"I'll kill you flyboy!" B'Elanna roared, struggling against the arms that restrained her from her goal, which was to beat Tom Paris relentlessly over the head with the hyperspanner in her hand. Once again, he had aggravated her. Somehow, that man always managed to find her weak spot and dig his heel into it.
"You can try Torres, but I doubt you have the cranial ridges to do it." Paris goaded from across the corridor, he had a black eye and a small cut on his forehead. "That's enough from both of you." Chacotay forced B'Elanna to look him in the eye and more quietly added, "I know he's a pain in the ass B'Elanna, but you cant let him get to you like this." After awhile her blood began to settle, and B'Elanna shook the restraining hands off her. Tom was already leaving, storming off to get his eye looked at no doubt. B'Elanna spat a gob of blood in his direction. She had bitten her tongue.
The crowed of on lookers began to disperse and Chakotay was left with B'Elanna in the corridor.
"At least you got him good." He smiled, and B'Elanna allowed herself to do likewise, relishing the aftermath of their battle. However, it did not take long for something to dash her restored spirits.
"Janeway to Torres" the communicator rasped and B'Elanna felt her heart sink.
"Torres here." Chakotay shared her look of uneasiness.
"Would you join me in my ready room B'Elanna. I have a matter to discus with you regarding shipboard relations." Sighing B'Elanna took leave of her commander and began her way to the Captain's ready room.
Upon arriving the door slid open to reveal Paris sulking in a corner and Janeway looking irritated, sitting behind her desk with a coffee cup warm in her hands.
"So, what's this about you two fighting?"
"A mild altercation captain, nothing to be worried about." Paris answered for them both, and B'Elanna glanced smugly at him, his eye showing no evidence of their 'mild altercation' but the fact that she had not needed a trip to the doctor inflated her spirits once more.
"That's not what my officers tell me, word in the corridors informed me of a full blown fight, with a hyperspanner?" she glanced up at B'Elanna, her raised eyebrow wiping the smile of her face immediately.
"Rumors have inflated the incident." Paris cut in, "B'Elanna and I shared some friendly punches, that's all. She was very polite about the whole thing actually." The half Klingon lowered her eyes, but Tom was apparently a seasoned liar.
"Perhaps so," Janeway reasoned, "but never the less, I think the two of you need to get over your apparent differences." She stood up and motioned them towards a scamatics consol. "We're approaching an M class planet; we've picked up some traces of deuterium in some of its deeper caverns. There have been some electrical storms in the area, so a shuttle would be too risky; I've decided to transport an away mission directly into one of the shallower caves. You two will go together, collect the data we need, and track the deuterium readings to their source."
"Captain –" B'Elanna began, but Janeway cut her off with the shake of a finger. "You will do this, both of you, if you want to remain a part of this crew. You will find a way, any way, of getting along. Is that understood?"
Both Paris and B'Elanna nodded. Janeway clapped B'Elanna on the shoulder, "than I suggest you head to the transporter room and prep for you mission. Dismissed."
The cave was dirty and smelled stale. As soon as B'Elanna had finished the transport, she was as far away from Paris as she could be. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and pulled out his tricorder to begin scanning. The engineer, glared in his direction, but the stony corridor was to narrow to walk apart, she was forced to fall into step with the pilot.
"I hope you don't get used to this civil behavior." She snapped at him before he could open his mouth.
"You call this civil?" he retorted, but shrugged, still trying to play the heroic martyr, sacrificing himself to get along with her. The lowliest of Voyager's crew. At least that's how B'Elanna thought he saw it. "Besides," he continued unabated by her glare, "the Captain practically ordered us to get along.
"When have you been known to follow orders fly boy, rejected by the academy, betrayer to the Maquis , you've never lasted in one position for very long have you."
"Hey," Tom shot back, "I wasn't rejected by the academy, I was thrown out. There's a difference. Besides, if I recall, you didn't leave the academy gracefully either."
