbox, then lifted her head to scan the paraphernalia supported by hooks and shelves on the walls of her new "garage." Chakotay had been thorough in his preparations, she saw: she was well-equipped for the work ahead. "Where'd you get the idea?"
"You told me once that you liked to work on this sort of project with Tom."
She smiled a little, reminiscently. "Not at first. But I got to like it, yeah." Restoring old cars had become one of the greater pleasures B'Elanna's erstwhile beau had introduced her to -- and the one she missed the most, now that he and she were no longer a couple.
Chakotay shrugged. "I just figured, if that's what you want to do, why do you need Tom?"
B'Elanna chuckled. "I guess that's true." After all, for all of his love of ancient vehicles, Tom Paris was no engineer, and B'Elanna was certainly capable of solving this kind of mechanical puzzle without his help. She leaned in over the engine block, staining her fingers with grease as she examined various components and plotted her plan of attack. A few minutes later, she realized that the first officer was still standing behind her, regarding her automotive explorations. "You wanna help, or just watch?"
"Tough choice," he said, making an exaggerated show of ogling her backside. Smirking in response, she jerked her hand and wrist in his direction as if threatening a backhanded slap. He pretended to flinch. "Hey!"
She snorted. "Seriously, if you want to play you can. It's a lot of fun -- and I could always use an extra set of hands."
A lopsided lift of lips showed his pleasure at being asked, but Chakotay answered almost diffidently. "As long as you understand I'm not an expert at this sort of thing."
"Whatever. Why don't you just hand me the tools, then? I'll explain as I go."
"Works for me." He dropped to one knee beside the toolbox, examining the selection, and she wasted a moment considering how very well the pose emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the tightness of his rear. //Very nice. Too bad he's not available.// She had never forgotten the old dream, the one the Bothan had brought to the forefront of her mind -- the one in which her friend and sometime captain had seduced and mesmerized her. //Give it up, Torres. It's Captain Janeway he wants.// The thought saddened her; it was a privilege the other woman obviously didn't appreciate.
"Ready when you are," Chakotay said finally, apparently oblivious to the drift of her thoughts.
Wrenching herself back to the present, she realized, "Something's missing from this scenario." She thought about it for a moment, then snapped her fingers in realization. "Computer, add tabletop stereo, any style, circa 1980's Terra. Implement music selection Torres Gamma-Twelve." The desired object shimmered into existence on a nearby shelf, a vinyl disk twirling on the turntable as two small speakers emitted music to fill the room.
Just take those old records off the shelf
I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself
Today's music ain't got the same soul
I like that old-time rock and roll
Don't try to take me to a disco
You'll never even get me out on the floor
In ten minutes I'll be late for the door
I like that old-time rock and roll
"What's that?" Chakotay asked, clearly bemused.
"Rock music."
He mouthed the words back at her, obviously none the wiser, and she shook her head.
"Rock and roll. Twentieth-century period music. Good to work by." Also one of the other enjoyable things Tom Paris had introduced her to, but she didn't think it necessary to mention that. Instead, she shook her head again, as if pitying her unenlightened friend. "Chakotay, you really don't know *anything* about restoring cars."
*****
And next we were movin' on and he was with me, yeah me
And we'll be movin' on and singin' that same old song
Yeah, with me
Singin' I love rock and roll
So put another dime in the jukebox, baby
I love rock and roll
So come and take your time and dance with me
B'Elanna belted out the rhythmic refrain as she made a few last adjustments.
"You really do enjoy that music," Chakotay said, sounding a little bemused. She looked up to see a smile on the first officer's grease-smudged face.
"Yep." Pressing a hand to the small of her back, she straightened up. "You mind?"
"Not at all. It's got a --" He hesitated, as if searching for the correct word. "An *aggressive* beat."
"Suits, don't you think?" After all this time, she was finally beginning to be more comfortable with who she was, thanks in no small part to this man. So she was aggressive, fine. That meant she didn't let anyone walk on her. She was okay with that.
