Author's note: This started out as a much different story for crlkseasons called Full Moon. But it wasn't turning out to be what she asked for, so instead I wrote her a story called Consequences. Either way, you can thank (or blame!) her that I came up with the nutty premise of this story.
There is so much to love about Blood Fever - Tom Paris gets consent exactly right. But there's plenty to be annoyed with, too - why does everyone act like it's no big deal for Vorik to do what he did to B'Elanna? Is she really supposed to be keep working with the man that assaulted her as if nothing happened? And how about we acknowledge the fact that Tom is a victim as well? I can't believe it all got resolved with one (adorable!) flirty conversation in the turbolift. So this is my response to all those issues.
As always, I owe many thanks to rsb and Photogirl1890 and the tireless Sareki02 for their help and advice on this story!
"I hate this effing planet," B'Elanna Torres snarled, shaking her left hand vigorously.
Tom Paris sighed. "What's wrong now?" She'd been complaining non-stop since they disembarked the Cochrane twenty minutes ago. It was too dark, (she had been well aware that this continent had a twenty hour long night when she'd agreed to come), too humid (apparently Klingons only liked a dry heat), the ground was too muddy (her boots kept getting stuck), and Tom had landed the shuttle much farther from the area of interest than was strictly necessary, (you try to land a shuttle on a landmass prone to mudslides, then we can talk). The pilot scratched absently at his shoulder and braced himself to hear about the latest insult dealt to the Chief Engineer by the planet known locally as Rursus IV.
"Slugs," she snapped. "Everything is so damn slimy on this mud ball that when I put my hand on what I thought was a chunk of rock, it took me a minute to realize it was actually a disgusting, nasty slug." She was wiping her hand furiously on her pant leg.
Tom flipped open his tricorder, concerned. "Does your skin burn? Does it hurt at all?" The ionosphere of Rursus IV had limited their scans of the planet significantly. Prior to landing, they knew little more than some of the local geography and that there was a unclaimed cave system here that might have a cache of high grade dilithium.
She pushed his hand aside with a derisive snort. "It's not toxic, Paris, it's just gross." She shuddered as she noticed another one on a nearby tree trunk and took several steps away from it.
Tom regarded the banana-sized, purple-hued beast with a smile. It waved an antenna at him in a friendly sort of way. "Well, I'll be. The big, tough Klingon is afraid of slugs."
She directed her patented death glare at him. The moonlight illuminated it rather nicely. "I'm not afraid of them. I just think they're disgusting. Now let's go!" She pushed past him and continued stomping her way through the thick tropical vegetation.
"I'm not sure what you dislike so much about this place," Tom said, as he put a hand out to stop a large palm frond from hitting him in the face. "The flowers smell nice, the birds are singing, and the moonlight is really quite lovely."
"Under the flowers, there's the smell of the rotting plant life; for all you know those birds are signalling they're about to attack; and there's just enough moonlight for me to see how many damn slugs there are!" She slapped at the leaves to accentuate each of her points.
"You're in a great mood," Tom remarked, pausing to scratch an itch on his calf.
"Do you walk faster when you're not talking?"
Tom was at a loss. Because of the unstable ground, Janeway had asked him to fly the shuttle in; but any of the engineering staff could have run the scans they needed. B'Elanna had specifically volunteered to come. The pilot was surprised by this when he found out last night - after the events of last week, he assumed the last thing B'Elanna would want was to be alone in a jungle with him. But he'd been encouraged as well. Maybe she wanted to put the lingering weirdness behind them as much as he did.
However, since the moment she boarded the shuttle this morning, she'd been acting like this away mission was personally designed to torture her. It had become abundantly clear she'd prefer to be anywhere else rather than tromping through the dimly lit rainforest with Tom Paris.
It always felt like one step forward, two steps back with the temperamental engineer. One day, she and Tom would have fun together on the holodeck or engage in a little friendly banter; the next she'd be all prickly and "Back off, Paris!" Despite his undeniable attraction to her, B'Elanna gave him so many contradictory signals the pilot knew the smartest plan was to let go of the idea of anything more than friendship.
Only he seemed to be having trouble with the actual letting go part.
This was foreign territory for him. Tom enjoyed sex - he had no shame about this. Fortunately for him, most of the overtures he made in this area were quickly and enthusiastically reciprocated, with the notable rare exception. (Oh, Alice Battisti. The fun we might have had together...) But even those rejections were OK - he'd wallow for a day or two and then move onto someone else. There was always someone else.
So when he'd asked B'Elanna to go sailing on Lake Como and she turned him down (in what was a fairly diplomatic fashion for the half-Klingon), that should have been the end of it. Except a tiny, niggling and very stubborn part of his brain wouldn't let that be the end of it. Tom still found himself sneaking glances at her across the briefing room, seeking her out for dinner, searching for holodeck programs she might enjoy. So he'd give himself the mental equivalent of a face slap and remind himself the Chief had made it very clear she wasn't interested.
Then Sakaris had happened.
~Three Days Earlier~
"Careful what you wish for, Lieutenant," B'Elanna said as she left Tom on the turbolift, smirking as she imagined the expression her comeback had elicited. She didn't put too much stock into what he had said, about not minding if he saw her Klingon side again. It was just Tom being Tom - the man couldn't not flirt. It was like some kind of Pavlovian response for him.
She moved from the corridor to the upper level of the bridge and made her way to the ready room, giving a nod to Ayala where he stood at the security station. The relief she'd felt when she realized Tom wasn't going to start treating her like some sort of nymphomaniacal leper had completely dissipated by the time she reached the captain's door. She didn't know why she was so nervous. It's not like she had done anything wrong, after all. She was a victim in all this, right? No matter how many injuries she had caused? It hadn't really been her fault. With a deep breath, she hit the door chime.
"Please come in, B'Elanna. Have a seat," Janeway greeted her as the door slid open, gesturing to the chair across from her desk. She had that smile on her face, the one she used when she asked you to do something particularly onerous, something that went against all your instincts yet somehow was best for the crew, best for Voyager. The smile that convinced you it was your idea all along.
Chakotay's smile was different. He stood a little behind and to the right of Janeway's seat. His smile was the one that reassured you he was on your side - it was just you and him, against the world. He had your back, no reason to be worried.
