"Log Entries" by J.A. Toner -- Voyager (P/T, NC-17, for graphic m/f sex)

General Disclaimer: Paramount and Viacom, Inc. own the rights to Star Trek: Voyager, and its characters. This story is not intended to infringe upon these rights in any way. Any story elements not copywrited by Paramount/Viacom are copywrited by the author. The story was written for the enjoyment of fans, like myself, who appreciate the acting talents of Roxann Dawson and Robert Duncan McNeill, who do such a wonderful job of bringing these characters to life. Thank you, Roxann and Robbie.

Author's Note: At recent convention appearances, Roxann Dawson has made a few comments that helped inspire this story. I thank her for the insights into B'Elanna's character that she shared in her con talks. This piece, in fact, is not so much a short story as it is a character study of B'Elanna Torres as she reviews her history on Voyager, especially as it pertains to Thomas Paris. It gets pretty racy at times. These two are both pretty opinionated characters with a lot of interest in the opposite sex, even though B'Elanna's seems to have been sublimated for the past couple of years by her quest for perfect warp core drive efficiency.

As this is being written, however, at the beginning of the fourth season, it appears that Lt. Torres is about to rediscover her Klingon side with a vengeance, and with Lt. Paris as her consort. Since this story reflects turn of events and ends a few days after the fourth season episodes, "Day of Honor" and "Revulsion," it can also be considered of the "episode extension" genre.

In some of the entries in this story, B'Elanna mentions a relationship that she knew had existed between Ro Laren, a character who appeared on several episodes of "Star Trek: The Next Generation," and Tom. No, you didn't miss an episode. The reference is to another NC-17 story I have written, called "The Mercenary," which is a Crossover piece that takes place about a year before "Caretaker." It describes a relationship between Ro and Tom that started when they were in Starfleet Academy together. They meet up again after Tom has been drifting around from one menial job to another following his being forced out of Starfleet due to his actions at Caldik Prime. Ro is instrumental in having him become part of the Maquis. B'Elanna is in that story as a subsidiary character, as Tom's love interest is Ro (as B'Elanna's log entries show in this tale). It is available only by email at present, but I hope to put it up on a website soon.

Thanks to all of my beta readers, especially Terri and Katie, for all of their help.

Comment and Constructive Criticism about this piece are not only accepted but are actively encouraged. Email to: Jamelia116@aol.com.

Janet Amelia Toner 9/19/97

Log Entries

by J. A. Toner

Personal Log, B'Elanna Torres, Stardate 48324.2

I cannot believe I'm making an entry in a personal log on a Starfleet vessel. In the Delta Quadrant, yet. This must be a nightmare.

Actually, I should be happy I'm alive, I suppose. If I'd been trapped on that Ocampa world much longer, I would've died of that illness the "Caretaker" had so kindly given Starfleet and me.

I just checked over the logs from the Zola, and at least we got them all. We were able to access and transfer them just before Chakotay crashed the ship into the array that dragged us here. We didn't have much time for personal effects, though. I threw a few things into a sack and then it was into the transporter, over to Voyager. Fortunately, we were able to get Chakotay safely transported over, too. I would never admit to being frightened for him, of course, but I was. Apart from Seska, he's my best friend here. Ayala, Larson, Jonas, Suder, Gerron, and a bunch of others are safe, too. So is Tuvok, the spy, unfortunately. Too bad he's okay, when so many from the Zola didn't make it.

A lot of Voyager's crew didn't make it, either, so I guess it made sense for Captain Janeway to offer us a chance to "replace" the missing. With the Zola reduced to space dust, what else were we supposed to do, join up with the Kazon? Chakotay is eager to go along with this crazy idea, of course; he gets to be a first officer again. But the rest of the Maquis becoming officers and crew of a Starfleet starship? Stuck out here -- what choice do we have? At least I can't hear my mother's reaction. She always told me that I should stay home, on Qo'noS -- not that it was ever home to me. I never lived there long enough to call that place home. Kessik IV, sad to say, is as close to a home as I'll ever have.

