Notes: AU. Also, complete and total mush.

Disclaimer: This story is all your fault, Paramount!

When It's Okay

B'Elanna,

I'm sorry that I had to go. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you what was really going on, but I couldn't. Please understand. I'm so sorry. Look, here's the thing. I guess now you already know why I actually had to go, and so it won't hurt if I say anything in here, and you're not getting this message unless I'm… well… Here goes… since the day I met you, B'Elanna, all I wanted—more than anything—was to figure you out. I knew that you were tough, but I knew that somewhere underneath that skin, there was a soft woman.

It's funny. That of all the people on this ship that I could've sent a message to, that I chose only you. I just needed you to know that with you, I feel some sort of… connection to you. Something that I don't feel with anyone else. And I wish… I wish that I could've worked up the nerve to tell you these things before I was going to die.

I know that you won't be there when I leave, and I know that you probably won't even notice when I'm gone. I've never been very good at good-byes, but I guess that this is it.

Goodbye, B'Elanna.

Tears welled in her eyes as she sat, listening to Tom's message in her quarters. At first, she was sad. How could he think that this was fair? And then, she was angry. How dare he! Before she even knew what she was doing, B'Elanna was out of her quarters, walking towards Tom Paris's current location. She didn't even care if he was alone—he was about to hear her side of this.

She wasn't in her uniform—all that covered her was her undergarments and a thin, silk, robe, pulled tight around her waist. She was barefoot, and her hair was still a bit damp from the sonic shower she'd taken earlier in the day. But she didn't care.

Outside the holodeck doors, B'Elanna stopped. "Computer, is Tom Paris alone in the holodeck?"

"Affirmative," the computer chimed.

She took a deep breath. This wave of hesitation was not something that she'd anticipated. She wanted to scream at him for being so stupid. She wanted to yell, to hit him for daring to say those things about her. She wanted to tell him things about himself that no one but her would ever assume. But, most of all, she wanted to tell him that she felt the same way. Furiously, B'Elanna scowled and said, "Computer, open holodeck doors."

The doors opened in front of her to reveal a dimly lit cavern. She'd recognize this place anywhere. Sandrine's. How typical of Tom Paris. Running away only to get drunk. The coward.

B'Elanna stepped inside, already wishing that she had had the brains to stay in her quarters. "Tom!" she called out. No answer. She tried again. Still silence.

B'Elanna squinted. Where was he?

As she ventured farther into the well-crafted holodeck program, a soft sound began to tickle her ears. It was the kind of sound that would make one fall asleep if one was not careful—the kind that one would use to soothe a baby. It was a song—a carefully composed and keyed masterpiece without a flaw to it. It was sweet, and it made B'Elanna keep walking, even though she did not want to. The scent of alcohol had been erased from the air, and this fact alone surprised B'Elanna.

It was so unlike Tom not to try to drink his worries away. And quite suddenly, she stopped as she saw him, sitting at the bar, hunched over a glass of clear liquid—presumably water. He looked exhausted, as he'd been helping with the seemingly endless repairs to the ship, and on top of that, repairing his relationships with almost all of the crew. Issuing a public apology had helped a little, but a lot of people were still having a bit of a hard time coming to terms with what had happened. For the last almost 24 hours now, Tom had been busy issuing personal apologies to everyone as opposed to public. Everyone, that is, except her.

What did he want her to do with this new information?

What did he want her to say to him?

"B'Elanna?"

Her eyes snapped up, and she suddenly realized that he'd been watching her. She opened her mouth to speak, to yell, to do all the things that she had planned in her head, but no sound came out. On his face was his signature smirk, a playful smile with her. One that was not meant to hurt her in any way. Then he spoke again. "Need something?"

She just looked at him, her throat no longer cooperating with her will to speak. Her lungs and heart, too, were betraying her will to talk to him. She stood there motionless for a few more moments, and after only a few seconds, his smirk melted away into a face of fond concern. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked as he rose from his stool at the bar and moved toward her, placing both of his strong hands on her shoulders and studying her eyes as if they were the last thing he was going to see.

