Title: Complex
Summary: Takes place after "Persistence of Vision." The Doctor and B'Elanna discuss the Oedipus Complex. Slightly AU. Proto-P/T.
Rating: T
"Hello, Lieutenant," the Doctor greeted B'Elanna cheerfully as she entered Sickbay. "How are you?"
"I'm all right," she replied. "I'm here to run your weekly diagnostic."
"Ah, yes. Of course." He seemed pleased to have company.
She sat down and began entering commands into the console, preparing to start the diagnostic.
"It's been an uneventful day, so I've been catching up on some reading," the Doctor told her conversationally. "I was just reading about the Oedipus Complex, and its counterpart, the Electra Complex."
"What?" she said distractedly, her mind focused on reviewing all of the EMH program's systems for anything unusual.
"The Oedipus Complex. Named after Oedipus Rex, the tragic Greek hero who murdered his father and married his mother. Without knowing who they actually were, of course."
B'Elanna looked up from the display screen and gaped at him in astonishment. "And why are you studying this, exactly?"
"Oh, er…" he stammered. "Just trying to understand the unconscious. The meaning of hidden desires and all that."
To her surprise, he looked flustered and more than a little embarrassed.
"Psychology is an integral part of my continuing medical studies, after all," he continued. "I have to be well-informed about a broad variety of topics."
B'Elanna was still mystified. "But why this topic specifically? I mean, most of the crew don't even have any biological relatives on board."
The Doctor regained some of his composure, and his posture relaxed somewhat.
"Oh. Well, it's not strictly limited to actual biological relatives. It could apply to a young woman and a male mentor who's like a father figure, for example. Or a commanding officer and his or her subordinate. It could happen between anyone who is older, wiser and more experienced and another person who is younger and in need of guidance."
He hadn't actually answered her question, and she remained puzzled over his motivation for studying such an unusual topic.
Then suddenly comprehension dawned. A young woman and a male mentor. Kes worked in Sickbay and regarded the Doctor as her mentor and a father figure. When Kes had undergone the Elogium several weeks ago, she'd even asked him to perform the duties that her father traditionally would have carried out.
And when a subspace anomaly had caused a radiation surge in Voyager's computer systems right before that, the Doctor had hallucinated that he was Lewis Zimmerman and that Kes was his wife.
Caught up in this revelation, it took her a moment to register that the Doctor had not stopped talking. While she had been working it out in her mind, he had moved on to outlining the disagreements between Freud and Jung, lecturing in his usual pedantic manner.
"The Oedipus Complex is quite complex," the Doctor proclaimed, chuckling at his own cleverness.
B'Elanna rolled her eyes. Slightly annoyed, she forced herself to resume monitoring the progress of the diagnostic. Fortunately, it was fairly routine and she didn't need much concentration to go through the motions.
The Doctor wasn't quite finished with his lecture yet. He wasn't about to stop when he had a captive audience at hand.
"Of course, later on, 20th century psychologists developed theories that weren't focused on pathology," he informed her. "After all, it's normal to have fantasies. Everyone fantasizes sometimes."
Even holograms, she thought dryly.
"Those psychologists concluded that it's healthier to acknowledge and accept hidden desires rather than suppress them. Even the darkest, most shameful secret desires. Because if you try to banish them, they tend to fester and turn destructive."
B'Elanna had no desire whatsoever to delve into any of her deepest, darkest fantasies with the Doctor, of all people. Nor did she want to hear about any of his. She fervently hoped he wasn't about to share them with her.
"From this perspective, the Oedipus Complex can be understood in a more positive light," the Doctor intoned, pacing back and forth in a circuitous route.
Relieved that she wasn't about to be regaled with stories of his personal fantasies, she tuned him out again and checked the results of the diagnostic so far.
Until she heard the words, "For example, a young woman may fantasize about a father figure because it's safe."
That got her attention.
"What was that last part again?" she asked.
"I said, it also works the other way around," the Doctor repeated. "A young woman may fantasize about a father figure if she feels guilty about being too strong, too powerful. She doesn't have to worry about hurting him, an authority figure, because he's strong enough to withstand her desires without getting hurt."
B'Elanna stared at him, the wheels turning in her head.
The epiphany soon followed, hitting her like a physical blow. She gasped.
