Author's note: Many moons ago, I read an interview with Robbie McNeil in which he said that he and Roxann Dawson actually lobbied for Tom and B'Elanna to break up in season 7. They both felt the characters' relationship had stagnated and wasn't giving them much to do as actors anymore. As we all know, in one of the few decisions made by the producers and writers in season 7 that I wholeheartedly supported, the powers that be went a different way from the actors' suggestion. But it did get me to thinking - what would a post-P/T P and T friendship look like? After letting the idea marinate for years, this weird little story was born. I wrote it as an angst break in between chapters of Redemption. I hope people have as much fun reading it as I did writing it!
"For the last time, B'Elanna, no!" Tom Paris strode into his quarters, the half Klingon Chief Engineer tight on his heels so she could slip in before the doors shut on her.
"Oh, come on, Tom! You're just being stubborn. You're standing in the way of something that could really help us out here! Hell, It's not like it's YOUR shuttle. It belongs to the ship!" B'Elanna said in exasperation, hands on her hips and angriest glare in place. Even though it hadn't really worked on him in years.
"Well, in that case, you'll just have to go over my head," Tom sneered. "Oh wait… you already did! And the Captain said it was up to me, and my final answer is no." He flopped onto his couch, arms crossed and glaring right back at her.
When B'Elanna had approached Tom about her modifications for the Delta Flyer he'd initially been on board. She'd come up with a method to recycle spent dilithium crystals that would extend their useful life by at least 15%, a significant advantage in the Delta Quadrant. But she needed to test it out in a smaller engine system before even considering it for use with Voyager's warp core; the Delta Flyer was the perfect candidate. But part of Tom's duties as Chief Helm Officer was managing shuttle use, and she had to get his cooperation to move forward. Unfortunately, when he found out the recycled dilithium would have a major impact on acceleration, and possibly reduce top speed and helm responsiveness, he put his foot down.
If this was Harry Kim, five seconds of her trademarked Klingon stink eye would have had him rolling on his back like a submissive puppy. But this wasn't Harry Kim. It was Tom Paris. And B'Elanna was clearly going to have to try a different method of persuasion.
She slunk over to his couch, and knelt before him, hands on his thighs. "Come on, Tom. There must be some way I can convince you," she purred, feral grin in place. Even after they ended their relationship, they hadn't exactly cut all ties. There had been the occasional night or six when at least one of them was lonely, or horny, or both. It had been several weeks since their last encounter, sure, but she still knew exactly how to get a reaction out of him.
It just wasn't the reaction she was going for.
As her hands slid up his thighs, he shot upwards like a rocket and practically hit his head on the ceiling, scrambling to get away from her. "B'Elanna! What the fuck?!"
She stood slowly, and looked him, confused, "Um, yeah, that was pretty much what I was going for."
With uncharacteristic clumsiness, Tom clambered over the arm of his couch and started pacing the room behind her, "No to modifying the Flyer, Torres! And no to… whatever that was, too." He made vague sweeping gestures in her direction, clearly flustered, "I'm not that easy."
"Since when?" she smirked, amused that he was playing hard to get.
"Since now," he huffed, refusing to look at her.
Perplexed by his level of distress, she took a deep breath and slowly approached him. Was it possible that Tom Paris was really offended by her attempts to barter for what she wanted with sex? After all, despite his reputation when he first got on Voyager, at heart Tom really was a romantic. That was why they tried so hard to make things work for as long as they did, ignoring all the signs that they weren't cut out for a long term commitment to each other. Maybe she should smooth things over. She came up behind him, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning her head against his back. "Look, I'm sorry. We can take the Flyer modifications off the table for now. But that doesn't mean we can't partake in other activities." She started rubbing his well-muscled chest. "Someone's been working out," she murmured.
Tom stiffened under her touch. Again, not quite in the way she intended.
"Come on, Tom. It's been ages. I could use the release. We both could. No strings, I promise."
"Look, B'Elanna," he said, gently untangling himself from her embrace, "I don't think we should do this anymore."
"Why the hell not?" she demanded, annoyed now. Granted she had started this whole thing, but illogically, (she was sure Tuvok would point out if he were here), she now felt like he owed her something.
"It's just… It's not a good idea. Can we just leave it at that?" He had put more space between them again, and seemed to be having trouble making eye contact.
"No, we can't just leave it at that! You are acting uncharacteristically prudish, Tom Paris, and you are going to tell me why!" She got in his face (as much as her shorter stature would allow), poking him in the chest. Suddenly, one of his stupid anachronistic light bulbs went off in her head, and she stepped back, smiling slyly at him, "Who is she?"
"Who is who?" Still no eye contact.
