The sounds in the mess hall were different today, Harry thought. A glance in the cook's direction gave him a clue. Neelix's smile was brighter than he'd seen it at any time for over three months. First Kes, then Tom and B'Elanna had left. Neelix himself had died, only to return to life with his most cherished personal beliefs torn asunder. Now, that Tom and B'Elanna had given him some hope that perhaps his beliefs weren't so foolish after all, and with all that had happened in the last few weeks - could Kes' return be very far behind?
"Ensign Kim, Seven, what can I get you?" the Talaxian inquired genially as Harry and his companion approached.
"Which of these foods have been spiced the least?" Having learned under Harry's tutelage a few necessary defenses regarding the intake of food prepared in Neelix's kitchen, Seven poked a few pieces of fruit in a bowl inquisitively. "What do these taste like? I cannot recall seeing them offered for consumption before."
"Nice and sweet, Seven. I'm sure you'll just love them for dessert. They go especially well with my Pleeka Rind casserole."
"I thought I smelled that. I'd love some, Neelix," enthused Harry.
"This Pleeka Rind casserole is . . . palatable?" Seven said hesitantly.
"Oh, yeah, Seven. Haven't you tried it yet? It's one of Neelix's best recipes. Uh, I don't mean any offense, Neelix . . . "
"None taken, Ensign Kim. Everyone has favorites. It doesn't mean you don't like the rest of my cooking."
Seven and Harry exchanged glances before Seven exhaled deeply and asked for a plate of Pleeka Rind casserole.
The buzz in the room increased as the two took their seats. Lieutenants Rollins and Ayala, Ensigns Brooks, Lang, and Nicoletti, and Crewmen Chell, Stanton, and Dalby, all stopped by to inquire about Tom and B'Elanna. The answer from Seven of Nine was always succinct and identical. "Both are alive and well."
Between bites of Pleeka Rind casserole - which, Seven allowed, was "a reasonably inoffensive comestible" - she asked Harry, "Not many members of the crew have approached me previously when I've ingested a meal. Why are so many of them addressing me today?"
"They're all grateful to you for what you did for Tom and B'Elanna. That's not surprising. Tom and B'Elanna are very popular and important to Voyager. Everybody missed them. It's a miracle that you've brought them back. They want to thank you. And, I guess they're all thinking that you'd do the same for them if they died in the future."
"Of course I would. But I was only performing a function which I have the capacity to fulfill. Why should I require any special attention for having done what is essentially my duty?"
"Maybe you don't 'require' special attention, Seven. But doesn't it feel good?"
The partially Borg woman stared out into the field of stars behind Harry's head, considering this question. Feeling good. "That is a very human response."
"You're human. Mostly."
A wisp of an emotion crossed her face, but it was not one Harry would have expected to see. Pride, pleasure, a sense of accomplishment - none of these were evident. He could not even sense any of her unique, subtle sense of humor.
"Seven, what's the matter? I thought you'd be happy with what you've done, whether it's something you expected of yourself or not. Tom and B'Elanna aren't going to spend the rest of eternity floating dead in their coffin! Don't you feel good about that?"
The Borg appliance accented the eye that bored into him. "They will experience a very short lifetime even under optimum conditions and then spend the rest of eternity dead, Ensign Kim. Perhaps together, perhaps apart. With the Borg, in the event that a drone dies, the drone's consciousness remains immortal as part of the Collective."
"Yes, that's true. We aren't immortal, like the Borg, but the Borg may not be so immortal either. If another race like Species 8472 comes along and destroys the Collective, even that consciousness will be killed. At least now Tom and B'Elanna will have a chance to experience a life together instead of spending from now to eternity dead. I think if you ask them, you'll find they'd rather have this chance at sharing their individual lives, even if it is only for a short span of time compared to eternity, then sharing their consciousness with the entire Borg Collective."
Seven considered this, finally saying, "Perhaps I will ask them tomorrow at breakfast. Since you asked me how I 'feel,' I will tell you I feel satisfied I will have the opportunity to ask Lieutenants Paris and Torres any questions at all. A few days ago, that would have been impossible. Is that answer sufficient?"
"It is, Seven."
"And you, Ensign? How do you . . . feel . . . about having your friends back?"
"I'm ecstatic!" He was about to go on, but her face changed again. To his eyes, now attuned to Seven's slightest mood, he could perceive the tiny drooping of her mouth at the corners. Her eyes slipped away from meeting his again to stare distantly at the stars over his shoulder. Altering the course of their conversation, he added, "And I feel grateful to you for bringing my friends back to me. I'd hoped you'd be happy about it, too, but I can see you're not. Seven, please, tell me what's bothering you. Can I help?"
She was quiet. Harry tried once again, as he had on so many occasions, to probe inside that beautiful head of hers, to read what was going on within her incredibly complex, technologically augmented brain. He was about to give up and change the subject to some innocuous topic when she said hollowly, "You will be spending much time with them again. They are your best friends."
A warm feeling rolled through Harry from his toes to his head. His right hand strayed to her left, Borg-enhanced hand. Slowly his thumb stroked the visible part of the network of Borg circuitry that was an integral part of her. A very precious part, Harry thought, because she helped bring my friends back. And because it is part of her, as much as any human cell is. A slow smile widened his mouth as he looked deeply into the soul she had just unknowingly revealed to him.
"Yes, they've been my best friends. But I think they're each other's best friends now. I think I need to look for a new best friend for myself, Seven. Got any ideas about who might suit me?"