"Its people like you that made me want to leave." B'Elanna sneered. "besides –"
"Shh" Tom interrupted her, stunning her for a moment as she tried to comprehend this switch in moods. He touched his index finger lightly to his lips and for once B'Elanna did as she was told, straining her ears to hear what it was that had Paris so
captivated.
"I don't hear any-" B'Elanna started but was cut off abruptly by the sound of phaser fire. Suddenly rock not a foot from B'Elanna's shoulder exploded into a riot of ricocheting rock and sparks, B'Elanna brought up her hands quickly to shield her face from the explosion and in a moment of heated confusion felt herself being knocked to the ground. She only took a moment to recover her senses, and heard and felt another blast somewhere to her left, rolling to her right she moved behind a thick rock outcropping.
"Paris?" she yelled and began to franticly search for the lieutenant with her eyes, drawing her phaser in the same discrete motion. Tom was laying prostrate and face to the ground not ten feet from her, he appeared to be unconscious and from where she knelt she could only just distinguish his face. There was a shallow cut on his temple either from the fall, or the rock shards that had momentarily blinded her. Something about the tiny rivulets of blood, running down his face and pooling slightly under his eyelid irked her, reminding her eerily of tears. There were two more phaser blasts, and then silence.
Trying to calm her racing heart B'Elanna kept her place quietly, her phaser cocked and at the ready. A dark form materialized from out of the shadows and strode over to the inert form of voyagers pilot. Their attacker nudged Tom with its boot, making B'Elannas heart leap into her throat, her eyes misting, seeing nothing but red. Silently she willed her Klingon blood back, trying to keep her cool like she knew she could. Tom was rolled over by the steel toe of their attackers black boot, the alien bent down to check the mans pulse. B'Elanna took the opportunity to shoot it in the back. The alien snapped to its full height and turned around in an inane drunken motion, glaring at B'Elanna from inside its dark hood and shrunken eyes, it toppled forward and lay still at the engineers feet.
Stepping tentatively from behind her rock shield, B'Elanna quickly surveyed her immediate surroundings, checking quickly for any other aliens. It was dark and lonely, she spun around, phaser at the ready, but there was no one there. Slightly distracted she kicked the aliens phaser out of its hand, sending the weapon sliding noisily across the rock, and preceded to kneel next to Paris. The Pilot was bleeding badly from a ragged looking phaser wound along his side. The primitive phaser had evidently not been set to stun. Her heart in her throat B'Elanna felt for a pulse, her tensions eased at the fluttering beat that she felt beneath her fingers. Carefully she removed the top of Paris' uniform, exposing more fully the jagged wound beneath.
It was a deep, long gash extending from right of the mans chest to the base of his rib cage. There were some burns, in places serving to cauterize the wound, but for the most part is seemed that the lieutenants life fluid was seeping from the gaping wound at a surprising rate. Frightened, B'Elanna all but ran to where the bags of supplies had been discarded, Paris would have some medical supplies with him she was sure. Turning his bag on end, she hastily sifted through the prone mans belongings and recovered a small med kit, gold in B'Elanna's eyes as she hurried back to the pilot. Inside the med kit she unearthed some bandages and surgical tape, a medical tricorder, a dermo regenerator for more expansive hurts, and a hypospray with some mild analgesic. Using the tricorder she attempted to scan the wound. The medical instrument was not working. B'Elanna felt her heart speed up. Quickly she tried the dermo regenerator but it too seemed to be suffering from the strange loss of power. Panicking B'Elanna tried to think of what she could do for the man without the technology she was accustomed to. Tearing the sleeve of her uniform, she pressed the cloth into the wound, putting her weight into it to stem the blood. There was a groan from Paris and his eyes snapped open. For a moment, he couldn't focus on anything, his blue grey eyes filming over from the loss of blood, but he shook his head slightly to clear it from the mind numbing pain.
"Don't move" The voice was cold and hard as ice and Tom felt himself sliding out of reality, shaking his head again he gasped and the half Klingon pressed harder on the wound.