And then, as if they suddenly wanted to, her lips began to move and form words that even she did not know. "I… I got you message."

Tom's face fell as he looked at her, and he abruptly removed his hands from her, and folded his arms over his chest. "I'm so sorry," he rushed to explain. "You weren't supposed to see that unless I was…"

"Unless you were dead?!" she accused, her eyes moving around the smoke-filled bar and meeting any surface except Tom's face. "How… how was that fair at all?! Do you really think that I'm so… so heartless that it wouldn't even matter to me if you were dead?!"

He shook his head sadly. "No, B'Elanna—"

"No?!" she cut him off. "You're such a pig, Tom Paris! How could you possibly think that I mean more to you than you do to me? You… you were just going to… to die and then let me hear that message? What was I supposed to do with that?"

"I…" he began, becoming visibly agitated with her. "I don't know, B'Elanna. I'm sorry. I should've remembered to delete the message. You never should have had to hear it."

She sniffed, feeling her eyes beginning to heat up from the tears jailed within them. "I'm glad I got it. I like to know where I stand with everyone."

Tom shifted on his feet, eyeing her with a mixture of confusion and sorrow. It was off-putting to see the pilot in such a vulnerable state, when she was so used to seeing only the self-loving, confident side of him. The side of him that he showed to everyone else. The side of him that, when she'd first seen it, she'd called a pig. An egotistical pig. That's still what he was.

"B'Elanna, I've never tried to confuse you about where we stand with each other. I think that I've tried to be clear about that." He had moved again, this time taking one of her hands lightly in his own fingers. The gentle touch sent chills down her spine, and she didn't know at all what to make of this feeling. Why did he always do this to her? What was it about him that made her strong, mean, tough, Klingon exterior crumble like dust? It made no sense to her.

Who was he to make her feel these things that she'd never felt before? He was so different than everyone else. No one else would put up with her Klingon side. Even Harry, who she'd known for what felt like forever, who was the friend who she'd trust with her life, did not put up with that side of her. He would shy away, knowing that he was no match. But Tom? He knew that he was no match for her, but that didn't stop him. He put up with her. He was never intimidated by her. He was never swayed by her. He was… so nice to her, just because no one else was. And that scared her, much more than she cared to admit.

"B'Elanna?"

She looked back at him, still as confused as ever. There was softness in his icy blue eyes, a gentleness that made her want to get away from him, and at the same time, that same gentleness was so inviting. Offering a comfort that she craved to the core of her being. "Hmm?" the small noise came out as squeak and did not sound at all like her own voice.

"Are you okay?" he asked, that same stupid tenderness in his voice that made her feel so safe in his arms.

A laugh with no humor intended issued from her mouth. "Okay? No, Tom, I'm not okay! You—" she yanked her hand from his, taking a small step back from him, "—have never been straightforward with me! Not once! Tom, one minute, I'm telling you things that I would never tell anyone else, and letting you help me through something that I would never let anyone near me to help me with, and then the next minute, you're off chasing one of the Delaney's, and I don't even exist!" Her voice had risen to the point that she was almost yelling, but with her next words, her tone dropped so low that he almost couldn't hear them. "Tom, what is it that you want from me?"

He shook his head, licking his lips. "I don't know," he whispered. "You're right, I haven't been straightforward with you, but… B'Elanna, I don't even know what I want from you. It was a stupid careless mistake that I didn't delete the message, and I can only say that I truly didn't mean to hurt you. But you have to understand, B'Elanna, or at least try to. I was afraid."

This made her look up. Afraid? Tom Paris? Those two things never went together, yet here he was, admitting it to her, telling her that he was truly afraid. She swallowed a lump in her throat as he continued. "I was leaving on a mission that I had very little chance of coming back from, and when I was on that ship, and Seska was there, and I knew that I was going to die, the only reason I kept going was never to keep Voyager safe. I could only think of you. Keeping you safe. I just… I knew that as long as you were safe, that I could handle it. I could die, if you were safe."

