Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager, was momentarily frozen in
shock as she stared at Tom Paris. What the hell was he doing here?
Suddenly appearing out of thin air on her bridge. She had never thought
she'd see him again. After a quick moment her years of experience as a
Starfleet officer and Captain kicked in, and she got down to business.
"Mr. Paris, do you require medical assistance?" She heard her voice come out sounding more clipped then she had intended.
"No, thank you Captain." He stood calmly waiting for her to make the next move, and his apparent ease at the whole situation began to irritate her. He was standing on her bridge, after being gone for a year, and the only thing he could do was reply politely to her question? She would have expected a little more from him. Something along the lines of 'Hey guys, I missed you and I'm so glad to be here!' Or at least some sort of explanation for his sudden appearance. Instead he stood there, waiting, and by looking at him she couldn't begin to guess what he was thinking.
"Please join me in my ready room Mr. Paris. Lieutenant Kim." She turned her attention to Harry Kim, who was staring in shock at his old friend. He blinked and looked at her.
"Call a senior staff meeting, immediately."
"Uhh, yes Captain." He spared one last incredulous glance at Tom before performing his task. A moment later she found herself leading Tom, Chakotay, Tuvok and Harry into her ready room. Everyone quickly found their chairs, and the room was quiet as they waited for the rest of the staff to arrive. She took that moment to look him over.
He still looked the same, tall, maybe a little more built underneath his clothing? She wasn't sure about that. He stood calmly, his arms behind his back, he was watching them all carefully, obviously gauging their responses. He had a familiar glint in his eyes, one that had become familiar to her after five years of association with him. It was the self- assured, arrogant glint that he had when he was satisfied, or happy that something was going his way. Right now, it made her blood boil.
Who was he to suddenly appear on her ship out of the blue and stand there looking happy with himself? Did he think he could just leave and come back whenever it suited him? She didn't doubt that he would think like that, he had always been self-involved. She wasn't running a vacation ship here, it was a Starfleet vessel, with Starfleet rules and expectations. He was mocking them and their beliefs, and she did not appreciate that one bit.
((/\))
Tom stood facing the senior staff. Their silence was unnerving him as they stared, lost in their own thoughts. He didn't move to take a seat, but remained standing by the door. He would only sit down if they offered the option to him, but he was pretty sure it was the last thing on their minds at the moment. So he stood straight, his hands behind his back, locked together in a white knuckle grip. That was his only indication of how nervous he was, and he didn't want anyone to see it.
They looked good. They all looked the same, despite a few haircuts. He noted with approval that Baytart was their Chief Conn Officer. The intelligent, quick thinking man had been the first person on Tom's replacement recommendation list. At the moment though, Baytart looked decidedly uncomfortable with the situation. That was understandable. Captain Janeway finally decided that the silence had gone on long enough and she began the meeting.
"Mr Paris. It seems you have decided to grace us with your presence, but I want to know exactly how it was that you managed to arrive here. We are five years away from your last known location." Well, it wasn't exactly the welcoming he had been hoping for, but he hadn't really been expecting much more. Besides that, she had just asked a very good question.
"Actually Captain, I don't know how I arrived here. I was just about to begin my shift, I walked through a door and found myself standing on the Bridge. Took me completely by surprise."
Her eyes narrowed. "Really? You didn't seem too surprised." Her words were sharp, and laced with sarcasm. He found himself staring at her for a moment, hurt by the accusations. Immediately he closed himself off from her, standing stiffer, making sure none of the hurt he felt showed in his eyes. It looked like they were still angry with him for leaving, not that he could blame them. He forced his voice to remain steady and emotionless as he answered.
"I suppose I didn't seem surprised enough then Captain. But I'm sorry to say I have no idea how I arrived on your doorstep."
After a stressed pause she turned to Harry and Tuvok. "I want you two to figure out how Mr. Paris arrived here as soon as possible."
