Obligatory disclaimers:
1) Paramount owns all the characters, settings, technobabble  etc.
Basically everything but:
2) The stuff that belongs to Peg Robinson and Macedon.  (I got their 
permission to use what I used) and,
3) The story.  That's mine.

That might be misleading.  This isn't a sequel to the Talking 
Stick/Circle Series.  You'll know that in a few minutes anyway if you
keep reading, but I'll tell you here anyway.  That was just my stepping
off point. This story is something else entirely.  I'll have to take all the
blame on this one. -Kelly

Feedback welcome at kyz2@aol.com.

'37 Chevy 
 
	I don't know how she knew, but the captain hit dead-on when 
she suggested I bet Paris time working on his truck.  I can beat him at 
pool nine times out of ten, but this time I think I subconsciously wanted 
to lose.  Maybe even a little consciously.  Hell, who was I kidding, I'd 
been dying to get my hands on that old jalopy  ever since it first 
backfired.  I just hadn't been able to figure out how to do it. 
	The doors to the cargo bay opened and I leaned against the 
jamb, arms crossed in front of my chest.  "All right Tom, I'm here."   
	I must have hit it just right because he came skittering out from 
behind the truck with a big goofy grin on his face.  He tucked his arm 
around my shoulders, his face just inches from mine.  "Come on Torres, 
don't be such a sore loser." 
	I pushed at him slightly.  "I'm not a sore loser."  Bright eyes, 
laughing, Gods I'm a sucker.  "So what are you doing?" 
	"That's my girl." 
	I poked him in the chest.  "One thing Paris,  I am not your girl." 
	But he just smiled bigger and shook his head.  "Whatever you 
say.  Shall we get started?" 
	He showed me every square centimeter of that old junker, 
slowly, lovingly, as if I'd no idea how a carburetor worked.  He'd even 
named her Franny.  Pretty soon I stopped listening, my imagination 
running ahead of me.  What color to paint it? How fast could it go?  
Where could we take it?  Then it hit me:  a perfect excuse to take Tom 
up on his offer for an hour on the holodeck. 
	"Torres?  Torres, are you in there?" 
	"Hmmmm, what?" 
	"Where'd you go?   You looked like you were light years away 
from here." 
	"I just got sidetracked.  What were you saying?" 
	"Nothing.  Are you sure you're okay?" 
	"I said I'm fine."  Too loud, I closed my eyes.  Damn.  "Sorry 
Paris, it's been a rough couple of weeks." 
	"Yeah, me too."  He didn't elaborate, I didn't ask.  He hid his
face under the hood.
	I joined him under the hood.  "Feel like tackling the brakes?"  
Always good to go back to neutral territory. 
	"Yeah,   I looked at them earlier.  They could use the attention."  
	He climbed in the front seat and took the car out of gear.  I 
started to remove the wheelcover.  "Tom?"
	He climbed out on the other side. 
	"Where'd you learn so much about cars?" 
	"Oh, I dunno, here and there." 
	"No, really, where?" 
	"You really want to hear this?"  I nodded.  "Okay.  A friend of 
my father's used to sneak me 'unsuitable' reading material."  My 
eyebrows shot up and he blushed.  "No, not that kind of unsuitable,"  he 
stammered.  "My father was very strict, didn't believe in novels,  thought 
I could better use my time studying,"  he grimaced.  "The things he gave 
me were very innocent really:  Boxcar Children, Tom Sawyer, Phantom 
Tollbooth, that kind of stuff.  But my favorites were the Hardy Boys." 
	I grunted as I pulled off the wheel.  "The who?" 
	"The Hardy Boys.  Teenage brothers who go around solving 
really corny mysteries.  They were always driving a little yellow 
convertible, or flying a twin engine plane, or something of that sort.  I 
guess it got me to the library to look them up." 
	"Hand me the pliers would you?"  I held out my palm.   "You 
can't learn this stuff at a library." 
	"I did.  Well, at first anyway.  I used to study parts catalogs 
religiously.  Then when I was old enough to have some money of my 
own, I bought a real clunker from a junkyard.  It was in even worse 
condition than this one." 
	"And your father let you?" 
	"I was far beyond hope at that point.  He didn't care what I did 
as long as I stayed out of his hair."  He tried to cover the bitterness but I 
still heard it. 
	"Okay, mine are off.  You ready?" 
	"Ooof. Yeah, I'm ready."  The last tire landed with a thud. 
	As he rolled under the car, I sat down on the floor by his feet.  
A little boy sneaking mystery novels under the sheets with a flashlight 
after his father had gone to bed, a slightly older boy poring over dusty 
old books at the library, another, even older, working on his car, 
cursing.  Cursing? 
	"Ow! Damn, ow, ow ow." 
	"What happened?  Are you okay?" 
	 He rolled from beneath the car holding one finger tightly in the 
other hand.  "Pinched my finger.  Jesus it hurts." 
	"Let me see it." 
	He shrank back but I kept my hand out.  When he put his hand 
in mine,  I turned it over.  "That's a good one.  Gonna turn a mighty nice 
shade of purple." 
	"My mother used to kiss it better." 
	I almost stood and dropped his hand.  Almost.  But the look on 
his face was. . . kind of vulnerable.  I lifted his hand to my lips,  kissed 
it.  Then, and I'm still not sure what came over me,  I turned his hand 
over and pressed a kiss into his palm. 
	"Come on,"  I said, getting my feet back under me.  I pulled him 
up too.  "I think we should call it a day.  You're no use in that 
condition." 
	"Hey, hey, how 'bout a little sympathy for the injured." 
	"You're not that injured." 
	He pouted. 
	"Try again tomorrow?" 
	"Tomorrow." 
	Halfway out the door I turned.  "And Tom, have the doctor take 
a look at that hand." 
	He was grinning when I left. 
 