This explains the hallucination I had about Chakotay, she realized.
At the time, she'd been completely caught off-guard, and it had deeply disturbed her. She'd alternated between angrily dismissing it as ridiculous and anxiously fretting over what it might mean.
"The fantasy also provides reassurance that she is special and valuable," the Doctor expounded, "which helps counteract real or imagined experiences of rejection that give rise to feelings of worthlessness."
She'd definitely felt rejected by her father, she had to admit. His abandonment had left her with a lifelong sense of inadequacy. If he'd truly loved her, wouldn't he have stayed no matter what?
And since he'd left and never come back, it must mean that she was unlovable.
She'd always blamed herself for driving him away with her hateful words and Klingon temper. Her poor father had been outnumbered and overwhelmed by her and her mother. Their strength. Their unpredictability. Their intensity.
After he'd left, she'd agonized over it endlessly. If only she could be less Klingon and more human. Maybe then he would have loved her. Maybe then he wouldn't have left.
Chakotay had never been intimidated by her strength, though. With him, she felt valued and appreciated. He always made it clear that he relied on her, and she felt proud and honored that he'd chosen her as his protégé.
Maybe that was why that particular fantasy had centered on Chakotay. She'd always admired him, and he certainly was attractive. She had a deep need to feel loved and accepted, but she had difficulty letting anyone get too close for fear of getting hurt again. Chakotay was the safest option. With him, she didn't feel the need to guard her heart as fiercely as she did around others. She could share her vulnerable side with him.
But that didn't necessarily mean that she had romantic feelings for him.
"It's also very common for women who worry about being too powerful to fantasize about subjugation, for the same reason," the Doctor added, almost as an afterthought.
B'Elanna froze, feeling a rush of panic.
"Is that so?" she managed.
"Certainly," the Doctor confirmed.
Was he reading her mind?
But how could he know she'd been having those kinds of fantasies as well?
Fantasies that hadn't been alien-induced and didn't involve Chakotay. Nor any of her former Maquis crewmates.
And the tried-and-true Starfleet officers were all much too sedate to fire her blood.
That left only one man who did.
On the surface, she understood why.
He was handsome, charming and charismatic. He had a wicked sense of humor and made her laugh despite herself.
But he was also selfish, irresponsible and often disregarded other people's feelings.
She couldn't want him. She just couldn't.
The nature of her fantasies had shocked her, and she'd done her best to repress them as quickly as they surfaced.
She'd felt outraged and disgusted with herself. How could she fantasize about that pig doing such things to her?
She'd always hated men who behaved that way. And she'd encountered her share of them. Being half-Klingon seemed to invite that kind of response from human men.
And yet the fantasies had persisted. The more she tried to make them go away, the stronger they became.
Sometimes they felt so real. She could imagine the way his hands would feel all over her body. How soft and warm his lips would feel against her skin. His arms around her, holding her tightly. Her name on his lips.
It had all started after they'd escaped from the Vidiian prison mines.
In the mines, she'd felt frozen with fear. Icy cold. When he'd put his hands on her shoulders, she could feel the heat of his fingers seeping through the layers of her uniform. The pressure of his palms warming her.
She'd wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and bury her head into his solid chest, soaking up all the warmth and comfort he had to offer her.
If the Vidiian guard hadn't come back just then, she would have.
After that, she'd frequently found herself distracted by him. Sitting next to him during morning briefing was torture. Being close enough to touch but not being able to touch him.
But sitting across from him wasn't much better. Then she had to look at him, noticing every little detail about him. How his startlingly bright blue eyes lit up every time he made a joke or sarcastic quip, which was often. The way his fingers scrolled rapidly down the screen of a data PADD. The puzzled expression he wore whenever she and Harry became immersed in highly technical talk.
She'd spent far too much time memorizing the curve of his jaw, fascinated by how clean shaven he looked first thing in the morning. By dinner time in the Mess Hall, he had the slightest hint of stubble on his handsome face, and she wanted to trace every contour, feel every texture.
She couldn't help observing that his hair had grown a little too long and that it tended to curl slightly. It made her want to run her fingers through it, smooth it off his forehead. She liked it when it was longer in the front and short in the back, revealing more of the delicate skin along the back of his neck.