"The woman you've decided you have to stay faithful to." Her voice held no rancor, just curiosity and a bit of teasing. She still genuinely cared about Tom, and wanted him to be happy. She also wanted to make sure he wasn't mooning over somebody that wasn't worthy of him. Because then she'd have to kill her.
Tom settled back on the couch, and turned on the TV she had given him last year. He leaned back and finally met her gaze. "There's no woman, B'Elanna," he said calmly.
She snatched the remote out of his hand and turned the TV off.
"Hey!"
"You'll get it back when you 'fess up, Flyboy. I can tell when you are hiding something. Or someone in this case." B'Elanna considered him like he was a recalcitrant bit of bioneural circuitry. "Hmm… Not Nicoletti. If it was her, she'd be turning green every time I walked in the room."
He was grinning at her now, amused. "No, not Nicoletti," he agreed.
"Megan Delaney?"
"I'd never do that to Harry."
"Oh Kahless, Tom, not Jenny Delaney?"
"No!" he said, horrified.
B'Elanna paused for a moment, eyes narrowed. "Thomas Eugene Paris, if you have started dating Seven of Nine I will rip out both of your hearts with my bare hands!"
Tom was openly laughing at her now. He got up and extricated the remote from her hands. "Not Seven of Nine, B'Elanna. I don't know how to break this to you, but you're wrong. There is no other woman. Now sit down and watch this new show I found. You'll like it. Lots of violence, sex, strong female characters. Well, sort of anyway." He pushed her down onto the couch, replicated some popcorn and sat next to her.
At first B'Elanna made an effort to follow the show he put on, but it didn't have much success in keeping her attention. She couldn't figure this out. There had to be a reason he was avoiding having sex with her, and the most likely reason was he was getting it somewhere else. But while Tom had a true gift for deceit, he only used his powers for good these days, (Neelix still thought Tom liked pleeka rind casserole), and he was out of practice. Further, excepting maybe Harry, B'Elanna knew Tom better than anyone else on board did; and she wasn't blinded by Harry's stubborn insistence on taking people at face value. She knew when Tom was lying. Which is why this was so confusing. He'd been completely honest when he said there wasn't a new woman. So what was she missing?
"I don't get it."
"What's there to get? He didn't want the boy telling anyone he was with his own sister, so he pushed the kid out the window."
"Not the stupid show, Paris," she fumed, "I mean I can't figure out what you're hiding from me."
"Oh, that again," Tom said, as he reached into the popcorn bowl. "Just let it go, B'Elanna. I'm not some engineering puzzle for you to solve. I just think it would be healthier for us both to move on. Sexually speaking."
"That's just it! You have moved on! That's the only explanation!" She threw her hands in the air. "But you keep saying there isn't a woman, and I can tell you're not lying, so I just can't…" B'Elanna trailed off.
There was no new woman.
"There is no new woman."
"I know, B'Elanna. I said that like six times."
"You were very specific about it not being a woman."
Tom started choking on his popcorn. "What?" he wheezed.
"I asked the wrong question. I should have asked: Who is he?" She beamed triumphantly. And then vigorously began to pound the coughing Paris on the back.
Once Tom recovered enough to lie gasping for air on the arm of his couch, B'Elanna took her turn at pacing his quarters. "Now it's just a question of which non-female member of the crew we're talking about here." She started rubbing her palms together, excited. "The only reason you'd want to keep this quiet is if it was embarrassing or completely inappropriate."
"B'Elanna, please stop this," Tom begged, still a little hoarse.
"You walked around like you owned the place when everyone thought you killed that scientist on Banea. You were downright proud of your temperamentally challenged half Klingon girlfriend. You don't embarrass easily."
"B'Elanna! Don't talk about yourself that way! Our relationship was never something to be embarrassed about!" Tom truly looked offended on her behalf.
But she was not to be deterred. "Oh no, Flyboy, you're not going to distract me by trying to discuss my self- esteem issues," she wagged a finger at him. "So that leaves completely inappropriate. Which means a direct subordinate. Or a direct superior."
At this point, Tom just buried his face in his hands and began to moan.
"All your pilots are pretty consistently het, or paired off, or female. Which leaves a direct superior. And we all know Tuvok would never cheat on his wife. So that just leaves…" B'Elanna stopped and gaped at him. "Whoa."
"Shit. Fuck. He's going to kill me. Shit!"
"Sheesh, Tom, don't start ripping your hair out. You don't have all that much left." B'Elanna returned to sit next to him on the couch, and gently pried his hands away from his scalp.
"That's very helpful. Thank you, " Tom snarled at her.
