"Can I hold your hand?" (P/T)

Author's Note: This story takes place during "Faces".

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The mining tunnels in the Vidiian labor camp were dark and stuffy, with light sources few and far between. No wonder the Vidiians made their prisoners work, Tom thought bitterly. He couldn't see a Phage patient lasting long down here. Even the guards had rotating shifts. Although, one would think a society with the technological skills to extract organs with one squeeze of a trigger would have figured out how to mine ore without the need for manual labor … ugh, he was too tired to think this hard.

Not as tired as human B'Elanna, though. Every time he heard her stumble on the uneven rocks, or heard how short of breath she was, it made his own steps and breaths unsteady with fear on her behalf.

"How are you holding up?" he said, after the third time she'd nearly collapsed. "Need a break?"

The B'Elanna he knew would have shot back a sarcastic comment: I could do this all day, or If you're tired, Paris, just say so. This B'Elanna, however, did nothing of the sort.

"It's dark in here," she said, in a heartbreakingly small voice. "I can't see."

He felt like several kinds of asshole, but he had to admit he liked hearing her admit when she was vulnerable. Half-Klingon B'Elanna would never have done that.

"I didn't know Klingons had night vision."

"Not so much," she said. "Probably … just my head."

He saw the shadowy outline of her arm come up to rub her forehead. It was a habit of hers; he'd assumed she was just getting used to being without her ridges, but … blinding migraines?

"Hey," he said softly, holding out his hand. He'd frightened her before, trying to touch her without warning - and no wonder, after what she'd been through - so he stopped a few inches away. "I can help you navigate if you want."

"You mean … hold your hand?"

"Sure. My last date didn't have any complaints." He wiggled his fingers and smirked, hoping to amuse or annoy her, or at the very least make her feel anything besides miserable.

Her small, hot hand slipped into his. He squeezed it reassuringly and stepped ahead, leading her through the tunnel.

"D-don't … get any ideas … Paris."

And there she was. He smiled to himself in the darkness. Human, Klingon or both, she was still B'Elanna Torres, with a fire inside her that refused to go out.

"What ideas?" he said innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Her breathless laugh made even this tunnel brighter.