B'Elanna stirred briefly as Tom crept out of the sleeping bag. Although the air was the coldest it had been since they had entered the cavern, the dying of the breeze made it seem a little warmer. Crouching down by her side, he tenderly lifted his half of the sleeping bag to cover her, tucking the ends of Neelix's blanket over all. As he watched her restlessness settle back into slumber, Tom longed to brush his hand along her cheek. He settled for draping part of Neelix's blanket around the back of her head and neck and brushing his gloved hand against her hair. Not a very sensual experience for him, to be sure, but the gesture satisfied a need in his soul to be taking care of her. She hated it, he knew, but that did not make the impulse easier for him to resist. Feelings for the beautiful human-Klingon engineer that he had been trying to keep dormant were raging in his heart, now that they had taken one step closer to their becoming lovers. Maybe they WERE lovers - he wasn't sure what they were to each other after the liberties they had allowed each other during the night. But "friends" - no, a lot more than only friends - at least, on his part.
After visiting the "latrine corner" to relieve himself, Tom used his phaser to heat several of the rocks they had arranged to serve as radiators the previous evening. Grabbing the last of the straw knots, Tom piled them in the area designated as their fireplace and lit them with Neelix's lighter. Baring his hands to take advantage of the flame, he considered their surroundings. He would be glad to get back on Voyager. This place was far too austere for him to be willing to spend any more time than necessary here. What would his father think about Tom's surviving here? Would he get more than a B- from dear old Dad if he had spent part of his survival training here? An ambivalent grin appeared on his face. Probably not.
Slipping both pairs of gloves back over his hands, Tom straightened up and strolled over to the entrance of the cavern. The sun was coming up, but it was still extremely cold. He again breathed thanks to the deity that had stopped the cutting wind.
From where he stood, Tom could see ropes of ice on the face of the cliff that he and B'Elanna had climbed the previous day. The ice ropes had been gleaming with dripping water in the sun yesterday, but now they were frozen solid. He imagined that there must be cracks in the shale at the higher elevations where spring water could drip through from deeper in the mountainside, where the water table was not frozen and water was liquid even in this cold. The sun warming the cliff caused melting in the daytime, whereas the brutal cold of the nights froze it all up again. No, Voyager's comforts would be very much appreciated by one Thomas Eugene Paris today.
Walking away from the cave entrance so that he would not disturb B'Elanna, he tapped his comm badge and said, "Paris to Voyager."
There was no answer, not even the hiss and static that had interfered with communications yesterday. Reflexively, he stared upward, although the likelihood he would be able to see Voyager in orbit was vanishingly small. Then he noticed that what he had thought was a "red sky at morning" effect was, in fact, the actual color of the entire sky, rather than just the eastern horizon. To the west, where night still reigned, the sky was a sickly orange-maroon, with a slight glow that obscured whatever stars might have been still shining in the dawn sky. In fact, Tom would be willing to bet that even the brightest stars that normally would be visible, despite the nebula, had been invisible during the night. His practiced pilot's eye caught no trace of cloud cover, either. This was the actual night sky that was stained such an unnatural color. Recalling the interference in the communicator and transport systems the previous day, Tom came to the unhappy conclusion that the nebula itself somehow had become enflamed. Plasma fires were no joke, and Voyager would be better off far away from here, if that were so.
And if that were the case, Thomas Eugene Paris and B'Elanna Torres were stranded in this unlovely environment for an indeterminate length of time.
"Torres to Voyager." B'Elanna listened for a full minute, hoping to hear some hint of an answering message. Even a crackling hiss would be welcome, as it might mean an open comm line. Dead silence was all the response she got. Sighing, she walked a little further down the bank of the stream, avoiding the ice patches that were present wherever her route was shaded from the sun in any way. There was no "path." A path implied life forms big enough to walk on a given trail with sufficient frequency for a ribbon of wear to be ground into the vegetation. B'Elanna's tricorder, now set to read biological signs instead of dilithium crystals, confirmed what Harry Kim's sensors had detected before the away teams left Voyager: there were no large animals on this planet.
Insects were another thing, however. Her tricorder was detecting large numbers of what appeared to be insect eggs, grubs, and larvae, dwelling in the deeper, unfrozen recesses of the ground, slumbering until it was time for them to retake their rightful place as the top link in the local food chain, once the appropriate season had been reached. She hoped that her tiny away team would be long gone by whatever time that was. If even half of the life forms she was reading hatched, this valley would be teeming with insects. B'Elanna would prefer not to find out just how big these insects would get once they had emerged from their hibernation.
Trudging up an embankment, B'Elanna reached the shelf which formed the base of "Dilithium Cliff," as they had dubbed the spot where the precious crystals had been found. She could hear a tenor voice say, "Paris to Voyager" as she reached the top.
"I tried less than five minutes ago, Tom."
His eyes met hers. "I figured it couldn't hurt," he offered with an apologetic shrug. "Unless you think all of our calling will use up the power in our communicators."
"Not really, although I guess I have had power on my mind a lot. We don't have any to spare if we're forced to stay here for any length of time."
"Did you find anything else we can use for a fire?"
"Just more of those woody vines you found. They should burn a little more slowly than the straw, and with a lot less effort on your part. I checked for coal and peat on my first circuit of the valley. It would be just our luck to land in the one place on this planet where there weren't any fossil fuels." She squatted next to Tom, leaning her back against the cliff, as the autumnal reddish glow from the noontime sun burnished her face. Yesterday, the color of the sun had been yellow-white, tingeing everything it touched a slight pink/purple hue to eyes adapted to the light shining from a yellow sun.
"I don't remember if Harry found anything like that when he scanned the planet. Do you?"