B'Elanna stood there with her mouth slightly open for a moment, staring at him. Her? She had been his only motivation? She looked frantically for some sign—any sign—that he was not telling the whole truth, but to her great shock, she found none. How was it that he was telling the truth? How could her really care for her in such a way?

At that moment, her emotions turned her over to the enemy, and a hot tear fell down her cheek and down the side of her face and fell to its demise on the sleeve of her robe. She suddenly found that she felt very exposed, wearing nothing but her underclothes and a thin, silk robe. Tom somehow sensed her conflicting emotions, and, without asking her permission nor fearing the consequence should he stir some sort of wrath in her, closed the small amount of distance between them, and wrapped his strong arms around her body, pulling her into him. She rested her cheek on his chest, allowing a single and last tear more to fall.

When she thought that she could do nothing else, she snaked her arms around his neck, moving to place her tiny chin on his shoulder. They stayed that way for a long time, and neither one of them made any move to loosen the embrace. It seemed to B'Elanna that she could stay this way for forever. In his arms, she felt so safe. So… loved. Ah, ah, ah, her mind seemed to chastise her. You may feel safe, but are you really? He might tell you that he never wanted to hurt you, but what if you take him up on that, and he still does? What if he's like your father, and he leaves you? Risk the body before the heart, B'Elanna.

She swallowed, finally pulling back from him a little, but he still insisted that she stay close to him with one hand on her back and the other on her shoulder. Her stomach was pressed against his. It was so unlike Tom to be so… so serious. He'd always hidden behind one mask or another. Always had way to safely abandon ship. But what if did that with her? Always had a way to get away?

"Tom," she whispered. But that was as far as she got before she stopped and looked into his eyes. Blue eyes met brown—the chill of winter snow, and the fire of battle, fighting to see which one would win. Neither spoke, and as she stared into his soul, she suddenly realized that he was never going to hurt her like everyone else. He meant it. He really meant what he'd said. She didn't have to just settle for feeling safe with him. No, with Tom, she could be safe.

Slowly, the scene before them dissolved as their lips moved closer and closer together, their eyes still locked on each other's. It was sweet, sweet bliss as he finally kissed her, so tenderly that he could have swept any woman off of her feet and into oblivion.

But she pulled away. "Tom," she murmured, her forehead leaning against his. "Why me? Why would someone like you, who can have anyone they want, want someone like me?"

Tom's eyebrows drew kindly together, and he took his hand off her shoulder to caress her jawbone as he said, "Don't ever say that B'Elanna. You're so, beautiful, and so endlessly complex, and you're the smartest woman I've ever met, and you don't even know that. Do you know how that breaks my heart?"

She began to protest, feeling another tear threaten to fall. "Tom—"

"Please, just let me prove it to you," he pleaded her, the tip of his nose brushing hers.

She swallowed and sighed shakily, tightening her grip with her hand, which had moved unconsciously to the wrist of the fingers which were now on her face. "I…"

But he stopped her with another kiss, and she was lost. The way that he was kissing her was so tender, so understanding, loving, caring, sorry, reassuring, promising, and sweet. He wasn't making up anything, telling her that he was going to stick with her. But then again, her head whispered to her, this is the way it was with your father, and he didn't keep his promise, did he? Do you really want to risk this?

She pulled away once more, and he looked at her. "Tom," she whispered. I can't do this. Not just with you, not with anyone. Body before heart, body before heart… "I don't…" she wasn't sure what to say to him. The last thing that she wanted to do was hurt him, but she was still so afraid…

He moved his thumb running it lightly over her lips, and the motion sent fire through her veins like no one had sent fire through them before. "It's okay, B'Elanna."

It was okay. Those words had so much meaning. He meant that it was okay to take a risk. A risk of the heart. He also meant that it was okay if she wasn't ready to do that yet. And he wasn't mad at her. He wouldn't get angry about her decision, and he was leaving the option totally open and up to her.

It was okay.

She nodded and leaned in to kiss him again.