"I - always knew you were going to kill me" he gasped again and fought for consciousness. B'Elanna was beginning to come into focus. "But this – is going to the extreme."
B'Elanna barely heard him, her mind occupied with the blood seeping through her fingers ever more slowly and the thought of their attacker laying stunned mere feet away. Would there be more of them?
"If I was going to kill you, I would have done a cleaner job of it." She muttered, but Toms eyes were already fluttering closed. "Paris!" she snapped and leant more of her weight on to the wound. Tom gasped again and his body shuddered as the shock began to set in. Taking mental note of the lack of fresh blood on her hands, B'Elanna slowly removed her hands from Toms chest, the bleeding had for the most part slowed to a stop. Wiping her hands on her pants, she grabbed the hypospray and administered it to her patient. At least that was working. Next, and with one eye always on the alien, she ripped the bandages to size and placed them over the wound, leaving her sleeve beneath it, loath to start the bleeding again, she taped the bandage in place.
Throwing everything back into their bags, B'Elanna swung them over her shoulder and slid her free arm beneath Tom, pulling him to his feet with some effort, he stirred, and groaned.
"We have to get to the transporter coordinates Paris." Her voice shook with the effort it took to keep Tom on his feet, or barely. Awkwardly, they began to move in the direction of the cave entrance.
For the second time B'Elanna felt herself stumble. Tom had long ago become a dead weight and all B'Elanna could think of was rest. Somehow they seemed to be making no progress, their destination never closer. She could feel the sweat dripping off her cranial ridges and down her neck. Suddenly they came around a corner and B'Elanna heaved a sigh of pure relief. These were the coordinates for the transport. B'Elanna lowered Tom to the ground gently and checked his bandages. The wound was bleeding again; slowly soaking through. She sighed heavily, lacking the strength to do anything about it now, it was all she could do to lay a blanket across the mans inert form and tuck it gently around his body. He was sweating, but shivering all over, and B'Elanna smoothed his blonde hair from his forehead with an uncharacteristically tender gesture. Touching her com badge lightly and leaning against the wall of the small cave she closed her eyes.
"Torres to voyager." She said quietly. She waited a moment for an answer but none came. Her eyes snapped open. "Torres to voyager" silence. "Torres to voyager!" more urgently now, "Torres – to – to voyager." Lurching to her feet, she stared up at the rocky ceiling. "Torres to voyager! Anyone?" roaring her defiance at the silent answer, she hefted her bag and threw it as hard as she could at the wall; there was a clatter of rations and trinkets.
"B'Elanna?" Tom was stirring again, his eyes wild and unfocused; B'Elanna sighed in defeat and came to his side.
"I'm here fly boy."
"Still trying to kill me?" he smiled.
"You know I'll never give up." She allowed herself a small smile of encouragement, but suddenly tom was serious, more serious than she had ever seen him.
"I know you don't like me, but could you call me Tom, just until we get home." She smiled again and leaned back, closing her eyes as she had done before.
"I may not like you much Paris – Tom, but you're an all right pilot, and I guess, I respect that."
"So your saying you do like me?" Tom smirked.
"Don't push it Paris."
Toms response was lost as his body was wracked with coughing, snapping B'Elanna out of her revere, she slid an arm under his shoulders and helped him sit up enough so that he could breath, his face was pale as a sheet, the dried blood on his face making an odd contrast.
"Voyager?" he asked when he could speak, the blood on his mouth giving B'Elannas fear a new meaning. She had not the heart to lie.
"They aren't answering, these are the coordinates I'm sure, but none of the equipment is working." She lowered him back down and used the other bag to prop him up slightly.
"They could be out of range- anything could have- could have happened." he closed his eyes, "there could be an electrical storm of some kind."
B'Elanna nodded, forgetting he couldn't see her. She hadn't thought of either of these things, too caught in the moment had she been. Suddenly Toms cold hand was on hers, his eyes clear for a moment, staring into hers.