"Aye Captain." Harry stood and quickly shuffled out of the room, not sparing Tom a glance. Tuvok nodded but he felt the Vulcan's cool, calculating gaze linger on him a moment before he followed Harry out the door. Ever the suspicious Tom thought, and noticed Baytart squirming slightly in his seat. Janeway also noticed the man's discomfort and dismissed him, seeing that he served no purpose other than to show Tom that Voyager didn't need him. Tom could hear her accusing voice in his mind saying 'we have a Chief Helm officer and don't need you.' Well, he was very aware of that fact, and had been aware of it before he had even left Voyager in the first place.
So far Chakotay had only found himself staring at the former pilot, who was standing stiffly across the table from him. Whatever the man was feeling was remaining a secret only to himself, and that bothered Chakotay. He prided his ability to read people by watching them, or at least gage their current temperament. For a quick moment he wondered if Tom was feeling anything about this situation other than the boredom he was portraying. If he remembered Tom correctly, it was probably all an act.
He let his gaze travel over the mans frame, looking for changes. His back was straight, shoulders squared, arms held behind him in a soldiers rest position. He looked disciplined; maybe he had been learning something useful this past year after all. That was un-called for! He reprimanded himself, but he didn't feel guilty for the thought. In fact he almost wanted to laugh at it; A disciplined Tom Paris was something he didn't think was possible.
He looked at Paris' face, and saw his eyes soaking in any visible information he could find, yet not revealing a thing. He remembered another time when Tom had been like this, and that was back in the Marquis days, and at the beginning of Voyagers long journey home. It was an arrogant man that Chakotay had met and greatly disliked then, and disliked now. Finally, Chakotay decided to say something to let the younger man know he was still there.
"That's a nice uniform you've got there. It's fairly different from the one I remember the Kinkari officers wearing." Paris' gaze fell on him for a moment before he answered.
"Yeah well, the Kinkari felt that I better suited this uniform than their usual black. Appearance means a lot in their culture."
"I'm sure it does."
Tom didn't look surprised when B'Elanna suddenly growled and stormed out of the room, sparing his former girlfriend a casual glance before staring ahead once more. Why that little… Chakotay fumed at Paris' indifference, his protectiveness of B'Elanna surging through his system. He completely understood her situation, which was one of abandonment, and betrayal. It was exactly how he felt, only not on so personal a level.
For the next two hours Chakotay controlled his temper as he, the captain, and Paris decided on the man's fate until they figured out what was going on. Paris was going to get his old quarters back, which hadn't been changed since his departure; nobody had really wanted to spend the time moving all his stuff out. They hadn't needed the room for any reason so it had remained locked up. Paris was also going to receive replicator rations and holodeck privileges for the time being. Until then he was restricted to the sickbay, mess hall, holodeck two and his quarters. He would be Neelix's assistant for now, in order to earn his keep. He agreed without argument.
When he was dismissed Chakotay stood and followed him out the door and onto the bridge. The sudden silence hung like a thick blanket, aimed at suffocating the pilot as he walked to the turbolift, indifferent to the glares. Tuvok silently followed the Man's retreating form, no doubt to ensure he arrived at his quarters. The rest of Chakotay's shift passed in a tense silence, except for the occasional report. Why did Paris always have to cause so much trouble?
Upon his dismissal Tom turned sharply on his heel and headed out of the ready room, and onto the bridge. He immediately noticed the room's hushed tones turn to complete silence, no doubt because of him. He felt the angry, accusing, and confused eyes following him as he moved steadily towards the turbolift. This was just what he needed, a whole ship of people furious at him. He'd had enough of that in the past, it seemed every ship he stepped on didn't like him. Maybe he should just buy his own damn ship so he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.
Stepping onto the turbolift he heard the quiet footsteps of Tuvok following him, and a moment later the Vulcan was standing silently beside him, waiting for the doors to slide shut. Should he say anything to the Vulcan?
"Deck Four." He ordered, and stood silently, waiting. He didn't wait long.
"I would like to apologize." The Vulcan's smooth voice broke the uncomfortable, or at least what Tom deemed uncomfortable, silence. Tom looked at the man sideways, making sure none of the surprise he felt at the apology showed.
"For what?"
"I was taken by surprise upon your arrival and did not take a moment to welcome you back." Tom smiled at that. It looked like someone had missed him after all.