"I guess." He smiled again, dimpling. "It's good to see you enjoying yourself again." //Since you broke up with Tom,// was the unspoken clause in the sentence.
"It's good to *be* enjoying myself again." She didn't feel the need to say the rest of the words, either. "Thanks." Peering beneath the hood, she assessed her work and grinned, pleased with the progress she'd made. "Not bad. Not bad at all. A couple of weeks and I should have this baby up and running."
Chakotay canted his head, considering the vehicle with exaggerated skepticism. "If you say so."
She snapped her sweat-soaked bandanna at him with a mock growl. "O ye of little faith."
"Who, me? Perish the thought." He gave her an arch look. "By the way, exactly how much holodeck time do you *have* over the next couple of weeks?"
She snorted. "Go to hell, Chakotay."
He touched fingers to his brow. "On my way, ma'am. I live to serve, ma'am."
"You are *so* full of shit, Chakotay. Help me put the tools away."
They worked companionably for a few more minutes before he looked at her again, his soft brown eyes more serious now. "B'Elanna, I've been wondering about something." She could guess what, but waited for him to say. "You and Tom seemed pretty compatible. I mean, you like a lot of the same things." His gesture took in the workshop, the vehicle. "I bet he's even the one who introduced you to this music."
She nodded; it was true. "So?"
"So if you had so much in common, why did you break up with him?"
Other people, from Harry Kim to Captain Janeway, had asked her the same question in these last weeks, and she'd always met it with a stout, "None of your business." From him, though, it wasn't prying or idle curiosity; it was honest concern. And so she answered him honestly. "He never told me he loved me, Chakotay." Her voice was soft, but she knew the pain of that was in her eyes. "All the time we spent together, and he couldn't even bring himself to say the words. He didn't even understand why it mattered."
She waited for Chakotay to give her the sane answer, the sensible answer, the answer that Tom himself had given: //As long as he *showed* that he loved you, why did he have to *say* it?//
But what he said instead, very softly, was, "You deserve better than that, B'Elanna."
She looked at him, at the warmth in his gaze and the honest empathy in his face. And she thought that he was a good man, a generous man, a loving man -- thought, too, that there were words he'd never heard that he needed to hear, words that the woman from whom they would have mattered denied him without thought. Which was why she answered, very simply, "So do you."
He ducked his head, lips twisting in rueful acknowledgement before he looked back at her. "Yeah, I think maybe I do."
He reached across the gap separating them, then, and took her hand, squeezing it solidly. After a moment, she moved into his arms.
Feels like we're falling into the arms of the night,
So if you're not ready, don't be holdin' me so tight
I guess there's nothin' left for me to explain;
Here's what you're gettin' and I don't want to change,
I don't want to change
I get off on '57 Chevys;
I get off on screaming guitar.
Like the way it hits me, every time it hits me
I've got a rock and roll, I've got a rock and roll heart
END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Fans of classic rock probably don't have to be told, but the lyrics cited are from "Old Time Rock & Roll," as sung by Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band; "I Love Rock and Roll," as sung by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts; and "Rock and Roll Heart," as sung by Eric Clapton.
AUTHOR: Brenda Shaffer-Shiring
FEEDBACK TO: shafshir@microconnect.net
RATING: PG, mild language
PART: 1/1
CODES: C/T (P/T in past tense). AU, obviously.
ARCHIVE: Sure, why not? Just let me know.
DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the characters and the general situation, though they probably didn't anticipate this particular use of same.
SUMMARY: When Chakotay devises the ideal present for B'Elanna, she invites him to share it with her. A response to "New Horizons" Narrative Challenge #4 (general): "Write a story where B'Elanna has taken an interest in repairing old cars (like Paris's Camaro) and rock & roll music. Include Chakotay somehow. Bonus points for making it romantic."