"They'll get here B'Elanna." The half Klingon wasn't so sure. Tom would die, she knew, if they didn't make it back to voyager soon, and if the alien found them . . . She shuddered and looked down at the pilot, already drifting into unconsciousness again.
"I need to change your bandages." B'Elanna whispered.
The bleeding would not stop. B'Elanna had been trying to staunch it for what seemed to her to be hours. Toms face grew paler, his breathing shallower as the minutes passed and the threat of attack grew. The time came when B'Elanna could no longer do nothing. In the long hours they had spent sitting alone together B'Elanna essentially alone with her thoughts, she had begun to think of the options before her. It was possible that the alien they had encountered might have medical technology impervious to their present misfortune. If it did, B'Elanna was determined she would acquire it. As polite as possible of course. After redressing Toms wound for the third time, she drew her phaser and began a slow decent into the bowels of the caves.
Walking slowly and steadily she made her way down the stony corridor they had traversed. Feeling the hairs on her arms and neck rising in anticipation, B'Elanna willed her pounding Klingon blood to quiet; it seemed to be pounding at a deafening velocity as she moved. The top of her Starfleet jumpsuit lying limp around her waist, feeling all too en-cumbersome for the adrenaline she felt now.
Almost halfway to the sight of their previous attack, B'Elanna began to experience the strange sensation that informed her she was being watched. That's when she tripped. She wasn't quite certain how it happened, perhaps a stone caught her foot, or perhaps a pair of hands came out of the dark and shoved her forward, anyway, she ended up on the ground, her phaser a foot or so from her.
"Put your hands above your head and stand up slowly." The voice was deep and thick with an accent that made it practically indistinguishable, but if B'Elanna didn't quite understand the words, she understood the tone. Dropping her phaser with a grimace she straightened and did as she was told, she had no intention of ending up like Tom.
"Who are you people?" the voice commanded an answer, B'Elanna shifted her feet.
"Can I turn around?" she wondered quietly, her voice dripping sarcasm; she couldn't help but notice Toms blood drying on her hands.
"Slowly." The voice croaked and B'Elanna did, looking into the face of the alien who had previously attacked them.
"Are you alone here?" she asked even more quietly, and the alien nodded.
"Who are you?" he rasped again.
"My name is B'Elanna Torres; I'm an engineer on a starship. My friend and I were on a peaceful mission, just looking around, searching for deuterium." As she spoke she inched towards him.
"Don't move." He sneered, "The deuterium here is mine." B'Elanna stopped and smiled a little, trying to be diplomatic.
"That's just fine; we'll be leaving as soon as we can. Our ship will beam us back as soon as they come within range."
"Not going to happen." The creature spat, its bead like eyes glaring at B'Elanna from beneath the black hood. "Once an electrical storm begins, nothing leaves the planet, not till it ends. Sometimes they last days, sometimes weeks, do you really expect your ship to wait for you? Mine didn't!" the alien laughed dryly and B'Elanna choked back the rising feeling of despair and understanding. Paris was right, an electrical storm stood in Voyager's way, but B'Elanna knew that no matter what this alien thought, Janeway would never leave her chief engineer and pilot to die. B'Elanna could still feel that uncomfortable feeling tying her stomach in knots. Fear. Would voyager come in time?
"We would prefer to wait and see" B'Elanna sneered back. "We wont bother you, we'll stay in the cave entrance, leave your deuterium alone." The alien laughed back at her, tearing at her hopes with the scratchy sound.
"How long do you think your friend will last? He's probably dead already!"
Something in B'Elanna snapped at the mention of Tom, the thought of the cocky pilot going cold while she verbally fought this long inane alien, made her blood red hot. She may not like the man much, she may experience the occasional urge to smash in his pretty face, but she knew he didn't deserve to die. Besides, beating him was her job.