"Thanks Tuvok. I appreciate it." The turbolift door opened and Tom stepped out, turning to look at Tuvok. "I missed you too." As the doors slid silently shut Tom saw the look of satisfaction that crossed his friend's normally impassive features. He shook his head, still smiling, until he heard footsteps coming from down the hall, and forcing his smile away with a look of disinterest. He took his time walking to his quarters, ignoring several glares he received from passing crewmembers. Juliana, Chris, Naniks, they all glared at him as they walked by; Chris had even taken the step of knocking Tom with his shoulder as he passed. Tom ignored it. Give them time, he thought. They'll come around.
When he arrived at his quarters he hesitated a moment, staring at the gray door. God it had been a long time since he'd been standing here. He never thought he'd be standing here again; he was still having trouble accepting that he was back on Voyager. He took a deep breath and opened his door, stepping into the dark room. It was musty. It had the smell of the disused.
"Computer, lights." Oh yeah, this was his room. Everything that he had left behind seemed to be present, the only problem being that it was all lying on the floor, and many things were broken. Now, considering that nobody had been in his room for the last year he had expected some damage left due to some battles, but this was a little extreme. It looked like the crew was going all out to make him feel welcome.
"Computer, time." He demanded, keeping his voice even.
"The time is 0430." That gave him three hours to clean before he went to grab a meal. He initiated the privacy lock, and turned to his couch. It was lying on its back, legs sticking out in the air. Easily, he flipped it back up, and sat down with a heavy thump. He looked at the old paper books, broken lamp, cushions, glass, clothing and everything else scattered around his quarters. He would rather be trying to figure out how he got here, and see if he could go talk to anyone, but instead he had to clean up this mess. He needed to see his friends, see how they were doing, though he doubted they would want to see him.
He stood and began setting furniture straight. Despite what Janeway, and everyone else probably thought, he had been extremely surprised to find himself standing on the bridge of his old ship. Especially since the place he had expected to be in when walking through those doors was a ring. Actually, it was more of a cage, with a forcefield for the bars. He stopped in the mid process of picking up some books, and looked down at his uniform clad body. Chakotay had made a good observation, noticing the difference in his uniform from the Kinkari. Tom had actually been surprised that he had noticed.
Indeed, his uniform was very different from the Kinkari. Tom stood and turned to the large mirror in his bathroom. Nice of them to leave it intact. His uniform wasn't even made from the same kind of material as the Kinkari military uniforms. No, his was tailored; hand made, and had had a lot of thought put in behind it. He wasn't lying when he said they had wanted him to look good.
He fingered the dark brown vest, the strong, smooth material slipped under his fingers. The vest ended at his waist, and it was heavy. It was just a decoration, embroidered with the words of some warrior out of the Kinkari's history books. Though he knew how to speak their language fluently, he couldn't read it, he'd never wanted to learn. He stared at himself in the mirror. He hadn't looked at himself for the last year, he hadn't changed much. His skin was still fair, the deep brown's of his vest and pants making him seem even paler. He did notice that he looked stronger now, a result of all the extra training he'd been given.
He shrugged out of the vest and dropped it carelessly on the floor, still staring at his reflection. The shirt he still had on was tight, revealing the muscle that had been hidden by the vest. Its material was soft, he barley noticed its presence. He was sure if there had been a breeze, it would have gone right through the fine material to caress his skin. There were several slits running parallel to the ground on his back, its sleeves travelling down to his elbows. He had no clue what the point of it was, maybe it looked more manly. His pants were simple. The same dark brown as his vest, though they were made from a thick material they were very easy to move in. They reminded him of earth style karate pants. He had no socks.
He kept staring at his reflection. Had it been a year since he'd left? It felt like much longer. Through all those days he had worn these clothes. He'd always worn these clothes, except when they washed them. They were his only clothes. He grabbed the base of his shirt and pulled it off, tossing it with his vest. He looked at the pile, and smiled. He didn't need permission to take off his uniform now did he! He could wear whatever he wanted! His pants and underwear joined the pile and he searched his floor for some clothing, finding a nice large shirt and jeans. His own clothes. His.
He glared down at the pile of brown clothing, picked it up, and tossed it into the recycler. He'd had enough of that particular outfit thank you very much. He went back into his bedroom and looked at the floor, at all of the brown clothing he owned. They followed his uniform into the recycler, where it was transformed into usable energy.