"Not off hand. If I had had any idea we were going to be stuck down here . . . "
"You would have paid more attention. I know, B'Elanna. I would have, too." They shared a rueful smile. That line had become quite the cliché in the past few hours. "I hadn't realized how much attention I haven't been paying to Harry's background briefings. I'm going to turn over a new leaf when we get back, I assure you."
"You won't be the only one, Tom."
"So, Lt. Torres, what's next on the agenda?"
"So formal? Fine. Would you care to report on your morning's activities, Mr. Paris?"
"Happy to, Lieutenant. In addition to the tubers that I have dubbed 'yams' in deference to their close resemblance to the Terran root of the same name, I have evaluated the following foodstuffs and found them suitable for consumption by both humans, Klingons, or any combination of the two. Four more varieties of tuber, two of them fairly tasteless, the third having a flavor reminiscent of celery, and the last tasting a little like chocolatey potatoes. I swear." They both laughed at the incongruous combination. "I also found these fuzzy leaves growing in a whorly patch. They aren't very pleasant to eat because of the odd texture, but they brewed up into a slightly sweet, lemon-flavored tea. The leaves have citric acid in them for a nice, tangy taste. I was going to call it Vulcan-Ear Tea." B'Elanna raised her eyebrows in surprise but then laughed again. The pointed, brownish leaves did resemble Tuvok's ears.
"Lastly," he went on, "There are some dried seeds in these pods which, if ground, would make a coarse meal that we might be able to mix with water and bake in the fire or cooking pot for a cornbread substitute. The seeds taste a bit like maize. And unless you want me to start in on testing insect larvae and grubs, that's about it."
"Sorry, no. Maybe if we run out of everything else, we can start with the insects. I would prefer not."
"I know. I've already had enough of Neelix's grub casserole to last a lifetime." Demonstration over, Tom quickly loaded his samples back into Neelix's cooking pot and picnic basket, which he had used for his food gathering expedition. B'Elanna picked up their canteens and the two beverage containers, refilled with fresh water dripping from the icicle formations on the cliff. Together, they walked back along the muddy, rocky field to their cavern home-away-from-home.
After they had stowed away the food supplies, Tom walked over to their haystack bed and studied it for several minutes before being joined by B'Elanna. "If we are going to be spending any more nights here, and I am pretty sure that we are, we have to do something about keeping that draft away from us."
"Agreed. Couldn't we build some kind of barrier or wind baffle? Maybe some kind of screen?"
"I thought of that, but without wood, there isn't much to use for a framework."
"How about cutting some of those stalagmite columns with a fine phaser beam and using those for supports? We could attach the straw between them, woven into a screen with the piton cords."
"I don't know. Maybe." Tom pulled out his wrist light and flashed it to the area where most of the stalagmites were located. He shook his head. "I doubt it, B'Elanna. Most of them are so big, they might be impossible for just the two of us to move. And these columns look a little too short for what you want." He flashed the beam from his light over the columns of stone in the middle of the niche at the left side of the cave.
"Tom, what if we just cut those central columns out of this area. We'd have plenty of room for both of us to sleep, even on top of a haystack piled inside. This side of the cave is out of the direct line of the opening. It shouldn't be as drafty here. Of course, we couldn't stand up without banging our heads, but . . . " Looking back at the helmsman, she saw him staring intently at the row of stone columns on the perimeter of the low-ceilinged part of the cave.
"B'Elanna, I think we could form a little room out of this area if we chinked up the spaces between the row of columns with mud. Maybe add some straw and stone to the mud, and firm it all up with our phasers on the lowest setting. Like making mud brick."
Her whole demeanor brightened. "That would really keep out the wind!"
"And your idea about weaving straw with the piton cords? We could make a hanging to cover the doorway area, over here, by this space. If we enclose a space that isn't too big, the heat from our breath and bodies would raise the temperature inside, too. Like an igloo."
"A what?"
"An igloo. Centuries ago, the Arctic peoples used to live in homes cut right out of the ice. They were made in such a way that the family's bodies, with the help of a small fire or lantern of some sort, kept the igloo comfortable. I was a kid when I read about it, so I forget all the details, but I remember that it was important that the enclosed space wasn't too large. The dens of hibernating animals work in the same way. They line the dens with leaves, fur, or some kind of insulating material, and their bodies keep them warm."
"So we put the hay and our blankets and us inside . . . ."
"And keep the cold air outside . . . what do you think, Lt. Torres?"
"I think it's time we started cutting some stone columns out of this cavern, Lt. Paris."
"Enter."
Harry Kim followed Commander Chakotay into Captain Janeway's ready room.
"Take a seat, Ensign Kim." She gestured to a chair near her desk. Chakotay took the other out of long habit. "What have you to report about the supply situation for Mr. Paris and Lt. Torres?"
"I've done what I can to work out best case/worst case scenarios for their power and supply situation, Captain. The best we can tell according to our records, B'Elanna had between five and eight phaser power packs with her for their dilithium cutting expedition. We aren't sure if Tom took any extras or not, Captain; and although we assume that all of them were at full capacity because of the nature of the job they were doing, we don't know for sure. They have the usual basic knapsack contents with convertible blankets, some personal articles, wristlights, and Tom's Field Medic Kit. Tom also took some climbing equipment - at least four pitons and lines. Neelix remembers seeing that many lines on the cliff."
"I'm not surprised Neelix noticed that," commented the commander with an encouraging smile. Chakotay noted the ensign's unusually reserved manner, not that it was particularly surprising. Harry's best friends on Voyager were the two officers marooned on Tantrum IV.