	She wasn't there when I arrived.  Sandrine's has and entirely 
different attitude when the captain's there.  She'd be hurt if she knew, 
the she'd stop coming, so nobody let her know.  Even the holocharacters 
seemed to behave better, although I knew that wasn't likely, or Tom was 
a much better programmer than I had thought. 
	Harry waved me over to the table he'd claimed for the evening.  
"Where's Tom?" 
	"I thought you'd know.  He's probably still nursing that pinched 
finger he got this morning, the big baby." 
	I jumped when someone poked me in the ribs.  "Big baby, 
huh?" 
	I stuck my tongue out at Tom.  He ignored me and turned his 
chair backwards straddling it. 
	"Where ya been hiding?" Harry asked. 
	"I was playing pool.  I'm surprised you didn't see me. 
	Then they were there.  My back was to the door, but I didn't 
need to see them to know.  The lull was deeper than just the captain.  
They had arrived together then. 
	I turned in my seat to find Chakotay scanning the crowd.  His 
eyes met mine.  I smiled.  God it was weak.  I tried again, steadier now, 
but he'd gone on to other things. 
	The doctor was behind the bar,  Sandrine's arm draped across 
his shoulder.  Chakotay talked to him for a moment then turned away, a 
drink in each hand to join the captain at a nearby table. 
	I turned back to my table to find both Harry and Tom staring at 
me.  "What?  Did I miss something?"  Tom's eyes bored into me like he 
was trying to read the back of my skull.  When I couldn't hold his eyes 
any longer, I turned to Harry who was staring no more subtly at Tom. 
	The whole thing probably took less than three seconds, but I felt 
exposed, my skin peeled off, my thoughts written on a viewscreen. 
	Harry spoke, thank god for Harry.  "Tom asked if you want a 
drink." 
	"Oh, yeah, sure." 
	"What?"  Tom's voice cut, rough.  I took a second to realize he 
was asking what I wanted to drink. 
	"Whatever, I don't care." 
	"Two beers and a whatever."  Tom stood slowly, his eyes never 
leaving my face.  I'll admit I was relieved when he left. 
	Harry reached for my hand,  "Are you all right?  You were 
white as a ghost a minute ago." 
	I nodded. 
	He squeezed my hand tighter.  "Want to tell me what 
happened?" 
	I shook my head and looked at the floor. 
	"Anytime, you know." 
	"I know." 
	We stared out at the crowd.  Carey was beating Hogan at the 
pool table.  Somebody had pushed some tables back and a few couples 
were dancing.   Kes was bouncing Wildman's baby on her knee while 
the proud mama watched. 
	Tom returned, drinks in hand, mask firmly in place.  That mask 
could almost have become a running joke if he didn't put it on in such 
desperate earnest.  It was almost painful to watch. 
	I finished half my drink without taking a breath, putting the mug 
down with a clatter. 
	Harry looked at me, then a spot above and behind me.  The 
doctor's voice came loud and clear, "I feel that as the resident medical 
authority on this ship it is my duty to warn against such liberal use of 
alcohol.  That's not synthahol, you know." 
	My face turned red, Tom covered a snicker and Harry laughed 
the laugh of someone who doesn't know what else to do. 
	"I'm having trouble transferring myself back to sickbay.  I was 
hoping one of you would look at the holocomputer." 
	Harry and I both stood, but he beat me to it,  "I'll go." 
	I sat back down.  Just me and Tom, left to stare at each other.  
My insides felt empty, hollowed out.  I couldn't help it, I snuck a glance 
at them.   Her hand in his,  he was laughing.  I turned back, Tom was 
staring at them too.  He smiled sheepishly at me when I caught his eye. 
	I wiped the condensation from my drink.  He ate peanuts.  I 
picked at my napkin.  He nursed his drink. 
	"So. . . " 
	"So. . . " 
	"You wanna dance?" 
	Thank you God, something not requiring intelligent 
conversation.  "Sure." 
	The song ended as we stood and something slow started 
playing.  Something slow and romantic and cloying.  He held out his 
arms looking as uncomfortable as I felt. 
	I took a few hesitant steps forward.  Some guys hold a girl at 
arms length, others too close.  Memories of sweaty hands and crunched 
toes flashed through my mind, but Tom turned out to be an excellent 
dancer.  I relaxed and started to feel better.  His arms felt nice around 
me.  I had forgotten how good people can feel.  I leaned my head 
against his shoulder, unconsciously matching our breathing.  I started to 
get lost in him.  He smelled so good, moved so well.  His hands started 
roaming over my back, I ran a hand through the short hair at the top of 
his spine, that spot that always called out for a kiss. 
	When they came back into my view, she was in his arms, 
whispering in his ear.  I felt myself go stiff, but Tom didn't let go, just 
held me tighter.  Kahless, he knows.  I forced myself to relax, to dance.  
Chakotay caught my eye and winked. 
	Suddenly I had to get out of there. 
	I think I jumped because Tom jumped back and stared at me.  
"I. . . I have to go." 
	"I'll come with you." 
	"No."  I took a breath.  "I mean stay, you're having a good time. 
I'll just go." 
	"Be, You're the good time.  I'm coming."  He said it so quietly.  
It wasn't a smart ass remark.  He meant it.  I just stared at him. 
	He took my hand and led me to the edge of the dance floor, 
then out the door.  We walked down the corridor, not quite touching.  
He didn't say anything.  Neither did I. 
	When we reached my quarters he stopped, and I was jolted 
back into reality.  I realized that I'd been thinking about nothing for the 
first time in a very long time. 
	I must have put on my "thinking hard" look because he leaned 
back and asked,  "What?" 
	"When'd you get so smart?" 
	He just looked perplexed.  No hotshot remark.  Just looked back 
at me. 
	"Tom, thank you." 
	He held out his hand.  Surprised I took it.  He never ceased to 
amaze me:  a handshake for Kahless' sake. 
	"Good night B'Elanna." 
	"Night Tom." 
	I spent a long time that night, staring at the ceiling, wondering 
what had just happened. 
 
	I'd crouched down in a corner, Franny between me and the door 
so I didn't see him come in. 
	"What is that stench?"  Tom certainly has a way of announcing 
himself. 
	"Hi to you too." 
	"What are you doing?  It stinks in here." 
	"Peeling paint off the license plates." 
	He cocked his head.  "You're really enjoying this aren't you?" 
	"I don't welch on my bets." 
	"You're debt was paid days ago." 
	"Hey, if you don't want my help. . ."  I stood, put down my 
tools. 
	"Now, now, Torres, no need to run off in a huff."  He stopped 
me by putting his hands on my shoulders. 
	"I am not in a huff."  The air crackled.  I stared straight into his 
eyes, watched them dilate.  Oh gods, here we go again. 
	I pushed his hands away conveniently forgetting that my hands 
were covered in paint.  It stood out beautifully, green and black against 
his white sleeves.  I laughed. 
	"Oh that's good, just go and ruin my shirt Torres.  I'll get you 
for that." 
	"For what Paris, this?"  I ran my hand over his cheek leaving 
behind whatever paint was left on my hand. 
	"So you want to play do you?"  He walked over to the car and 
lifted the hood.  I leaned forward half wanting to see what he was doing, 
half dreading it.  He turned back, both hands covered in grease.  He 
came toward me, I backed away, he came closer, I backed farther. 
	"Tom. . . Tom. . .  don't." 
	"Don't what Torres?" 
	He'd backed me in a circle until my back was against the truck.  
I tried to squirm out of his reach but it only made it worse.  Grease on 
my face, in my hair, all over my clothes. 
	Now, I couldn't let him get away with that.   I reached behind 
me to get some grease for his face.  There was a spot just above his 
right eyebrow that was aching to get dirty. 
	I had two fingers full of oil when the doors opened.  Harry 
walked in, gleaming and spotless, in his uniform no less.  "Hey guys,  I 
was just wondering if you needed any," he looked at us and swallowed 
audibly, "help." 
	Tom's eyes locked onto mine.  "Harry."  I knew the evil grin on 
his face was reflected on mine as we turned to face our new prey. 
	He was slowly backing toward the door, hands up in front of 
him.  "Really, guys, that's okay,  I'll just be going now." 
	We pounced at the same moment, and soon he was as covered 
as either of us. 
	Before I knew what happened we had degenerated to a tickle 
fight, both of them ganging up on me until I was begging and gasping 
for breath. 
	After what seemed an eternity, but was probably only a few 
minutes Tom rolled onto his back and Harry leaned back, resting on his 
hands.  Tom raised his hands in front of him, inspecting them.  "You're 
a lot of trouble, you know that Torres?" 
	"Me?  You're not exactly innocent yourself.  Either of you."  I 
stretched my arms above my head and arched my back,  enjoying their 
reactions.  I stood, turned and offered them each a hand.  We all pulled 
and they were up.   "I don't know about you guys but I want a shower." 
	Tom's lips twitched, but I beat him to it.  "Don't say it,"  I 
turned to Harry, "you either."  He gave me his best puppy-dog look.  I 
turned on my heel and left. 
	I got some mighty funny looks from the people I passed in the 
hall.  I'm sure with all the paint and grease, I looked a little unusual, but 
the strangest part was the goofy grin on my face. 
	I went straight to the sink when I reached my quarters.  Towel 
in one hand to wipe my face, I stopped and looked in the mirror.  Face 
flushed, goofy grin still in fine form, a streak of green from my eyebrow 
to my chin.  Sometimes, even I have my moments.  Fine feathers for an 
ugly duckling. 
 
