A/N - *drumroll*

Chapter 20

Problems with Tension

"What's your problem today, Lana?" Tom prodded at lunch.

B'Elanna considered dismembering him. "It's called a hangover."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I have a hangover. You've got a problem."

Wishing the subject of her thoughts was there instead of Tom, B'Elanna abruptly wondered why her lunches never seemed to line up with Seras'. After all, she did the scheduling around engineering. She really did try to play favorites sometimes, but the universe refused to cooperate.

"Did you do something stupid while you were drunk?"

"No." Not exactly.

"Did she?"

Why did he have to be so perceptive today? B'Elanna gave up trying to stick her forkful of veggies in her mouth. "She who?"

He didn't respond.

"Thomas Eugene Paris, if you don't stop with the crap, I'm going to rearrange your appendages." She threatened.

"You're always violent when you're defensive. I struck a nerve, didn't I?"

"You're an ass. Go back to bed and sleep it off." She countered.

The wall of her quarters didn't yield any more answers than the inside of her eyelids, the bottom of a glass, nor the passing stars. Seras was avoiding her, and B'Elanna didn't understand why. Yes, they'd woken up tangled in her bed, but it certainly wasn't the first time. It was the first time that Seras had been almost naked, but B'Elanna had been perfectly polite about it. She'd apologized about the drool. She had even conquered her arousal at waking up in that position! Both remembered that nothing unusual had happened the night before. And Seras had left her quarters saying that she didn't feel weirded out about the situation. That was eight days ago.

Sucking up her pride, she called Tom and asked for his opinion. His suggestion was that they go to the holodeck and play a few rounds of pool at Sandrines, the bar program that usually ran this time of evening. There would be a lot of crew there, blowing off steam. The noise of the bar would keep their conversation from being too public.

Tom nodded at her when she showed up. "I've got 'em racked. You can break first."

Picking up a cue stick, B'Elanna sized up her opponent. He looked tired. Not the physical kind of tired. Emotionally. She bent over and lined up her shot. "You okay, Tom?"

The balls cracked together and bounced off the bumpers of the table. Two striped balls dropped into pockets. B'Elanna picked her next target.

"No."

She didn't get any in, and Tom hadn't elaborated. She frowned. "You going to explain?"

He also failed to drop a ball. When he straightened, he sighed. "I'm jealous."

"Of what?" He wasn't still in love with her, was he?"

"My best friends all have someone to moon over and chase. I've eaten dinner by myself more often than not for the past month."

"Seras and I had t-"

"You're totally in denial." He cut in.

Anger rumbling in her chest, she changed the topic. "Who is Harry eating with?"

"Seven."

She blinked in surprise. "The drone?"

"If I don't tell you to stop calling her that, Harry will be mad at me."

"Why should I?"

"It's demeaning. She's not a drone anymore."

"Her emotional capacity remains a drone's." B'Elanna argued.

"Seras would disagree." He looked her right in the eye. "Maybe I should get her to tell you to stop."

Shrugging carelessly, aggressively, B'Elanna snorted. "She'd have to stop avoiding me first."

"That's what your problem's been. What happened between you? Did you finally kiss her?" He leaned on his cue stick.

"No, I didn't kiss her!"

A thoughtful purse of his lips. "She didn't reject you, did she?"

Taking a threatening step forward, she hissed. "Why are you obsessed with this fantasy of me and Seras?"

He didn't retreat. "Because everyone will talk about it but you."

Seras has shown herself to be deferential to your emotional needs.

It was her turn she noticed. She was too distracted and scratched her shot. Glaring at the the table, she breathed out. "She's never shown any indication that she's attracted to me."

"Then you haven't been paying attention." A moment, and his voice softened. "Or you've been too afraid to let yourself see it."

Twin lines were cooling on her face. Irritably, she wiped them away.

"Computer, locate Ensign Seras." Tom requested.

"Ensign Seras is in cargo bay one."

Tom looked at her, his eyes full of challenge.

In the cargo bay, Seras was juggling weighted balls that B'Elanna had helped her replicate. At B'Elanna's appearance, her shifted attention had a lump falling on her head. She hissed.

"Why are you avoiding me?" Calmly, softly, B'Elanna asked.

"You're as blunt at Seven sometimes, you know that?" Seras complained.

Her nerves grated. "I've got a lot more tact than that drone."

"She's not a drone. You shouldn't call her one."

"Maybe I should get her to tell you to stop." Tom's voice echoed in her skull. He could see it, the way that B'Elanna would bend over backwards to accommodate Seras. The way B'Elanna wanted more than friendship with her. "Fine. I'll stop."

Seras gave her a little grin. "Thanks."

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

The grin vanished. "You're as persistent as her too. I get why you two don't get along."

"You're still as evasive as a Ferengi."

"I like these Ferengi more every time you talk about them. Eventually, I'm going to have to do some research on them myself." She hummed.