Tuvok, of course, wasn't smiling at all.
"The Doctor reports both you and Ensign Vorik have been given a clean bill of health," Janeway started.
"Yes, Captain," B'Elanna agreed.
After she'd pummeled her junior officer, one of her own engineers, down on Sakaris, she'd collapsed in a haze of exhaustion and confusion. She'd felt strong arms that carried a familiar scent of sweat and musk catching her, carrying her to the shuttle, laying her gently down onto a bench. And then nothing until she'd awakened to the Doctor's haughty countenance.
"You'll be pleased to know that the pon farr has been fully purged," the EMH informed her in his typical smug tone.
"Is Vorik OK?" she asked quietly as she sat up and looked around the room. The other beds were empty.
"His pon farr has also resolved. It shouldn't be an issue for another seven years. He has also been treated for two broken ribs, a pneumothorax, a mild concussion, and you dislocated his jaw. Again." The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her. "Remind me not to run into you in a dark alley."
"You're hysterical," she had muttered before jumping off the bed. "Am I clear to go?"
She'd left without waiting for an answer.
Now here she was, in the captain's ready room with the most senior of the senior staff, to discuss "where we go from here," as Chakotay's message had read.
"I understand that you've expressed to Commander Chakotay some discomfort at the idea of Ensign Vorik continuing in your department," Janeway was saying.
B'Elanna glanced up at Chakotay to look for… what? Validation? Encouragement? But he still just had that damn smile. "Yes, Captain."
"If we were in the Alpha Quadrant, we could consider transferring him to another ship, but on Voyager…" The Captain paused, as if waiting for the younger woman to complete her sentence for her.
B'Elanna took a deep breath and lifted her chin to meet Janeway's eyes. "There are other departments where he'd be useful. Astrometrics, maybe. Or Sciences."
"Yes," Janeway drew out the single syllable. "That's true. But he's trained as an engineer. And from past performance reviews, he's a very competent one. I'm sure you understand, B'Elanna, given our circumstances, I need a good reason to justify moving an officer out of one of our most essential departments to a less vital one."
"And you don't think what he did to me was a good enough reason?" Her voice was taut and her hands reflexively closed into fists where they lay in her lap.
"If he hadn't been suffering from a neurochemical imbalance," the captain said, reaching a hand towards her across the desk, "or if there was imminent danger of this happening again - we'd be having a different conversation."
Would we? Are you sure about that, Captain?
"But what you must understand," the older woman continued, "is that the Vulcan pon farr is a powerful, and yes, violent, biological imperative. And Vorik had never experienced it before. He wasn't prepared for how difficult it would be to control his impulses. If we were in the Alpha Quadrant, he would have returned home to have the support of other Vulcans-"
"There are other Vulcans on Voyager," B'Elanna interrupted.
"It is considered… inappropriate to discuss matters as personal as the pon farr with Vulcans outside of one's immediate family. It is a private issue which Ensign Vorik handled in what he judged to be the best way possible given our unusual circumstances," Tuvok said, looking down at her from where he stood near Chakotay with his usual condescension.
"Well, you'll excuse me if his pon farr doesn't feel very private to me right now," she snapped.
Chakotay had come around the desk now and was kneeling next to her chair. Finally! It's about time he spoke up for me. B'Elanna gave the first officer a small smile before turning back to the captain. If Janeway and Tuvok thought B'Elanna had missed the look they exchanged, they were dead wrong. Chakotay rested his hand over her clenched fists and smiled back. "No one is trying to minimize what happened to you, B'Elanna," he said. "But we also have to show some compassion for Vorik."
It was like a punch to the gut. "Compassion for Vorik?" B'Elanna just stared at him.
"He's very young," Janeway said. "I agree the situation could have been handled better, but, at the same time, it doesn't feel right to punish him for one-time actions that don't truly reflect his typical behavior towards you."
"One-time actions," B'Elanna repeated. "Until seven years from now."
"Assuming you are both still on Voyager at that time," Tuvok said before she could continue, "there will be ample opportunity for the ensign to prepare more completely for his next pon farr and resolve it in a more satisfactory fashion. It is also possible he will have found a more… receptive mate by then."
"I don't…" B'Elanna stuttered, overwhelmed by how the conversation had turned and by the three superior officers whose eyes bored into her. "I don't want him punished. I just… I can't face him right now. Every day. After what he… After what happened."
"I think we all understand that," Chakotay said, standing now. "Which is why we're going to put him on gamma shift. He can report to Carey, at least for the time being."
"Until you feel more comfortable with him," Janeway said, picking up a PADD from the short stack on her desk. "And you should know he's very apologetic. He said that you've refused to meet with him, so he's written you a message."
B'Elanna stared at the offered PADD, but didn't lift a hand to take it. Chakotay took it from the captain himself and placed it in B'Elanna's lap. "It's a small ship, B'Elanna. You need to learn how to work with him again. Reading this would be a good first step."
"Consider also that you were a fortunate choice, Lieutenant," Tuvok added. "The situation could have ended far more poorly. If Ensign Vorik had chosen an equally unwilling human crewmember, for example, it is likely she would not have been able to prevent him from taking the pon farr to completion. It was wise of Vorik to choose someone that more closely matched his physical strength."
Exceeded his physical strength, B'Elanna thought, feeling a flash of pride - until she looked down at the PADD in her lap and thought about the list of injuries she had caused to the young Vulcan… and one particular injury to Tom. "Am I dismissed?"
"Yes, Lieutenant," Janeway said, a concerned smile on her face. "Thank you for being so understanding. And if you need to talk-"
"Thank you, Captain," she said, standing abruptly and avoiding all three sets of eyes as she fled the ready room.
"Damn it!"
"Here," Tom said, jumping to grab B'Elanna's hand as she waved her arms around, trying to maintain her balance. "Let me help you." Her boots had gotten stuck in the mud again, but this time when she tried to pull free, one foot came loose while its respective boot stayed behind.
"I don't need your help!" she snapped at him, pulling her hand free of his grip. Not the smoothest move. The sudden motion made her overcorrect and within seconds she'd fallen ass first into the muck.
Tom couldn't stop a loud guffaw from escaping. "Nope. Looks like you have everything under control."
