Contact

A collection of Star Trek: Voyager continuations

By Lady Mac

A/N: Hello, friends, and thanks for reading! This is the first installment of what I hope will actually become a collection of continuation-fics, set immediately following (or perhaps during) a few of my favorite Voyager episodes that feature developments in Tom and B'Elanna's relationship. I expect to travel non-chronologically through the series, and will rearrange the chapters as necessary, though the in-document numbering will be unchanged to reflect the order in which I wrote them.

The title of the collection, "Contact," is a reference to some EVA banter from "Day of Honor," the movie First Contact, and Carl Sagan's book Contact – three of my favorite things. Hopefully the first chapter will be explicit enough to explain its connection to what I'm writing here.

The rating on this story will likely change as I go on; canon P/T is at least a PG-13 ("Blood Fever," anyone?), and those of you who have read my other work know that I write a fair amount of R-rated scenes.

The first chapter, "Breathe," is an expansion of my drabble "Just Breathe" and contains that scene. "Just Breathe" was an exercise for me, to see if I could actually write a fic I was proud of in only 100 words (I tend to be verbose). I think I succeeded, so thanks to my high school English teachers.

Also, there's cookies in it for anyone who can find the quote from House, M.D.!

EDIT: It has come to my attention that this was actually dealt with in Revulsion, which I haven't seen in years and forgot about!! So we're going to pretend that TPTB are wrong, and I'm going to stand by my story.

Chapter 1

Breathe

Canon position: Immediately following the conclusion of S.4's "Day of Honor" and ignoring "Revulsion"

Disclaimer: No own, no sue, yadda yadda.

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Tom Paris was partially conscious when he materialized in the transporter room, and stumbled as B'Elanna collapsed on him, suddenly no longer weightless. To his groggy mind, the oxygenated air seemed almost to sparkle, and he imagined he could still feel the mass of her body against his as they were transported hurriedly to Sickbay.

B'Elanna awoke to a gentle touch on her forearm. Her eyes slowly focused on the figure at her side – Tom.

"We didn't die." He smiled ruefully. "Let's forget what you said."

Her chest was suddenly heavy. "No, Tom, I—"

"Shh," he whispered. "Just breathe."

B'Elanna took a deep breath and sat up on the biobed, and Tom took a step back. "I can't be quiet any more, Tom. We can't forget what I said out there. We need to stop forgetting the things I say. I need to stop denying the way I feel about you."

He seemed shocked and a little taken aback by her outburst. "I … I just thought, since we were about to die, that you … you know …"

She softened. "I know; it's the sort of situation I've been in a lot recently, isn't it? But I can't keep blaming things on circumstances. Maybe I was hazy from lack of oxygen, and I know I was frightened of dying. But, Tom, I've never known it more clearly." She tried to smile. "Someone once said, the thing about dying is it tends to focus your priorities. And it did, Tom. I knew that it was true, and I had to tell you, because that's what matters. You're what matters."

B'Elanna felt flushed and heady when she finished. It had been an immense force of will to say that to him – again – but she had meant every word. She only hoped he would – well, she didn't know what she hoped.

The silence stretched between them for some time until Tom finally reached out and touched her arm. "I …" he began, then stopped. What could he say? Any words he could summon seemed vulgar and inelegant in his mind. And what do you say to someone who suddenly made your dreams come true? So he stepped forward and pulled her into a tight embrace. Her arms circled him immediately, and she sighed as she placed her head on his shoulder. It was almost the same as they had been in, floating in space, but now he could feel her against him, feel how alive she was; her heart beat strongly against his chest. The vibrancy of her touch was something he had longed for, but never quite dared to expect. At least not like this.

"B'Elanna," he whispered, "thank you."

She smiled. "You're welcome."

They let go somewhat awkwardly, and Paris straightened out his back with a little pop. But she caught his hands before he could step back, and a little thrill went through him at the softness of her touch. "Tom, I … I have a question."

"Sure, what is it?"

She took a breath, not sure she wanted to broach it, but feeling like she deserved to know. "What did you mean when you said I picked a great time to tell you?"

Tom suddenly felt a little guilty. The truth was he was not completely proud of – it seemed to be a theme in his life – but he owed it to her. "I guess it was a little sarcastic. I'm sorry," he added quickly. "But you know how long I've wanted you, and I was ready to give up. It seemed … unfair, that I'd never have the chance even to touch you." He squeezed her fingers gently. "But I think it was sincere, too. If we had died, at least I'd have had that, had you at the end."

She looked down at their hands. "I'm sorry I never told you before."

"B'Elanna." He touched the side of her face, cradling it in his hand. "It's okay. We have each other now."

She looked up at him and smiled, and it made him feel a lot better. "I know it's not technically the first time," he murmured, "but … I'd like to kiss you."

"I'd like that."