	He was painting when I got there the next morning.  Everything 
in sight was yellow:  Franny, Tom, the floor, a large section of the 
bulkhead.  At least he'd come prepared this time, wearing coveralls and 
glasses.  I hadn't.  I had on my best grubbies, gray T-shirt, navy blue 
shorts, and my toe poking out of a hole in my sneaker. 
	He noticed me watching, took off the glasses, put down the 
paint sprayer. 
	"Truce."  I called to him. 
	He looked confused.  I pointed at the paint. 
	"Don't tempt me.  Harry and I ran into the captain on our way 
out of here last night.  I don't think I'd like to explain a repeat 
performance. 
	"What did she say?" 
	"Oh, she just lifted her eyebrows, cleared her throat and walked 
by us, but her expression was priceless." 
	"I'll bet."   I walked around the truck admiring the paint job.  "Yellow?" 
	"You don't like?" 
	"It's just very bright." 
	"Well, we want to get noticed." 
	"A car from four hundred years ago and the other side of the 
galaxy.  I don't think she could be inconspicuous if she tried." 
	"So why not do it right?  We're gonna get noticed, let's really get 
noticed." 
	Sometimes things just click into place.  That line, from him, it 
fit.  A new piece for the puzzle. 
	"Mind if I watch?" 
	"Watch what?"  He paused,  "Watch me paint?" 
	"She's my baby now too, Paris." 
	"Um, sure, I guess." 
	He didn't sound too sure, but I didn't care, she really was my 
baby now.  I picked up the license plate from where it had fallen the 
evening before and a piece of sandpaper. 
	I'd been working at it for five minutes when I ran into a bit that 
just wouldn't sand smooth.   The rust came off quite easily but the 
sandpaper left tracks.  So I rubbed it the other direction, but that just 
made more scratches.  I was trying small circles when I noticed he'd 
stopped painting.  I looked up to find him staring at me. 
	"What?" 
	"Oh, um, nothing." The tips of his ears turned a most delightful 
shade of pink.  He turned but he wasn't getting off that easy. 
	I laughed.  "I bet I know what you were thinking." 
	He turned back again. 
	"You were wondering how mad I'd get if you used that thing on 
me."  I pointed at the sprayer.  What was I doing?  If I was wrong I 
might as well have dressed up in a banana suit, because that's what I 
was going to look like.  "And I'd get very angry." 
	"Close actually.  I was remembering how you looked yesterday, 
your hair all full of paint and grease." He squatted down next to me. 
	"I never did get that spot above your eyebrow."	 
	"What spot?" 
	I reached up with two fingers.  "Right here." 
	How had it gotten so dangerous so fast?  I pulled my hand back 
and put it in my lap. 
	He, thankfully, broke the moment.   "And what about Harry?  I 
don't know if you noticed but he left here with more grease on him than 
the two of us combined." 
	"Poor guy, comes in here to do you a favor, and ends up in a 
battle zone." 
	"Oh don't delude yourself.  Harry didn't come in here just to do 
us a favor.  He's as curious as the rest of the crew.  Don't you know the 
rumor mill has us having a torrid love affair in here." 
	I paused, not quite knowing what to say, but luckily my 
mouth knew without my brain.  "No, but I did hear that we were 
working on a top secret project for the captain.  Everything from a new 
super weapon to a route home." 
	Actually, I had heard Tom's rumor.  I just wasn't ready to face 
it.  Sometimes I wanted it so badly it hurt, other times I couldn't run fast 
enough to get away.  What was wrong with me? 
	"I'd better finish painting." 
	"Yeah, back to work." 