B'Elanna snatched up the boot from the mud and paused with it in mid-air - likely battling an impulse to hurl the slime-covered footwear at her amused mission partner. Her eyes narrowing, she apparently decided holding onto it was the wiser option and jammed the boot back onto her stockinged foot. With a parting glare, she pushed herself off the ground (ignoring Tom's offered hand of assistance) and squelched her way deeper into the jungle. She'd left her bag on the ground where it had fallen.
"No worries," Tom called after her, adding it to the case already slung over his left shoulder. "I'll get your stuff." He shifted the straps off an already irritated patch of skin on his back, and wondered, not for the first time today, what exactly he had done wrong. His biggest worry was that it wasn't just about today - that maybe her current attitude problem was really about Sakaris.
The day they had transported down to mine the gallicite, Tom had noticed she'd been off right from the start - he'd have to have been blind not to. He'd never seen her so… manic.
But second guessing B'Elanna's ability to do her job even on her most even-keeled days didn't end well, and she hadn't seemed that different from normal. He'd figured he'd just roll with it, and maybe approach her once the gallicite had been successfully acquired and she was in a more receptive mood. Too bad before that happened, Neelix broke his leg, Tom got bitten on the cheek, and B'Elanna fell victim to a renegade Vulcan heat.
As if his relationship with B'Elanna hadn't been complicated enough before… What was the etiquette when you spend a day fighting off the woman you're in love with because you're afraid she'll hate herself - and you - if you don't? Did the occasion call for flowers? Perhaps a thoughtful note?
When they'd been trapped in the cave-in together, he'd ached so badly for her he'd practically felt feverish himself. B'Elanna had pushed and pushed - taunting him, teasing him, threatening him - the tight climbing suit making it very clear he was fighting his own instincts as much as hers. What she had said to him didn't help either - I was just afraid to admit it. You see, I've wanted this for so long.
Those words had broken his resolve for a moment, made him give into the fantasy. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel her lips on his, still taste the salt on her fevered skin. Only a near Herculean strength of will had enabled him to pull away at that point.
But he wasn't an idiot. He'd heard it - the falseness and manipulation in her tone, her willingness to say whatever was necessary to get what she wanted. The "real" B'Elanna would never admit to something like that - would never expose herself so willingly, at least not to Tom Paris. Not even if the words were true. That lying, more than anything else, drove home to him how impaired she was by whatever Vorik had done to her.
Fucking Vorik. He was still angry at that pissant Vulcan. Where did he get off thinking he could just declare himself the most "suitable partner" for B'Elanna without even asking her? And yes, if Tom was being completely honest with himself, jealousy was playing a role with how mad he was about the situation. But, really - Vulcans could be such arrogant pricks sometimes. Just because Vorik was more logical than B'Elanna didn't mean he was allowed to decide who or what was best for her. And now they were all supposed to just look the other way because it was a "biological imperative." He wouldn't blame B'Elanna if she decided it was a biological imperative to pummel the little shit a second time, just in case he needed a reminder that she wasn't interested.
Tom jumped when he felt the extra kit bag ripped off his shoulder without a word of warning. "I'll carry my own gear," B'Elanna barked, turning as soon as the bag was secure and heading back towards the caves.
A small, optimistic part of him still held out hope that the things B'Elanna had said - the things she had done - on Sakaris had meant something. That maybe she felt some of the same things he did. But as he stood in the humid jungle and watched her tromp away from him, destroying all the vegetation that dared to be in her path, he felt that optimistic part get a little smaller. Maybe it was time to just move on.
~Two Days Earlier~
B'Elanna approached the doors of the mess hall. She was starving, having worked straight through the end of alpha shift and long into beta - nearly the entire time at her preferred console on the upper deck of Engineering. The console that, when she stationed herself there, was as good as hanging up a sign that said "Leave Me The Fuck Alone."
And they had - the only communications she'd received all day had been text only messages sent directly to the console. Not even the perpetual nudge Jarvin had braved her personal space today. But just because they weren't talking to her didn't mean they weren't talking about her. Typical of humans, they forgot about her superior hearing - they probably assumed she didn't hear the laughing and whispers that stopped as soon as she looked up.
She finally left when Joe Carey, the first person to speak to her in hours, came up and gently touched her shoulder. "Chief," he said quietly when she whipped around to glare at him. "I just thought you'd want to know gamma starts soon. Meaning..."
B'Elanna nodded in response, hoping it was enough to convey her gratitude for his discretion, because she certainly wasn't ready to talk to Carey about the whole fiasco. The only person she'd really said anything to was Chakotay, and that clearly hadn't turned out like she'd hoped. She updated her second in command on the status of the engines and repairs and took her leave, taking the long route to the mess to minimize the risk of running into her Vulcan subordinate.
Now that she was here, however - imagining all the people inside, all the looks she was bound to get - B'Elanna found herself calculating how far she could stretch her dwindling replicator rations.
"Hey, Maquis!" B'Elanna heard Harry Kim call as he walked down the corridor towards her. "Looks like I'm right on time. You heading in for dinner?"
B'Elanna tried to feign a look of nonchalance as she turned to face the ops officer. How does Paris do it? "Actually, I was thinking I'd just get dinner in my quarters."
Harry gave her a confused look. And blocked her escape route. "Didn't you tell me this morning you were low on rations?"
"I have enough for a salad. That'll be plenty." Of course both of her stupid stomachs chose that moment to growl loudly enough for not only Harry, but probably all of Deck Two to hear.
"Oh. I think I see the problem." Harry gave her an understanding smile. "Sakaris is old news, B'Elanna. It was almost a week ago-"
"Four days," B'Elanna corrected, fidgeting in place and wondering how long it would take Harry to forgive her if she bull rushed him in hopes of avoiding the mess.
"Four days in which we discovered Borg remains on the same planet," Harry reassured her. "I promise you that people have better things to worry about than whatever happened between you and Tom and Vorik down on that planet. Although if you wanted to talk to me about it, I'm all ears." He cleared his throat. "I have to admit I'm a little curious."
"Oh, please, Starfleet," she humphed, her arms crossing. "Like Paris didn't tell you the whole sordid tale the second he got back on board."
