Making Up is Hard to Do
Chapter 8
A naked man stood in front of a mirror. Tom looked much better after some solid food that actually stayed down the last time and a night's rest holding B'Elanna Torres. Just touching his body to hers was like electricity and a salve. He felt better now but was also very nervous at the same time.
His pre-ritual mental preparations of inhaling relaxants and reciting Bajoran prayers told him somehow that he would be asked two questions. They could come in any order. One would be 'Who are you'? 'Who' was apparently what made Tom Paris Tom. It was how he identified himself and related it to others.
The other question was 'What are you'? In this case 'what' meant how he really was, not what he thought he was. The questions seemed so simple and easily answerable. But now that he had thought about it he really did not know for sure anymore.
"Computer, what time is it?"
"1315 hours." Beta shift. B'Elanna should be sleeping. She was on Alpha shift today and will be on Beta tomorrow.
Three hours of preparation meant that Paris had reached the point of ritual execution at 1330. The door to his quarters was sealed with a privacy lock. He had closed and locked the door to his bedroom and bathroom. The lights were off. A Bajoran prayer globe was in the sink giving off a soft glow and emanating the musky smell of incense. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw his reflection, wispy and almost floating.
He softly sang the Bajoran death chant signifying the end of the old Tom Paris. "Ahn-kay ya, ay-ya vasu. Coh-ma-ra, di-nay-ya. Ahn-kay ya, ay-ya vasu. Coh-ma-ra, di-nay-ya…"
Then there was a sudden rush of overwhelming pain so intense that he screamed. He passed out, hitting the floor hard.
/
His eyes opened to flickering light and an incense-filled bathroom. Suddenly he heard his image ask him a question. "What are you?"
Tom was startled. It was his voice. But he had not spoken a word. He clambered to his feet and looked into the mirror. There he was looking right back at himself.
The question had come from within his mind. And then he seemed to be floating over time and distance, which no longer held any meaning for him.
/
He was nine-years-old in his room playing on the floor with ship models and dreaming of sailing on the ocean. Music was playing. Then his father, Captain Owen Paris, walked in.
"What are you doing, Thomas? Why are you not studying your algebra? Let me see your homework. And turn off that damned music. You can't concentrate."
"I needed a break, Daddy. I was wondering if we could go out for a walk."
His father did not hear him as he perused his son's papers. "You have made eleven errors on the first two pages. This is unacceptable. Terrible. You are failing math, me, and the entire Paris family of Starfleet officers past and present. How will you ever become a fleet admiral if you cannot figure out simple algebra?"
"Daddy, I…."
"Give me those." His father took the collection of ship models and smashed one of them under his foot. Tom began to cry. "Every time you make a mistake in life there is a penalty. A Paris male does not cry. Now you get back to work. You can come down to eat but you are not going to bed until you have finished your homework with no errors, period. And let me tell you something…."
I'll just tune him out.
/
Tom was in a trance or so it seemed. Then the question came once again. "What are you?"
The image in his mind changed. Tom was now sixteen-years-old and had crashed the family shuttle into Lake Tahoe. "Dad, I'm sorry. But I love to fly. I'll figure out how to make this better. And I'm okay, really."
"There are consequences, Tom. How are we going to get that damned shuttle off the bottom of the lake? Julia, we need to check the insurance policy."
Tom was crying. His father did not care if he lived or died.
I'll just tune him out.
/
"What are you?" The question startled him once again.
Now he was a Starfleet cadet at the Academy. "But Susie, I love you. You can't just leave me! "
"Tom, you're a nice guy and all that. But I think this is going a bit too far too fast and I am not ready. We should just step back and take a look at this relationship. You know, evaluate it. But we can still be friends."
"Susie! I don't want to evaluate anything! I don't just want to be your friend!"
"Then goodbye, Tom. We are through."
Who needs love anyway?
/
The image shifted again and the question repeated. He was now in Marseilles in a bar called Chez Sandrine's with a beautiful French girl. "Ricki! Man, you are looking good!
She looked into his blue eyes. "Merci, Tommy. So, we can get together later?"
"Sure. Where?"
"Upstairs. Tommy, I will give you a gift tonight."
"A gift?"
"Two weeks of lessons."
Tom looked a bit skeptical. "What kind?"
She smiled. "How to make love to a woman. Not sex. But how to really make love."
