4: Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres
"Lieutenant, please lie down again," the temporary medic implored. Her voice quavered and the hand that held the medical tricorder trembled. Her painfully evident fear only incensed B'Elanna further.
"Go- Away!" she snarled, giving the words a definite bite.
The temporary medic- a crewman normally assigned to deck fifteen and therefore unacquainted with B'Elanna Torres except through the exaggerations of the rumour mill- squeaked and moved away from the irate Chief Engineer.
"It's OK, Kat," Tom Paris said soothingly as he approached. "Go and help the Doctor with the Captain. I'll take over here."
B'Elanna relaxed slightly as the young woman- who had the misfortune to share a name and a spelling with the Captain- vanished.
"Thanks," B'Elanna grunted. She glanced up at him through her lashes, half prepared for Tom's recoil or- worse- rejection as he comprehended the extent of her Borg implants.
Tom, however, did not return her look at first. Fear shot through her. She watched him nod at the assistant and check the tricorder. Then he placed it on the nearest suitable surface and leaned against the biobed, his attention truly focused on her at last. Both of B'Elanna's stomachs felt hard.
"Hey," he said softly.
B'Elanna felt her stomach-both of them- turn to gooey joy. He wasn't repulsed. He still loved her. It was there in his eyes. "Hey, yourself," she returned, longing to say more yet resolving to wait until the vocal subprocessor had been removed. This voice was not her own.
"Good to have you back," Tom said. She could see the moisture in his eyes, and she knew that her own were wet.
"There was a couple of times there I thought it'd never happen," B'Elanna admitted in a near whisper.
Tom's hand brushed her cheek. "I know."
She covered his hand with her own, hating the cold whiteness of it, yet needing the physical contact. "How long-?" she began.
She could almost see the change in him as he moved from Tom Paris, Boyfriend and Lover, to Tom Paris, Trained Medic.
"Doc says that you're lucky," he said with a heartiness that just stopped short of being false. "Your Klingon physiology and redundancies meant that the nanoprobes had to work harder at assimilating you- even without the suppressant- so he reckons that removing your implants will be the easiest of all of you. That, and the fact that you're the youngest and fittest. Well, maybe not fitter than Tuvok."
His voice increased slightly in volume as he ended, and B'Elanna's jaw dropped; she hadn't expected such a frank appraisal with the Captain lying less than a metre away. However, she caught the glint in her lover's eye, and she knew that he'd spoken intentionally. She, too, was worried by the blank look in Captain Janeway's eyes. If her favourite helmsman could rouse her- even by way of a gentle insult- B'Elanna wouldn't complain.
They watched with bated breath as the Captain slowly opened her eyes. The Doctor and the hapless crewperson had moved away for moment, so the three were to all intents and purposes alone.
"Watch it, Mr Paris," Janeway warned, albeit weakly, "or you might lose that shiny new pip again."
B'Elanna and Tom exchanged a smile. They knew she was joking, and they knew that she knew that they knew. Tom disengaged his hand from B'Elanna's and leaned over the rail to look at his Captain.
"You can bust me to crewman if you like," he said sincerely. "I'm just happy to have you back in one piece, Captain."
"Almost in one piece, Mr Paris," Janeway said wryly. They could hear the sense of violation in her tone. Violation deliberately, even willingly incurred, but violation nonetheless. B'Elanna shuddered.
She saw Tom reach out and squeeze the older woman's hand. "We've got all the pieces that matter. Now rest, or Doc will make my life even more of a misery than he does already. That," he continued, turning to grin at B'Elanna, "goes for you, too."
At this point, B'Elanna was not inclined to argue. Exhaustion swept through her as the weight of the experiences of the past days seemed to descend in one fell swoop. Suddenly unconsciousness, of any description, seemed like a very good idea. Maybe, she thought through a distracted haze, she'd have a hair again when she woke up.
"Tom?" she mumbled.
Tom's face swam before her.
"Tell the Doctor I want my hair back," she ordered sleepily. "And tell Chakotay to get his ass down here." With an effort, she managed to glance meaningfully in the Captain's direction.
Tom nodded his understanding, and B'Elanna felt his hand on her head, touching gently. Caressing her bald head. She drifted into unconsciousness on a wave of warm emotion, feeling completely, totally, safe.