Title: Counterpoint and Beyond: Captain's Log Continues
Author: PJ in NH
Series: VOY
Codes: J, P/T
Rating: R
Synopsis:
AU account of the Captain's personal log of events following
Counterpoint through Gravity explaining how desperately she
yearns to be in B'Elanna's place. (Wouldn't we all?)
Follows my story: Thirty Days--Captain's Log, which can be found
at: http://unix.worldpath.net/~kelhapam/30days.htm.
Email: kelhapam@lr.net
Posting: OK to ASC, ASCEM, & BLTS. Please notify me if you
post anywhere else.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Voyager and its characters. I've
only borrowed the characters to satisfy my own creative
urges. Archiving is okay, just e-mail me. Please keep
disclaimer and my name attached.
Recognition of Appreciation: Many thanks to Patti Heyes, Jamelia,
Ann Harding, and Phyllis Sutherland for betaing/proofing this
story for me.
Counterpoint and Beyond: Captain's Log Continues
by PJ in NH
7/99
Captain's Personal Log
Even after Tom's incarceration in the brig for thirty days, I
still held out hope. Hope, that I could convince him that it was
me he wanted and not *her*. I tried by keeping them apart. I
began by placing them on different shifts, thus minimizing their
time together. Then I made sure that Tom would happen to run
into me--in the mess hall, the holodeck, or any number of other
places on the ship. It was easy for me, as the captain, to
arrange these chance meetings, but alas it accomplished nothing.
I had it on good authority that they were still seeing each
other; in fact it was rumored that he seldom slept in his own
quarters, at least not alone.
When Kashyk started making inspections of my ship, I tried to
convince myself that my yearning for Tom Paris was a waste of
time. I told myself that if he didn't want me and I should just
simply take advantage of the opportunity that Kashyk offered.
Kashyk was after all, even for an alien, a handsome man, and he
seemed to share my love for music. So I tried to become
interested in him, tried to convince myself that it was him that
I wanted and not Tom Paris. What a fool I was! He could never be
Tom Paris. Never. I've been spoiled. It is either Tom or
nothing. I would settle for nothing less--a captain shouldn't
have to.
Selfishly, I continued keeping Tom and B'Elanna on separate
shifts. When Chakotay asked me for the reasons behind my
request, I said just two words: "Captain's prerogative." Being a
good first officer, he didn't question me any further. He just
nodded and resumed his work.
It was about then that I noticed, though I can't for the life of
me figure out why I hadn't noticed it before, that Tom had
stopped saying 'Yes, ma'am' to me. It was as if he had decided
that to say those words bespoke of a closeness that he no longer
felt towards me. From the expressions on the faces of the bridge
crew, Tuvok included, I could tell that they had noticed this
change as well.
Fine. If Tom wanted to play these games, then so could I.
Unexpectedly before I could act, there was an incident with the
Doctor which had to be taken care of. Many months ago, at Paris'
urging, the EMH had to decide between two crewmembers--one to
die, the other to live. He chose Harry Kim, while Ensign Jetal
died from her injuries. It was a situation that almost destroyed
him before I ordered that his memory of that incident be erased
from his files.
I was on my way to the holodeck to sit with the ship's troubled
doctor, when I happened to catch Tom and B'Elanna exiting one of
the turbolifts. Their clothes were in disarray and their hair
was ruffled--not their usual tidy appearance. Seeing me, they
both came to a halt. I questioned their actions, telling them
that kind of activity would not be tolerated on my ship. I
informed B'Elanna that if it were to happen again, she *and* Tom,
would be occupying cells in the brig--separate cells. They
acknowledged their wrongdoing and looked duly chastened.
B'Elanna headed to her cabin, and Tom to the bridge. I couldn't
really blame them for their actions, or should I say *her*?
Being trapped in a turbolift with Tom had been a dream that had
been visiting me in my sleep for months...no, make that years,
ever since I met him in New Zealand. How could I blame B'Elanna
or any other female, and to be honest even some males on the
ship, for wanting what I had wanted for such a long time?