B'Elanna was tempted to leave. She wanted a fight more. "What do I have to do to get an answer out of you? Break something?"

"I'm conflicted," was the completely useless response.

"About what?"

"Our friendship." Seras finally gave a definite detail.

Her strained patience was about to hit the breaking point. "What about it?"

"It's changed. It has to change."

"Dammit, Seras. Stop talking in circles and give me a real answer! Show me what's inside your head!" There it was, her Klingon anger had reached its boiling point. Her blood was on fire. It was time to fight or flee.

"I want to show you, but I don't how, or if I even should!" Seras vented.

Charged silence and tension followed. Seras mimicked her usual physical manifestation of frustration and started pacing. She waited for more, but like Tom had been, Seras wasn't elaborating. It was killing her, this, this... whatever it was.

"What do you want from me?!" B'Elanna shouted, tears pooling in her eyes. "Show me already!"

Seras stilled her pacing and focused directly on her. The fire in her gaze sent trembles racing down B'Elanna's spine. Spikes of heat blossomed in her middle at every stalking footstep Seras made toward her. A visible arc of energy sizzled, and Seras' body language was broadcasting battle, yet B'Elanna simply stood her ground, instead of sinking into a defensive crouch, waiting for the other to make her move.

As the space disappeared between them, B'Elanna registered a vulnerability in Seras' eyes that she hadn't seen before. Mere centimeters separated them now, and the half-Klingon also realized that Seras' body language was not signaling aggression at all. It was fear, and determination to overcome it. What was the woman afraid of? Not, B'Elanna swallowed, not her, was it?

"Are you positive that you want me to show you what I want?" Seras was so close, B'Elanna could feel her heat. Her breath moved the fine hairs standing at attention.

B'Elanna shivered, nodded. Her reply was breathless, "Yes."

Seras' eyes flicked down and back. "As you want."

One of her hands moved, slowly, but with purpose. It lifted to B'Elanna's face, curled into a white-knuckled fist, and quivered. B'Elanna closed her eyes and felt the hot tears run down her cheeks, expecting violence. They flew back open at the soft touch of fingers on her skull ridges, tracing the lines until they sank into her hair. She leaned into the touch, and it cradled her. A thumb traced her cheek, wiping away a tear. The same moistness reflected in Seras' eyes.

The woman was shaking.

"Seras?" Her own fears easily forgotten, she worried for Seras. Her voice seemed to set off something inside Seras, because her trembling finished. Seras blinked, and the tears fell, seeming to take the fear with them. She inhaled sharply and snapped forward, lips first.

A sizzle of energy flashed from their lips, igniting B'Elanna's entire body. On top of the static electricity, she recognized the primal reaction of arousal. But the way Seras was yet holding her cheek, how her other hand was wrapping itself around her waist, her lips were massaging her own, cooled the urge to bite. It stroked an entirely different flame inside her, one that wanted to pull Seras close and never let go. B'Elanna kissed back, tasting salt and lips and Seras. Time fell away from them. All there was, was each other.

"Engineering to Lt. Torres."

"Mmph."

"Chief?"

Breath and mental focus were too difficult to regain. It was much easier and more pleasant to lose herself to the scorching feel of the body and lips sliding along her own.

"Chief? There's an emergency down here. We need you." Lt. Carey's voice finally broke through the haze, forced B'Elanna to respond to responsibility instead of her racing pulse and Seras' pungent arousal.

"Acknowledged," was all she could manage.

Even though her Klingon genes dominated her human side, it didn't mean that she always wanted it rough, needed violence in the bedroom. Tom had thought she was joking when she once suggested they try it gentle. He was too predisposed to the stereotype, and she was too scared of appearing vulnerable to push the matter. This human woman from the past had no preconceptions about Klingons and didn't give a damn about what the others thought of her. B'Elanna couldn't remember a time when she had ever been kissed with that much passion that didn't involve teeth or nails or crashing body parts.

She touched her lips.

Hastily, she made an appointment with the captain. She needed to talk, and Harry or Tom or Seras were out of the question.

"Captain, I could use your advice." B'Elanna fidgeted.

Janeway sipped from her coffee. "Of course, B'Elanna. What is it?"

She started to pace, wringing her hands. The captain raised her brow and leaned into her seat, preparing herself for a long wait. With enough coffee, she could wait a long time if needed.

B'Elanna stopped and looked at the floor. "Do you..."

Her pacing continued.

She stopped. "What..."

Pacing.

Stop. "I don't..."

Pacing.

Stop. She growled in frustration.

Janeway willed her eyes not to roll and instead enjoyed her steaming coffee. She watched B'Elanna pace and fret for an entire cup. At that point, she made a decision. She ordered another cup, sat back down, and gave her chief engineer another five minutes. "B'Elanna."

"Captain, I'm sorry. It's... I can't..."

"I can see that whatever is bothering you is very difficult. Let me help. Is this a professional matter, something to do with Voyager or a danger to this crew?" Janeway simplified.