I'm glad that Starfleet made it, though. Harry Kim, I mean. Starfleet's my nickname for him. He's okay, even if he is as green as Vulcan blood. He's smart and a quick study; I could tell that when we were both stranded with the Ocampa. Friendly, like a puppy in a way. Dark eyes. Handsome, if you like them young. Really, really young. He's the normal age for graduating from the Academy, but he's really seen so little of life yet that I feel like his older sister. A much older sister, even though he's only two years younger than me! This is his first big adventure, and it's likely to last his entire lifetime.

I hope he grows up in a hurry, because I think he's going to need to, out here. And he's going to have to pick his friends a little more carefully, that's for sure. Being friends with that traitor Tom Paris is a good way to get yourself killed. It's funny though, Harry said that Paris told him almost the same thing! "Better stay away from me, Harry. I'm not a good luck charm." Something like that.

Thomas Eugene Paris. I finally got to meet him. I would never have thought that Ro Laren would have been head over heels with this man. Oh, he's good looking enough, sure. Knows it, too. Admiral's son. Golden Boy gone bad. Cocky. A hot shot pilot. I hate to admit it, but it seems like he may be as good as he thinks he is at the conn. And a womanizer and a drunk, too, although I haven't seen him get drunk yet. Seska says it's only a matter of time before he shows his true colors and starts to drink himself into oblivion. But a flirt, oh, yes! He's already been drooling over everyone on board Voyager that doesn't have any Y chromosomes.

When he started eyeing me, I told him that if he tried anything, he'd be looking for his balls in the Gamma Quadrant. The jerk laughed in my face.

Now, maybe I should back off here a little, despite what Seska says. She and Chakotay were both sure that Paris was a spy and a traitor when he was in the Maquis. Seska still says that he's undercover, even out here, but I don't think I can buy that. Why out here? And he really went to prison when he got caught in The Eye of the Prophet. Chakotay told me today that he looked up his record as soon as Janeway made him first officer. She had to get him out of a prison on Earth, someplace in the southern hemisphere, and he's not totally free, either. He's in Janeway's custody. Apparently Paris didn't tell them much about us, either. He was leading them back to Malagra, which the Maquis abandoned when he was captured. He had to have known we wouldn't have been there any longer.

That last day when she was crying over losing him, Ro told me he was for real, that he wasn't a traitor to the Maquis. She was in love with him, of course; but still, Ro's judgment in everything else but Paris was always so good. I liked Ro. She was never afraid to treat the Klingon like anyone else. She was as tough as duranium when she had to be, but Ro seemed to care about what happened to all of us. I wish she hadn't gone back to Bajor after this Paris was captured. If she had stuck around with our cell, she would have gotten her barfly mercenary boyfriend back. And out here, at least, Ro wouldn't have had to pay off all his bar tabs. I still can't understand why she did that.

Wait. Maybe I need to do this part over, because, well--never mind. I'll just add this. He did save Harry and me in the tunnels. I thought he was pretty nice then, when I didn't know who he was yet. And then he even went back for Chakotay. Knowing what I know now, I would've thought that he would have let Chakotay rot down there. Paris may have had an ulterior motive -- but no, why would he? He didn't know then that Janeway would invite us all to be part of the crew, so I guess he couldn't have known that he would be needing Chakotay to protect him from the rest of the Maquis.

And from the Starfleet personnel, too. The man is hated, that's for sure.

Harry follows him around, though. Mr. Lovesick-for-His-Girlfriend-at-Home and Wild Paris. What a pair. I had better take Starfleet under my wing before he gets into trouble with the flyboy pilot. Even Paris himself is warning him off . The sooner Harry realizes that Paris is nothing but bad news, the better off he will be.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 48441.7

Chief Engineer. That certainly sounds good. I know I'm up to it, of course, but it does feel strange to think that I am the chief engineer of a Starfleet vessel. That was a dream I had given up so long ago, it isn't funny. And now it's happened, thanks to the Cardassians chasing us into the Badlands. Getting marooned over seventy years away from the Alpha Quadrant turned out to be a good career move.