"No, it isn't much of a surprise." Ensign Kim continued, without any noticeable lightening of mood. "Also, they had some food. Ration bars and whatever they had left over from the lunch Neelix sent up. That's all we're sure of, Captain. Neelix thinks that when Larson and he were beamed up, Larson's pack, a picnic basket with some odds and ends and an extra blanket, some tools, and the last of the tuber supply was left behind. Or maybe they were lost in transport."
"So we can't be positive of anything but the merest minimum of supplies."
"No, Captain. Since there is food in the valley, though, the critical thing is having a sufficient heat source. We don't know for certain about the power consumption from the dilithium cutting. We can only project that either they are already out of power, or they may have enough for several weeks, particularly if they use strict conservation measures."
"How cold does it get, Mr. Kim?"
"While we were monitoring the planet, the low at night reached minus 30° Centigrade at that latitude, so they may be . . . " Harry swallowed painfully, "Well, Captain, they may already be dead if they don't have sufficient shelter in the cave or haven't used some other method of keeping warm."
The captain and the first officer gazed at each other. "Other methods, Mr. Kim?"
"Well, they can build a fire, I guess, if they can find anything to burn. There was no sign of any wood there. And there are, uh, some other, um - biological ways to um, keep warm." The ensign's face flushed.
"Biological ways. That would make sense." Commander Chakotay knew exactly what Ensign Kim was trying to avoid saying. A glance at Captain Janeway's twitching lower lip told him that she was perfectly aware of those ways also, as he fully expected that she would be.
After an awkward pause, Captain Janeway said, "Thank you, Ensign Kim. Dismissed." As he got up to leave, the captain's eyes fixed upon her second-in-command in a voiceless message. A barely perceptible nod from him followed, and Commander Chakotay trailed the ensign as he left the room.
Just outside the ready room door, the commander halted Kim. Wanting to cheer up the young operations officer, he clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Harry. We'll get them back. They're both survivors."
"I know, sir." Harry sighed. "I guess I'm being selfish. Here I am, feeling lonely and put out that they're both gone, when they are the ones facing the tough conditions."
"They're both very creative people. I'm sure that they will have found a way to get a fire going, or they'll be using those, uh, 'biological methods.'"
Noting Harry's swift intake of breath and a slight quirking of his lips, Chakotay surmised that the obvious warming of the friendship of Paris and Torres may have gone even further than he had realized. Leaning closer to the young man, the commander whispered, "Harry, what's the betting line."
"Betting line, Commander?" he replied uncertainly.
"Mr. Kim. There is a betting line for virtually everything that happens on this ship. Even without Mr. Paris to run this one, I find it hard to believe that there is no betting line about whether or not Paris and Torres are using 'biological methods' to keep warm."
"There isn't one, Commander." Harry assured his superior, but then he hesitated. While his answer was strictly true, he was omitting an important additional fact.
"That's pretty hard to accept."
"Well, there's a reason there isn't any - Commander, you aren't going to let Tom and B'Elanna know about this when they get back, are you?" The commander was satisfied when he heard Harry using the positive term "when" rather than "if." Mission accomplished.
"Of course not, Mr. Kim," Chakotay responded.
Harry sighed, and this time, he was definitely smiling. "Commander, there isn't any betting line because no one is willing to back the bet that they WON'T be using 'biological methods' to survive."
As B'Elanna bored the final hole for attaching their "door," Tom passed his phaser over the last section of the mud and stone wall they had built to seal out the cold air. He had already completed treating the inside surface of the walls and had spread a thick layer of straw over the floor of the niche. A large chunk of stone had been left resting on a shelf formed by an irregularity in the cave wall within the enclosure, ready to be heated by a phaser blast to act as a heat source.
"Finished here, B'Elanna," Tom snapped the phaser off as he spoke.
"I am, too. Hand over the door." Tom picked up the hanging woven of piton rope and thick tufts of straw, which was of sufficient size to overlap the opening and block the cold air from easily entering their "den." Handing one rope end to B'Elanna, he held on to the other and threaded the rope hinge through one of the holes she had made in the stone. When they were done, they stepped back to survey their handiwork.
"Looks good, B'Elanna, but the middle of the night will tell the tale."
"At least if there aren't any big cracks and we're out of the wind, we should do all right." Lifting up the straw door, B'Elanna crawled inside. Tom handed her their blankets and a light before crawling in after her. Together, they spread out their sleeping bag and blankets. "I feel warmer already, Tom."
"Good, because after last night, I'm not interested in feeling any more cool breezes while I try to sleep." He returned the twinkling smile he saw in her eyes. She was in good humor, and at that moment he thought he had never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. Catching his breath, he added, "Let's get some dinner before crawling back inside our 'den' for the rest of the night."
Dinner was, surprise of surprises, "yams" with half a ration bar and a couple of mugs of "Vulcan Ear Tea." At the beginning of the meal, they chatted comfortably about nothing in particular, but once they finished eating, B'Elanna fell noticeably silent. After several of his more humorous attempts received not the slightest indication she had heard him, Tom remained quiet himself.
B'Elanna was taking the last sips of her tea when she said hesitantly, "Tom, about last night. I, um, I just want to say thank you for your . . . I'm not sure what to call it. Efforts? To keep me warm, I mean."
"Don't mention it, B'Elanna. It wasn't exactly a hardship for me." His smile was warm and kind.
"About tonight. When we are in bed. I . . . .I think maybe we can take things a little further. If we need to keep warm, I mean."
"I think you'll find we won't have to use such extraordinary measures tonight. You'll be much warmer, you'll see. Especially with the extra straw. I'll pile some on top of you to help keep you warmer . . . ."
"Tom. What if I said that I would like you to keep me warm. The way we didn't get to last night." Her eyes were still fastened on the bottom of her empty mug.