Growling lowly B'Elanna lunged for the alien's phaser, grabbing his wrist and twisting it backwards until, with a painful cry, it was forced to let go. Once again, the phaser rattled to the ground and slid away. B'Elanna lashed out at the black shape bearing down on her and heard and felt the satisfying impact of her foot to its stomach. The alien doubled over momentarily, and B'Elanna lunged for her phaser not three feet away. Her hand inches from it, the creature latched on to B'Elannas leg, pulling her kicking and thrashing away from the weapon. There was a sickening crack and she gasped in pain as the alien twisted her foot to the side, hard. Clenching her teeth, she raised her opposite leg as fast and as hard as she was able, satisfied when her foot connected with the aliens' temple. It let go of her for a split second, long enough to wrench her twisted ankle from its grasp and slide herself towards her weapon with her arms. B'Elannas fingers wrapped around the hilt of her phaser in an instant and rolling around on her back she fired at the lunging blackness. The creature stopped its forward motion abruptly and toppled backwards with the force of the blast. B'Elanna shot it again for good measure, and pocketed the alien phaser. Staggering painfully to her feet she lurched over to the alien and ripped more fabric from her uniform to use as rope. Quickly, she bound its hands and heaved a sigh of regret. The alien wouldn't regain consciousness for hours, after rifling through its pockets she decided it wasn't carrying any supplies with it of a useful nature. If it did have medical instruments, it was doubtful they were any more operational than B'Elannas. She instead began her journey back to Tom, leaning heavily on the stony walls for support.
Through the sting of the sweat dripping in her eyes, B'Elanna took in Toms appearance. His face was practically white, his eyes closed and his extremities limp. Too red blood stood out on his white lips and if it had not been for the shallow shuddering movement of his chest B'Elanna would have thought him dead. The bleeding had stopped on its own; she could do nothing else for her friend but sit by, make him comfortable and hope that the storm would dissipate quickly. Wait, she thought suddenly, when had she begun thinking of him as her friend? Glancing down at Paris, she was startled to find his blue eyes watching her from beneath his heavy lids.
"You should be resting flyboy," she chided in her customary rough tone. Tom smiled slightly.
"I'm going to die." He wheezed. "and no one on that ships going to miss me." he seemed to be talking to no one in particular, but B'Elanna shifted, tender with her leg, so he could see her better.
"We're all going to die, but not today flyboy. We're both too stubborn. And of course people would miss you, think of Harry, Neelix, Kes, Janeway." Me, she almost added, but checked herself. This was the same man she had tried to beat with hyperspanner only hours before.
"You're right," Tom whispered, "You are stubborn." B'Elanna smiled a little, everything in her, every fiber of her being told her that the pilot hadn't changed, his head just as far up his ass as always, but her heart told her that Tom truly believed that he was ill liked, that somehow, he was a good person beneath the pretenses. She could see his eyes closing and she feared for a moment that this would be the last time, that his thoughts of self-loathing would be the last thoughts before he died. In the urgency of the moment, B'Elanna slipped her hand tentatively into Toms.
"Just hold on a little longer fly- Tom." His eyes flared open just once, long enough to take in the moment, to understand what was happening.
"I'll miss you." The words floated through his dimming senses, and pierced his heart. With the last ounce of strength he had, he squeezed B'Elannas hand.
"Voyager to B'Elanna Torres . . . Voyager to Tom Paris" the words crackled through B'Elannas communicator, startling her and shaking her out of sleep, silently cursing herself for dosing off. Glancing down at Tom, she took in his still fluttering chest. B'Elanna tapped her communicator in response to the crackling noise.
"Torres here" she grimaced as she moved her swollen extremity, hating the sound of weakness in her own voice.
"Are you both alright B'Elanna?" The half Klingon choked silently, her relief, the prospect of safety threatening to blur her vision and dampen her cheeks.
"There was a firefight Captain, with an unknown alien, Paris is hurt pretty bad. My legs twisted, better beam us both to sickbay."