Rock and Roll Heart
by Brenda Shaffer-Shiring
It lay strewn over half the holodeck: carburetor, tires, radiator caps, battery cables and more bits and pieces of 20th-century mechanical minutiae than any sane 24th-century engineer should have been able to identify by name, much less by function. The central, and largest, piece, was the long-lined shell of an ancient motorized conveyance, its original colors -- white body, silver trim, black canopy -- nipped by rust and dulled by age, dirt, and smudges of grease. Half-hidden by the opened hood were yet more arcane metallic shapes. From long practice, B'Elanna recognized the Chevrolet automotive company's symbol just above the grille, though the legend on the vehicle's side was new to her: "Corvette."
Whatever a Corvette normally was, this particular vehicle was a grade-A authentic *wreck*. And it was hers, all hers.
B'Elanna Torres couldn't have been happier.
Grinning, she turned to the man beside her, designer of the holodeck program dubbed "B'Elanna's Chariot." "This is terrific!"
A smile turned up the corners of Chakotay's full lips. "I knew you'd like it."
"Like it? I love it." Crouching, she examined the contents of a heavily-laden toolbox, then lifted her head to scan the paraphernalia supported by hooks and shelves on the walls of her new "garage." Chakotay had been thorough in his preparations, she saw: she was well-equipped for the work ahead. "Where'd you get the idea?"
"You told me once that you liked to work on this sort of project with Tom."
She smiled a little, reminiscently. "Not at first. But I got to like it, yeah." Restoring old cars had become one of the greater pleasures B'Elanna's erstwhile beau had introduced her to -- and the one she missed the most, now that he and she were no longer a couple.
Chakotay shrugged. "I just figured, if that's what you want to do, why do you need Tom?"
B'Elanna chuckled. "I guess that's true." After all, for all of his love of ancient vehicles, Tom Paris was no engineer, and B'Elanna was certainly capable of solving this kind of mechanical puzzle without his help. She leaned in over the engine block, staining her fingers with grease as she examined various components and plotted her plan of attack. A few minutes later, she realized that the first officer was still standing behind her, regarding her automotive explorations. "You wanna help, or just watch?"
"Tough choice," he said, making an exaggerated show of ogling her backside. Smirking in response, she jerked her hand and wrist in his direction as if threatening a backhanded slap. He pretended to flinch. "Hey!"
She snorted. "Seriously, if you want to play you can. It's a lot of fun -- and I could always use an extra set of hands."
A lopsided lift of lips showed his pleasure at being asked, but Chakotay answered almost diffidently. "As long as you understand I'm not an expert at this sort of thing."
"Whatever. Why don't you just hand me the tools, then? I'll explain as I go."
"Works for me." He dropped to one knee beside the toolbox, examining the selection, and she wasted a moment considering how very well the pose emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the tightness of his rear. //Very nice. Too bad he's not available.// She had never forgotten the old dream, the one the Bothan had brought to the forefront of her mind -- the one in which her friend and sometime captain had seduced and mesmerized her. //Give it up, Torres. It's Captain Janeway he wants.// The thought saddened her; it was a privilege the other woman obviously didn't appreciate.
"Ready when you are," Chakotay said finally, apparently oblivious to the drift of her thoughts.
Wrenching herself back to the present, she realized, "Something's missing from this scenario." She thought about it for a moment, then snapped her fingers in realization. "Computer, add tabletop stereo, any style, circa 1980's Terra. Implement music selection Torres Gamma-Twelve." The desired object shimmered into existence on a nearby shelf, a vinyl disk twirling on the turntable as two small speakers emitted music to fill the room.
Just take those old records off the shelf
I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself
Today's music ain't got the same soul
I like that old-time rock and roll
Don't try to take me to a disco
You'll never even get me out on the floor
In ten minutes I'll be late for the door
I like that old-time rock and roll
"What's that?" Chakotay asked, clearly bemused.
"Rock music."
He mouthed the words back at her, obviously none the wiser, and she shook her head.
"Rock and roll. Twentieth-century period music. Good to work by." Also one of the other enjoyable things Tom Paris had introduced her to, but she didn't think it necessary to mention that. Instead, she shook her head again, as if pitying her unenlightened friend. "Chakotay, you really don't know *anything* about restoring cars."