"Nope." Harry shook his head. "Not a peep. Seriously, B'Elanna!" he added at the half-Klingon's look of skepticism. "Tom's been very tight-lipped about the whole affair."
Affair, B'Elanna thought. Of course that's the word he would choose.
As they passed through the doors of the mess hall, Harry taking her arm so that she couldn't bolt, she realized the next round of her own personal gauntlet had appeared. Neelix. Whom she had last seen lying at the base of a cliff with a broken tibia. At which point she had yelled at him. A lot. Shit.
"B'Elanna!" he cried, rushing towards her as he wiped his hands on his apron. "We haven't seen you in days! Where have you been hiding?"
B'Elanna's eyes darted around the half-filled mess, regretting how much attention the Talaxian had called to her arrival. No one even dared to look up at her. "Oh, you know - I've been busy. With the refit. Doing a lot of eating on the go."
Neelix grabbed her right arm as Harry released her left and pulled her to a nearby table. "That's no good! Food is more than just fuel for your body - it's fuel for your soul!" He pushed B'Elanna into a chair, placing a napkin in her lap. "And your soul is in for a real treat today! I've come up with a new twist for my grandmother's famous rootloaf - one of the Sakari introduced me to a wonderful local tuber. It's similar to leola root, but with a grittier texture and with just a hint of bitterness."
She threw a distressed look at Harry as he took the seat across from her. "Sounds wonderful," she managed to choke out. But before the exuberant cook could move into the kitchen, B'Elanna grabbed his hand. "Neelix - speaking of Sakaris. I want to apologize. For how I yelled at you after the fall. It was an equipment failure - it wasn't your fault."
Neelix gave her a kind smile. "And your reaction wasn't your fault, either. I can't imagine what that must have been like - Vulcan hormones battling with Klingon instincts!" B'Elanna cringed at his volume and took another furtive glance around the room. "No wonder you were a bit out of sorts," he finished with a pat on her shoulder.
"Really, B'Elanna," Harry said, leaning across the table towards her. "You've got nothing to feel bad about. No one got seriously injured, we got the gallicite we needed - the mission was a success in the end."
The engineer's shoulders drooped a centimeter. "Except for all the gossip. Even if Tom isn't talking about it, I'm guessing the rest of the ship is."
Harry shook his head. "You're blowing this all out of proportion. No one's mentioned it in days! Right, Neelix?" He directed a pointed glance towards the Talaxian, who continued to just stand there, smiling and looking anywhere but at B'Elanna. "Neelix? Right?"
Neelix shook himself, his smile turning into more of a rictus. "Right! No one is talking about it at all! Not a word!"
B'Elanna sighed, torn between wanting to believe her friends and thinking that, well-intentioned or not, they were being lying sacks of targ shit. "I guess you better get us some of that rootloaf, Neelix."
But she had to admit that, as their dinner went on - she and Harry discussing some of the upgrades made possible by the new supply of gallicite - no one was really treating her any differently. The Delaneys came to flirt with Harry as was typical, throwing a few knowing winks B'Elanna's way. Dalby gave her some guff about being a slave driver, Celes only looked a normal amount of terrified when she accidentally bumped against B'Elanna's chair. Maybe the events of Sakaris really had had their full run through the rumor mill.
"Tom really hasn't said anything to you about what happened?" she asked Harry again as they boarded the 'lift after their meal.
Harry smiled at her. "Nothing. Look, I'm not going to claim the man doesn't have his faults. But Tom knows how to keep his mouth shut when it's important, B'Elanna. You can trust him."
Yeah, B'Elanna thought as she called for her deck. Maybe I can.
After a near-silent walk that felt much longer than its twenty minutes, Tom sighed with relief once the cave of interest was in sight. He paused to scratch at his chest before following B'Elanna through the opening. Maybe if they found a good supply of crystals, her mood would lift.
Alas, it was not meant to be. Less than ten minutes into B'Elanna's scans, it became clear their time had been wasted. "Fantastic!" she growled. "We came all this way for nothing! These crystals are crap - completely useless!" He saw the way she came near to hurling the tricorder against the rocky ground before stopping herself with a grunt of frustration. It looked like the walk back to the shuttle was going to be as much fun as the one here.
"Sorry," he said, not sure what else, if anything, would help. "Let's stop and take a water break before we head back." They'd had to descend a dozen meters into the rocky tunnel to assess the crystals, and the relative cool air of the cave was a nice relief from the oppressive humidity of the jungle.
"No," she snapped. "I don't want to spend one more second on this damn planet than I have to." She started her ascent without checking to see if he was following.
"Whatever you say, Chief," Tom muttered to himself, rubbing at his arm. He couldn't say he was all that eager to stay on the planet either, given how grouchy she was. Plus, he was really getting itchy. Must be the muggy air. He jogged to catch up and got to the cave entrance only a few steps behind her. Then it hit him like a phaser blast.
His skin was on fire. He felt like a thousand ants had been let loose to crawl all over him, to gnaw at his very flesh. He started to scratch frantically at his arms, chest, legs - anything he could reach.
"Are you coming or… Tom? What's wrong?" B'Elanna's tone change from irritated to concerned the moment she turned and saw his distress.
"I don't know!" he cried. "But it's everywhere!" He kept digging at himself, desperate for relief but finding none.
B'Elanna quickly took the medical tricorder from his holster and started to scan him. "Your histamine levels are through the roof! What's odd is the skin on your face and hands looks OK…" She continued to study the readings as Tom clawed at his skin. "Oh. Shit." She looked up, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
Is she trying not to laugh?
"What the hell, B'Elanna?" Here he was, about to literally go insane from the intense itching and burning he felt over his entire body, and she was laughing about it?
"Well," she said, trying, and failing, to keep a straight face. "Per the tricorder, it seems that the atmosphere here is interacting with the polymers that make up our uniforms. That interaction is mimicking the process that triggers histamine release. It must have taken this long to build up to significant levels."
"I don't need a physiology lecture! I need it to stop!" At this point he was rubbing up against the rough bark of a nearby tree, willing to do almost anything to get some relief.
"There's one easy solution," she said, still sniggering. "But I'm not sure you're going to like it."
"I don't care if it involves rubbing those damn slugs all over my body," Tom panted. "Just tell me."