	That man.  Flew like an angel, smiled like a demon, turned my 
knees to jelly when he laughed.  I wondered how many people would 
think I meant Paris, how many Chakotay.  They'd both freak if they 
knew how similar they really were.  I'd freak. 
	That thought stopped me dead in my tracks.  Not literally of 
course,  not dead, no tracks.  Actually I didn't even stop.  Just walked 
straight into engineering. 
	But the thought was still on my face. 
	"B'Elanna?" 
	Harry Kim, resident innocent.  Yeah, right.  He may be many 
things, but naive?  I don't think he was that innocent when he was born.  
One of those people who just know.  It's instinct.  Hell, he probably 
thought he was as naive as his rep.  I didn't buy it.  Not anymore. 
	"Hmmm, what Harry?" 
	"Oh nothin'."  He searched my face.  I wondered what he was 
looking for.  "When do you want to start modifying that tractor beam." 
	"I have a couple of things I need to do this morning.  After 
lunch?" 
	"Paperwork?" 
	"How'd you know?" 
	"You always roll your eyes when it's paperwork." 
	"Harry, you know me too well." 
	"Works both ways, you know" 
	"Yeah, I know.  We'll talk later I promise, but right now I've got 
a very unhappy commander breathing down my neck and I don't think 
he's going to become a happy commander again until I give him these 
reports." 
	I tried to work at my desk for about an hour before the silence 
chased me to the mess hall.  I needed noise, this nothingness was 
entirely too distracting. 
	The coffee, or whatever it was, wasn't half bad.   I ran my finger 
around the rim of the mug.   Much better, clinking silverware, bits of 
conversation, helping me concentrate.  Here, I really had to work or 
some fool might think they could come join me. 
	Stilted, incredibly formal, dull boring reports starting to fill in 
front of me.  I strung all the right information together, outlined the 
answer, not that captain needed it explained, but that's the way these 
reports work.  They can end up in the most unexpected places at the 
strangest moments for the most unpredictable reasons.   If you don't put 
it together by the formula they'll plug in the variables and come up with 
heaven only knows what. 
	That's why I love engineering.  All the pieces fit together.  If all
 the right pieces are in all the right places, it works.  Take the right 
equation, put in the right variables and presto, one correct answer, no
 hedging, no wavering, no unpredictability. 
	I caught myself staring into space again.  Get with it girl.  You 
have to do this. 
	That's when she walked up to my table.  "May I join you 
Lieutenant?" 
	The voice gave it away, but I looked up anyway.  "Sure Captain,  
have a seat." 
	She stared at me over the rim of her coffee cup.  Silence fell 
thick and dense like cotton blankets.  I could feel it drying out my 
mouth. 
	"What are you working on?"  she tried. 
	"Status reports."  Flat champagne.  Warm, flat champagne. 
	We stared at each other again. I started counting, it's an old 
habit, to see how long I can hold out. 
	"Damn." 
	"Captain?" 
	"Why do we let men do this to us?  All he had to do was smile 
at us and we can't talk to each other anymore." 
	I laughed, "He did a little more than smile." 
	"All right he did, but it's still rotten." 
	"Yeah, it is, but we don't have to let it happen." 
	She smiled,  "I was hoping you'd say that." 
	I was floored.  I had no idea I meant so much to her.  "Thank 
you, Captain." 
	"And to seal the deal, I'd like to invite you to dinner tomorrow.   
All due respect to Mr. Neelix, but I think I'll replicate." 
	"I'm. . . I'll be there.   What time?" 
	"1900 hours."  She took a sip from her drink. "Oh, and bring 
Mr. Paris." 
	My brilliant response was to let my mouth hang open. 
	"What, you think just because I sit in the center seat I don't hear 
the good gossip?" 
	On that intriguing note, she picked up her cup and left. 
 
	"So, now I get to have dinner with Tom, the captain, and most 
likely Chakotay.  Oodles of fun." 
	"Oodles?" 
	"It's called sarcasm, Starfleet." 
	"I am familiar with the concept.  Hand me that spanner.  It 
won't be that bad.  It might even be fun.  'Oodles' even." 
	We were in a Jefferies tube somewhere above deck six.  Just the 
two of us.  Enough work to keep it from getting too personal, mindless 
enough that we could really talk. 
	"How do I get him to go then?  You know how much he likes 
Chakotay.  And you know that he knows that I, well, that I. . . aw hell." 
	"I know what you mean." he paused, "How do you feel about 
the commander anyway?" He blushed.  "If it's none of my business you 
can tell me to butt out." 
	"You're right, it is none of your business, but somebody has to 
straighten me out, and I don't seem to be able to do it.  That used to be 
his job."  I took a deep breath and let it out through my mouth.  "Jesus, 
this is hard.  Okay, when we were in the Maquis and he was with Seska, 
she was my best friend, and he was the captain.  You'd be amazed at 
some of the things she told me.  He'd be mortified.  But he was always 
sort of separated from me.  He was her boyfriend.  I mean, we were 
friends and all but not like we are here."  I replaced the panel and we 
crawled to the next one. 
	"Not like here,"  Harry prompted, as he pulled off the next 
panel. 
	"Oh, um, well when we got here it was different.  He depended 
on me more.  No, not more, just different.  It was like he needed me for, 
oh I don't know how to explain it, but we got closer, fast." 
	"And then what?" 
	"Then Seska turned out to be a traitor, Chakotay went off to 
play hero and all those things she'd told me started to make sense in a 
different way. I've always been a sucker for the brooding hero types.  
Gods Harry, this is embarrassing." 
	"First you feel embarrassed, then you feel better." 
	"Promise?" 
	"Libby used to say that to me.  And I always felt better." 
	"You miss her a lot, don't you?" 
	"Sometimes, but sometimes I don't and then I feel guilty 
because I don't.  I keep hoping she's given up on me, even though I don't 
seem to be able to give up on her." 
	"You know Harry, I envy you." 
	"You do?" 
	"Yeah, you're really sure about what you feel.  You like 
somebody, you like them.  You don't, you don't.  It would be nice to 
know what I want for once."  I put the panel back.  "That's the last one."  
We were halfway out before I remembered.  "Hey, you never told me 
how I'm gonna get Tom to go." 
	"Oh, that's easy.  Just tell him it was the captain's idea.  He'll be 
there." 
	I stopped, forcing him to stop behind me.  "Can I ask you 
something Harry?" 
	"Shoot." 
	"What does Tom think of Captain Janeway?" 
	He tilted his head and thought for a minute.  "Let's put it this 
way, how would you feel if I told him what you just said about the 
commander?" 
	"Oh.  You know, you're a really nice guy, Starfleet.  Totally 
exasperating but nice." 
	"Don't worry about it.  I have a strong suspicion that you guys 
are gonna catch on soon." 
	Harry being cryptic?  Like I said, the man knows a lot more 
than he lets on. 
 