Soon after, I sat with the EMH on the holodeck while he tried to
resolve what had happened to him. Reading a book of poetry, and
trying to avoid all the pieces of poetry that reminded my of my
blue-eyed god, my emotions started to seep through my Starfleet-
trained exterior. To feel his arms around me was my desire,
never to feel them would be a terrible waste. To feel his lips
pressed against my own was my paradise; never to experience that
intimacy my hell. I was just on the verge of losing my composure
when the good Doctor noticed my discomfort. He felt my forehead
and deemed that I felt warm--he deduced that I was ill--he was
right. I was love sick. The Doctor demanded that I go to
Sickbay and that Mr. Paris treat me. The very thought made me
flush with excitement. I resisted a bit for show, and the Doctor
pleaded. So I left, and for a change, followed the good EMH's
instructions to the letter.
Tom was a bit surprised to find I was his patient that evening.
I'm sure that he expected to find someone else, anyone but his
Captain waiting for him. It was only due to willpower and an
ounce of self-respect that I hadn't already removed my uniform.
That I wasn't perched on the biobed, with just an examination
sheet wrapped around me. It was as if he could almost read my
mind and knew of my intentions. He acted very professionally --
too professionally. The only time that my flesh met his was when
I shifted deliberately on the bed, forcing him to brush up
against me. One time I struck the bulls-eye, when I moved to the
left and he to the right, his elbow made contact with my right
breast. For a moment, I was in heaven--one of my goals had been
achieved; though only a minor one, but one had to accept these
little moments when they happened. My little moment didn't last
long though; from the look on my helmsman's face I could tell
that he hadn't even noticed. He hadn't even detected my
increased heart rate--some nurse he was. Promptly prescribing an
analgesic and bed rest he said I could leave. Bed rest? I don't
need best rest, I wanted to shout. I need you resting in *my*
bed!
With his dismissal, I left feeling every bit like an ensign. I
had too much pride to stay. So taking the analgesic hypospray
that he gave me, I went to my cabin, and took something that
would be even more helpful--a cold shower, but it did no good.
My night was filled with another restless sleep and visions of
Tom Paris stretched out on my briefing room table, clad in
nothing--not even his briefs. But every time he reached for me
to touch me and bring me pleasure, I would awaken.
Then we encountered photonic beings who thought we were not real,
which in turn trapped Voyager in their segment of space like a
insect on flypaper. Again we found that nothing is ever dull in
the Delta Quadrant. I was to find out first hand how unusual
things could get. We met in the ready room to discuss the
situation. While Tom was trying to explain the inside and out of
his holographic character Dr. Chaotica and the world of Captain
Proton, there was more communication between us than there had
been in a long time. When he suggested that I play the part of
Queen Arachnia I pretended to resist looking over my shoulder at
Seven, but I already knew that I would say yes. In my heart, I
knew that I would have done anything he asked of me. Tom was
back, and smiling at me. How could I have refused him anything
at that moment?
It was a role of a lifetime, Tom said. Me, Queen of the Spider
People...well you take what you are offered, and I played it for
all I was worth. Not only for the good of the ship, but for Tom
Paris as well. I almost cried when Chaotica *died*. I didn't
want this holoprogram to end. The question mark on Dr.
Chaotica's imagizer gave me hope that Dr. Chaotica would live
again, and hope that Mr. Paris would include me in some future
adventures. A sequel of say: "Queen Arachnia and the Capture of
Captain Proton" would be certain help to display my theatrical
talents. Well, I can hope.
I can also dream. For the next several nights, my dreams were
permeated with visions of Captain Proton stretched out on my
torture table while I seduced him with my pheromones and my
charms. In my dreams, he succumbed to my ministrations and
pleasured me beyond belief.
Another particularly vivid dream woke me much too early one
morning. It felt so real that I couldn't go back to sleep, so I
opted for a cold shower instead--an all too frequent occurrence
of late. If it kept up, I'd be an icicle. As it was, it was the
only way I could function in the morning without actually jumping
my hunk-of-the-helm. What's gotten into me? Normally I wouldn't
express myself in such a fashion, but I haven't been myself
lately. I've been...obsessed.