"What's the big deal? I mean, I think everyone assumes you're pretty… open minded. And some of the non-Maquis might be surprised about Chakotay, but I doubt anyone will care." B'Elanna looked at him, concerned. He was decidedly green tinged.
"You doubt anyone will care? He's my immediate superior officer! We're breaking at least a half dozen regs!" Tom's turn to pace again.
"Last I checked, we're still tens of thousands of light years away from HQ, Tom. Do you really think anyone on Voyager is going to throw the rule book at you?"
Tom glared at her, "Pathfinder has made those tens of thousands of light years a lot closer, B'Elanna. Not to mention our XO's …complicated history with the Captain. If Janeway finds out about us I'll probably get another month in the brig. And she'll conveniently rediscover Chakotay's arrest warrant. And that's only if she finds out after her first cup of coffee."
B'Elanna leaned back against the couch. "You have a point. So no one knows? Not even Harry?"
"Harry? Keep a secret from Janeway? We might as well tell Neelix!" Tom looked at her incredulously.
"Well, at least then you'd get a nice cake to celebrate your new relationship," B'Elanna said, giggling.
"Aren't ill-timed attempts at humor supposed to be my thing?"
B'Elanna patted the cushion next to her. "Just come sit down and talk to me, Tom. I promise I won't breathe a word of this to anyone. I won't even tell Chakotay I know. But at least tell me how all this started. You owe me that much."
After taking another quick moment to scowl at her, Tom settled back in on the couch. "It was after Friendship One. You remember everything that happened?
"Of course," she said sympathetically, placing a hand on his knee. She had very nearly ended up on that away mission herself, but she had gotten a nasty plasma burn only an hour before their scheduled departure and had sent someone else instead.
Tom told her about the intense guilt he felt after that mission. He was in command, and a member of his team had been killed. Not just any member, but Joe Carey: a father of two, a man who had just reconnected with the wife that had stayed faithful to him, despite everyone telling her he was probably dead. Tom felt like he should have been the one that Verin killed, not having anyone that really depended on him like Carey had. Chakotay had seen how troubled the younger man was and reached out to him in his unofficial role as counselor. Unlike after the Tarakis incident, this time Tom found himself open to talking about what he was going through.
"So we were spending a lot of time together, and after a particularly intense talk, Chakotay suggested we blow off some steam at Sandrine's. I felt obligated to take out my stash of the good stuff. As a sign of gratitude, you know? Sometimes synthehol just doesn't cut it. One thing led to another and…"
B'Elanna looked him, "So basically it was a drunken hook up?"
Tom's face broke into a soft smile at this. "Isn't that how all the great romances start?"
"Great romances? Tom, are you in love with Chakotay?"
Tom met her piercing look, "I think so, yeah. And I think, crazily enough, he might even love me back." He took her hand now. "Does that bother you?"
B'Elanna smiled back at him now. "No, Tom, of course not. Why would I be bothered by my oldest friend and my favorite ex-lover finding happiness together?"
Tom's frowned, "Your other ex-lover was a sociopath that nearly got us all killed."
"I didn't say it was a high bar." B'Elanna squeezed his hand, "I'm glad you found someone you can trust with your feelings. That you can be vulnerable with. You're a good person, Tom. You deserve that."
"I wanted to be that person for you," he replied softly.
"I know you did. I think that's what we both wanted." B'Elanna sighed. "But, I don't know, I guess our respective massive trust issues and defense mechanisms just clash too much." B'Elanna leaned her head against his shoulder now. "I'm glad at least one of us found someone, though. Really, I am."
"Don't give up hope, Torres," he wrapped his arm around her, "You'll find someone. You deserve happiness, too, you know."
"Maybe. But I'm not so sure about the finding someone part. I think I have completely exhausted all the possibilities on our little vessel." B'Elanna straightened up and glared him, "And so help me, Paris, you bring up Vorik or Freddie Bristow and I WILL break your nose."
Tom laughed, "I surrender! But maybe you should expand your horizons a little. Be a bit more open minded, is I think how you put it earlier?" Tom grinned mischievously. "You seemed very concerned about me hooking up with Seven. Maybe you have your eye on her yourself? She is a very attractive woman..."
"Ha, ha. You're hysterical." B'Elanna settled back against his shoulder. "Kahless, me and Seven of Nine. Could you imagine?"
Tom waggled his eyebrows at her, "I'm pretty sure I already have."
"Tom Paris, you have been, and always will be, a pig."
"You wouldn't have it any other way, Torres, and you know it." He hugged her tightly to his side and placed a gentle kiss on her head. "I still love you, you know. I think I always will, no matter who else I have in my life."
B'Elanna elbowed him gently in the ribs and smiled. "You picked a great time to tell me."
The End