Wow!
/
Then another shift and the same question once again. He was at Starfleet Academy.
"Hey, Cadet Torres! Wait up."
"Yes, sir?" Eighteen-year-old 5' 5" Plebe B'Elanna Torres looked up at a tall Senior Captain Tom Paris.
"So off to see Burke again? You know he just isn't right for you. I mean there are better choices."
"Sir, look, Tom, I like you. A lot. I have pizza with you every Monday night. But are you trying to tell me something?" She looked up at him expectantly with those gorgeous brown eyes.
"Umm, well, umm, no, not exactly." Shit. Tell her you want to go out with her. She is so beautiful but does not know it. You fell for her weeks ago.
"Okay then. Monday night?" She was disappointed.
"You are trouble, Torres!"
Why can't I tell her how I feel? What is it with B'Elanna Torres?
/
The shifting continued as a stream of images flew by; each one proceeded by the same question. Now he was being court-martialed.
"Ensign Paris, for a serious lie on your report regarding Caldik Prime you are to be cashiered out of Starfleet. It is admirable that you changed the report later to reveal the truth, which speaks to your integrity. However, the Board finds you guilty of conduct unbecoming an officer and numerous charges regarding the safe operation of a shuttle. You are fortunate not be charged with involuntary manslaughter. Dismissed."
Upon hearing the Board's ruling, Admiral Owen Paris stood up and walked away. His mother was sobbing.
"Dad, I'm sorry! I thought I could handle it. I should never have lied."
Admiral Paris turned and looked back. "Consequences, Ensign. Bad judgment leads to bad consequences."
I'll just tune him out.
/
"But Ricky, you can't end the engagement! Look, I know I am no longer Starfleet but why does that matter?
"Because it does. I want to be an admiral's wife not the spouse of a liar and disgraced officer."
"Ricky, I came clean at the Board. I saved my honor. I love you!"
"But I don't love you. Goodbye, Tom."
Who needs this?
/
"Laren, don't cry. I won't be in prison forever."
"That's not all of it, Tom. I am leaving the Maquis and returning to Bajor. I am going to the House of the Prophet's and think all of this through."
"I will come for you when I get out. I love you."
"Maybe you do. We had a good thing going but you know you really need someone else. I told her about you, warned her that you two were made for each other and it was inevitable. She laughed at me but it is true."
"Who are you talking about?"
"Torres."
/
Now he was in a New Zealand prison for eighteen months. "So admiral's son, want to find out what it's like to be my huckleberry? I'll bet you are real tight."
"Leave me alone!"
"Hey, you will really love it. I haven't had sweet meat like you in months."
Tom fought off three Maquis attackers before the guards arrived. Bloodied and beaten, there were more attacks coming later.
Don't show fear.
/
The Ocampa home world. "Torres, are you okay? You're very sick. Let me give you a hand out of that hole."
"Back off, Paris! I don't need your help."
"Look, I am only trying to…."
"Pig! If you touch me again I will cut your balls off and throw them into the Gamma Quadrant!"
That's my B'Elanna! What the hell am I saying?
/
Another prison. This one Vidiian.
A totally human B'Elanna Torres looked at Tom. "No, that's not it. I think that when they extracted my Klingon DNA, they turned me into some kind of a coward."
Tom was concerned. He cared for her. "Sometimes fear can be a good thing. Keeps you from taking unnecessary chances. Courage doesn't mean that you don't have fear. It means that you've learned to overcome it. And I know that you can find the courage to hold on until we can find a way out of this place."
She managed a smile. She was so beautiful. He was falling in love with B'Elanna Torres all over again.
How can I get close to you? I am falling once again so hard for you.
/
Then the question again. "What are you?"
He was in a cave on Sakari IV.
"You can't tell me you are not interested in me!" B'Elanna was panting.
"You're right. I can't."
Don't screw this up, Tom. You love her. God, you love her.
/
"B'Elanna, try the fried chicken. And it's almost sunset so Lake Como should be nice and calm."
"Tom, you really make me feel so comfortable." She kissed him. He was flying.
Oh, God, I love you B'Elanna! Can you ever love me?
/
B'Elanna looked at Tom through her face shield. She was crying. "Tom, I have to tell you the truth." Her breath was labored now. It would soon be over.
Tom could barely breathe. "The truth about what?"
