Look After You- Chapter Seventeen
A/N: Thanks again to Pepper for the beta. References to Threshold.
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"It was only one hour ago, it was all so different then. There's nothing yet that has really sunk in. I grieve for you," Peter Gabriel, I grieve.
***
Like a child sleepwalking, B'Elanna found herself at the door of Tom's quarters, trying to find solace. Harry had left not too long after the news of Tom's death broke, needing time to deal with it alone. B'Elanna hadn't been quite sure what to do with herself, and had ended up here.
Typing in Tom's code, she entered Tom's quarters, and was immediately hit with the scent of Tom: spicy and masculine and a smell she loved.
She cast a gaze around the room, and noticed how clean it was. Despite what one might think, Tom was fastidiously clean and he'd once explained to her that he'd been brought up to believe that appearances were of the greatest importance; from the way he looked to the state of his room, and it was a doctrine that he hadn't been able to shed. She had never invited Tom or Harry over to her quarters for fear of what they might think of the state of it. She was capable of efficient engineering or efficient tidying, but not both, and the engines won every time.
B'Elanna began to wander around. She had been here so many times, but now that he was gone she felt like she was looking in here for the very first time, trying to give meaning to all the things Tom would never touch again. Tom didn't have many personal belongings adorning his room, as he had near to nothing when he boarded, yet he seemed to have this way of making all the standard furniture and appendages his own.
She walked over to his computer console, and smiled when she saw that he had replicated some stickers that looked like the rockets and spaceships from the old movies that Tom loved so much, and had stuck them over his console. The computer was still on, and she noted that on the screen was a countdown to his flight mission. The time had long run out, but the letters were still flashing, almost as if they were conveying his initial excitement. She gave one long glance at it, before leaning over to switch it off and close it. In the process, she accidentally nudged the console, and this revealed a photo underneath.
Out of curiosity she picked it up and looked at it. It was an image from Tom's Starfleet Academy days, and appeared to be a team photo. Tom didn't talk much of his life back then, and she had no idea what sport he had played. In the photo, there were four people smiling broadly at the camera. One was a much younger looking Tom and she couldn't help but smile at his full lock of hair. His brilliant blue eyes were gleaming, and he had his arm wrapped around the girl next to him. The girl was the most beautiful human B'Elanna had ever seen. With strawberry blonde hair and eyes the colour of emeralds, her entire presence made her seem ethereal, and this was heightened by her kind-looking features. Her face was pressed close to Tom's, and her smile matched his. Next to her stood a tall, burly-looking man, with sandy hair and pale brown eyes. He stood proud and tall and the three of them wore gold medals around their necks. The man standing next to Tom was the only one not wearing a sports uniform, nor did he have a medal. He had unruly brown hair and expressive brown eyes, and seemed to be extremely happy for his friends. Turning over the photo, B'Elanna found the words, 'Never forget', inscribed on the back. She realized that these people must have been the friends that Tom had accidentally killed, and the girl the one that Tom had loved. Seeing this photo made her comprehend how real these people had been; not just a tragic statistic or a painful memory. With a pang, she finally understood what the weight Tom carried on his shoulders must have felt like.
They're proud of you, Tom, she thought. I hope you got a chance to realize that.
Setting down the photo, she moved over to Tom's chaise lounge, and sat down in it. His dressing gown was folded at the end, and she picked it up to smell it. There were tones of his cologne, and with a wave of emotion she realized how much she was going to miss it; miss him.
So many thoughts and feelings, but where to start?
Drawing her legs up to her chest, she wrapped his dressing gown over her knees, as if it were a blanket. She thought back to the very moment she had first met Tom.
She'd been on the Val Jean for six months, and Chakotay had returned from a mission with Tom in tow. Tom had cast a glance around the small ship, with a big smirk on his face. When he saw B'Elanna, his smirk had only deepened, and she had hated him on sight.
You've wanted me since the moment you first saw me.