	Harry was right, as usual.   When I mentioned the captain, Tom 
accepted immediately.  Maybe it was too fast for my taste, but he 
accepted, and that was what mattered. 
	So there we stood, me flittery and nervous, him not looking 
much better.  We looked prepared for Madame DeFarge's knitting 
circle, not dinner with friends.  I reached up, straightened his collar, 
brushed some imaginary lint off his shoulder.  I wondered if men know 
it's just an excuse to touch them. 
	He rang the bell. 
	The captain's voice came through the door, "Come in." 
	The doors parted to reveal the captain using the exact gesture 
on Chakotay, that I had just pulled on Tom.  I caught her eye, and 
squashed a giggle.  I didn't squash the smile.  She knew she was caught, 
and winked back. 
	I calmed considerably.  She was a woman, not just the captain.  
I sometimes have to remind myself of that. 
	"Sit down, won't you?" 
	She chose one of the armchairs at the end of the couch.  Glass 
of wine in one hand she crossed her legs, draping the other arm across 
her knees.  Gods but she was beautiful, her hair around her shoulders, 
wearing a silky sleeveless top with some gauzy thing over it.  I suddenly 
felt about fourteen years old, all arms and legs with nowhere to go. 
	"What'll you have?" Chakotay fell into the role of host too 
easily, caught me off guard.  Tom was handling it better. 
	"Synthale thanks." 
	"B'Elanna?" 
	"Um, white wine." 
	He gave the order to the replicator, not even giving his account. 
	"So, I'm dying to hear about the car.  How's it going?" The 
captain asked. 
	Tom lit up.  "Oh, she's great Captain.  Wait 'til we get her 
finished she's gonna fly." 
	"Not literally I hope."  she answered.  Chakotay handed us our 
drinks and walked to stand behind Janeway. 
	Tom was off and running.   "She's in incredible shape. Being 
spaced all those years was probably the best thing that coulda happened 
to her." 
	"She?"  Chakotay asked. 
	I looked him straight in the eye and tried not to smile.  "Her 
name's Franny." 
	The captain's peal of laughter surprised me.  "Oh, Tom, I hadn't 
thought of that in years.  That's wonderful." 
	He ducked his head and grinned, "I wasn't sure you'd 
remember." 
	"How could I forget?  It's not everyday an eight year old does 
something I couldn't." 
	Chakotay looked at me, I shrugged my shoulders.  He spoke, 
"What did I miss?" 
	"Sorry."  She put her hand on his thigh.  "It was the first time I 
ever met Tom."  She looked at me, "You know I served under Tom's 
father as an ensign?"  I nodded.  "We were at McKinley station, this 
was years and years ago.  It was probably the first or second time I'd 
ever met with the captain.  I was so nervous.  We were alone in this 
huge conference room, just the two of us going over some report or 
other.  He leaned towards me, just a little too close, you know, and said, 
"This is good work Katie, keep it up."  I've always hated being called 
Katie.  Always will.  I'd been working on the courage to tell him for 
weeks, and here was a chance, I took a deep breath, then another, then 
another.  I was still working up the courage to tell him when the doors 
flew open and the cutest little boy and girl barreled into the room, 
playing hide and seek or something." 
	Tom blushed.  "Tag, actually." 
	"Tag.  The little boy stopped instantly but the little girl ran right 
into the captain.  He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away from 
him and said, 'Young lady, this is a starship, not a playground.'  She 
just looked at him and said, 'My name's Franny.'  He looked at her like 
she'd just grown an extra ear.  'Thomas Eugene Paris what is the 
meaning of this?'  Tom apologized and tried to pull her out of there but  
she wouldn't go.  She grabbed the captain's uniform, and said, 'I said hi, my 
name's Franny.'  'That's very nice dear, but we're in the middle of a 
meeting.  You're going to have to leave.'  This little bitty girl, barely 
past his waist, puts her hands on her hips, sticks out her chin and says to 
him,  When I say 'hi, my name's Franny, you say, 'nice to meet you 
Franny.'  He had no idea what to do.  Luckily her mother came in and 
got them.  I think he was ready to explode." 
	"I don't know if he was ready to explode, but her mother sure 
did,"  Tom answered.  "She kept yelling from that conference room, out 
into the hall, to my father's quarters where she told my mother what 
happened, and back out into the hallway with poor Franny." 
	"You know, I looked for her after that, but I never saw her 
again.  Who was she?" 
	"Her father was Lieutenant Morill.  She was just a show and tell 
kid like me, there for the weekend."  I'd never heard Tom talk about his 
father so easily before.  Usually it took a lot of work to get him to open 
up just a crack. 
	There was an awkward pause, everyone thinking about what 
Tom had just admitted.  No one feeling particularly comfortable. 
	"Shall we eat?"  Chakotay to the rescue again. 
	"Chakotay cooked." Janeway added. 
	I couldn't resist, "And you let him?" 
	"Hey there, I can cook.  It's not my fault we were eating rations 
last time I cooked for you." 
	"Yeah, but I've never seen anyone else manage to catch juice on 
fire." 
	"Juice?"  Tom's eyes were laughing. 
	"It wasn't the juice, just the container." 
	"Uh huh." 
	He brought the food out, and I will admit, it smelled wonderful.  
Enchiladas, rice, beans, even chips and salsa.  He'd outdone himself.  
We ate in silence for a while before the stories came out.  It was a  trick 
I learned in the Maquis, a distraction from the coming day.  Given a 
long enough pause someone would invariably say, "Did I ever tell you 
about the time. . ."  It had become a habit, like a tradition that's followed 
long after the reason for it is forgotten.  We played "that reminds me of. 
. ." and "do you remember when. . ." until the coffee was cold.  Some of 
the stories were old ones, some true, some not.  Tom told a real 
whopper about a kid who wouldn't let anyone see his goldfish because 
he'd  bought it with his own money.  The captain entertained with the 
story of her disastrous first day at the academy.  Chakotay told how 
we'd wound up on Crazy Horse with helpful comments from me.  
	Sometime, somewhere in there it stopped bothering me and 
became fact.  They were so right.  Together.  She had him, but I still 
had part of him too.  And that was good. 

	"Torres to Paris" 
	"Yes?"  His voice dropped in the middle.  That was good, he 
was already in the mood to play. 
	"Are you busy?" 
	He paused, "not particularly, why?" 
	"I have something I want to show you." 
	"What is it?" 
	"It's a surprise." 
	"A good surprise or a bad surprise?" 
	"I hope good.  No, strike that, I know its good." 
	"Okay, where are you?" 
	"I'm in my quarters right now.   Meet me in holodeck two?" 
	"Holodeck, huh?" 
	I laughed.  "Get your mind out of the gutter Paris." 
	"Who me?" 
	"Just be there. Torres out." 
	I'd spent the better part of the afternoon getting the last minute 
details right.   I can make a holodeck run, that's easy, but a good 
program. . . that's more Tom's territory.  My imagination stalls on me 
too soon.   I can get a basic idea but the details get lost.   And God 
forbid I should try to create realistic characters. 
	I stepped inside before he arrived.  I figured he'd need to put on 
shoes, possibly run a comb through his hair before he came, and that 
was fine with me.  I wanted to watch his reaction when he came in 
without him knowing I was watching. 
	I wasn't disappointed.  He walked in, strutted actually,  but 
stopped short as the doors closed behind him.  He whistled as he 
admired the truck in all her newly pained glory.  She did look better 
here, surrounded by "nature."  The cargo bay just didn't do her justice. 
	"I take it you approve." 
	"Very much." 
	That was easy.  Maybe too easy.  I wasn't going to look a gift 
horse in the mouth, not this time.  I jangled the keys in front of him.  
"You wanna drive?" 
	His eyebrows went up a notch.  "You're gonna let me drive?" 
	"Consider it an early birthday present."  I picked up his hand 
and wrapped his fingers around the keys.  He grinned at me as I walked 
around to the passenger side. 
	When she started she sounded, well, loud.  Much better than 
she originally had,  smoother, calmer, but still loud. 
	"Where to?" 
	"You'll see." 
	"You're just full of secrets today, aren't you?" 
	"Um hmm, turn right." 
	He obliged.  We followed that road for a while passed a small 
town, a few farms.  I flipped on the radio, kicked my feet out in front of 
me, leaned back and closed my eyes.   Sarah McLachlan sang out clear 
and true. 
 