After toweling off, I donned my uniform and headed to the mess
hall for an early breakfast. What I didn't expect to see was my
Chief Pilot and the Chief of Engineering necking in a dark
corner. As it was only 4:15, they had the place to themselves
and didn't notice when I entered. I waited by the door, but they
were too involved in each other to see me or hear me. But I
heard them. She spoke to him of her hopes, her dreams, and how
he had been the one to make her spirits soar to unbelievable
heights. Then Tom told her how her love for him had made him
believe in himself again, made him have hope for the future.
Then he told her that he loved her. Damn him. It was to *me*
that he was supposed to say those words. It was *me* that gave
him the opportunity to pilot a starship again. Not her! That's
it!, I tried to convince myself. Who needed him anyway? But I
already knew the answer--*I* needed him. With hopes of a cup of
coffee forgotten and being too outraged to maintain my dignity, I
left them there.
I devised more ways to keep the pair apart. I scheduled one for
a double shift, while the other worked the remaining shift. Thus
the only time they might actually meet would have been during a
dinner break. I wasn't stupid though, I made sure that if Paris
was on the bridge, that he couldn't get away at the same time
B'Elanna could to have a meal together.
Then I sent him on an away mission with Tuvok, when normally I
would have included an engineer. What use did it serve having a
security officer on the mission, even if he was the Chief
Tactical Officer and a Vulcan? It served me by keeping Tom apart
from B'Elanna. Little did I know at the time, how long that time
apart would be.
The unthinkable happened, Tom and Tuvok disappeared down a
gravity well. I instantly regretted my selfishness. If B'Elanna
had been on the mission, perhaps she could have worked one of her
miracles and saved them...saved *him*. Then when Chakotay came
to me to tell me that not only had they been sucked down that
one-way funnel, but there was also a time differential involved,
I felt not only dismay but a strange sense of hope. Dismay
because I didn't want to lose the blue-eyed pilot of my heart;
and hope because if we could rescue them, then he would have had,
by our calculations, approximately two months to get over his
infatuation with that half-Klingon.
Literally under the gun we rescued them, and to my dismay
immediately after leaving the transporter platform, Tom headed
off to find her. He bypassed me and took the first turbolift to
find B'Elanna. I followed to remind him that he had to go to
sickbay and be examined. Granted I could have contacted him by
his commbadge, but I felt this warranted the personal touch, and
besides I wanted to tell him how much he was missed, if even for
a couple of days by Voyager's time.
Arriving in Engineering just after he did, I saw him greet
B'Elanna. He was obviously overjoyed and rushed up to her and
swept her into his arms. She though, to my relief, didn't show
the same exuberance. Yes, she hugged him but not with the same
passion he displayed. Upon releasing her I could see that he was
disturbed by her lack of emotion, just before he erected the
famous impregnable Paris walls. Now was my chance. Maybe now,
he would notice. Maybe now, he would forget her and come to me.
He almost didn't see me standing there when he walked out of
Engineering. Instructing him to go to sickbay, he turned and
acknowledged me, albeit absently. Perhaps it was too soon to
approach him, I determined, and resolved to wait until that
evening to express my relief at his return to the ship.
So evening came, and I changed out of my uniform and into a
special lounging outfit that I replicated especially for the
occasion. It was made of a soft mint green fabric that clung to
my curves. The dress portion of the outfit fell to just past my
knees over a pair of matching slacks. It looked good on me and I
knew it. Adding a spray of perfume and clipping my hair back
over my left ear with a sparkling barrette, I left to go to Tom's
cabin.
Afterwards, I sat in my cabin having drunk my fourth shot of
bourbon, skipping the ice, reflecting on what had happened. I
hadn't needed to enter the cabin, even from the corridor I could
hear the sexual union that was going on inside. The walls
vibrated with the ardor of their copulation. Hearing the sound
of something heavy impact with the door followed by B'Elanna
throaty demand of: "Take me now!" I left.
Now sitting here recalling what I had heard, I regret not heeding
an old saying. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."
The End.