"Take off your clothes," she said with a smirk.
Well, that certainly gave brief pause to his itching. "Excuse me?"
"It's your uniform that's causing the reaction," she said. "The simple answer is take it off."
Tom was already pulling his outer jacket and turtleneck off. "Well, not all of it," he protested, still scratching and rubbing as he undressed.
B'Elanna reconsidered the tricorder readings. "Um… yeah. The jacket and pants, your undershirt, briefs, socks - pretty much everything except your boots and your comm badge are made from variants of the same material. If you don't take it off, the itching will only get worse."
"That's ridiculous!" he sputtered. "I can't go walking around a jungle stark naked! I'll just start with this," he said, tossing his jacket and turtleneck to the ground. "Hit myself with an antihistamine. That'll take the edge off until we're back on the shuttle and I can replicate some new clothes."
But B'Elanna had now grabbed tight to one of his arms. She wasn't laughing anymore. "Tom, look at how much damage you've done already. You're a wreck." Even in the dim nocturnal light, he could see the large angry welts up and down his arms and on his visible chest, and some places where he'd ripped his skin until it was open and bleeding. She dropped his arm and put her hands on her hips. "You don't have a choice. Strip. That's an order."
When he realized he was in too much agony to even come up with a smart ass retort to her giving him orders, he decided she was right. "You could at least turn around," he said finally.
An eyebrow went up, but she complied. "What? You're shy suddenly?"
Tom had removed his pants, and started to peel off his sweaty and now bloody underclothes. "This isn't exactly how I pictured the first time getting naked in front of you."
"Oh?" she said, playing with a leaf from a nearby tree. "You've pictured getting naked in front of me, have you?"
He winced as quietly as possible as he pulled off his undershirt and his perspiration ran into an open sore. "I don't think anyone would call that breaking news, B'Elanna," he said, fed up at the moment with all the games they'd been playing with each other. He opened the medkit and gave a small sigh of relief after dosing himself with an antihistamine. "Why isn't any of this affecting you, anyway?"
"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "I guess Klingons don't produce histamine." She gathered up his discarded clothes, making a concerted effort to not actually look at him - which he appreciated. "You ready? We should get you out of here."
"Yeah, go on. I'll take up the rear." He frowned when he heard her chuckle in response and started on his long, itchy walk back to the shuttle.
~One Day Earlier~
Shortly after the start of gamma shift, B'Elanna entered the dimly lit mess hall. She had a small stack of PADDs, filled with reports that had built up while she'd been busy overseeing the refit. She only had a handful left to go, but her windowless quarters had begun to feel cramped. Spending so much time in Engineering - essentially the bowels of the ship - she liked to see the stars when she could, and the mess hall tended to be a quiet place to work this time of night.
Thirty minutes and one cup of Neelix's latest coffee knockoff later, B'Elanna tossed the second-to-last PADD into the "done" pile, thankful she would be able to start with a clean slate in the morning - especially since she was going on an away mission. A few hours ago, she'd gotten a message from Chakotay. There was an unclaimed planet nearby that scans showed might have some decent quality dilithium. Paris was flying the shuttle - there was some question of the stability of the land mass where the dilithium was - but the first officer had asked her to assign someone from Engineering to go along and make a call on the crystals. It wasn't too far off Voyager's course - the whole mission wouldn't even take a full day.
Seriously, B'Elanna. Tom's been very tight-lipped about the whole affair.
She hadn't really spoken with the pilot since their conversation on the turbolift. She'd been busy in Engineering, and Tom had seemed like he'd been making himself scarce the last few days. B'Elanna didn't get the sense he was avoiding her, exactly - he still gave her a friendly smile during morning briefings and just this afternoon had personally delivered some shuttle specs she'd requested. It was more that he seemed to be giving her space - space for her to make the first move, if she wanted. To reach out to him, for a change.
While they were actually on Sakaris, his repeated rejections had enraged her. She knew he wanted her - she could smell it on him. Hell, she could see it pretty clearly, too. Why won't the fucking petaQ take me? her fevered brain had screamed at her over and over again. She'd tried everything - pleading with him, threatening him, saying everything she knew he wanted to hear. All he'd done was push her away, over and over again.
Of course, now that the heat of the moment was long past, she could see the pilot's actions for what they were - an attempt to protect her from herself and from what Vorik had done to her. She wasn't blind - she knew Paris had been attracted to her long before the Vulcan's pon farr interfered. But despite Tom wanting much more than friendship with her, in the dark, steamy caves of Sakaris, he'd let his honor win the day.
She shuddered to think what might have happened if Chakotay hadn't shown up when he did - neurochemical imbalance or no, she wasn't sure if she'd have been able to meet Paris' eyes again if she had succeeded in forcing herself on him. And she had been close. Too close. B'Elanna wondered what was worse for the pilot - having to push her away when part of him wanted nothing more to submit, or having a superior officer order him to fuck her to save her life when he knew it wasn't what she truly wanted. That had been a close call as well. But she had to admit that there was still a part of her that regretted Vorik's interruption.
B'Elanna had never before seriously entertained the idea of a sexual relationship with Tom Paris. It wasn't that he wasn't physically attractive, but he was a liar, a mercenary. Except she knew very well that none of those rumors were true - not if you scratched a centimeter or two below the surface, anyway. What he was, was her friend. Just like Harry. Except not really like Harry, if she was being honest with herself.
So she had decided that maybe it was time for her finally to do that reaching out. Spending some time alone together, falling back into their familiar pattern of friendly jibes and banter - it would be a good way to get rid of any remaining awkwardness. So before she left Engineering this afternoon, B'Elanna had tapped out a reply to Chakotay's request indicating that the Chief Engineer herself would take the very important responsibility of assessing the quality of dilithium, quickly hitting send before she could second guess herself.
Now she regarded the final PADD in her "to-do" pile. Vorik's message. B'Elanna sighed. She really should just read it. Janeway did have a point. Vorik hadn't been in his right mind at the time, and he was young. And he'd gone to the trouble of writing the stupid thing. She was his superior officer and theoretically was supposed to be providing a good example for her subordinates. Trying to forgive the young Vulcan certainly qualified. She powered it up with a flick of her thumb.