He'd had enough of that colour to last a lifetime.
"Mr. Paris, do you require medical assistance?" She heard her voice come out sounding more clipped then she had intended.
"No, thank you Captain." He stood calmly waiting for her to make the next move, and his apparent ease at the whole situation began to irritate her. He was standing on her bridge, after being gone for a year, and the only thing he could do was reply politely to her question? She would have expected a little more from him. Something along the lines of 'Hey guys, I missed you and I'm so glad to be here!' Or at least some sort of explanation for his sudden appearance. Instead he stood there, waiting, and by looking at him she couldn't begin to guess what he was thinking.
"Please join me in my ready room Mr. Paris. Lieutenant Kim." She turned her attention to Harry Kim, who was staring in shock at his old friend. He blinked and looked at her.
"Call a senior staff meeting, immediately."
"Uhh, yes Captain." He spared one last incredulous glance at Tom before performing his task. A moment later she found herself leading Tom, Chakotay, Tuvok and Harry into her ready room. Everyone quickly found their chairs, and the room was quiet as they waited for the rest of the staff to arrive. She took that moment to look him over.
He still looked the same, tall, maybe a little more built underneath his clothing? She wasn't sure about that. He stood calmly, his arms behind his back, he was watching them all carefully, obviously gauging their responses. He had a familiar glint in his eyes, one that had become familiar to her after five years of association with him. It was the self- assured, arrogant glint that he had when he was satisfied, or happy that something was going his way. Right now, it made her blood boil.
Who was he to suddenly appear on her ship out of the blue and stand there looking happy with himself? Did he think he could just leave and come back whenever it suited him? She didn't doubt that he would think like that, he had always been self-involved. She wasn't running a vacation ship here, it was a Starfleet vessel, with Starfleet rules and expectations. He was mocking them and their beliefs, and she did not appreciate that one bit.
((/\))
Tom stood facing the senior staff. Their silence was unnerving him as they stared, lost in their own thoughts. He didn't move to take a seat, but remained standing by the door. He would only sit down if they offered the option to him, but he was pretty sure it was the last thing on their minds at the moment. So he stood straight, his hands behind his back, locked together in a white knuckle grip. That was his only indication of how nervous he was, and he didn't want anyone to see it.
They looked good. They all looked the same, despite a few haircuts. He noted with approval that Baytart was their Chief Conn Officer. The intelligent, quick thinking man had been the first person on Tom's replacement recommendation list. At the moment though, Baytart looked decidedly uncomfortable with the situation. That was understandable. Captain Janeway finally decided that the silence had gone on long enough and she began the meeting.
"Mr Paris. It seems you have decided to grace us with your presence, but I want to know exactly how it was that you managed to arrive here. We are five years away from your last known location." Well, it wasn't exactly the welcoming he had been hoping for, but he hadn't really been expecting much more. Besides that, she had just asked a very good question.
"Actually Captain, I don't know how I arrived here. I was just about to begin my shift, I walked through a door and found myself standing on the Bridge. Took me completely by surprise."
Her eyes narrowed. "Really? You didn't seem too surprised." Her words were sharp, and laced with sarcasm. He found himself staring at her for a moment, hurt by the accusations. Immediately he closed himself off from her, standing stiffer, making sure none of the hurt he felt showed in his eyes. It looked like they were still angry with him for leaving, not that he could blame them. He forced his voice to remain steady and emotionless as he answered.
"I suppose I didn't seem surprised enough then Captain. But I'm sorry to say I have no idea how I arrived on your doorstep."
After a stressed pause she turned to Harry and Tuvok. "I want you two to figure out how Mr. Paris arrived here as soon as possible."
"Aye Captain." Harry stood and quickly shuffled out of the room, not sparing Tom a glance. Tuvok nodded but he felt the Vulcan's cool, calculating gaze linger on him a moment before he followed Harry out the door. Ever the suspicious Tom thought, and noticed Baytart squirming slightly in his seat. Janeway also noticed the man's discomfort and dismissed him, seeing that he served no purpose other than to show Tom that Voyager didn't need him. Tom could hear her accusing voice in his mind saying 'we have a Chief Helm officer and don't need you.' Well, he was very aware of that fact, and had been aware of it before he had even left Voyager in the first place.