Email is most welcomed, in fact it is craved. Please send any
comments to: kelhapam@worldpath.net
Author: PJ in NH
Series: VOY
Codes: J, P/T
Rating: R
Synopsis:
AU account of the Captain's personal log of events following
Counterpoint through Gravity explaining how desperately she
yearns to be in B'Elanna's place. (Wouldn't we all?)
Follows my story: Thirty Days--Captain's Log, which can be found
at: http://unix.worldpath.net/~kelhapam/30days.htm.
Email: kelhapam@lr.net
Posting: OK to ASC, ASCEM, & BLTS. Please notify me if you
post anywhere else.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Voyager and its characters. I've
only borrowed the characters to satisfy my own creative
urges. Archiving is okay, just e-mail me. Please keep
disclaimer and my name attached.
Recognition of Appreciation: Many thanks to Patti Heyes, Jamelia,
Ann Harding, and Phyllis Sutherland for betaing/proofing this
story for me.
Counterpoint and Beyond: Captain's Log Continues
by PJ in NH
7/99
Captain's Personal Log
Even after Tom's incarceration in the brig for thirty days, I
still held out hope. Hope, that I could convince him that it was
me he wanted and not *her*. I tried by keeping them apart. I
began by placing them on different shifts, thus minimizing their
time together. Then I made sure that Tom would happen to run
into me--in the mess hall, the holodeck, or any number of other
places on the ship. It was easy for me, as the captain, to
arrange these chance meetings, but alas it accomplished nothing.
I had it on good authority that they were still seeing each
other; in fact it was rumored that he seldom slept in his own
quarters, at least not alone.
When Kashyk started making inspections of my ship, I tried to
convince myself that my yearning for Tom Paris was a waste of
time. I told myself that if he didn't want me and I should just
simply take advantage of the opportunity that Kashyk offered.
Kashyk was after all, even for an alien, a handsome man, and he
seemed to share my love for music. So I tried to become
interested in him, tried to convince myself that it was him that
I wanted and not Tom Paris. What a fool I was! He could never be
Tom Paris. Never. I've been spoiled. It is either Tom or
nothing. I would settle for nothing less--a captain shouldn't
have to.
Selfishly, I continued keeping Tom and B'Elanna on separate
shifts. When Chakotay asked me for the reasons behind my
request, I said just two words: "Captain's prerogative." Being a
good first officer, he didn't question me any further. He just
nodded and resumed his work.
It was about then that I noticed, though I can't for the life of
me figure out why I hadn't noticed it before, that Tom had
stopped saying 'Yes, ma'am' to me. It was as if he had decided
that to say those words bespoke of a closeness that he no longer
felt towards me. From the expressions on the faces of the bridge
crew, Tuvok included, I could tell that they had noticed this
change as well.
Fine. If Tom wanted to play these games, then so could I.
Unexpectedly before I could act, there was an incident with the
Doctor which had to be taken care of. Many months ago, at Paris'
urging, the EMH had to decide between two crewmembers--one to
die, the other to live. He chose Harry Kim, while Ensign Jetal
died from her injuries. It was a situation that almost destroyed
him before I ordered that his memory of that incident be erased
from his files.
I was on my way to the holodeck to sit with the ship's troubled
doctor, when I happened to catch Tom and B'Elanna exiting one of
the turbolifts. Their clothes were in disarray and their hair
was ruffled--not their usual tidy appearance. Seeing me, they
both came to a halt. I questioned their actions, telling them
that kind of activity would not be tolerated on my ship. I
informed B'Elanna that if it were to happen again, she *and* Tom,
would be occupying cells in the brig--separate cells. They
acknowledged their wrongdoing and looked duly chastened.
B'Elanna headed to her cabin, and Tom to the bridge. I couldn't
really blame them for their actions, or should I say *her*?
Being trapped in a turbolift with Tom had been a dream that had
been visiting me in my sleep for months...no, make that years,
ever since I met him in New Zealand. How could I blame B'Elanna
or any other female, and to be honest even some males on the
ship, for wanting what I had wanted for such a long time?