Dear Lieutenant Torres,
Please accept my most sincere apologies for my role in the events last week on both Voyager and Sakaris. While my logic in approaching you for koon-ut so'lik was sound, I should not have introduced the idea to you in such an abrupt and invasive fashion. Believe me when I say it was not my intention to cause you distress or physical harm. I hope that my poor handling of this matter will not affect our working relationship. I assure you, now that I am no longer under the influence of the pon farr, my behavior will return to its previous professional nature. Please also know that I am confident that your violent actions towards me were, similar to my own behavior, an anomaly. I do not ask for nor expect any sort of amends to be made on your part. I hope you are able to see the logic in quickly forgetting this unfortunate interlude and moving on as if the events of last week did not occur.
Respectfully,
Ensign Vorik
Had she been alone in her quarters, she likely would have needed to replicate a new vase. Maybe even a new coffee table. But given her current public location, she simply slammed the offending device onto the tabletop and dug her nails into her fists to suppress an outraged scream.
Goddamn him. Of course Vorik would think it would be most logical to forget everything that happened. He was the only reason there was something to forget. Too bad Vulcans couldn't handle sex like a normal species, instead of treating it like a secret prize they earned for seven years of being emotionally constipated.
A high pitched hiss distracted her from her fuming. B'Elanna rolled her eyes at the tell-tale noise. Figures. One of Neelix's heating elements had an annoying tendency to back up its plasma conduit every couple of months. She kept offering to replace the whole thing for him, but he insisted that it was his favorite one and even the slightest adjustment might affect the flavors of his cooking. Because that would be bad thing? she asked herself as she walked over to make the necessary repair.
She dropped onto the floor behind the counter and pried off the relevant panel. The engineer had serviced this particular conduit so many times, it was essentially muscle memory. She was nearly done when she heard the doors to the mess slide open.
"Did you hear about the away mission happening tomorrow?"
It was Feri Mendoza. She was one of the engineering techs that was assigned to shuttle maintenance. B'Elanna should probably stand up and make her presence known, but the human woman was a talker and a suck-up, and the half-Klingon simply wasn't in the mood. Mendoza was on duty, so probably just passing through to grab whatever snacks Neelix had left out for those working the overnight.
"Haven't heard a thing. Why? Do they need volunteers?"
The plot thickens! That was Kana Haukea, another engineering tech. Harry insisted he had caught these two getting hot and heavy in the plasma relay room when Herrin had been out sick with a Kratakkaan rotavirus, but Tom refused to believe it. He had bet Harry a week of replicator rations that he couldn't prove the two were an item. B'Elanna ears perked up in anticipation. She definitely wasn't coming out from her hiding spot now.
"Of course they don't need volunteers. Like anyone other than the senior staff goes on away missions. As usual, Paris is flying the shuttle, but guess who's going from Engineering?"
B'Elanna's stomachs roiled with a sudden queasiness. She did not like where this was going. The pair riffled through the bowls of fruit and nuts Neelix left out each night.
"Torres!" Mendoza supplied gleefully in the face of Haukea's silence.
"You're kidding."
"Nope!"
"I can't believe she would be so obvious. I thought the Chief was smarter than that."
"I guess lusting after Paris is an antidote for common sense."
"I love that she tried to blame the whole thing on Vorik. Pretty clear now all those rumors about what happened on the surface are true. You owe me a week of rations, Feri."
"Finding this out is worth every last one."
Mendoza made one more comment as the pair reached the other side of the mess and exited out into the hallway. A comment that B'Elanna caught just as the doors slid shut. A comment that enraged her so deeply that it looked like Neelix was going to need to replace that favorite heating element after all.
"I can still hear you scratching!" B'Elanna barked as they walked through the muggy jungle. She'd been hassling Tom every few steps ever since they started on their trip back to the shuttle. This time, she whipped around to punctuate her words with a scowl. Tom's hands immediately went south to provide what coverage he could.
"You need to stop, Tom! You're ripping yourself to shreds!"
"I can't!" he whined, still trying to scratch himself while preserving a modicum of privacy. "It's better than it was, but I'm still going nuts over here!"
"That's it," she said, walking around him and pushing him forward. "You go first so I can keep an eye on you." She slapped his hand away from his hip as he moved past her. "And stop scratching!"
He tucked his hands under his armpits in an attempt to keep himself from continuing to wreak havoc on his inflamed and tender flesh. "Well, this is one of the more humiliating moments of my life," he sulked, right before a palm frond smacked him in the face.
"Really?" B'Elanna asked. He could hear her, once again, trying to keep her laughter in check. "I'd think this would be fairly low on the list." When he failed to respond, she added. "Oh, is this a sore subject for you?"
He stopped in tracks and gave her a death glare over his shoulder. She'd been a good teacher.
B'Elanna at least had the decency to look a little abashed as she bit her lip, obviously still having trouble controlling her mirth. "Sorry. I guess I'm being a little insensitive."
"Ya think?" Tom grumbled, stealing a quick scratch at his thigh as he passed under a low hanging branch.
"I saw that," she scolded him. Her tone softened. "I'm also sorry for being such a grouch earlier."
Tom turned his head slightly towards her, trying to forget the view she had at the moment. "That's OK. We're all allowed the occasional bad day."
"I think we both know I have more than my fair share," B'Elanna replied with a snort. "I just… overheard something that pissed me off last night. But it's not your fault, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
"What did you hear?" Tom asked, curious. Most of the crew genuinely admired B'Elanna's ingenuity and work ethic. Many were also still afraid of her, but that had never bothered her much before. Sometimes he even wondered if she encouraged it as a way to keep people at a distance.
"Nothing. It's stupid." She was quiet for several moments, the only sound that of the birds and frogs and the leaves under their feet. "Just some lower decks crewmen. It didn't mean anything, I'm sure. They were just messing around."
Tom fought an urge to turn to her. He thought about how, when he was growing up and his sister wanted him to open up about something, she would wait until they were playing a game or throwing a ball around - anything that meant Tom had an excuse to look somewhere other than right at her. "Tell me, B'Elanna."
A short sigh. "It was about this mission. They were cracking jokes about it. About me. One of them said, 'Paris better watch it. Who knows what she's going to bite this time.'"
