"Do you want me to go in with you?" Harry asked B'Elanna, apparently sensing her hesitance as she stood outside Tom's room.
"No, it's OK," she said, shaking her head. "It's probably better not to overwhelm him. And the doctor said he'll be fine. This isn't a big deal." He was just tortured by vicious terrorists for five days. Not a big deal at all. Who are you trying to fool, Torres?
Harry met her eyes. "He's the most resilient person I've ever met, B'Elanna. He'll be all right."
Right, she told herself as she entered the hospital room. He'll be fine. The doctor said most of his injuries were superficial and easily regenerated - exhaustion and dehydration were his worst issues. Plenty of rest, some physical therapy for a badly torn shoulder, and he'd be back to normal. They wanted to keep him for a day, make sure he met with a counselor, but they assured her he'd make a full physical recovery. As for the psychological trauma, B'Elanna reminded herself that he'd experienced far worse in the Delta Quadrant - Banea, Akritiri, Tarakis, even that damn shuttle. Tom had gotten through it all. He'd get over this, too.
When she entered the room, though, he wasn't in the bed. The only person she saw was a very pissed off looking nurse.
"Excuse me?" she asked, confused. She was sure the doctor told her to come here. "I was told my husband was in this room. Lieutenant Paris?"
The young man gave her a frustrated sigh. "Oh, you're in the right place. He's in there," he continued, nodding towards the closed bathroom. "Changing back into uniform."
"But I thought you were keeping him, at least overnight?"
"That was the plan," he replied, frowning. "Your husband has other ideas. He signed himself out against medical advice. And no, we can't stop him. These Starfleet types are all the same." He thrust a hypospray at her. "Take this. There are enough analgesics in here for the next forty-eight hours. I'll make him an appointment with the counselor and a recheck with the doctor for the day after tomorrow. Keep him in bed until then."
B'Elanna grabbed the nurse's arm as he tried to leave the room. "Wait a minute. You're just going to let him go? Is he going to be OK at home?"
The nurse gave her a sympathetic smile. "You're welcome to try to convince him to stay. I didn't have much luck, and the only way we can force it with non-life threatening injuries is question his mental competency. Nobody wants that." He pulled out of her grip and walked towards the door. "Let me know if you talk him out of being stupid."
B'Elanna paused in front of the bathroom door before knocking. How bad could it be, if Tom was giving the medical staff a hard time? Maybe she'd been worried over nothing. She rapped lightly on the door.
"Can you just give me a fucking minute?" The angry snarl startled her, and B'Elanna took an involuntary step back. It didn't even sound like Tom.
"Tom," she called out. "It's me."
The door slid open, and there he was - his face was gaunt and pale, in stark contrast to the dark shadows under his eyes. He also had a few days' worth of beard and a sonic shaver in his hand.
"Hey," she said softly. "What are you doing?"
His only response was to put the shaver down and step towards her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Neither of them made a noise for several moments, as B'Elanna closed her eyes and took comfort in the familiar scent of her husband. She soon became concerned by how much he was shaking, and gently broke free of his arms. "Tom," she said, "I mean it - what are you doing? You should be in bed. Stay here for tonight. Let them take care of you."
He studied her face with red rimmed eyes. "I just want to go home," he whispered. "Please just take me home."
She had been prepared for him to fight her, to come up with some ridiculous pig-headed argument as to why he shouldn't stay in the hospital. But this - the pleading, broken look on his face - she didn't know how to say no to this. "OK," she said, stroking his cheek. "Let's get you home."
Inexplicably, he insisted that he had to finish shaving before they left. B'Elanna sent Harry back to his ship and took the opportunity to let Owen and Julia know what was going on. Of course Julia disagreed with her decision to let him leave.
"B'Elanna, darling, are you sure that's a good idea?"
"He wants to come home," she said, finding herself grateful to Zahne for the first time. The irritating man had taught her a lot about faking patience when it was politically expedient. "The doctors say he's not in any danger, so that's what we're doing."
B'Elanna had to slow her pace to match Tom's when they walked to the hospital's transporter room. Thankfully, the staff arranged for them to materialize right in front of their apartment - Tom looked like he was ready to collapse any minute. B'Elanna still questioned the wisdom of letting him leave; but at the moment, it felt like all she could do was try to give him whatever he wanted.
When they entered their apartment, only Owen was visible, sitting on the couch reading a PADD. "Tom." He jumped up and called out to his wife. "Julia! They're back."
Within seconds, a tiny figure came flying out of the kitchen towards them. "Daddy!" Miral cried joyfully. "You're home!"
Tom knelt down to grab their daughter in a hug and picked her up with his good arm. "Tom, maybe you shouldn't…" B'Elanna started, but fell silent when she saw how tightly he clung to her. Seeming to sense her father's distress, Miral was uncharacteristically subdued as she rested her head on Tom's shoulder.
"Tom!" Julia said with obviously false cheer. "Thank goodness you're all right! Why don't I make you something? Do you want some soup? Or a sandwich, maybe? Whatever you like."
Tom had his face buried in Miral's hair. "I'm going upstairs," he muttered.
"But you should eat first, darling," Julia pressed, seemingly oblivious to her son's mood. "When's the last time you had a meal? B'Elanna, tell him to eat something."
B'Elanna tried to think of a polite way to tell Tom's mother to back the hell off when Owen saved her.
"Julia," Owen said quietly. "Let Tom decide what he needs for now." He put a hand lightly on Tom's back, gently guiding him towards the stairs. "I'm glad you're home, son."
"Thanks," was all Tom said, and he slowly climbed the stairs to the bedrooms, still carrying Miral.