There was a moment of silence and then B'Elanna felt the comfortable sensation of her molecules being rearranged. When she opened her eyes, she was laying on a bio bed. She could hear raised voices and the noise of beeping machines. Not thinking clearly, her mind completely on her injured crewmate, she sat up abruptly. Kess caught her eye from where she was standing next to another bio bed across the room, the doctor was hovering near it as well, working furiously and calling for different medical instruments. Janeway was there, and Harry. Was it that bad? B'Elanna wondered, why were they here?
Janeway paced around one of the machines, watching the doctor carefully, and Harry stood in silence with his arms crossed over his chest. Kess caught his eyes and nodded her head in B'Elannas direction, gathering himself; he stepped over to her and retrieved a medical tricorder.
"What's happening?" she asked, her concern evident in her voice. Harry tried to smile, his eyes flickering back to where Kess and the doctor were working on the pilots prone body.
"Things don't look good B'Elanna. He lost a lot of blood, and he's bleeding internally pretty badly."
"Skip the medical talk" B'Elanna snapped, "Will he survive?" Harry seemed particularly distracted by B'Elannas leg.
"This looks broken, and you aggravated it trying to walk no doubt."
"Starfleet." B'Elanna grabbed his hand and forced him to look her in the eye. "Tell me."
Harry frowned and pulled out a hypo spray. "You're going to sleep now B'Elanna." He said quietly, before she could further protest, she was unconscious.
The next time B'Elanna woke, she was still lying on the bio bed, her leg felt slightly numb, probably from a painkiller, but she was comfortable and warm beneath a blanket. The doctor stood over her and smiled when she seemed lucid enough.
"How are you feeling lieutenant?"
"Fine, how long have I been here." The doctor shrugged and pulled out a tricorder, scanning her carefully.
"A little over a day, you should be able to put weight on it now," he motioned to her leg. Sitting up, B'Elanna glanced over to the adjacent bio bed, more relieved than she had ever been to see that Tom was still there, and that he was still alive.
"How is he?" she asked quietly as she slid off the bed and tested her leg tenderly.
"He needs a lot of time to recover." The doctor glanced irritably at his unconscious charge. "He will most likely be here the next few weeks; I need to keep him unconscious until his body has a chance to recuperate after so much blood loss."
"But he'll be alright?" B'Elanna felt the hope rise in her chest. The doctor snorted, as though his pride had been injured.
"As long as I have anything to do with it."
It suddenly hit B'Elanna that the sick bay was different. Decorated. Unbidden; she felt the tears rise into her eyes. Flowers. All kinds of flowers, yellow, red, purple, blue, alien and indigenous to earth. Someone probably Harry, had apparently used all of their replicator rations to replicate an ancient earth television. It was nestled in a corner of the sickbay, along with a large bouquet.
"Numerous people have confessed to feeling Mr. Paris absence. Not the least of which, the replacement helms officer. I myself, can't grasp this feeling."
B'Elanna limped to the pilot's side and took his hand for a moment, wiping her eyes furiously on the back of her hand. The doctor smiled a little and shook his head, certain that when Paris woke, this new affection would dissipate.
"He's going to be surprised when he sees how much he actually matters to this crew."
It was Janeway, coming through the sickbay doors. She looked slightly disheveled, as if she hadn't gotten much sleep, and B'Elanna wondered how voyager had weathered the electrical storm.
"He's on the mend captain," the doctor announced, smiling, "and your engineer will be returning to duty tomorrow."
Janeway smiled and came to stand next to B'Elanna, looking down at the pilot with a similar display of affection.
"Yes" B'Elanna whispered, agreeing with the captains' previous comment, "He will be surprised."
When Tom awoke he was greeted by a swarm of familiar faces, he blinked, trying to clear his vision.
"Move back, give him some room." it sounded like the doctor, but what would he be doing in the afterlife?
"Am – am I dead yet?" he wondered into the bright light, his eyes began to focus and he could clearly see the doctor now. Was he in hell?
