A/N - Many thanks to the writers of "Threshold" whose script I borrow heavily from in the second half of this chapter. Again, nothing in the Voyager universe belongs to me, but I enjoy playing around in it a bit.


IV.

...takes place during "Threshold", mid-season 2

Tom left sickbay feeling more alive than he had in years. Everything felt so very right, so clear and uncomplicated. He was vaguely aware that he was riding the emotional high of a lifetime but couldn't bring himself to analyze that or care. It had been a long time since he had been so simply happy.

He made his way down to Deck 10, knowing that B'Elanna would still be in Engineering analyzing the data from the shuttle craft logs. The prospect of celebrating the successful transwarp flight by pouring over every modicum of data that the sensors had collected with the chief engineer seemed, at that moment, like the perfect end to a perfect day. Despite the kaleidoscope of images currently still swirling through his mind, the memory of B'Elanna rushing into sickbay first full of concern and then mirroring his own elation at their success remained clear.

Engineering was relatively quiet as he entered, and he quickly sighted B'Elanna sitting with her back to him and pouring through a small pile of PADDs. He had learned the hard way a couple of weeks before that to startle her was to take one's life into one's hands, and so he quietly cleared his throat as he approached. She turned at the sound and then, seeing him, she smiled widely and her eyes flashed as she reached out to grasp his arm, "Tom! You need to see the data you collected – it's fascinating!" You're fascinating, he thought as he took in that smile and what excitement did to her eyes, but he merely returned her smile and pulled up a chair beside her to examine the PADDs. "How much did we get?"

"As much as the shuttle's memory core could hold," she replied. "We sent enough navigational data over to stellar cartography to keep them busy for months, if not years. Here's the analysis of the engine's performance," she added, handing him a PADD from another pile.

He looked it over for a moment before commenting, "You were right – not a scratch."

She grinned. "Looks like you were right when you said you'd be able to fly it."

"All part of the service." He grinned back.

Her expression sobered just a bit. "Seriously though, Tom, you just made history. That's got to feel pretty amazing."

He considered that and considered her. "It does, probably more than it should."

Her head cocked to the side, and she reached out, touching the back of his hand. "Let it," she caught his eye and smiled. "You deserve it."


A couple hours later, they had migrated to the mess hall in search of coffee. PADDs were scattered about the table in front of them, belying how methodically the two of them were now working through the data. From time to time, B'Elanna glanced over at the pilot sitting beside her. Tom still buzzed with energy, but it was harnessed into a calm intensity that she recognized from watching him at the conn. Still flushed with success, he seemed to have lost the edge of guardedness that with him was so often masked in ironic smiles and jokes; she wondered if this was what he was like in his years at the Academy before the accident at Caldik Prime and all that followed.

She had yet to process her own part in this little history making venture of theirs and admitted to herself that she was thoroughly distracted by the pilot's happiness. And that the fact that she was still there pouring over logs long after she should have called it a day had less to do with the data and more to do with the contentment that she had come to find in Tom's company over the last few weeks. Sometime soon, she knew, she was going to have to figure out exactly what that all meant. She mentally shied away from that reckoning - emotional introspection was not her strength. Better to leave that for another time.

Neelix wandered over to refill their coffee, proudly announcing his new blend, "Paris Delight". To B'Elanna's amusement, Tom barely registered Neelix's flattery. She grinned and teased, "Well you might as well get used to it. You're a hero now."

He grimaced. "Wish I could say it was nothing." The grimace deepened as he sipped the coffee. "Ugh. I wish Neelix would name something after me that tasted a little better."

Picking up her own cup, she cautiously sniffed the concoction. "Smells okay."

"No, trust me," he cautioned in mock seriousness. "You're taking your life into your hands." She smiled and sipped the brew that seemed no less nor more objectionable than the Talaxian's average concoction. Tom turned the conversation back to the shuttle flight for a moment before stopping suddenly, looking somewhat nauseated. "What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

Tom frowned, swallowing a bit. "I don't think the coffee is settling well."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to go back to sickbay?" she asked archly, though some instinct pricked a warning at the back of her neck.

"No, I've seen enough of the Doctor for one day," he assured her, but then blinked and winced hard and his hand went to his head. "Ow. On second thought, maybe I should..." and that prickling burst into shrieking alarm as Tom tried to rise and collapsed to the floor.

Without conscious thought, she was at his side, calling first for an emergency transport to sickbay and then, that failing, a medical team to the mess hall. Tom lay, gasping, veins visibly throbbing in his head, his eyes frantic. Her own mind was screaming, but she grasped his hand in one of hers, bracing his shoulder with the other in reassurance. "Hang on, Tom," she urged. And, as he turned at her words, his panicked, now unnaturally blue gaze catching and holding her own as if a lifeline, something inside her came undone and nausea threatened to overwhelm her. She tightened her grasp on his hand and her hand on his shoulder slipped up to caress his hair away from his now sweating forehead. "Hold on," she whispered.