	Well my time went so quickly, I went lickety-splickly out to my 
old '55  
	As I drove away slowly, feeling so holy, God knows, I was 
	feeling alive. 
 
	That was the part I'd been least sure of.  Getting the holodeck to 
send a radio signal to the car wasn't as easy as it sounded. 
 
	Now the sun's coming up, I'm riding with Lady Luck, freeway 
		cars and trucks, 
	Stars beginning to fade, and I lead the parade 
	Just a-wishing I'd stayed a little longer, 
	Oh, Lord, let me tell you that the feeling's getting stronger. 
 
	Tom was idly commenting on the scenery and I was relaxing 
into the whole thing so far I almost missed the turn.  "Whoa, right 
there."  He pulled hard on the wheel, the car rocked a little.  I realized 
how accustomed I am to the inertial dampers when I knocked into him.  
Oh, Tom's an excellent pilot, and it carries over into his driving.  He 
took advantage quickly, putting his arm around my shoulders before I 
got my seat back.   I laid my head on his shoulder, not minding one bit. 
	I'd planned the drive to take about forty minutes, knowing that, 
in this case especially, the journey is as important as the destination.  
But even then we got there too soon. When the car stopped,  I opened 
my eyes.  He' d found it without my help. 
	We were in a canyon, thick with pine trees.  In front of us was a 
lake about a kilometer across.  The spot where he'd parked the car was 
hard packed dirt.  Franny was the only technology high or low tech in 
sight.   The sky was beginning to turn pink around the edges and a 
crescent moon hung low in the pines. 
	I stretched and climbed out after him, tossing a quilt at him as 
soon as I closed the door.  We left the radio playing "Seven Bridges 
Road."  He threw the blanket in the back of the truck and climbed in after
it.  He lay down on his back resting his head in his hands.  I sat, arms
wrapped around my knees, looking at the stars. 
	"Where are we?" he asked. 
	"Earth, Colorado to be precise." 
	"I never figured you for a nature lover." 
	"This was my hideaway when the Academy got to be too much.  
I got a roommate who didn't like it when I threw things, so I'd come 
here and swim laps until I was so exhausted I couldn't think then I'd just 
stare at the water from," I pointed at a nearby tree, "over there.  One time I 
fell asleep and when I woke up there was a whole family of raccoons 
staring at me."
	I felt his fingers trailing up my spine.  I turned and looked at 
him.  Oh, just do it girl.  I laid down next to him, my head pillowed on 
his chest.  I felt as much as heard him sigh.  I gave in to impulse and ran 
my hand over that chest.  I felt something, his lips maybe, brush my
 hair, then his arm wrapped up around my neck, his hand pressing me
 closer to him. 
	"Computer, set alarm for 0530 hours."  And we slept. 
 
	I always wake up about ten minutes before the alarm sounds.  
Don't know why.  I usually roll over and try to grab those last remnants 
of whatever dream I was having.  But the cold bed of the truck and 
birds singing reminded me too soon of where I was, and who was lying 
next to me. 
	I rolled onto my stomach and propped my chin in my hands.  
He was dreaming, eyes twitching every so often.  The dream pulled at 
the corners of his mouth, clenched his fists, wrinkled his forehead.  I 
wondered if I was in it. 
	I absently reached up to smooth the wrinkles, realized what I 
was doing mere centimeters from his face, hovered then decided, what 
the hell.  I reached to brush a stray lock of hair the exact moment the 
alarm went off. 
	He grabbed my wrist with an iron grip.  Otherwise he made no 
move.  Nothing, didn't even open his eyes. 
	"What're you doing?" 
	Caught.  I felt the heat begin to rise in my neck. 
	"You. . . you were dreaming." I stammered. 
	He opened one eye.  "That's not what I asked." 
	The heat was in my face.  I'm sure he could see it.  I tried to pull 
my hand away, but he held fast.  I got defensive. 
	"I was watching you sleep.  You were dreaming.  Your forehead 
was all scrunched up.  It was bugging me." 
	One side of his mouth quirked up.  "You blush beautiful." 
	I punched his arm.  I never know what to do with a compliment, 
especially one as embarrassing as that.  "Come on, get up.  We need to 
get this truck out of here, and I for one want to go swimming before 
breakfast. 
	As insecure as I am about my feelings, my body's never been 
something to hide.  Klingons don't have the same taboos.   I just 
stripped bare and dove in.   I could feel his eyes go wide behind me.  
Good.  I'd hoped I'd get that reaction and I wanted him at least as far off 
balance as I was. 
	I swam across the lake twice, then stood looking into the 
distance, my back to him.  I heard his footsteps break the surface.  I 
reached up to wring the water from my hair, feeling the butterflies in 
my stomach take flight.  Then he was behind me.  I'd expected this.  I 
wasn't sure when, but I knew it was coming.   I'd often wondered what 
I'd do.  As usual, I didn't react as I expected I would. 
	He hovered for a while,  feeding the butterflies' momentum.  
Centuries later, I felt his hands on my waist, his lips behind my ear.  
One of us, I'm not sure who, moaned as I leaned back against him and 
his hands moved to my breasts.  My head turned of its own volition to 
meet his mouth.  Conscious thought left my body and reflexes too long 
denied took over.  I buried one hand in his hair and ran the other down a 
muscled arm to his waist.  I pulled him closer, if that were possible and 
let myself be lost. 
	Something was trying to struggle up through my subconscious.  
I kept burying it, but it kept clawing at me until it finally tore free:  
Chakotay. 
	I froze. 
	He leapt back as if I'd struck him.  His eyes were wide and full.  
"What happened?" 
	I covered my face with my hand. 
	His eyes grew wider still.  "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."  He backed 
away. 
	No!  "Tom."  I reached out a hand to him.  "Tom, please."  I 
touched his arm but he was still moving away. 
	"I'm so sorry.   I'm so sorry." he repeated until I caught up to 
him. 
	"Listen to me." 
	But he wouldn't.  "I'll go.  I can't believe I did that.  What was I 
thinking?  I'm really sorry."  He pulled away again. 
	I stood there shivering, clutching my arms to my chest, as he 
got dressed and left. 
 
