The
door chimed. B'Elanna Torres looked up, sighed, and tried to go back to reading
her PADD, but whoever it was, was persistent.
"All
right!" She grumbled. "Come in!"
Not
really in the mood for company, she hoped it was one of her subordinates, that
she could send away, but when the door whooshed open, one Lieutenant Paris
stood on the other side.
Avoiding
his eyes, B'Elanna kept a tight reign on her exterior appearance. Inside,
however, she was steaming. How dare he vote against her wishes to the captain?
That p'takh human!
"B'Elanna…"
Tom didn't seem to know what to say.
"Paris."
B'Elanna remarked uninterestedly.
Tom
winced. "Back to last names, huh?"
B'Elanna
didn't answer him. Instead, she turned away from the door, leaving it open. She
didn't want company, but she did want to chew Paris out. And better here, in
her quarters, than in the hallway.
Tom
willing followed her, though probably fully aware of what she was about to do
to him. That was one of the things she loved about him so much, the fact that
he braved her temper with nary a backward glance, and was never scared of her.
She knew all too well that Harry and all her subordinates and sometimes even
Captain Janeway tried to stay away from her when she was in a bad mood. But not
Tom. He would try to calm her down, or sometimes he would just start a good,
therapeutic fight with her, and she could vent her temper that way.
He
sat down across from her, and tried to catch her eye. B'Elanna kept her gaze
moving, so that a direct stare was impossible. Looking into those eyes was too
dangerous for her cause.
She knew
she was unsettling him. His eyes were one of his most potent tools. She knew
it, and he knew it. And that was why she couldn't look at him. She could drown
in those blue eyes, bluer than the sky…
She
pulled herself from her fantasies, and remembered that she was supposed to be
mad at him. Pulling her anger back around her like a cloak, she kept her gaze
darting. "How could you do that!"
Tom
knew exactly what she was talking about. There was no hesitation, no surprise.
"I couldn't lose you, B'Elanna." Was his only response.
Angered,
B'Elanna looked up, finally meeting his gaze. "That is selfish and you know it,
Thomas Eugene Paris!"
Tom
winced. "Do you suppose they just did that to torture me, or was there really a
reason for using 'Eugene' as my middle name?" 'They' was his parents.
B'Elanna
ignored his attempt at levity. "All you were thinking about was yourself! About
how hard it would be for you to lose me! Not about how I might not want to be
saved at the expense of hundreds of innocent Bajorans! You're a selfish p'tahk,
Paris. Now get out of here." Her voice had gone from high and angry to quieter
and angrier. Now it was low and deadly, with a hint of just plain exhaustion
behind it.
Tom
looked upset, but, valuing lives like he obviously did, B'Elanna thought
sarcastically, he left. Probably in an effort to conserve his own. But
as the doors hissed shut behind him, he said, "You can't get rid of me that
easily, B'Elanna."
* * *
And
he was right. For days, he followed her every step. When he was on duty, he'd
send messages with offers for dinner to her console in Engineering. When she
was on the holodeck, he'd leave messages across windows, beaches, chairs, even
the holographic sky. Sometimes she'd get angry and send him away, but he would
only reappear several hours later. When five days had passed, B'Elanna decided
she'd had enough, and agreed to meet him for dinner.
Standing
outside his quarters, she shifted from foot to foot, nervous about what to say,
and more importantly, what to do. It was so hard to stay mad at Tom, but she
was justified in her anger, she kept reminding herself. Still, whenever she was
with Tom, that justification didn't seem too important.
Remember
what he did! She berated herself. Going against your death wish
is not a little thing.
The
door opened, and Tom stood there, wearing a blue button down shirt and a tie,
and a neatly pressed pair of slacks. He wore black dress shoes, and had his
hair slicked back in a formal manner.
Then
B'Elanna noticed his belt. It stuck out against his outfit horribly, and
clashed with his gray slacks obnoxiously. Very surprised that she hadn't seen
it the first time, she looked closer.
The belt
was lime green, a color that B'Elanna had only ever seen on characters in Tom's
20th century holoprograms. They wore the ridiculous color while
doing sports, especially bicycling, if she recalled correctly. The belt also
sported a neon orange buckle, the color her Starfleet instructors used to call
'International orange'. And then, to top it all off, the belt had fuchsia spots
speckled over it, and the buckle had blue lightening bolts.
Holding
herself together, and reminding herself of her resolve, B'Elanna managed to
keep a straight face. But then, belatedly, his tie registered.
The same
four colors made up his tie, only it was pinstriped. The pattern was serious
and formal, but the colors were clownish and very…bright. B'Elanna's guard
slipped.
Against
her will, she giggled. Then, as the total absurdity of the outfit registered,
she began to laugh. Tom joined her mirth, and when a passing crewman looked at
them strangely, he pulled her into his quarters.
Calming
slightly, he sat her down on the couch. "So, you're not mad at me anymore?" He
asked.
B'Elanna
tried to conjure up some of that anger, but when she failed, she simply shook
her head. "No, I guess I'm not. It's over and done with, and there's no point
in hating you for it."
Tom
looked relieved. B'Elanna kissed him, and, leaning her head on his shoulder,
she closed her eyes, truly content for the first time in ages, or so it seemed.
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