The voice of the manifested Tom echoed in her mind, and she considered his words. Had she really felt that way? Tom had immediately irritated her; the way he tried to tell her how to do her job, while at the same time looking at her like he was mentally undressing her. And the way he objectified her made her feel like she was a child again, being scrutinised by her peers for looking different. So no, there had been no room for appreciation or attraction in those first few instances. But after a while, she found herself watching him. She grew captivated by the way he flew the ship, navigating the Badlands as if he was speaking a language he was fluent at. She had recognized then, Tom's addiction to adrenaline rushes and dangerous situations, for it had matched her own. At that moment she had developed a small curiosity to see how similar they really were. Much later, they were on a planetoid and Tom saved her from drowning. In those initial moments when he was trying to make her come about, he had been incredibly worried. When B'Elanna had finally opened her eyes, she had glimpsed the panic in his eyes, and his words had been of concern. Gone was his air of arrogance and his cocky attitude, and that's when B'Elanna had begun to suspect that Tom was wearing a mask; the real and possibly more tender side locked deep inside him. She'd been incredibly grateful for him being there, and they seemed to reach some sort of truce: that they both mutually accepted each other. She had then toyed with the idea of what it might be like to give in to Tom's advances, but before she could figure out whether she would (and it would most likely be no), Tom had vanished a day later. The feeling of not being surprised had masked the slight disappointment and emptiness she had felt at his departure.
She closed her eyes. She'd forgotten those feelings. Oh, she remembered the scorn, but not the stirring feelings of change, nor the slight glimpse of who Tom Paris really was. She'd feel those things again, later, when he kept her company in the mines, but she only remembered now that she had thought these things before. So maybe that projection of Tom had been right.
She thought about her changing feelings towards him. When she met him again as he pulled her out of the Ocampan tunnels, she'd realized he'd changed. This Tom was more professional and extremely determined to prove that he was more than a leery drunk. He didn't acknowledge that he knew her from before, and that would only come up later when she referenced him saving her. There were no more lascivious looks or flirting, at least not to her anyway. As comrades, they worked together well, but they didn't socialise outside of duty, and she didn't even begin to consider him a friend until after the mine incident. The ease of their friendship was unexpected, but not unappreciated. He was a good friend who was able to understand things about her that most people couldn't. She adored his friendship. Treasured his warm personality. Revelled in his humour. And with startling clarity, realized that she loved him.
Opening her eyes, she toyed with the sleeve of his robe. The realization didn't surprise her, and maybe she'd know deep down for a while. Not that she could do anything about it now. Even if she had the chance, she wasn't sure if she would. She knew she wasn't Tom's type by a long-shot. Someone like Sue was.
This is the secret you've been keeping, Tom's voice whispered.
Maybe. But this was the secret she would keep. It didn't matter anymore.
She let out a sigh. Life without Tom would be empty. She hadn't felt this desolate since her father had left her all those years ago, and it felt like it was happening all over again, except this time, the person she loved didn't have a choice in the matter.
There would be no more memories. No more jokes, or laughter, pranks or happy times. No more good company and intriguing conversations, and her heart broke at the prospect.
With surprise, a tear trickled down her face. She had made a promise to herself when she was younger that she would never cry again. When her father had left, she'd cried for days on end, before emerging from her room and vowing never to waste tears on another person or situation again. She hadn't cried when her beloved grandmother died, or when the other kids at school bullied her. She didn't cry when she stopped talking to her mother or when she couldn't adjust to Starfleet's stringent rules and regulations. Crying was for the weak. And she wasn't that weak five-year old anymore. But just this once, she allowed herself to break this vow. Another tear formed, and then another, before a torrent of tears came. She moved his robe close to her face, allowing the tears to fall into the soft material, trying to come to terms with the fact that he was gone. After a while, the tears stopped, and she sniffed, trying to compose herself together. Standing up, she set his robe back down on the chair, and headed out. Before she reached the door, she cast one final glance around the room, trying to commit everything to memory.
"Computer: turn out the lights," she whispered.
And just like that, his quarters were shrouded in darkness.