While he understood her words, believing what he had heard her say was a bit more difficult. "If we got through last night, we'll be fine tonight." He watched her bite her lower lip before she raised her face to him. Her face was lit by the flickering light of the campfire, which burned more steadily on this night because of the dry vines that supplemented the knots of straw; he could see the sparkling flames reflecting from her eyes. Warm brown eyes, connecting with his in a way that he had seen only once before, when she hadn't been herself. Tonight, however, he knew of no event, no intoxicating substance or condition, that could account for that connection except for one thing.
"I thought you wanted to see my Klingon side, Tom. When I really meant it. I meant what I said then - about being attracted to you."
"Last night . . . ."
"Last night was last night, Tom. I meant it then, too, when I said we should, uh, we should have sex, but you were right. It wouldn't have been very comfortable for either of us last night. But I guess . . . .what we did do made me want to see what it would be like to really make love with you tonight. For real."
It was his turn to be silent. How many nights had he lain in bed during the last few months, dreaming of her saying what she was saying to him right now? If he were honest, the answer would be every night. Tom had even imagined it happening in a cave, the two of them having spent an inordinate amount of time in one cavern or another, but not under conditions like this. Tom could not be sure if her primary reason was only to keep warm, rather than for any emotional attachment that she might feel for him. As he sat there, his mind churning over this unexpected proposition, he could think of dozens of reasons why he should put her off, and only one that said he should embrace the opportunity that presented itself; but that one reason was stronger than all of the others. He wanted her, too.
The noble Paris asserted himself. "B'Elanna, this is just as bizarre a situation as any other we've been in. And there have been some really bizarre ones, you have to admit. I do want you, B'Elanna, but not just as a one night stand, like I said last night, and not as a way of surviving a harsh climate, and to just forget about afterwards like it never really happened. Maybe we need to talk this out some more to . . . ."
"Tom, we've talked enough. Over and over again - we've been dancing around this for months. If you really mean all those pretty things you've been saying to me, you'll say, 'yes, thank you, B'Elanna. Let's let it happen.' We are inevitable, Tom. I just want to get over this wondering WHEN it's going to happen and just have it finally begin."
He was a bit stunned at the intensity he heard in her voice. Putting down his mug, he walked over to where she was sitting to kneel down before her, the cold, hard stone biting into his knees. In his heart, he knew he had to be on his knees for what he needed to say to her. "B'Elanna. I want to 'let it happen,' too. But I still think it is too soon in our 'relationship' - yes, I am going to use that word if you're going to be talking about making love with me!" He broke eye contact with her momentarily as he tried to keep his voice steady. "If you want me that badly, B'Elanna Torres, then I don't mind telling you that I want you just as badly. But there is going to be a condition - if it's going to happen tonight. I can be just as happy touching you and having you touch me the way we did last night, and I'm pretty sure we'll be able to go along as we have, as friends, if we stop there. That was intimate, but it won't compare to what I'll be doing with you tonight if we go through with what you are asking. So will you promise me, B'Elanna?"
"Tell me the condition first, Hotshot, and then I'll see if I can promise you."
"That when we get back to Voyager, you don't try to pretend that nothing happened here - that you just expect us to go back to the way we were before. B'Elanna, I want to explore what we can be to one another, to see if we are meant to be together, more than friends. To see if we actually do have a 'relationship.' That's my condition, B'Elanna. Will you do that?"
Turning her face away from his, she shook her head as if trying to clear cobwebs from it. "I don't know . . . ." Then she met his gaze again and half-smiled. "Why is it that you've never been hard to get for anyone on Voyager, except for me, Paris?" Even as she said this, she knew she was being unfair, but B'Elanna wanted to hear his answer.
He replied flippantly, "What, easy to get, me? B'Elanna, whatever could have made you think that?" B'Elanna had been doing her research and knew that in actuality, he was telling the truth. Despite appearances, Lt. Thomas Eugene Paris was nowhere near the rake that he led everyone to think he was, by the way he talked and flirted. At this moment, however, she was reticent about letting him know what she knew.
Instead, she rolled her eyes at him as he took her hands in his. Softly, he went on, "Answer me, Torres. After all, I'm not demanding a lifetime commitment from you this minute. Just an end to this 'I-Pursue-You-and-You-Push-Me-Away' game we've been playing, long enough to see where we're headed. Stop running long enough to look around, Torres, maybe you'll enjoy the view!"
"Paris, you know you talk too much, don't you?"
"How could I avoid knowing it; you've been telling me often enough!"
B'Elanna thought about his request. He really wasn't asking all that much of her. A chance to satisfy their curiosity about each other, to see it they could avoid killing each other, no firm commitments? "All right, Tom. I can promise that much, at least."
Tom squeezed her hands, and she sensed a different quality about his eyes. The color was transformed into a deeper, even more beautiful shade of transparent blue than usual. For a moment, B'Elanna was conscious of a momentary dropping of the hard shell mask that Tom habitually wore to confound the outside world, and she was allowed the briefest of glimpses into the landscape of an incredibly vulnerable soul. And then he smiled at her.
"In that case, B'Elanna Torres, let's get ready for bed."
It was strange. Now that they were going to take this big step, both became incredibly awkward with one another. The stray thought that perhaps they should not go through with it crossed both of their minds, but neither mentioned it to the other. B'Elanna slipped inside their sanctuary first, while Tom fussed over the extinguishing of the fire and gathered into his knapsack canteens, cups, phasers, and wrist lights, all of which would be needed at some time during the night if the activities he had in mind were to be achieved comfortably. Becoming parched from their exertions was likely during an 18 hours-long-night.