So far Chakotay had only found himself staring at the former pilot, who was standing stiffly across the table from him. Whatever the man was feeling was remaining a secret only to himself, and that bothered Chakotay. He prided his ability to read people by watching them, or at least gage their current temperament. For a quick moment he wondered if Tom was feeling anything about this situation other than the boredom he was portraying. If he remembered Tom correctly, it was probably all an act.
He let his gaze travel over the mans frame, looking for changes. His back was straight, shoulders squared, arms held behind him in a soldiers rest position. He looked disciplined; maybe he had been learning something useful this past year after all. That was un-called for! He reprimanded himself, but he didn't feel guilty for the thought. In fact he almost wanted to laugh at it; A disciplined Tom Paris was something he didn't think was possible.
He looked at Paris' face, and saw his eyes soaking in any visible information he could find, yet not revealing a thing. He remembered another time when Tom had been like this, and that was back in the Marquis days, and at the beginning of Voyagers long journey home. It was an arrogant man that Chakotay had met and greatly disliked then, and disliked now. Finally, Chakotay decided to say something to let the younger man know he was still there.
"That's a nice uniform you've got there. It's fairly different from the one I remember the Kinkari officers wearing." Paris' gaze fell on him for a moment before he answered.
"Yeah well, the Kinkari felt that I better suited this uniform than their usual black. Appearance means a lot in their culture."
"I'm sure it does."
Tom didn't look surprised when B'Elanna suddenly growled and stormed out of the room, sparing his former girlfriend a casual glance before staring ahead once more. Why that little… Chakotay fumed at Paris' indifference, his protectiveness of B'Elanna surging through his system. He completely understood her situation, which was one of abandonment, and betrayal. It was exactly how he felt, only not on so personal a level.
For the next two hours Chakotay controlled his temper as he, the captain, and Paris decided on the man's fate until they figured out what was going on. Paris was going to get his old quarters back, which hadn't been changed since his departure; nobody had really wanted to spend the time moving all his stuff out. They hadn't needed the room for any reason so it had remained locked up. Paris was also going to receive replicator rations and holodeck privileges for the time being. Until then he was restricted to the sickbay, mess hall, holodeck two and his quarters. He would be Neelix's assistant for now, in order to earn his keep. He agreed without argument.
When he was dismissed Chakotay stood and followed him out the door and onto the bridge. The sudden silence hung like a thick blanket, aimed at suffocating the pilot as he walked to the turbolift, indifferent to the glares. Tuvok silently followed the Man's retreating form, no doubt to ensure he arrived at his quarters. The rest of Chakotay's shift passed in a tense silence, except for the occasional report. Why did Paris always have to cause so much trouble?
Upon his dismissal Tom turned sharply on his heel and headed out of the ready room, and onto the bridge. He immediately noticed the room's hushed tones turn to complete silence, no doubt because of him. He felt the angry, accusing, and confused eyes following him as he moved steadily towards the turbolift. This was just what he needed, a whole ship of people furious at him. He'd had enough of that in the past, it seemed every ship he stepped on didn't like him. Maybe he should just buy his own damn ship so he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.
Stepping onto the turbolift he heard the quiet footsteps of Tuvok following him, and a moment later the Vulcan was standing silently beside him, waiting for the doors to slide shut. Should he say anything to the Vulcan?
"Deck Four." He ordered, and stood silently, waiting. He didn't wait long.
"I would like to apologize." The Vulcan's smooth voice broke the uncomfortable, or at least what Tom deemed uncomfortable, silence. Tom looked at the man sideways, making sure none of the surprise he felt at the apology showed.
"For what?"
"I was taken by surprise upon your arrival and did not take a moment to welcome you back." Tom smiled at that. It looked like someone had missed him after all.