	Tom had managed to completely avoid me for two days before I 
finally caught up with him.  I was in line discussing the morning's 
cuisine with Neelix when I noticed him trying to shrink behind his table 
in the corner.  Neelix dropped the green goop on my plate when my 
head was turned. 
	"Trust me Lieutenant,  it's delicious.  Martag root stew is 
considered a rare treat on Malora IV." 
	"Whatever Neelix." 
	"Lieutenant?" 
	"Sorry Neelix, I'm sure it's just fine.  Thanks." 
	I made my way over to Tom.  He was carefully not watching 
me.  I gestured to the seat across from him.  "May I?" 
	"Of course.  What's up?"
	"Tom about the other night. . ." 
	"What other night?"
	He was going to make this difficult. I took a deep breath.   
"In the canyon."
	"Oh, that.  Don't worry about it.  It was no big deal."  Damn 
Paris facade had snapped in.  Made of steel and iron, and me without 
my blowtorch.
	Bloody hell.  "No big deal?  You've been avoiding 
me for two days now."
	"Avoiding you?  I'm sure you're imagining things."
	"God fucking damn Paris."  I wasn't loud, I was at least still 
aware of where we were, but Lord above, I did get intense.  "Listen to 
me!  When I froze, it wasn't something I could control.  It was just a gut 
instinct."
	"Oh thanks.  Let me get this straight,  I'm so repulsive you
 instinctively recoil from me?"  I wanted a reaction and boy, did I get one.
	"No, it didn't have anything to do with you."
	"So, not only am I repulsive, I'm also unimportant."  he clutched 
his fork white knuckled.
	"That's not it!"  I took a deep breath, counted to ten.  "I just 
wasn't ready, that's all." 
	"And a thoughtless brute too.  Jeez B'Elanna, most people don't 
get to know me this well for at least a few more years." 
	It hit me like a slap in the face.  All the anger that was building 
inside me dissipated and disappeared like fog in the sunshine.  I reached 
out for his hand, but he was having none of it.  "Tom, can't we just 
forget what happened, start over?" 
	"I was ready to forget,  you're the one who keeps harping on it."  
He stood, was yelling now.  "I said I was sorry.  What more do you 
want from me?" He threw down the fork and stormed out in the eerily 
silent mess hall. 
	I mentally shook myself.  What just happened?  I couldn't 
believe it. If he really thought I'd let him get away with that he had 
another thing coming.  I chased after him. 
	He'd gone a good hundred meters before I caught up to him.  
"Oh no you don't."  I swung him around by his wrist to face me.  "What 
the hell was that?" 
	"Leave me alone." 
	"No." 
	"B'Elanna . . ." he pleaded.  A single tear broke over the edge 
and ran down his cheek.  I let him go. 
 
	"Kim to Torres." 
	"What Harry?"  I growled. 
	"What did you do to Tom?   I just saw him.  He's a mess." 
	"What did he tell you?"  I snapped.  All that anger was coming 
back, fast. 
	"He didn't talk to me, just walked past.  Ran really.  Kes said 
you had a fight." 
	"Yeah." 
	"Want to talk about it?" 
	"I'm really not in the mood." 
	"Come on, you need to tell somebody." 
	"Not right now Harry."  The anger was slowly turning to find 
Harry as its new target. 
	"Okay.  Want some company while you beat up bad guys on the 
holodeck?" 
	Harry made a lousy target.  I laughed.  "Thanks but -- actually 
yes, I could use the company.  Just don't make me talk about my 
feelings." 
	"With your programs?  I don't have time to think, let alone talk,  
I'm too busy trying to survive.  Half an hour?" 
	"Yeah, Torres out." 
 ________-
	I'd been half tempted to put on my "Klingon war regalia" as 
Chakotay called it, but thought that might be a bit much.  Besides, if I 
did people might think I was going to go kill Tom.  So, dressed in 
standard issue workout clothes I surveyed the jungle surrounding us.  It 
was empty, too quiet even.  The hair on the back of my neck stood on 
end.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harry, alert, slightly on edge.  
Something moved in the bushes, then another something in the branches 
above Harry's head.  I stood, poised to surprise the first while the 
second jumped to the ground behind Harry. 
	Then it was out in the open and attacking,  I stopped thinking, 
started acting.  One down, then another.  I increased the difficulty.  Two 
more fell.  Next level.  Finally an opponent that could challenge me.  He 
too was down before I knew it.  I called for the next level. 
	"Computer - end program!" Harry yelled. 
	I turned on him bat'leth raised. 
	"B'Elanna stop!" 
	I stopped, but barely.  I was shaking.  I had to consciously force 
my fingers and arms to relax to bring the sword to my side.   "Why did 
you stop?" 
	"You were on level eight.  I've never passed five before." 
	"Oh." 
	"Would you mind putting that thing down?"	 
	I dropped the bat'leth.  It clanged against the floor.  Sweat was 
running rivers down his face, his breathing labored.  He was swaying. 
	"Harry, sit down." 
	"Yeah, maybe I should."   He just stood there. 
	"Over here Starfleet."  I led him to a corner and helped him sit.  
"Are you gonna be okay?" 
	"Yeah, just give me a minute." 
	I sat down next to him and listened as his breathing quieted. 
	He spoke first.   "He really got to you didn't he?  Must've been 
some fight." 
	I didn't ask who "he" was.  "Yeah, the worst part is I don't know 
what happened.  That keeps happening lately." 
	The corners of his mouth turned up. 
	"What are you smiling at?' 
	"Nothin." 
	"What's wrong with the man anyway?" 
	"Careful, that's my best friend you're talking about." 
	"I thought I was your best friend." 
	"Since when can I only have one?" 
	"Harry?" I studied my fingernails.  "Why are you here with me 
instead of there with him?" 
	"Tom needs time to lick his wounds in private.   You need to 
get your frustration out fast or you start breaking things.  Seemed like a 
logical choice, as Tuvok would say." 
	"So you gonna go fight 'bad guys' with Tom next?" 
	"No, Tom tends toward alcohol."  He ran his fingers through his 
hair.  "I'm gonna be great tomorrow, exhausted, beat up and hungover.  
Maybe I can stick to the synthahol this time." 
	"What are you doing with misfits like me and Paris?  I can't 
figure out what we did to deserve you." 
	"Always been a sucker for lost causes," he grinned.  I rolled my 
eyes and punched his arm.  "Do me a favor Maquis?  Make up before 
you kill me." 
	I leaned my head back against the wall.  "I tried.  He won't talk 
to me." 
	"Give him some time to cool off, he'll listen.  If he won't you'll 
just have to find a way to make him." 
	"Thanks Starfleet, I will." 
	He stood moaning and groaning all the way.  "Gods woman, 
what I won't do for my friends.  I've gotta go." 
	Before the doors closed I heard him say, "Kim to Paris. . . You 
busy?" 
 