Crawling inside to their bed with gear in hand and wristlight switched on, Tom was surprised to see B'Elanna lying under the covers, fully dressed, even to her heavy jacket. "Expecting snow in here, Lieutenant?"
"Very funny, Paris. I got cold while we were yapping outside."
"Sure you still want to go through . . . ."
"I thought that had been established pretty definitively, Tom."
She was obviously nervous. So was he. It wasn't every day that a fantasy came true. Taking the phaser, he set it on very low power and shot it at the rock they had designated to be their radiator. "Be careful you don't get too close," he told her.
She gave him a look that clearly meant she thought that that had been an incredibly stupid, obvious thing to say. He did not care; it needed to be said. Tom felt increasing heat on his face but did not know if it was from his own flushed face or from the heated rock.
Removing the wrist light and perching it in a crack in the wall, Tom pointed the lens up toward the ceiling for background lighting, away from their eyes.
"Aren't you going to shut it off? It'll waste power."
Tom exhaled an extremely visible puff of air, grinned at her, then allowed his grin to fade slightly into a smile before saying quietly, "No, I'm leaving it on. The first time, I want to see your face." She made no verbal reply but suddenly grasped him by the neck and pulled his face down to her mouth, clearly intending to bite him.
He stopped her, saying casually but meaningfully, "B'Elanna, can we start slow, take it nice and easy, 'human-style' at first, if you want to call it that, and then work up to your Klingon side? At least, this first time."
She rolled her eyes but, suddenly feeling shy, nodded affirmatively.
Tom stroked the side of her face, cupped her jaw in his hands and leaned over to softly kiss her on the mouth. Her response was to nip him lightly on the cheek, making his pulse quicken. She was conscious of the slightly sweet smell of the haystack, the feel of his body next to hers, and his brilliant blue eyes upon her. After caressing her for a while, Tom leaned down on one elbow and breathed out, "Is your Klingon side ready to come out now, B'Elanna?" as he leaned his face down near her mouth.
It was, so she bit him.
Afterwards, Tom held B'Elanna close as she lay drowsily in his arms. Tom knew, from the boasting he had heard in more crummy bars in the Alpha Quadrant than he cared to count, that most men aspired to having a Klingon woman as a lover at least once in life. He managed, just barely, to contain his rage at whatever lover or lovers had taken B'Elanna before him. From the way she had responded to Tom, he could tell that they had taken her without any regard to her pleasure, which, if it came at all, was just accidental and secondary to the man's.
He could not help but feel sorry for B'Elanna for missing out for so much of her life on fully experiencing what was, to him, the most beautiful of acts, because of the selfishness of her partners. No wonder she had buried herself in Engineering, living like a Tabern monk. She hadn't known any better!
Observing B'Elanna's eyes flutter to a close as she slipped into an exhausted slumber, Tom untangled the bedding from where it was twisted beneath them. Nudging B'Elanna onto her side, he spread the covers over them both. As her breathing settled into the steady rhythm of sleep, Tom touched the back of her neck with the lightest of kisses. Reaching up, he switched off the light before relaxing his own body to fit the along the contours of hers. Tom nestled close, allowing his own mind to wander as he enjoyed the feeling of just being with someone that he cared about as much as, in fact, possibly more than, he cared for himself.
Without fully realizing it until much later, as Tom lay with B'Elanna in his arms after that first time, he had already made a lifetime commitment to her: a commitment to make her happy.
He was sitting alone again in a corner of the mess hall when Kes came in for her dinner. Head bent over a padd that he was studying intently, Harry Kim still had what appeared to be a full serving of whatever Neelix was serving that night for dinner. After three years on Voyager, Kes was well aware that Harry may have simply disliked what Neelix had prepared, and normally she would have assumed that was true. Tonight, however, her empathic senses told her otherwise.
Loneliness and worry emanated from Harry the way the scent of Kes' deepest red roses wafted through the hydroponics bay when they were in full bloom. She was not sure whether or not the human crew members, who were not particularly telepathic or psychic, were aware of it; but no one was sitting near him. Of course, he may simply have warned them away if they approached him.
Kes picked up a tray and decided upon a dinner selection. Murmuring her usual courtesies to Neelix, her ex-lover but current good friend, Kes walked down the room to find a seat of her own.
"Is this place taken?" she asked Harry.
"No, Kes. Please, sit down. I'll be going in a few minutes anyway to get back down to Engineering."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I was hoping we'd have a chance for a long talk. You've been working so hard lately on all the repairs. It's been ages since we had a chance for a nice long chat."
"A very long time. Almost a week, as I recall, after I finally repaid you the last of the month's worth of replicator rations I borrowed from you a while ago."
She almost giggled. "Well, a week IS a long time to an Ocampa."
Harry tried to work out what one week in the nine year life span of an Ocampa equaled in the terms of a normal human life span, but he quickly gave up, saying instead, "It isn't the same thing, I don't think. What I'd love to know is how you managed to save so many replicator credits. I always seem to be caught short."
"It helps that I don't mind Neelix's Delta Quadrant cooking as much as the rest of you do. I don't use nearly as many credits for food."
"That explains it," he smiled.
"Besides, Harry, that time it wasn't only the two of us. Tom and B'Elanna were with us that night at Sandrine's. You have to admit, when they are around, the conversations all seem to revolve around them.
"They do go at it, don't they." Harry's expression turned wistful. "I wouldn't mind hearing their bickering right now, would you?"
Kes agreed. Seeing the change in Harry's countenance, Kes lightly rested her left hand over Harry's right hand. He turned his hand over and clasped hers in return. "They're all right, Harry. I just know it."