She gasped it out. "I…I love you. Say something."
Tom was stunned. Elated. So sad. "You picked a great time to tell me." They held each other close, caressing their face shields through their gloved hands. He wanted so much to kiss her and feel alive like on Sakari IV.
I love you too. Some things are never meant to be.
/
Kissing her against the bulkhead. So hot, fiery, returned. Interrupted. Gone. New medical assistant? Yeah, okay.
Where is she? "Computer, locate Lieutenant Torres."
"Lieutenant Torres is in her quarters."
Turbolift, running, sprinting, door chime. Out of breath.
She looks up at him. He is so in love with her.
"B'Elanna, I….love you too."
She breaks into a broad grin. Grabbing his uniform, she dragged him inside.
/
They just began as a couple and he almost lost her to Dejaren on an away mission.
They were in Sickbay, Tom and B'Elanna's second home it seemed. The EMH was agitated. "I have stopped the internal bleeding and repaired the damaged tissue. Your pericardium is clean as a whistle. Which is more than can say for my Sickbay."
Tom was hurt. "I'm sorry about the mess. I haven't had time to clean up. It was a hectic day. I treated two broken bones, an upset stomach, and a lacerated hand."
B'Elanna looked much better and turned to Tom seductively. "Does this mean you are too tired to meet later, in my quarters?"
Tom leered back. "Are you sure your heart can take it?"
Hours later they made love slowly, gently, the way Tom had learned in France so many years before. B'Elanna was in ecstasy and he was flying once again.
/
"Tom?"
"Yes, Bea?"
"Where are we?"
He looked at her. "We are in my Holodeck garage sitting in this recreated Camaro, of course!"
"No, I mean…never mind."
What is she getting at? Oh, well.
/
"Tommy?" B'Elanna was playing with his ear.
"Humm. Look at this television show! It is about a talking horse called Mr. Ed!"
"Tom, have you ever thought about our future, I mean long-term?"
"Yeah, decades on Voyager. This popcorn is really good." He kissed her.
These shows are so cool!
/
"Why won't you let me in, Tom? Why do you keep running away from me when I ask you about your past? Why won't you open up?"
"Just leave me alone, okay? I just can't talk about it. You do the same."
"But I love you. I want to help. But you don't seem to love me. You and your stupid ALICE. Fine! I'm out of here. You know where you can find me IF you want to find me."
"B'Elanna! Wait, I'm sorry."
Damn.
/
"Maybe just love isn't good enough anymore." Tom was looking at an elderly B'Elanna. Her eyes were sad, her face wrinkled, and her hair grey. His hair line had receded; he had a paunch and walked with a limp.
"What are you saying, B'Elanna?"
"I am talking about commitment, something you apparently do not understand even after decades together."
"But B'Elanna…."
"Don't you understand? I waited for years for you to ask me. I went through menopause. I am too old to have children at seventy-eight. You are eighty-one, Tom. You have not been a pilot in years. We have no family, nothing. You are a selfish playboy, Tom. A little boy who never grew up. And I have had it."
"But B'Elanna!" He coughed. He had been doing a lot of that lately.
"We're finally through Tom Paris. Take your Captain Proton episode five hundred and ninety-nine and your Delta Flyer XXI and everything else that is more important to you than me and shove it. You don't need to run from me anymore. Just stay away from me for the next twenty years, if we live that long. I took you back three times now. Not again. Never." She shuffled away and sobbed, her cane supporting her frail body.
I didn't mean it. When did we get so old? So much time wasted.
/
The globe gave off its glow and the incense burned. Tom contorted himself as the smoke floated into his eyes and caused them to water. Or was he crying? That last scene had not happened yet. It was horrible. Was this the future? His future? Their future? Oh my God! I really act so juvenile. I live in the past as much as the present. Is this how I am? Is this how B'Elanna and others see me?
Then suddenly it became so clear. There was the answer.
Tom looked at his image.
"What are you?" The mouth remained passive.
He answered. Clearly. Confidently. The image nodded at him and smiled. It faded away.
Suddenly Tom could not stand anymore as he began to lose equilibrium. The weight of emotion was too much for him to bear. Wave upon wave of searing pain flowed through him and his mind felt as if it was about to explode. He screamed in agony as he held his head in his hands. Then he collapsed and things went black.