*****
And next we were movin' on and he was with me, yeah me
And we'll be movin' on and singin' that same old song
Yeah, with me
Singin' I love rock and roll
So put another dime in the jukebox, baby
I love rock and roll
So come and take your time and dance with me
B'Elanna belted out the rhythmic refrain as she made a few last adjustments.
"You really do enjoy that music," Chakotay said, sounding a little bemused. She looked up to see a smile on the first officer's grease-smudged face.
"Yep." Pressing a hand to the small of her back, she straightened up. "You mind?"
"Not at all. It's got a --" He hesitated, as if searching for the correct word. "An *aggressive* beat."
"Suits, don't you think?" After all this time, she was finally beginning to be more comfortable with who she was, thanks in no small part to this man. So she was aggressive, fine. That meant she didn't let anyone walk on her. She was okay with that.
"I guess." He smiled again, dimpling. "It's good to see you enjoying yourself again." //Since you broke up with Tom,// was the unspoken clause in the sentence.
"It's good to *be* enjoying myself again." She didn't feel the need to say the rest of the words, either. "Thanks." Peering beneath the hood, she assessed her work and grinned, pleased with the progress she'd made. "Not bad. Not bad at all. A couple of weeks and I should have this baby up and running."
Chakotay canted his head, considering the vehicle with exaggerated skepticism. "If you say so."
She snapped her sweat-soaked bandanna at him with a mock growl. "O ye of little faith."
"Who, me? Perish the thought." He gave her an arch look. "By the way, exactly how much holodeck time do you *have* over the next couple of weeks?"
She snorted. "Go to hell, Chakotay."
He touched fingers to his brow. "On my way, ma'am. I live to serve, ma'am."
"You are *so* full of shit, Chakotay. Help me put the tools away."
They worked companionably for a few more minutes before he looked at her again, his soft brown eyes more serious now. "B'Elanna, I've been wondering about something." She could guess what, but waited for him to say. "You and Tom seemed pretty compatible. I mean, you like a lot of the same things." His gesture took in the workshop, the vehicle. "I bet he's even the one who introduced you to this music."
She nodded; it was true. "So?"
"So if you had so much in common, why did you break up with him?"
Other people, from Harry Kim to Captain Janeway, had asked her the same question in these last weeks, and she'd always met it with a stout, "None of your business." From him, though, it wasn't prying or idle curiosity; it was honest concern. And so she answered him honestly. "He never told me he loved me, Chakotay." Her voice was soft, but she knew the pain of that was in her eyes. "All the time we spent together, and he couldn't even bring himself to say the words. He didn't even understand why it mattered."
She waited for Chakotay to give her the sane answer, the sensible answer, the answer that Tom himself had given: //As long as he *showed* that he loved you, why did he have to *say* it?//
But what he said instead, very softly, was, "You deserve better than that, B'Elanna."
She looked at him, at the warmth in his gaze and the honest empathy in his face. And she thought that he was a good man, a generous man, a loving man -- thought, too, that there were words he'd never heard that he needed to hear, words that the woman from whom they would have mattered denied him without thought. Which was why she answered, very simply, "So do you."
He ducked his head, lips twisting in rueful acknowledgement before he looked back at her. "Yeah, I think maybe I do."
He reached across the gap separating them, then, and took her hand, squeezing it solidly. After a moment, she moved into his arms.
Feels like we're falling into the arms of the night,
So if you're not ready, don't be holdin' me so tight
I guess there's nothin' left for me to explain;
Here's what you're gettin' and I don't want to change,
I don't want to change
I get off on '57 Chevys;
I get off on screaming guitar.
Like the way it hits me, every time it hits me
I've got a rock and roll, I've got a rock and roll heart
END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Fans of classic rock probably don't have to be told, but the lyrics cited are from "Old Time Rock & Roll," as sung by Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band; "I Love Rock and Roll," as sung by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts; and "Rock and Roll Heart," as sung by Eric Clapton.