"I'll bet they're arguing about everything down there on that planet."
"Could be." Kes' smile became mysterious.
Noticing, Harry asked, "What, are you sensing anything?"
"Not through any 'psychic' powers, Harry. You know the way they've been looking at each other the past several weeks."
"More like months, in Tom's case, anyway."
"The way Tom feels, Harry, do you think he is going to pick at every little thing with B'Elanna when their lives are at stake? They'll be depending upon one another to survive. They won't put themselves in jeopardy by arguing over everything. They'll be working together. What else do you think they'd be doing?"
"What everyone on board expects them to be doing, for one thing. That's why a betting pool couldn't be set up."
Kes laughed again. "I'm afraid that's so. I'm more concerned about what will happen when they come back here. There's been so much gossip floating around, even before they went on this away mission, and B'Elanna can be a little - quick to take offense sometimes."
"A little quick?"
"Maybe quicker than most people," she admitted.
" 'Most people' is an understatement."
As they shared another laugh, Kes became conscious of the fact that Harry now had her left hand firmly grasped in his right hand. Harry must have become aware of it as well, as his grin became awkward. He unclasped his hand from hers as if to move it away, but Kes stopped him. Their eyes met as she rubbed the top of his hand lightly before letting it go, but Harry had finally taken the hint and left his hand on the table for her so that she could eat her dinner and still grab hold of him again if she really wanted. As she picked up her eating utensil to finish the last few bites of her food, Kes lightly traced a fingertip across the palm of his hand. A subtle change in his breathing was his only response, yet a thrill went through her.
"How are the repairs going, Harry?" Kes asked the young operations officer.
"It's going fairly slowly at the moment. Checking and replacing the damaged circuitry is a tedious job without help from the main computer, but until the circuitry is fixed, we can't rely on the computer. Every bit must be tested by hand to make sure there are no hidden weak spots or flaws, and just putting it all in . . . " As Harry spoke, his eyes became more animated, and he even picked up his own fork and started to eat cold food from his own plate.
Kes remembered their first meeting in the tunnels of the Ocampan homeworld, where she was born. She had enjoyed his company from the beginning, but not much of a friendship could occur between Kes, Harry, and especially, Tom, because of Neelix's jealousy of any man near "his Kes." Once she had decided not to see Neelix anymore in a romantic relationship, the way was clear for Kes to begin developing relationships with other members of the crew; but until now, her few real dates had been with people from off the ship, during shore leaves. Her socializing on board had been in groups, mainly in get-togethers with B'Elanna, Tom, and Harry.
With the pang that she always felt when the memory of her crossed her mind, Kes thought of her "daughter," Linnis, who had married Harry and borne him a son in a lifetime that she would not ever experience now. Kes could see what Linnis had seen in him. Harry's youthful exuberance was matched by intelligence and a pleasant, easy-going personality.
Although Harry was anything but vain, Kes had always thought he was extremely good looking, with obsidian eyes, handsome features, broad shoulders, and a head of hair that Kes' fingers fairly ached to touch. Kes tried to distract herself from thoughts of running her hands through that thick thatch of his by concentrating on Harry's discussion of the repairs. Instead, she found her thoughts wandering back to Linnis and to Linnis' son Andrew. Harry's son, too, and with no Linnis, there could never be an Andrew. Or could there be? What if Andrew were not Kes' grandson at all, but her son?
Kes found herself blushing a little as these unexpected thoughts passed through her mind. She had only thought of Harry as a friend in the past. But, wasn't this what had happened with Tom and B'Elanna? They had worked together for over two years before Tom had begun to reveal romantic intentions to the chief engineer. Kes suspected Tom had been drawn to B'Elanna for much longer, but had not felt confident enough to approach her any sooner.
Kes did not know if Tom and B'Elanna were fully aware of their true feelings yet, or at least, they had not been before being stranded on Tantrum IV. But now? And if Tom and B'Elanna were to become closer, what about Harry? With the threesome becoming a twosome plus one, how would Harry cope? Who could comfort him, keep him from feeling left out?
Kes knew that Harry had been devoted to his fiancée Libby thus far, but as the trip took longer and longer, hopes of seeing Libby again had to be fading. Kes did not want kind, considerate Harry to be lonely. Looking straightforwardly into her own heart, Kes realized with a start that she wanted to be the one to keep him from being lonely. When did that happen? Kes did not know, but she realized that her happiness when in Harry's company was not a new thing, but had been building for quite some time. Why hadn't she recognized that she HAD been dating Harry? She belatedly realized that the only reason she had not realized it was because they had all been double dates, with Tom and B'Elanna.
"I'm sorry, Kes. I know I'm boring you. It doesn't take much for me to start babbling about the ship's systems.
"You're not boring me, Harry. I just have another problem in my mind which keeps distracting me."
"Can I help?"
Kes thought quickly. She could not bring herself to admit to him that the thoughts that had been distracting her had all been inspired by Harry. At least, not yet. Finally, she was able to say, "As a matter of fact, you may be able to help. If you have time, do you think you could do the Doctor's weekly diagnostic that B'Elanna has been running ever since he had memory problems? The Doctor has been getting concerned that his program might become corrupted in some way, especially since he has been in the holoemitter this week for longer than he ever has before."
"I can't believe that I forgot about the Doctor! We should have checked him out before this. I heard the Doctor's voice when he contacted Captain Janeway on the bridge this morning, but it never occurred to me that with the computer problems, the EMH could be in jeopardy. It was a lucky thing he was in the holoemitter when the ship's problems began."