Tom's heart sank. She had said it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't help but feel like it was. He was the one that announced to the entire bridge crew that B'Elanna had bitten him on Sakaris. If he'd had a minute to think about what had been happening at the time, what that bite meant, he never would have said it so publicly; but he'd been overwhelmed in the moment and had just blurted it out. "I'm sorry. I think that actually is my fault," he said, explaining his role in that particular rumor making the rounds.
She didn't say anything for a long time after that, and as desperate as Tom was to get his sore and naked ass back to the shuttle, he almost stopped so he could check her expression. "Are you OK?" he finally asked, when the silence became too much for him to bear.
B'Elanna pushed passed him, knocking a heavy vine out of her way so they wouldn't brush against each other. "It's fine, Tom. Don't worry about it. Even if you hadn't said it, they would have found out some other way." She started to walk faster, wanting nothing more than to be done with this conversation.
"I'm still sorry. You don't deserve to be talked about like that," he called out from behind her before she could get too far away.
B'Elanna slowed her pace. Making a man jog through heavy vegetation and stifling humidity when he was naked and covered in hives was not exactly what one would call good form. "It'll run its course in another week or two. Hell, it's kind of my own fault anyway."
"What do you mean?"
"If I hadn't bitten you, if I hadn't given Vorik such a thrashing - there wouldn't be as much to talk about. Maybe nothing to talk about. But, of course, I had to be such a…" B'Elanna's voice trailed away.
"Klingon?" Tom supplied after a few moments of silence.
"Yeah." She wondered if it was always going to be like this. She'd worked her ass off the last three years - keeping the ship going against crazy odds, earning the respect of her captain and the 'Fleeters that served under her. Now, with one awful, hormone-induced Klingon frenzy, she felt like she was back to square one - the same angry, defensive kid that dropped out the Academy and felt like no one understood her.
"B'Elanna." Tom's voice was quiet as he spoke just behind her shoulder. "You had no control over how Vorik's pon farr was going to affect you. Just because you're half-Klingon doesn't mean anyone has a right to spread vicious rumors about you."
B'Elanna gestured through the trees. "Look - there's the shuttle. We don't have much farther to go. So can we drop this? I just want to forget it all happened." She pushed aside some thorny bushes so Tom could pass through them unscathed. "Besides, Tuvok has a point - it's lucky he picked me and I could fight him off. Imagine if it was Nicoletti, or Liem."
Tom stopped in his tracks and turned to stare at her, seemingly forgetting his current state of undress. "He did not say that to you."
B'Elanna shrugged and looked away, not sure if she was made more uncomfortable by his lack of clothes or the anger she saw in his expression. "He's not wrong, Tom. It's the logical-"
"This isn't about fucking logic!" he snapped, throwing his arms in the air. "God, why are Vulcans such unfeeling bastards? They act like they're so goddamned superior. Well, you know what? If being logical means not giving a shit about the people around you, then I'm more than happy being my primitive irrational self. Man, if Janeway heard-"
B'Elanna let out a snort. Tom never did see Janeway quite the way she did. To him, she would always be the woman that gave him a second chance. "She heard. She was there when he said it." She took a breath, not sure she should tell him the rest. The part that really hurt. "So was Chakotay."
Tom stilled then, his voice growing quiet. "They're not going to do anything, are they? To Vorik? They're not going to punish him."
"Nope," she said, still looking past him at the distant shuttle. "He wasn't in his right mind, after all."
"Shit, B'Elanna. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I blabbed about the bite, I'm sorry any of this even happened to you."
She looked at him then, made an effort to smile. It's not like the whole fiasco had been a walk in the park for him, either. He was probably more of a victim than she was - Tom hadn't bitten anyone in the face nor dislocated anybody's jaw. "Nothing happened, really. I mean it, Tom," she added at his obvious skepticism. "Harry's right. No one got seriously injured, we got the gallicite. It's not a big deal."
He reached out as if to take her by the arms, but suddenly pulled back, wrapping his arms around his bare torso instead. "Fuck that," Tom said quietly, turning half away from her. "Fuck Harry, and Tuvok, and the captain, and fuck Vorik most of all. He violated you, B'Elanna. That's not OK. Not by a long shot."
He paced around where they had stopped, scratching at his arms and chest. "'Not in his right mind,'" the pilot sneered. "It's not like the pon farr snuck up on him and bit him on the ass. He knew this was going to happen! He should have taken steps, figured out a way to stop it… If I was the one in charge, he'd be degaussing the transporter rooms with his own toothbrush for the next fifty years."
"Stop scratching," B'Elanna scolded him. She felt a smile pull at her mouth, a real one this time, at the image of the Vulcan on his hands and knees, cleaning the transporter pads. Deciding it was time to lighten the mood, she added, "And while I appreciate the thought, Paris, for a whole host of reasons I'm glad you're not the one in charge."
"Yeah." He chuckled as his shoulders relaxed. "The ship would be a wreck by now, wouldn't it? Half the crew would have stayed behind and taken their chances with the Kazon."
"Probably more like three quarters. But we would have more shuttles, since you would never let Chakotay fly one."
"Excellent point, Lieutenant. I'll ask for a promotion as soon as we get back."
"You may want to put some clothes on first," she remarked. They walked quietly the last dozen meters, B'Elanna feeling lighter than she had in days. "Tom… Even if it doesn't change anything, it means a lot - that you have my back on this."
He glanced at her over his shoulder, a small smile on his face. "Always."
When they reached the Cochrane, B'Elanna opened the hatch and moved inside to grab Tom a blanket to use until she could filter the air. She bit her lip when she turned to hand it to him. In the bright light of the shuttle's interior, she could see his skin was in even worse condition than she realized. "Oh, Tom. That looks terrible."
"It feels worse," he groaned, wrapping the blanket around his red and oozing body. "Let me just hit myself up with an analgesic, replicate some new clothes, and I'll take the conn."
B'Elanna regarded a particularly nasty excoriation at the base of his throat. "Shouldn't you use a dermal regenerator first? You've got open sores all over."
He shook his head. "Not a good idea. If there's any of the allergen left behind when I heal the skin, it'll be a hundred times worse. The Doc's gotta take a look at me before I regenerate anything."