Hey, Mom. I'm a success. Of course, you'll probably never know. Even if we get back, I expect you'll be so mad that I'm in Starfleet after all that we won't be speaking. What else is new?

Janeway is pretty intimidating. I'm thinking that what she really wants is for me to screw this up, so she can name her own engineer without the Maquis bitching about it. Probably that idiot Carey. I refuse to give her the satisfaction. She's willing to pitch in and help, though. Hogan says that she expected to be a science officer and didn't go into command until later. We'll have to see if we can get along. She did forgive me for breaking Carey's nose, so I guess she isn't as stiff as those Academy professors were.

I owe Chakotay a lot for this. I have to be good, because I can't let him down.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 48546.8

The pig! I can't believe what he's done! That program is absolutely ridiculous. A pool hall, of all things. No, a pool hall and a bar! Janeway shouldn't allow it. And those holocharacters -- slime! All of them! A gigolo! And Gaunt Gary -- what a fitting companion for Thomas Paris! But worst of all is that babe that drapes herself all over the pilot. Disgusting.

He may have a way with holographic characters, but what a waste of his talent, if all he can come up with is a hangout like that!

I will say that a lot of the crew seemed to have a good time in Sandrine's. But the best part of the evening for me was seeing the look on Paris' face when I told him that his holodeck character was a pig, and so was he!

Seska is right about him, I can see that now. A womanizing drunk. That's Paris. What you see is what you get.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 48664.3

I can't believe it. A Cardassian. Seska, my confidante, is really a Cardassian. I trusted that woman! The best friend I ever had, man or woman, and she turns out to be a Cardassian agent, surgically altered to look like a Bajoran.

Chakotay and she were lovers for how long? He never even guessed. First Tuvok, and now Seska. I'm not sure I'm happy that Chakotay trusts me right now. His ability to judge character seems so flawed, especially after that stunt we pulled on Sikaris. We should never have tried to circumvent the Sikarian version of the Prime Directive to get the folded-space technology to travel faster across the galaxy. Janeway was really disappointed in all of us, and I was really ashamed of myself for that. She gave me a chance, gave me her trust, and look how I've repaid her.

Even Paris hasn't pulled anything quite like this. What's next? Finding out that Paris is somebody you can actually trust?

Ro thought that, that you could trust Paris, and I doubted her. But Ro also said to me, more than once, "Watch your back around Seska, Torres. She's a snake, and she'll betray you someday." A snake. You were right, Ro, even more than you ever guessed, I'll bet. Maybe she's right about Paris, too, and we can trust him.

But he's still a pig.

Now, who can I talk to? Harry is okay, but there are some things I just can't talk to a man about. I can't burden Janeway, she's really too busy for that. Kes is nice, but she is just too--I don't know--old! She isn't even two years old yet, but I can't talk to her about the kind of things I used to discuss with Seska. Nicoletti is nice, but she's my subordinate. I can't risk muddying our working relationship by getting too close, losing my objectivity. I guess that I should be grateful to Seska for teaching me that, at least.

I guess it will be to you, my discreet personal log, to whom I will have to unburden myself.

So, good night, Personal Log. Sleep tight.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 48791.1

They're coming back. My forehead ridges. I can feel them. Soon I'll have them again, as big as they ever were. The Doctor let the genes for building the ridges switch on again. He never bothered to ask me what I wanted. I felt like kicking him when I realized what he'd done. A doctor's bedside manner--he hasn't got one, yet. Kes keeps trying, let me grant her credit for effort, but his personality matrix really needs some work.

Anyway, it was nice to look human, at least, for a while. But I do feel a lot better, not sick anymore, with most of my Klingon genes back in my body the way they always were. Well, almost the way they were. Now I have mixed human and Klingon genes in a human chromosomal pattern, instead of human and Klingon genes in a Klingon matrix. I feel like I always did, though. Strong. The Klingon is back. For good or ill.

It would've been nice to have kept the smooth forehead, though.