"Quite the opposite Mr. Paris" the doctor smiled, and closed the tricorder he had been scanning with.
"Welcome back lieutenant." Janeway now, standing to Toms left.
"Good to see you awake Tom." Harry to the left, Tom reached up and clasped his friends hand.
"I feel like I got hit by a truck." Tom muttered.
"A what?" Janeway asked and Harry smirked.
"There's a couple others here to see you Tom." Janeway told him. "I hope you have the strength to talk a little more, and I expect you back at the helm as soon as possible." She patted his shoulder, "it's been a bumpy ride without you."
"I would like nothing better." Tom smiled groggily.
Kess and Neelix appeared smiling, they greeted him, told him how glad they were to see him, Samantha Wildman, happy to see him looking better, almost all the senior officers were there, smiling and looking slightly uncomfortable, and then . . .
"How you feeling Fly boy?" B'Elanna looked much better than the last time he had seen her, she only half smiled, strategically placing herself between Tom and the gathered crowd, now quietly dispersing, spurred by the doctors wrath.
"Better." He admitted, trying not to move too much, still feeling uncomfortable in his own skin.
"Good, you look it." She shifted uncomfortably, looking behind her to see if anyone was left. "See how many people showed up?" she asked quietly.
"You probably offered replicator rations for them to come." He chuckled dryly. "I'm sorry you had to take care of a person you don't much like, must have been hard to pretend to care."
"Tom-"
"I know, I know, you respect me-"he paused for a moment and looked her in the eye. "you called me Tom."
"It's your name isn't it?" she snapped and took a breath to steady herself. "Look," she said quietly, "unless you make this too hard- I would like to" she shifted uncomfortably, "get to know you. You're a good guy, as much as you try to hide it, I would like to call you my friend." Once all of the words were sufficiently out of her mouth, she looked away and rolled back on her heel. Tom smiled, and closed his eyes.
"I'm going to be gloating for months you know."
"If I don't kill you before that."
"I knew you were trying – to kill me." with that Tom fell into a deep restful sleep, a natural sleep that made B'Elanna smile.
A/N if you enjoyed this ending, I suggest you stop reading. Not everything ends in warm fuzzies I'm afraid.
And then she woke up. Alone in her quarters, sweating, uncomfortable, the blankets long kicked to the side.
It had been almost a month since the disastrous away mission. A month since Thomas Paris had died. He had been dead even before they transported him back to the ship, beyond help. Every night since, B'Elanna had dreamt of their adventure, and always it ended the same way.
Happily.
B'Elanna often woke sobbing, it felt as though she had lost something, a part of her future had been torn from her. A person she had shown nothing but irritability, even distaste, would it have been different if she had shown Tom Paris her respect, even her friendship? Would their situation have changed? He had practically leapt in front of phaser fire for her and what had she given him in return?
The ship seemed different somehow, a voice, a presence, missing. There was not a soul that did not feel Tom's absence. Harry mopped around the ship as though his best friend had died, (which is precisely what had happened) his days seemed to have become a routine of smiling, nodding, going about his duties, yes mam, no sir. Kess too seemed quieter than usual. Spending more time in the arponix bay with her plants than she had before. Even the doctor was sullen. B'Elanna for her part was sleep deprived and depressed. She felt that she owed Tom Paris something, that she couldn't move on until her dept was paid.
A plaque was being fashioned, a small square of iron that would be tacked to the wall near Toms quarters. All it said was his name, the rest was plain, and when B'Elanna first saw it as it was being fashioned in engineering, she couldn't help but feel that it was too impersonal, to dull. She saw in her minds eye Toms toothy grin, flashed her direction in the midst of his insulting banter.
That night when she woke shuddering in her bed, her eyes glassy with tears, she made her way to engineering to work on the epitaph. Picking up the tools, she left an inscription of her own.
TOM PARIS, it now read, WAS LOVED.
For the remainder of the night B'Elanna was able to sleep soundly.
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