She put her hands on her hips. "Well, at least don't put a uniform back on. That'll be torture. We can a do a site-to-site when we're in range."
Tom raised an eyebrow at her, grinning. "Are you kidding? An away mission with just the two of us that ends with me, in my birthday suit, doing a site-to-site to Sickbay? I thought you didn't like people gossiping about you."
She conceded the point but still felt guilty as she sat down to do the pre-flight sequence, cringing at every hiss and yelp he made as he dressed in a fresh uniform. She looked up as he made his way gingerly to the cockpit, grimacing in sympathy as he eased himself into his seat. "You know, once you get us off this unstable ground, I can take over the flying. Maybe you can give yourself a sedative and knock yourself out for the ride home."
Tom shook his head. Carefully. "Regs say two officers should be alert and ready to perform at all times during away missions of less than eighteen hours, except in cases of grievous injury or illness. I don't think a little discomfort qualifies."
Her turn to raise a brow. "A little discomfort?"
"OK," Tom grunted as he shifted his position. "More like complete agony." He gave her his customary lopsided grin. "But I'll be all right until we make it back to Voyager. Really. It's fine. We can keep the 'Tom loses his uniform' part of the mission to ourselves. And the Doc, of course, but you can always threaten to 'forget' how to add on his next opera upgrade if he gets too blabby."
She shook her head at him, giving him her customary exasperated look. But, inside, she knew what he was trying to do for her - and she was grateful.
B'Elanna shooed him off to the Doctor as soon as they docked, telling him she'd take care of shutting down the Cochrane. Once the shuttle was secured and she had given an update to the captain about the mission's disappointing result, B'Elanna headed for Sickbay. She told herself she'd be doing this no matter who her mission partner had been. If Harry or Chakotay or (God forbid) Neelix had most of their body covered in an angry, weeping alien rash, she'd go to check on them as well.
She walked past the main doors and entered through the lab side of the medical bay - justifying her unusual choice by thinking she wouldn't want to disturb Tom if he was resting. She certainly wasn't trying to sneak around or anything.
The EMH was sitting in his office, frowning at his monitor. Why does he look so worried? "Is Tom OK? What's wrong?"
"What's wrong is that my program isn't transferring properly to my mobile emitter!" The EMH threw his hands in the air in disgust. "I took measurements! I am two point six centimeters shorter when I use it!"
B'Elanna stared at him, nonplussed. "What does this have to do with Tom?"
The Doctor frowned at her. "It has nothing to do with Mr. Paris. You asked what was wrong, I was answering you. Did you get ill on the surface as well, Lieutenant? You seem confused."
B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "I meant, what's wrong with Tom! You know, your patient?"
"Oh, him." The EMH waved a hand at her dismissively as he returned his attention back to his monitor. "He just needed a few dozen passes with a dermal regenerator. A good night's sleep and he'll be back to his usual pesky self. But back to my emitter. I've been doing some research and I think if you-"
"Later," B'Elanna cut him off. "Can I see him?"
"Mr. Paris?" the EMH asked, as if the pilot weren't the only patient in the medical bay. "I suppose. If you really want to. But you should be aware I've given him a rather potent cocktail of analgesics, anti-inflammatories, and antihistamines. He'll likely be even more incoherent than usual."
She walked over to the main biobed, ignoring the Doctor's entreaties to prioritize his vertically challenged emitter. Tom was out cold, eyes shut and mouth hanging open. She smiled at how adorable he looked, with a little strand of drool trailing from his mouth towards the mattress.
Adorable? B'Elanna asked herself, shaking her head. Since when do you find excess saliva adorable? Since when do you find anything adorable? On impulse, she took a corner of the blanket that covered him and wiped the drool away.
"Wha-?" Tom said with a sudden jerk and a snort, his eyes only half opening. "B'Elanna?"
She pulled her hands quickly back to her chest and bit her lip. "Sorry," she whispered. "I just came to make sure you're all right. I didn't mean to wake you."
"S'ok," he mumbled, shaking his head. "No biggie. I wasn't sleepin'" He blinked several times and opened his eyes wide, before his lids resumed their downward slide.
"Uh-huh," B'Elanna agreed, unable to stop from smiling. "You were just resting your eyes."
"Tha's right." Tom lost the battle and his eyes fell shut again. "Jus' restin'"
She watched him let out a deep breath, more of a sigh, really; then took one of her own before launching into the speech she'd been composing in her head ever since they'd docked the shuttle. "I should probably be doing this when you're actually going to remember it. Or at least when you're more than semi-conscious, but… I'm sorry. That no one's really acknowledged… That I haven't acknowledged how difficult Sakaris must have been for you. It's been hard, these last few days, feeling like no one understood what I went through. Except you did. You do understand. You do that a lot actually - make an effort to see things from other people's perspectives. Not many people bother to do that. Not for me, at least." She swallowed hard, reminding herself that he probably wasn't even awake before she said the last bit. "So thank you - for seeing past the ridges and the lousy attitude. And, by the way, I see you, too - your kindness. Your empathy. Your sense of honor. Under all the jokes and the bravado, I know who you really are. You're not fooling anyone."
Tom's eyes blinked open again and he stared at her. "I wish you hadn't said all that."
Shit. She tried to swallow but her throat suddenly felt dry. "Why not?"
He didn't answer at first and soon his eyes drifted closed. B'Elanna assumed he'd fallen back asleep when she heard a soft mumble.
"Because now it's going to be a lot harder to stop being in love with you."
B'Elanna stood there for a moment, wondering if she'd misheard. It was the drugs, right? Medication would be the only reason Tom Paris would say something like that to her. "Tom?" she said, but it was barely more than a whisper.
All she got for a response this time was a gentle snore.
"Lieutenant!" the EMH hissed from behind her.
B'Elanna turned to see him holding an old-fashioned tape measure, of all things. Who knew a hologram could have so many weird affectations?
"It's getting worse! The discrepancy is now up to three centimeters! This is an emergency!"
With a roll of her eyes, B'Elanna snatched the tape measure from the holodoctor and pushed him into his office. She shook her head. 'Stop being in love with her,' indeed. That was definitely the drugs talking. She and Tom Paris would never have that kind of relationship.
She stole a final glance at him where he lay passed out on the biobed and smiled.
The End