Soon after, I sat with the EMH on the holodeck while he tried to
resolve what had happened to him. Reading a book of poetry, and
trying to avoid all the pieces of poetry that reminded my of my
blue-eyed god, my emotions started to seep through my Starfleet-
trained exterior. To feel his arms around me was my desire,
never to feel them would be a terrible waste. To feel his lips
pressed against my own was my paradise; never to experience that
intimacy my hell. I was just on the verge of losing my composure
when the good Doctor noticed my discomfort. He felt my forehead
and deemed that I felt warm--he deduced that I was ill--he was
right. I was love sick. The Doctor demanded that I go to
Sickbay and that Mr. Paris treat me. The very thought made me
flush with excitement. I resisted a bit for show, and the Doctor
pleaded. So I left, and for a change, followed the good EMH's
instructions to the letter.
Tom was a bit surprised to find I was his patient that evening.
I'm sure that he expected to find someone else, anyone but his
Captain waiting for him. It was only due to willpower and an
ounce of self-respect that I hadn't already removed my uniform.
That I wasn't perched on the biobed, with just an examination
sheet wrapped around me. It was as if he could almost read my
mind and knew of my intentions. He acted very professionally --
too professionally. The only time that my flesh met his was when
I shifted deliberately on the bed, forcing him to brush up
against me. One time I struck the bulls-eye, when I moved to the
left and he to the right, his elbow made contact with my right
breast. For a moment, I was in heaven--one of my goals had been
achieved; though only a minor one, but one had to accept these
little moments when they happened. My little moment didn't last
long though; from the look on my helmsman's face I could tell
that he hadn't even noticed. He hadn't even detected my
increased heart rate--some nurse he was. Promptly prescribing an
analgesic and bed rest he said I could leave. Bed rest? I don't
need best rest, I wanted to shout. I need you resting in *my*
bed!
With his dismissal, I left feeling every bit like an ensign. I
had too much pride to stay. So taking the analgesic hypospray
that he gave me, I went to my cabin, and took something that
would be even more helpful--a cold shower, but it did no good.
My night was filled with another restless sleep and visions of
Tom Paris stretched out on my briefing room table, clad in
nothing--not even his briefs. But every time he reached for me
to touch me and bring me pleasure, I would awaken.
Then we encountered photonic beings who thought we were not real,
which in turn trapped Voyager in their segment of space like a
insect on flypaper. Again we found that nothing is ever dull in
the Delta Quadrant. I was to find out first hand how unusual
things could get. We met in the ready room to discuss the
situation. While Tom was trying to explain the inside and out of
his holographic character Dr. Chaotica and the world of Captain
Proton, there was more communication between us than there had
been in a long time. When he suggested that I play the part of
Queen Arachnia I pretended to resist looking over my shoulder at
Seven, but I already knew that I would say yes. In my heart, I
knew that I would have done anything he asked of me. Tom was
back, and smiling at me. How could I have refused him anything
at that moment?
It was a role of a lifetime, Tom said. Me, Queen of the Spider
People...well you take what you are offered, and I played it for
all I was worth. Not only for the good of the ship, but for Tom
Paris as well. I almost cried when Chaotica *died*. I didn't
want this holoprogram to end. The question mark on Dr.
Chaotica's imagizer gave me hope that Dr. Chaotica would live
again, and hope that Mr. Paris would include me in some future
adventures. A sequel of say: "Queen Arachnia and the Capture of
Captain Proton" would be certain help to display my theatrical
talents. Well, I can hope.
I can also dream. For the next several nights, my dreams were
permeated with visions of Captain Proton stretched out on my
torture table while I seduced him with my pheromones and my
charms. In my dreams, he succumbed to my ministrations and
pleasured me beyond belief.
Another particularly vivid dream woke me much too early one
morning. It felt so real that I couldn't go back to sleep, so I
opted for a cold shower instead--an all too frequent occurrence
of late. If it kept up, I'd be an icicle. As it was, it was the
only way I could function in the morning without actually jumping
my hunk-of-the-helm. What's gotten into me? Normally I wouldn't
express myself in such a fashion, but I haven't been myself
lately. I've been...obsessed.