	I gave him two more days.  Two very long days.  Two days 
when I had to stop myself from calling him every five minutes.  Two 
days which I packed so full of stuff and nonsense that I was able to fall 
asleep at night the minute my head hit the pillow. Two days that I 
avoided the mess hall, Sandrine's, any place he might be, not that I 
didn't think he was avoiding me as conscientiously.  
	When I couldn't stand it any longer I attacked. 
	"Computer locate Tom Paris." 
	"Lieutenant Paris is in his quarters." 
	"Is anyone with him?" 
	"Negative." 
	Perfect.  I rubbed my hands together and debated about my 
clothing.  It wasn't something I'd ever particularly cared about, but all 
girls learn that what you wear tells who you are, whether you want it to 
or not.  It was something I'd always found comforting about the 
uniform: except for my forehead, I could be any one of them. 
	The uniform I was wearing was definitely out.  I flipped 
through my closet.  I didn't have much in the way of choices: some red 
sparkly thing Kes had convinced me to get on some long ago shore 
leave, T-shirts, jeans, a black vest from the Maquis, and there it was, 
perfect, a burgundy peasant blouse.   I was a gift from Janeway, in one 
of her maternal moods.  I'd never dared to wear it before.   It had a wide 
neck that would fall over one shoulder if I was careless.  The blouse and 
the ever so slightly too tight jeans. 
	I checked my appearance in the mirror.  "War regalia" if ever I 
saw it, just a different kind of war.  Maybe the boots were a bit too much 
but it was nothing compared to some of the get-ups I'd seen him wear.  
If I had to hit him over the head with a sledgehammer for him to 
understand, then sledgehammer it would be. 
	I stood in the corridor outside his quarters, rubbed my sweaty 
palms on my jeans.  Lord, but I was nervous.  I'd given myself too much 
time to think.  Too many things to say were running around in my head. 
	I rang the bell. 
	"Go away Harry." 
	"Tom, it's me." 
	Silence. 
	"Tom?" 
	"I don't want to talk to you." 
	"I'm not leaving." 
	"Sit in the corridor and rot then." 
	Fine. You want it that way, I can play that way too.  I punched 
my override into the keypad.  The door obediently slid open.  Chief 
Engineer has its advantages. 
	He sat low in his chair.  "I said go away." 
	"I heard you." This was going to be harder than I'd imagined.  
He was in need of a shave, probably wearing what he'd slept in.  I could 
just imagine what Janeway would say if he showed up for duty looking 
like that.  I doubted he'd tried or I'd have heard about it.  Nothing goes 
unmentioned on a ship this size. 
	I picked through the mess on the couch until I formed a hole 
large enough to sit in. 
	"What do you want?" 
	"To talk, to try and fix this mess I've made with you." 
	"Don't bother." 
	"I'm worried about you Tom.  Everybody is." 
	"I'll survive.  I always do," he said it without bitterness.  He just 
sounded tired. 
	I knelt down next to his chair,  took his hand in mine.  "What do 
I have to do to convince you?  Please let me help.  You're scaring me." 
	He stood.  "Don't be scared B'Elanna."  He absently patted my 
head and walked to the window. 
	I followed behind him, trying not to choke on my tears . I 
watched his face in the reflection, so drained, so unmoving.  His eyes 
weren't focused.  I don't think he saw anything.  I had no idea how to 
battle this.   It was like trying to talk to a statue: nothing I did moved 
him.  I felt the tears slide down my cheeks, saw them reflected in the 
window.  "I don't know what to say to get you to listen.  Tom, please," I 
reached out, touched his shoulder,  "I need you."  My voice caught on 
the last word and I started crying in earnest.  He turned to look at me. 
	"Damn you Tom Paris."  I started beating on his chest, not 
caring if I was hurting him.  "Come back to me.  I can't do this without 
you.  Do you hear me?  I need you.  Come back to me." 
	I felt his arms go around my waist.  I stopped pounding on him.  
Looking up, I found his face as tear streaked as my own.  His eyes had 
found their focus. 
	He tilted his head.  "You really mean that don't you?" 
	I pulled him against me as tightly as I could, buried my face in 
this chest, his breath in my hair.  "Oh God Tom, it's good to have you 
back." 
 
	I don't know who fell asleep first but I woke knowing we'd both 
slept and knowing I'd cried.  But it was going to be all right now.  We'd 
wound up curled together on the couch.  I felt his chest behind me, his
 arms around my middle.  I pulled his arms tighter around me, hoping I
 could stave off the inevitable moment when I'd really wake up. 
	His breathing changed behind me.  Subtly, but I knew he was 
awake.  I turned to look at him.  Kahless, he's even beautiful first thing in 
the morning. 
	"I guess, I don't really blame you about Chakotay,"  he 
whispered behind my ear. 
	"Tom, I love you."  I rested back against him.	 
	"He's handsome, if you like that sort of thing." 
	"You're not listening to me." 
	"And he has that strong silent type thing going for him." 
	"Do you want something to drink?" I got up and walked over to 
the replicator. 
	"But why does he get all the best women?  Captain Janeway, 
then you." 
	"I'm gonna get you for that someday." 
	"Maybe it's the tattoo.  Works for some people." 
	"Did I tell you I saw the Easter Bunny push Santa Claus out of 
the airlock yesterday?" 
	"I mean, what's he got that I don't have?" 
	"Ears maybe." 
	"I mean so he's --" he stopped and stared at me. "What did you 
say?" 
	"Ears." 
	"No, before that." 
	"Easter Bunny?" 
	"Before that -- the love part?" 
	"Oh that,"  I sat on the couch, near his stomach. "I love you 
Tom." 
	His eyes went wide.  "I thought you said . . .but I wasn't sure . . . 
I mean it's not like. . ." he laid his head back on the armrest and closed 
his eyes.  "Thank God." 
	I giggled and pretended to straighten his hair.  "Interesting 
response." 
	"What were you expecting?" 
	"Well, I was hoping . . ." 
	"For what?" 
	I leaned over him and grabbed his shirt front in both hands.  
"Paris!" 
	"Yes?"  wide eyed and laughing. 
	I growled at him.  "Say it." 
	"I don't know what you mean." 
	I leaned forward until our mouths almost touched.  Our breath 
passed from one to the other then back again.  He swallowed.  I traced 
his lips with my tongue.  "Say it,"  I breathed. 
	He flipped us both over, and in the process flipped us off the 
couch.  He pinned my hands over my head.  I admired him for trying, 
both of us knowing I could break free if I wanted.  "B'Elanna Torres, 
I've loved you since the first time I saw you throw a tricorder 
clear across engineering.  I loved you when you told that gel-pack to 
straighten up and behave or you'd cut it's heart out.  I love you 
when you growl.  I love you when you complain about the coffee.  I 
love you when you lay your head on my shoulder when we dance.  I 
even love you when you barge into my quarters uninvited and force me 
to admit that I love you."  He leaned back, letting go of my hands. 
	"Thank God." 
	He laughed, deep and rich and real. 
	I laced my fingers together behind his neck.  "So are you going 
to kiss me or what?" 
	He definitely did.  I felt it in my stomach, in my fingertips, in 
my toes.  How did I ever think I didn't want this man?

The End