"I'm not sure how much luck had to do with it," smiled Kes. "After the Doctor barely escaped with Commander Chakotay when the Nyrians took over Voyager, B'Elanna and I decided to rig up an automatic alert system. When certain things happen - an imminent computer or shield failure, for instance - I get a signal that reminds me to switch the Doctor into his emitter for safety's sake, until the danger is past. The alert went off the other day when the shields started going down, so I put the Doctor in his emitter. The system seems to have worked fine, and his program has been running off the holoemitter ever since."
"B'Elanna never told me about that alert system, but it's a good idea. We certainly don't want to lose the doctor."
"When can you come to sickbay to run the diagnostic, Harry?"
"Right now, if you're finished with dinner. I really don't have any particular repair assignment this evening, and working on the Doctor's program should be a priority. We need to stop down in Engineering to pick up the portable diagnostic equipment first, though."
"Well, I am done, Harry, so let's go."
The dream was about being poked with an icicle. After B'Elanna came back to wakefulness, several seconds passed before she remembered where she was and why it was so dark. A little groping to investigate the poking sensation that she still felt revealed that B'Elanna had managed somehow to open the side of the sleeping bag, half-slipping out in the process. A thick stalk of the "hay" was poking her beneath her breast, and the air, which was decidedly chilly wherever it flowed over the exposed part of her body, apparently had prompted the icicle part of her dream. It was not as cold as the previous night, to be sure; their "den" was serving its purpose of blunting the effects of the frigid draft, protecting them from the plunge in temperature that characterized the nights of their grim little world. As a vacation spot, this planet would have very little to offer, except for solitude.
One part of her body was very warm. Her buttocks were snuggled close to the heat-exuding physique of Tom Paris. While struggling a bit in the dark to reseal at least part of the side of the sleeping bag, B'Elanna thought about what had taken place between them. Incredible. The closest experience that she had ever had to it was when Jora Mirell/Karenna/whatever-her-name-really-was shared with B'Elanna her bittersweet memories of trysts with her long-dead lover Dathan. Those were the most sensual dreams she had ever had, and the passions they had aroused in her while dreaming them had been, up to now, the highlight of B'Elanna's sexual experience. She reluctantly conceded that to herself now. B'Elanna had declined to examine her addiction to those dreams too closely at the time, not wanting to acknowledge her own feeble responses during her previous sexual encounters.
Now, however, she could assess her short list of previous lovers and admit the truth: they had all been lousy lovers, compared to Tom Paris. Her first real taste of what the Klingon mating urge was all about had come courtesy of a man who seemed like the epitome of the self-involved, cocky barfly he had once programmed on the holodeck. It was shocking to think how well Tom could disguise his true, compassionate self behind all those swaggering poses he liked to assume.
The last piece of the puzzle of her "research project" on the loves of Tom Paris fell resoundingly into place. She smiled. Don't believe everything you hear, indeed; but when the silence is as deafening as Megan Delaney's was when asked about her former, surprisingly long-term relationship with Tom, you can be sure something is being left unsaid. Now that she thought about it, she realized that Megan wasn't the kiss and tell type, despite some of the ship's gossip. Still, Megan's new boyfriend Gerron Tem must REALLY be a good lover if she had given Tom up for him!
The little shiftings in body position that were necessary for B'Elanna to fix the sleeping bag had their effect on Mr. Paris. She heard his breathing change before feeling his body stretch against hers. Taking advantage of the fact that she had already disturbed him, B'Elanna pulled the sleeping bag and blankets around and turned over to face him. Awake, or by reflex, Tom's arms opened for her, allowing her to wrap her own arms around him once she carefully arranged the blankets to cover both of them.
B'Elanna rested her head on firm pectoral muscles. The chest hair that had been so intriguing to play with during their lovemaking now provided a sensuous pillow beneath her cheek. The steady thumping of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest with each breath added to her feelings of contentment. B'Elanna thought with amusement that if she had to be stranded here with somebody, she was glad it was this body.
That hair. She resisted playing with it at first, but, eventually, it became a magnet for her exploring fingertips. As she traced the pattern of hair on his body from his chest down along the midline, B'Elanna remembered with longing exactly what that body could do.
A low-pitched, purring voice was heard: "Wanna play?"
He was definitely awake now, and yes, B'Elanna was in the mood to play.
Afterwards, B'Elanna resumed the position she had been in at the time of his invitation to come play with him. Pleasantly warm, but not ready to sleep, B'Elanna decided that she wanted to know his reply to a question that had occurred to her just before she again had experienced the interpersonal relationship skills of one Thomas Eugene Paris.
"Tom, may I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"How did you learn how to do what you just did with me?"
"Practice, practice, and more practice."
"Stop that! Don't play the pig with me, Paris! I know better."
His chuckle rocked her head where it rested over his heart. "I'm not kidding. As to whom the teachers were, well, I need to protect my sources. All I'm at liberty to say is that I am an apt and willing pupil whenever I can see the value in what it is that I am studying. And bringing pleasure to the one who is sending me to the heights of passion only seems fair." His voice changed its tone, and although his expression could not be seen, she knew it had turned serious. "The lovers you were with before, they don't seem to have followed the same credo."
"That's an understatement. They couldn't wait to finish with me; I can see that now. I just thought it was me."
"B'Elanna, you should have known that that wasn't true, especially after knowing how you responded to Vorik's . . . I don't know what it to call it, exactly, but the words 'attempted rape' come to mind."
"Don't remind me of Vorik! I feel like dislocating his jaw again! Especially when I think that if he hadn't interrupted us in the woods I could have felt this way before!"
Gathering her up into a great hug, he gave out a full-throated laugh, and B'Elanna flushed with happiness at being alive at that very moment. She hadn't really gotten the answer to her question, however. "Tom, back to my original question. Why did you let everyone think you were such a pig when you first came on Voyager? I know you aren't really the way that you've been pretending to be."