"Thanks Tuvok. I appreciate it." The turbolift door opened and Tom stepped out, turning to look at Tuvok. "I missed you too." As the doors slid silently shut Tom saw the look of satisfaction that crossed his friend's normally impassive features. He shook his head, still smiling, until he heard footsteps coming from down the hall, and forcing his smile away with a look of disinterest. He took his time walking to his quarters, ignoring several glares he received from passing crewmembers. Juliana, Chris, Naniks, they all glared at him as they walked by; Chris had even taken the step of knocking Tom with his shoulder as he passed. Tom ignored it. Give them time, he thought. They'll come around.
When he arrived at his quarters he hesitated a moment, staring at the gray door. God it had been a long time since he'd been standing here. He never thought he'd be standing here again; he was still having trouble accepting that he was back on Voyager. He took a deep breath and opened his door, stepping into the dark room. It was musty. It had the smell of the disused.
"Computer, lights." Oh yeah, this was his room. Everything that he had left behind seemed to be present, the only problem being that it was all lying on the floor, and many things were broken. Now, considering that nobody had been in his room for the last year he had expected some damage left due to some battles, but this was a little extreme. It looked like the crew was going all out to make him feel welcome.
"Computer, time." He demanded, keeping his voice even.
"The time is 0430." That gave him three hours to clean before he went to grab a meal. He initiated the privacy lock, and turned to his couch. It was lying on its back, legs sticking out in the air. Easily, he flipped it back up, and sat down with a heavy thump. He looked at the old paper books, broken lamp, cushions, glass, clothing and everything else scattered around his quarters. He would rather be trying to figure out how he got here, and see if he could go talk to anyone, but instead he had to clean up this mess. He needed to see his friends, see how they were doing, though he doubted they would want to see him.
He stood and began setting furniture straight. Despite what Janeway, and everyone else probably thought, he had been extremely surprised to find himself standing on the bridge of his old ship. Especially since the place he had expected to be in when walking through those doors was a ring. Actually, it was more of a cage, with a forcefield for the bars. He stopped in the mid process of picking up some books, and looked down at his uniform clad body. Chakotay had made a good observation, noticing the difference in his uniform from the Kinkari. Tom had actually been surprised that he had noticed.
Indeed, his uniform was very different from the Kinkari. Tom stood and turned to the large mirror in his bathroom. Nice of them to leave it intact. His uniform wasn't even made from the same kind of material as the Kinkari military uniforms. No, his was tailored; hand made, and had had a lot of thought put in behind it. He wasn't lying when he said they had wanted him to look good.
He fingered the dark brown vest, the strong, smooth material slipped under his fingers. The vest ended at his waist, and it was heavy. It was just a decoration, embroidered with the words of some warrior out of the Kinkari's history books. Though he knew how to speak their language fluently, he couldn't read it, he'd never wanted to learn. He stared at himself in the mirror. He hadn't looked at himself for the last year, he hadn't changed much. His skin was still fair, the deep brown's of his vest and pants making him seem even paler. He did notice that he looked stronger now, a result of all the extra training he'd been given.
He shrugged out of the vest and dropped it carelessly on the floor, still staring at his reflection. The shirt he still had on was tight, revealing the muscle that had been hidden by the vest. Its material was soft, he barley noticed its presence. He was sure if there had been a breeze, it would have gone right through the fine material to caress his skin. There were several slits running parallel to the ground on his back, its sleeves travelling down to his elbows. He had no clue what the point of it was, maybe it looked more manly. His pants were simple. The same dark brown as his vest, though they were made from a thick material they were very easy to move in. They reminded him of earth style karate pants. He had no socks.
He kept staring at his reflection. Had it been a year since he'd left? It felt like much longer. Through all those days he had worn these clothes. He'd always worn these clothes, except when they washed them. They were his only clothes. He grabbed the base of his shirt and pulled it off, tossing it with his vest. He looked at the pile, and smiled. He didn't need permission to take off his uniform now did he! He could wear whatever he wanted! His pants and underwear joined the pile and he searched his floor for some clothing, finding a nice large shirt and jeans. His own clothes. His.
He glared down at the pile of brown clothing, picked it up, and tossed it into the recycler. He'd had enough of that particular outfit thank you very much. He went back into his bedroom and looked at the floor, at all of the brown clothing he owned. They followed his uniform into the recycler, where it was transformed into usable energy.
He'd had enough of that colour to last a lifetime.