B'Elanna forced herself to take a deep breath. She was starting to feel a little feverish and lightheaded just thinking about him.
Not that it really mattered. He'd never demonstrated the slightest bit of interest in her. Never looked at her the way he looked at other women. He'd never bestowed his practiced smile of seduction on her.
She'd tried to tell herself that it didn't bother her. That she would feel angry, not flattered, if he ever actually propositioned her. Certainly she wouldn't feel aroused.
But the truth was, it hurt. It made her feel like she was unattractive. Undesirable.
She'd never merit such effort as a romantic date on the holodeck, cruising a gondola on the canals of Venice. Never warrant the sacrifice of two weeks' worth of replicator rations, as Kes had when he'd given her that locket for her birthday. She'd never induce him to take such risks for her as he had with that Banean woman.
And yet sometimes she secretly wished she did. That she could inspire a man like him to such overwhelming passion that he'd do just about anything, be willing to give up everything, just to have her.
"Fascinating, isn't it?"
With a start, she realized that the Doctor was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her response.
She nodded slightly, hoping he wouldn't notice that she hadn't actually been listening.
"The erotic equation is central to understanding this challenging topic," he was now explaining.
"An equation?" she repeated, confused.
"Yes. In short, the erotic equation states that 'attraction plus obstacles equals excitement.' When there are obstacles to overcome, it often heightens arousal."
That gave her pause.
Maybe that was why Tom intrigued her so. Could it be that his lack of interest in her made him seem compelling?
If he were actually interested in her, would her fantasies dissipate instantaneously?
"This is why humans often find it difficult to resist the allure of the forbidden, or the unattainable," the Doctor added.
Perhaps that also explained why Tom seemed to only be attracted to women who were unavailable. Like Kes, who was committed to Neelix and had even intended to have a child with him a short time ago. Or that Banean woman, who was married.
Even the Delaney sisters. After all, he and Harry had asked them out only after Ensign Murphy and his friend had gone out with them first.
Maybe if she got involved with someone, or at least had a suitor who seemed like worthy competition, Tom would finally consider her worth pursuing.
The thought was so ludicrous, she had to laugh. She didn't really want him to pursue her for real, did she? Attraction was one thing, but romantic involvement in real life was so much more complicated.
At that moment the computer finally beeped, indicating the completion of the diagnostic, and she was granted a temporary reprieve from her unsettling thoughts.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she packed up her toolkit and prepared to leave.
"Thank you, Doctor. This conversation has been very educational."
"You're quite welcome, Lieutenant." The Doctor seemed inordinately pleased that she'd been interested in what he'd had to say, for once.
As she left Sickbay and strode down the corridor, B'Elanna felt as if she'd been liberated of a heavy burden.
She was normal, and she could keep her fantasies. They were harmless. A secret, private indulgence. It wasn't like she was going to act on them.
For now.
The End!
Author's Endnote: I recently re-read Arousal by Michael Bader and The Erotic Mind by Jack Morin. This story was inspired by both books and also the quote below from an interview with Roxann Dawson in Cinefantastique about "Persistence of Vision" (accessed from Memory Alpha):
"I felt that the strength of that alien, the way he could get to us as humans, was that he understands the deep need, whether you're a Vulcan, or a half-Klingon or whatever, that we all have to love and to be loved. The things that would put us into those trances were very deep needs. I think for B'Elanna, it wasn't a reflection of a direct attraction to Chakotay. He represents so much to her, a father figure, a mentor, her teacher, her coworker, and he is an attractive man. I think it was a desire to give in to a side that she does not give into easily, and that was what caused her particular trance. I don't think that necessarily means that he is always on her mind. It probably took her by surprise [...] It was more of a reflection of her need to please, to fulfill, all of these things are very real, very Human [...] I didn't read it [as an implication that Torres just desired Chakotay] when I read the script. It did say something about all of the characters who succumbed to those needs of wanting to love and to be loved, those things that we shove away, and push away, and don't want to deal with."
Of course, "Reflections of Illusion" by web of light/starbender is still the absolute best story on this topic!
fanfiction –dot– net/s/12130934/1/Reflections-of-Illusion
This is just another perspective on the same theme.
I personally still think that B'Elanna had a crush on Chakotay, but I've temporarily set that aside for the purposes of this story.