"What makes you think I've been pretending?"
"I confess, Tom, I did some checking around since, well, since that pon farr thing, when you acted the opposite of the way I thought you would. Almost every one of the women that I talked to says the same thing - you had some laughs together, maybe some kissing, but you kept it light, no deep involvement. The only ones who aren't talking are Sue Nicoletti and Megan Delaney. I think Sue is too proud to admit that she hasn't anything much to tell, but you dated Megan for over a year. She refused to say anything to me about your love life; but other than that, she only had nice things to say about you. The way everyone else talks about you, you'd think that you were sleeping your way through the ranks until you get to Janeway. I know you aren't. Why are you making everyone think you're a pig?"
He remained silent for a while before saying, "The truth is, I WAS a pig when I came on Voyager. I thought I had a reputation to uphold - for hotshot pilots everywhere. I just didn't get a chance to act on it before it got through my thick skull that it wasn't the right way to act if I was really going to redeem myself in the captain's eyes, or in everyone else's, either. I have you to thank for that, actually. Do you remember when you called me a pig when I programmed Gaunt Gary and the gigolo in Sandrine's?"
"Vividly."
"That shocked me. I couldn't believe that you would be offended by Gary's attentions. It made me take a long, hard look at what I had been doing to myself since I was cashiered from Starfleet after the Caldik Prime accident . . . ." His voice trailed off as he immersed himself in the memories of a time he would like to forget but couldn't, pondering how much he wanted to reveal to her. Just as she thought she might have to ask him to go on, of his own volition he did, in a husky, emotion-tinged voice. "I can't tell you how hard that was - well, maybe I don't have to - your life hasn't been that easy. But anyway, my father didn't exactly disown me, but he was so upset by the way I had screwed up his dreams for my future that I couldn't bear to look at him when I was with him. I bummed around, getting jobs where I could, hardly enough to pay my bar bills, half the time. And I'll admit it. If a woman was willing to let me into her bed, I took her up on it. No questions asked, but no promises made, either. I don't even want to think about some of the things I did then. I wasn't much better than that gigolo more times than I want to think about."
B'Elanna felt his hands start to stroke her back, but this time, she was sure he was not trying to start anything sexual but instead was deriving comfort, perhaps absolution, for what he was confessing. She had a hunch that he had not even spilled all of this out to Harry. "I spent most of those years, even after I landed with the Maquis, as drunk as I could afford to be. When you've passed out under the table, you don't have to think about how you've wasted your life. And the rest of the time I used sex as an anesthetic. It was the only time I felt good." Tom shifted his body a little and began to stroke B'Elanna's hair. "But you know, B'Elanna, even then, I never lost sight of the fact that the woman I was with was giving me a gift. Her body. I could use it for my own needs, or I could share a wonderful experience with her. I chose to share, B'Elanna, not only because it was fair, but because it was the only way I could pay her back for making me feel like - like somebody again. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes, I do, Tom." B'Elanna was a little sorry, now, that she had made him talk about it. The thrilling sexual experiences that he had shared with her were payback: for allowing him to have sex with her in the first place, for keeping him warm, maybe even for being his friend. She would have liked for it to have been as special for him as it had been for her, but then she berated herself for being foolish. Instead of dreaming of a deeper relationship with Mr. Paris, as he seemed for a while to have had with Megan Delaney, B'Elanna would have to be content with what he had to offer - his left hand, stroking her head; his right hand, now traveling down to her hip in rhythmic motions; his body, pressing close to hers in the darkness - she could enjoy these sensations. Just don't look for anything more.
His soft voice broke into her reverie. "You still awake?"
"Yes. I was just thinking about what you said. Did you ever talk to Harry about this?"
"God, no, I wouldn't want to burden him with this. The only reason I told you is because you insisted. And I guess I do want you to understand about my past, now that we've been this intimate with one another." She felt his lips touch each of her forehead ridges in succession with a light kiss, quite a trick when it was as dark as it was, before feeling him shake with laughter. "Harry, Harry, Harry, he was so innocent when we first met! Do you know Harry was actually gullible enough to believe me when I told him I'd left five girlfriends behind me in the Alpha Quadrant? That was back when he was too afraid to date anyone, because he'd left Libby behind. As if I'd had access to any girlfriends while I was in prison!"
"Maybe he thought it was the kind of prison where you could have 'female visitors' for that sort of thing."
"Conjugal visits were allowed, but only if you were married. I guess I won't have to worry about that any more. If I do get thrown back into Auckland when we get home to the Alpha Quadrant, at least you'll be making some conjugal visits to me."
"What are you talking about?"
"I thought that now that we've done 'the deed,' we're mates for life."
She snorted in disbelief. "Don't be silly, Paris."
"It is Klingon tradition, after all."
"Uh-huh, and I know what a student of Klingon tradition you've become lately."
"I have, and a wonderful tradition it is, too, most of the time, although I'm not that crazy about the concept of killing your superior at the first sign of weakness as a means of getting promoted."
"I'm not crazy about that one, either."
"So, you sure you don't want to take the marriage oath, B'Elanna? I'm willing and ready."
"Right. Just go to sleep, Paris."
Giving him a hug as she listened again to the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear, B'Elanna snuggled her body as close to his as she could. She felt his arms closed around her in a tender embrace, felt him plant another kiss on the top of her head. It certainly was nice to feel so warm and cozy in his arms.
Tom was satisfied too, but not as greatly as the one who was lying in his arms. Since she had had no idea how serious he had been, B'Elanna never detected the sense of dejection Tom was feeling because she had rejected his marriage proposal.