B'Elanna started up the stairs to follow him when Julia's voice stopped her. "B'Elanna, he really should eat. Why don't you bring him something? And send Miral down here - he doesn't need a toddler pestering him right now."
B'Elanna took a deep breath, knowing all the tension and frustrations of the last several days were making it harder than normal to keep her temper in check. She gripped the banister. Hard. "The doctor said it was most important for him to get some sleep. If he wants something to eat, I'll bring it up later."
"And you'll bring Miral down like I asked?"
"Yes," she said through gritted teeth before continuing her way upstairs.
She found Tom sitting on the floor of their bedroom, with Miral in his lap "reading" a book to him. Tom's eyes were half closed, and he was slumped against the side of their bed. Clearly it would be best for Tom if Miral went back downstairs. B'Elanna had to fight the temptation to let her stay just to spite her mother-in-law.
"Miral, sweetie, come here," B'Elanna called to her softly. "Daddy isn't feeling well, and he needs to get some rest. Why don't I take you back downstairs to Grandma and Grandpa?"
"OK," the little girl replied, and climbed off her father. B'Elanna gave silent thanks to Kahless and any other gods that might be listening for their daughter's generally easy-going personality. A tantruming child would be the last straw right now. Miral patted Tom on the cheek. "Feel better, Daddy."
Tom gave his daughter the first smile B'Elanna had seen from him since their reunion. "Thanks, Kitten. Maybe I'll read to you tomorrow."
"Ferdnan?"
"Sure, Kitten. Ferdinand."
His breathing was heavy, like he was still winded from carrying her up the stairs. B'Elanna needed to get him into bed. "Come on, Miral," she said, holding out her hand. "I'll be right back, Tom. Wait for me if you need help."
She passed Miral off to Julia at the bottom of stairs. "Did you ask him if he wanted something to eat?" Julia queried.
What is with this woman and food? B'Elanna thought in exasperation. "He said he was fine for now," she said. Her jaw would probably ache tomorrow from all the clenching. "I have to go back up to check on him." She turned away from Julia.
"Daddy did not say that," B'Elanna heard Miral say behind her. "Daddy said he's reading Ferdnan tomorrow."
Great, betrayed by her own daughter. B'Elanna felt like screaming. She'd never hear the end of this from Julia. Deciding to prioritize Tom and delay the inevitable confrontation, she continued up the stairs without acknowledging what Miral said.
As B'Elanna came back into their bedroom, she saw Tom had managed to move off the floor and was sitting on the edge of the bed. He'd gotten his uniform jacket off and had changed to sweatpants, but he was still in his regulation undershirt. He was just staring at an old t-shirt in his hands. "Hey," she said quietly, not wanting to startle him. Maybe a little gentle teasing would help. "Did you forget what to do next?"
He looked up then, and the defeat in his eyes made B'Elanna's heart break for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "My shoulder...I can't lift my arm enough…" He showed the t-shirt to her helplessly.
"That's OK," she reassured him. "I can help you." But she didn't have much more luck. Every time she tried to get the tight shirt off his injured arm, he hissed in pain and she couldn't take it. Finally, she climbed onto the bed behind him. "Fuck it," she muttered in frustration. "We'll just replicate you a new one," and she ripped the shirt down the middle. Oh Tom, she thought as she saw the faint bruises and mostly healed welts that crossed his back. With a skill borne of long practice, she stuffed down the rage she felt towards the people that had done this to him, and tried to focus on caring for her spouse.
She crossed back over to face him, and pulled off the torn shirt. B'Elanna smiled. "Now don't go getting any funny ideas just because I'm ripping your clothes off. The only thing you're going to do in this bed right now is sleep." Her face fell when his mouth didn't even so much as twitch in response. She helped him get the t-shirt on, grateful for the looser material, and pulled back the blankets on the bed. "Come on. Get under the covers - your hands are like ice." He's just tired. He just needs to rest.
Once he seemed settled, B'Elanna called out to the computer. "Turn off li…"
"Don't!" Tom interrupted, grabbing her leg. "Leave them on."
B'Elanna stroked his hair as she sat beside him on the bed, trying to soothe him. "Tom, you need to sleep. You're exhausted."
He took several shuddering breaths before he spoke again. "There weren't any lights. Where they kept me. No windows. Not even a crack under the door." He gripped her leg tighter. "When I first came to...I thought maybe I was blind."
B'Elanna could have kicked herself. Why had she let him leave the hospital? He was clearly in no condition to be home. He should be telling this to a counselor. She didn't know what to say to something like that.
"I thought I would never see you again," he continued. "And Miral...I thought…." Another shaky breath. She felt him trembling under the blankets.
"Your eyes are fine, Tom," she said. B'Elanna cursed inwardly. What an idiotic thing to say; as if he didn't know that already. She wished their positions were reversed. B'Elanna's job in their marriage was to be the realist, to call out bullshit and fight their family's battles. Tom was the one that lightened the mood, the one that was good at offering comfort. He was supposed to be talking her off the ledge - not the other way around.
"No," he said, "that's not what I meant." He looked at her and reached up to touch her face, as if to convince himself she was really here with him. "I thought, 'This is it'. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear them. What they did to Prieto… her screams. And I knew I was next." He was silent for several moments, just staring at her. "I promised I would never leave you. And that's what I was going to do. Leave Miral without a father. And you...I didn't want to leave you." He gripped the bedding tight in a fist, and pressed his face into the pillow.
B'Elanna kicked off her shoes and climbed under the covers, lying behind him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Computer, dim lights to twenty-five percent." She pulled him closer and murmured into his ear. "It's all right, parmaqqay. You're home now. Everything is going to be OK." She just prayed she was right.