A/N: References to the season 4 episode Random Thoughts

2374

Tom had been pacing so long in the corridor in front of Sickbay he was surprised he hadn't left a permanent track in the carpet. As soon as B'Elanna had been transported from the Mari homeworld straight to the Doctor's care, Tom had gotten permission to leave the conn and head down to see her. Before he even exited the turbolift, though, Chakotay had commed him.

"The Doctor doesn't want you in there."

"I'm his nurse, for God's sake! What do you mean he doesn't want me there?"

"He says he doesn't need your help and he'll contact you when he's done. Stay out of his hair, Tom."

"What hair?!"

"Consider that an order, Lieutenant."

So the hallway it was. When, out of frustration, he asked the computer for the time, he'd been surprised to find out it had only been about twenty minutes. It felt like it had been hours. His comm buzzed a few laps of the corridor later.

"I'm done treating Lieutenant Torres, Mr Par-"

Tom practically pushed open the doors of Sickbay, dissatisfied with how slowly they slid apart.

"-is." The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Have you been waiting outside this whole time?"

B'Elanna was lying in the main surgical bay, asleep or maybe unconscious. A coma? God, was she in a coma? Tom moved towards her. "How is she? What did they do to her? Is she going to be OK?"

The Doctor stepped in front of him, blocking his path to the biobed. "She's fine and resting comfortably. The Mari had only just started the engramatic purge, and thankfully her Klingon synapses were rather resistant to the process. Her biggest issue is that the sedative she was given hit her rather hard, but she simply needs to sleep it off. She'll be fit for duty come morning."

"Can I see her?" Tom asked, peering at her over the Doctor's shoulder, reassuring himself that she was there and whole.

"In the morning, Mr. Paris." The hologram put a hand on his chest and pushed him towards the door.

Tom looked him in the eyes, making no effort to keep the desperation from bleeding into his voice. "Doc, please. Just for a minute. Please."

The Doc's perma-scowl softened, just a touch. "One minute, then. I'll be keeping time. And don't wake her up!"

Tom crossed the medical suite in no more than five strides. B'Elanna looked... fine, actually. No different than she did when she slept at night - no pallor, her expression relaxed. Tom took her hand in his, then leaned over and lay a soft kiss her on her ridges.

Her eyes fluttered open. "Tom?"

He lay his free hand on her hair. "The Doc's gonna kill me," he murmured, smiling at her. "I wasn't supposed to wake you up. How are you feeling?"

"Not bad," she said, her eyes blinking lazily. "Just kind of worn out." Her lids fell closed. "Am I OK?"

"Just fine," Tom reassured her. "The Doc said you'll be fighting fit by morning."

Her eyes opened again and she frowned at him. "Great choice of words, Flyboy." B'Elanna rolled onto her side, nuzzling her cheek into Tom's hand as she yawned. "God, I'm tired. I'm not sure I've ever been this tired."

"Then sleep," Tom whispered in her ear, placing another kiss on her temple. "I'll see you in the morning." He stood up only to see the Doctor glowering at him from the other side of the bed. "I'm going, I'm going!" he hissed at the hologram, backing away from the bed.

He headed down to her quarters, thinking he'd grab her a fresh uniform to change into in the morning. They'd exchanged door codes a few months ago, back when they'd been in hormonal overdrive from those aliens and had found every opportunity to grab each other and some time together - even if it meant slipping into the other's quarters in the middle of the night. As the door opened, Tom stumbled a step backwards.

Shit. Christmas.

Tom hadn't celebrated in years, actually, not since before… Well, it didn't matter when he last celebrated, what mattered is that there hadn't been any point to it. Christmas was a holiday for friends and family, and he hadn't really had either of those things in a long time. Not until Voyager.

But even once he was a fully accepted member of the crew, it had still felt weird - what was he going to do? Buy a present for Harry, who seemed to regard Christmas as little more than a rather silly tradition from his childhood? Or the captain, one of the few other people on board who seemed to imbue the day with any meaning? (Yeah, that wouldn't be awkward at all.) So, in previous years, he'd downplayed the importance the day had once held for him, doing nothing more than smiling at the homely little tree Neelix put up in the mess hall and helping himself to a frosted cookie (until he found out they'd been made from leola root flour. What was wrong with the man? Did it have to go in everything?)

Only this year, he had decided, he was going to have a little private celebration of his own. His relationship with B'Elanna might be fairly new, but it had given him a hope for the future that he hadn't felt in a very long time. Maybe even a future that included joint quarters, or one or two tiny quarter-Klingons running around underfoot. He'd laughed a little at his imaginings - the two of them had a long way to go before that would be a real possibility. But it was OK to dream sometimes, wasn't it? So Tom Paris decided to revive Christmas.

He made a few cautious inquiries into B'Elanna's feelings on the matter. He didn't want to surprise her with a holiday that might bring back memories of her deadbeat human father. But she'd smiled when he'd mentioned it - saying that her human family used to celebrate it years and years ago, when her grandmother had still been alive and she was just a little girl. She had laughed a little, told him about songs her grandparents used to sing and the foods they ate, and the subject had switched to the latest difficulties with the bioneural circuits. Tom had decided to take this as a green light.

He'd saved his rations for over a month - B'Elanna raised a few eyebrows over how much pleeka rind casserole he'd eaten lately - and replicated a small tree (complete with authentic pine scent!) and some ornaments. He'd set it up in her quarters, along with the gift he'd gotten for her down on the Mari homeworld, downloaded some traditional holiday music from the archives, and waited for her to return from the surface for her surprise.

That had been three days ago.

Now… Well, now Christmas was over. And further, the gift he'd gotten her - a rather lovely wooden sculpture, that according to the artist somehow had certain… stimulating effects on viewers with amorous intentions - would only serve to remind her of the Mari and their violation of her.

He could just dump the gift, he supposed, as he recycled it in her 'fresher; they could still have a late Christmas. But as he turned and regarded the little tree he'd put on her tabletop, it looked pathetic rather than charming. Tom let out a sigh. Harry was probably right - Christmas was for children, or those with children. He and B'Elanna had only been together a few months. It was ridiculous for him to even be fantasizing about things like marriage and babies and family. Hell, they could both be dead before the week was out, the way the DQ seemed to want to chew them up and spit them out sometimes. Even more likely, one day B'Elanna would get sick of his jokes and his sarcasm and his flightiness and show him the door. He should live in the moment, enjoy what they had now - not pressure her into thinking about things neither of them was ready for.

"Merry Christmas," he snorted as he placed the tree in the 'fresher and watched it fade away with a shimmer.