"No."

"Is this a matter you should be discussing with the Doctor? You aren't getting out of any physicals."

"No, captain. Nothing like that."

Janeway felt a class four headache forming. "Then it's a personal matter."

"Yes." At least the younger woman had stopped her incessant pacing.

"Did Seven make adjustments without your permission again?"

B'Elanna's eyes narrowed. "Not that I know of."

A grin fought to settle on Janeway's lips. Those two were like children on a playground. She swore that sometimes Seven did it on purpose, to get a rise out of B'Elanna. Seven clearly respected the chief engineer, her ability to do her job and get the best out of Voyager. And she had also admitted to Janeway that she enjoyed working with B'Elanna. The former Borg was a grown woman, but her social abilities generally reflected a child's. She needed a lot of tutoring and patience in the fine art of friendships. Janeway sipped her coffee to cover her lapse in attention.

"Harry?"

B'Elanna's 'no' was soft.

Janeway helped herself to a bracing sip and deep breath. "Tom?"

Tension radiated from B'Elanna, yet she shook her head. "No."

At a sudden loss, Janeway set her coffee down. "B'Elanna, wh-" She remembered something she had heard whispered in the mess hall. "Is the crew hassling Seras again?"

B'Elanna's eyes whipped up from their perusal of her hands. "Not exactly. It's not as bad as what Seven had to go through. She has the hearts of the senior staff." Her voice shifted dangerously. "Some of the lower ranks are just irritated to have another non-Starfleet suddenly at a higher position of responsibility and trust than them."

Janeway knew that Seven was extremely protective of Seras. Chakotay had finally been convinced of her being worthy of the crew when she'd regained her memories. Tom and Harry had taken to the woman with gusto, immediately dragging her into their Captain Proton games. Tuvok respected her. The Doctor had trouble getting her to sit in sickbay for any length, but reported that she was becoming more patient with him. She smirked a bit at her play on words. Neelix adored her, despite the woman's tendency to mimic Tom's dislike of the food. Janeway herself thought highly of the young woman, otherwise she never would have considered making her an ensign. And B'Elanna spent a lot of time with her, even away from teaching, experiments with energy flows, and the warp core. If Seras wasn't with Tom, she was with B'Elanna.

"Are Tom and Seras," That didn't feel like the right way to ask that question. "Do you still have feelings for Tom?"

"That's not," B'Elanna ran a hand through her hair.

"Jealousy is difficult to handle." Janeway hated these inter-personal matters; her role was her crew's captain. She tried her best to avoid getting involved. Professional disputes were okay to land on her desk, but matters of the heart were Neelix's arena. That's part of why she had originally allowed him to stay aboard. He enjoyed becoming involved in the crew's interpersonal drama, which kept her out of it. She reached for her coffee.

"Yes, I'm sometimes jealous of their time together, but that's not," a groan spewed out of her. "Captain, she kissed me!"

Janeway choked on her coffee.

"It was gentle and sweet and tender and nothing like anything else I've ever experienced. There wasn't an ounce of violence in it," B'Elanna's voice peaked and dropped. "But the passion that came through it was anything but calm. It raged like an antimatter reaction! And I liked it, captain. I liked it, my Klingon side liked it, my human side liked it, and I want it to happen again."

B'Elanna stood trembling like a cadet at her first zero-gravity test. Tears flooded the usually strong woman's eyes. Janeway felt her maternal side take over and held her arms open. "Come here, B'Elanna."

As the troubled engineer dropped into her arms, she allowed herself to recognize how many of her crew saw her as a maternal figure. And they were the children she would never have with Mark. Her own personal heartache that she had only talked about with Tuvok and Chakotay. She felt her eyes going hot being reminded of how he had moved on when Voyager was thought destroyed, found love and a future with another woman. Being lonely was a battle she was very familiar with, knew every one of her crew struggled against it at some point. Whenever one of them found a way to fight back, to conquer it, she cheered them on.

"Captain, is it," B'Elanna sniffed, but made no move to exit the embrace. "I don't understand."

Janeway chuckled softly. "The heart is the least understood aspect of humanity. Just ask the Vulcans."

"I'm not human, captain."

"Nor are you Klingon." Janeway replied. "You're B'Elanna Torres."

A hum of some sort came from the half-human.

"The sentiment still applies. You don't have to understand a good thing to be able to enjoy it."

The Doctor leapt up from his chair and whooped in uncharacteristic enthusiasm. He caught himself immediately, glad that sickbay was empty. The grin on his face didn't fade a micron though. Not only had his hypothesis about the unfortunate combination of Levodian Flu, exhaustion, and lingering effects from a mild neurotoxin that had been present in the food cubes being the cause of Seras' trouble handling energy, but his treatment was successful. Simulations and trials with live cultures of Seras' brain and neural tissue had confirmed it. He could cure her!

RED ALERT. ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS. The klaxon rang, and the Doctor sighed.