Her right, human eyebrow arched very much like Harry had seen her mentor Tuvok do a thousand times as she replied, "I will review the crew manifest with you for candidates, if you wish. What are the search parameters?"
"Oh, how about tall, blonde, intelligent, independent. Spent her childhood with this race that likes to assimilate people. I don't really want to be assimilated by all of them, of course. But a two person Collective sounds about right."
"You wish to be One of Two?"
"Or Two of Two. I'm not fussy."
For the first time, but fortunately, not the last, Harry Kim saw a smile - yes, an actual smile - on Seven of Nine's face. And he smiled back at her.
Burying her head into the shoulder of Tom's robe, B'Elanna sighed contentedly. "This is nice. We should have done this long ago."
"Absolutely. It's not as if I hadn't been trying, you know."
"I know. I was just playing hard to get. Payback for your being so noble in the gallicite mines."
"No noble act ever goes unpunished."
"True. Say, has that wine breathed enough yet for at least a taste?"
"What's your hurry?"
"No hurry, exactly. I know we've got all night." She nipped his cheek playfully, "But I was wondering whether the wine tasted as good as your lips."
His eyes twinkled as he picked up a glass and splashed in a small sample from the open bottle in front of him. "In that case, let me see. Good color. Nice bouquet." Waving the glass beneath his nose, Tom took a small sip and squished it audibly around his mouth, drawing a laugh out of the woman cuddled next to him on his couch. "Mmm. Excellent choice, if I do say so myself. Want a sample?"
Accepting his offering, she sipped a bit. "Umm. Very nice. Now let me do the comparison test." She leaned into his body and kissed him deeply. "Yes. Very nice. It's even better when it's on your lips. I thought so."
He laughed and then said in a low, seductive voice, "You can drink it from my lips all night if that's your pleasure, but I'll get you a glass of your own if you want one."
"You're too good to me."
A noncommittal grunt issued from his throat, but he obligingly poured her some of the golden liquid before pushing himself back into the cushions of his sofa. They both took a few sips of the wine in silent contemplation before Tom remarked, "It seems so strange to think about being dead and buried for three months - not to mention having all those microscopic Borg machines running around in our veins, doesn't it? I keep waiting for some kind of hardware to sprout out of my nose or something."
"That actually happened while we were gone, you know." They had avoided discussing their feelings about being dead before. "Gone" was as graphic as either of them had gotten, although neither had realized their circumspection with one another until now.
"Hardware sprouted out of my nose?"
"No, from Seven's hand . . . Oh, okay, you got me. Walked right into that one, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you did."
"I guess if we had a coordinated set of hardware, it wouldn't be so bad," she slipped her hand down to tease the tie of his robe open. He smiled in response.
"Um hmm. Well, I don't care about a few implants as long as I didn't get hooked into the Collective permanently. I prefer being able to reproduce the old fashioned way, thank you very much. Although if it means we'd still be able to make love as spectacularly as we just did, even though we were dead yesterday, I guess I wouldn't mind."
"Is making love all that's ever on your mind, Tom Paris?" she asked him.
"No, but whenever you're here with me like this, it's going to come up fairly often, I do believe." He pressed his lips into her hair as she pulled his robe a bit farther open, a little further down his body.
"I certainly hope so," she said, smirking at his double entendre and enjoying the feel of his hand as it stroked down her back. Her fingers glided down his fuzzy chest, coming to rest upon his belly just above the navel.
He chuckled; but then, for a moment, his voice turned husky and serious. "You know what I said out there? About how I was glad that the last thing I would ever see is you?"
"Yes," she replied, just as seriously.
"I still hope that's the way I'm going to go, when I have to go." He sighed, then tightened his arms around her. "I just hope it won't be for a very long time."
"Me too, Tom." She kissed him gently, before adding, "And as bad as the Day of Honor always seems to go for me, I hope I'm going to see a whole lot more of them, together with you."
"I'll do my best to have them go better for you from now on."
B'Elanna snuggled more closely into his arms. Their embrace was close, intensified by the feel of their bodies exposed to the touch of two pairs of roaming hands. His long fingers gently traced the side of her face. Responding to his caress, B'Elanna bent her head back and bared her throat to his exploring lips.
They kissed again, knowing where it would lead, happily following the path they had chosen - celebrating life, which was more precious today than it had ever been for either of them before, for so many reasons.
A vast field of stars glistened through the viewport of Tom's quarters, faintly illuminating the pair twisting on the sofa. The clear viewport blockaded them away from the cold, inhospitable vacuum of space. Tom and B'Elanna, protected inside the shell of Voyager, breathed deeply of the ship's friendly atmosphere as they enjoyed the sensuous feel of her skin sliding across his in loving, intimate contact.
And infinite Space stayed outside, where it belonged.
=/\= The End =/\=
July, 1998
Author's Notes:
Much of the dialogue at the beginning of the story between Tom and B'Elanna is taken from the script, "Day of Honor," by Jeri Taylor. Some other dialogue appeared in other episodes, including "Revulsion" by Lisa Klink; "Scientific Method," also by Lisa Klink, with a story by Sherry Klein and Harry Doc Kloor; "Mortal Coil" by Bryan Fuller, and "Waking Moments" by Andre Bormanis. The same characters don't always deliver the lines, though, or if they do, it may not be in the same context.
The characters all belong to Paramount and to Viacom, as do some of the story elements and the lines quoted from episodes. I just played around with them a bit. No disrespect or claims for ownership for these elements is being made. I admit only to having a too-active imagination and a word processing computer to let others in on my fantasies. Proceed at your own risk.