After toweling off, I donned my uniform and headed to the mess
hall for an early breakfast. What I didn't expect to see was my
Chief Pilot and the Chief of Engineering necking in a dark
corner. As it was only 4:15, they had the place to themselves
and didn't notice when I entered. I waited by the door, but they
were too involved in each other to see me or hear me. But I
heard them. She spoke to him of her hopes, her dreams, and how
he had been the one to make her spirits soar to unbelievable
heights. Then Tom told her how her love for him had made him
believe in himself again, made him have hope for the future.
Then he told her that he loved her. Damn him. It was to *me*
that he was supposed to say those words. It was *me* that gave
him the opportunity to pilot a starship again. Not her! That's
it!, I tried to convince myself. Who needed him anyway? But I
already knew the answer--*I* needed him. With hopes of a cup of
coffee forgotten and being too outraged to maintain my dignity, I
left them there.
I devised more ways to keep the pair apart. I scheduled one for
a double shift, while the other worked the remaining shift. Thus
the only time they might actually meet would have been during a
dinner break. I wasn't stupid though, I made sure that if Paris
was on the bridge, that he couldn't get away at the same time
B'Elanna could to have a meal together.
Then I sent him on an away mission with Tuvok, when normally I
would have included an engineer. What use did it serve having a
security officer on the mission, even if he was the Chief
Tactical Officer and a Vulcan? It served me by keeping Tom apart
from B'Elanna. Little did I know at the time, how long that time
apart would be.
The unthinkable happened, Tom and Tuvok disappeared down a
gravity well. I instantly regretted my selfishness. If B'Elanna
had been on the mission, perhaps she could have worked one of her
miracles and saved them...saved *him*. Then when Chakotay came
to me to tell me that not only had they been sucked down that
one-way funnel, but there was also a time differential involved,
I felt not only dismay but a strange sense of hope. Dismay
because I didn't want to lose the blue-eyed pilot of my heart;
and hope because if we could rescue them, then he would have had,
by our calculations, approximately two months to get over his
infatuation with that half-Klingon.
Literally under the gun we rescued them, and to my dismay
immediately after leaving the transporter platform, Tom headed
off to find her. He bypassed me and took the first turbolift to
find B'Elanna. I followed to remind him that he had to go to
sickbay and be examined. Granted I could have contacted him by
his commbadge, but I felt this warranted the personal touch, and
besides I wanted to tell him how much he was missed, if even for
a couple of days by Voyager's time.
Arriving in Engineering just after he did, I saw him greet
B'Elanna. He was obviously overjoyed and rushed up to her and
swept her into his arms. She though, to my relief, didn't show
the same exuberance. Yes, she hugged him but not with the same
passion he displayed. Upon releasing her I could see that he was
disturbed by her lack of emotion, just before he erected the
famous impregnable Paris walls. Now was my chance. Maybe now,
he would notice. Maybe now, he would forget her and come to me.
He almost didn't see me standing there when he walked out of
Engineering. Instructing him to go to sickbay, he turned and
acknowledged me, albeit absently. Perhaps it was too soon to
approach him, I determined, and resolved to wait until that
evening to express my relief at his return to the ship.
So evening came, and I changed out of my uniform and into a
special lounging outfit that I replicated especially for the
occasion. It was made of a soft mint green fabric that clung to
my curves. The dress portion of the outfit fell to just past my
knees over a pair of matching slacks. It looked good on me and I
knew it. Adding a spray of perfume and clipping my hair back
over my left ear with a sparkling barrette, I left to go to Tom's
cabin.
Afterwards, I sat in my cabin having drunk my fourth shot of
bourbon, skipping the ice, reflecting on what had happened. I
hadn't needed to enter the cabin, even from the corridor I could
hear the sexual union that was going on inside. The walls
vibrated with the ardor of their copulation. Hearing the sound
of something heavy impact with the door followed by B'Elanna
throaty demand of: "Take me now!" I left.
Now sitting here recalling what I had heard, I regret not heeding
an old saying. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."
The End.
Email is most welcomed, in fact it is craved. Please send any
comments to: kelhapam@worldpath.net