I'll be cleared for duty again, probably tomorrow. It's certainly good to be out of Sickbay, finally. Chakotay came every day to see me. So did Harry and the Captain.

And Tom.

I was listening to a couple of my earlier log entries tonight just before starting this one. If you could amend or delete a log after saying the magic words of 'end personal . . . etc.', I think I would do it in a few cases. I was pretty hard on the pilot in the beginning, calling him a womanizer, a traitor, and worse. I swallowed Seska's line pretty well, just like Chakotay did.

And then Seska turned out to be the traitor.

When we were captured by the Vidiians and my human half was forced to fend for herself, I could not believe this was the same man that I have been ridiculing. He really came through in the caverns: cheering me up when I needed it, protecting me from the Vidiians when I was too sick to do it myself, trying to stand up for poor Durst. He listened to me tell him how scared I was and wasn't disgusted. Instead, Tom told me that having fear did not mean that a person was a coward. Fear could help you avoid taking foolish chances. Doing what needed to be done despite being fearful was being brave. I never once saw the Tom Paris who acts like a pig there, just a good friend.

When the Vidiians took Pete Durst, Tom wanted to go in Durst's place, even though we all knew that Durst was probably going to organ processing to be killed. Tom was still willing to go himself. And of course, Durst was killed. That could have been Tom's face grafted onto that mad doctor's.

I don't know, just when I was sure I had Tom all figured out, he goes and acts like some kind of damned hero.

When Chakotay rescued us and my Klingon half was dying, Tom stayed with us while we tried to get help for her. After she died, he was with me in Sickbay until Chakotay was able to be there. There wasn't any of his usual empty chatter. Tom just stood there by the biobed, holding my hand, until the captain called him away for the debriefing. After he told Captain Janeway what he knew, he rushed back to check on me, joking that the Doctor was going to have poke at him anyway, so he might as well stick around.

Tom hates being in Sickbay more than I do.

The entire time I was being treated, Tom came back a couple of times a day to see how I was (and I'll just bet his girlfriend Megan Delaney loves that). At first I thought he was comforting me just because I was human looking. Even though I've changed back to the old B'Elanna, never once have I seen that look I always catch in the eyes of men when I know they're thinking how ugly I am. Tom's given me the same kind of pep talks he did in the caverns, too. Not so much the last couple of days. He can see I'm more myself now. He just comes and jokes around, like I was his good buddy Harry.

I never understood his jokes before, but now I'm starting to. And I'm beginning to see why he and Harry have become such close friends. Tom really isn't a bad guy, once you get past his skirt chasing.

And about that. I guess that his relationship with Megan is showing me that that reputation may not be entirely deserved, either. They've been together for three months now. For as long as he's been with her, there hasn't been anyone else. I would never have guessed he could be faithful to anyone for more than a week.

Not that I would be interested in him myself, of course. I mean, he isn't exactly my type. I like them well muscled and lively. Fun to bat around, and fun to leave in a maimed, quivering heap after I'm done with them!

Guess my Klingon side really is back.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 49368.8

I can't believe he's dead. It all went perfectly. He broke the Warp 10 barrier. What happened to him? How can this be?

The captain said that before the flight, the Doctor had some concerns about an irregularity in his brain. Harry almost took his place, but that wasn't what killed him. We still don't know what did it, except that it had to have been due to the transwarp flight.

After Harry and I downloaded the logs and examined them, the proof was there. Infinite speed and infinite velocity. Thomas Eugene Paris had been everywhere in the universe at once. The only reason our sensor logs had limited data was the computer's inability to absorb it all. We obtained scads of information about the sector surrounding our immediate position before the computer ran out of memory. Stellar Cartography is still in paroxysms of joy about what was recorded, however.

And Tom, Mr. Hot Shot Pilot, was certainly entitled to preen a bit. He turned out to be a very modest hero who immediately wanted to start to work on the next phase of the project. That's what we were doing in the mess hall when it started.

Tom and I had just agreed that the next step would be to repeat the experiment, confirming our data before even thinking about trying to fit Voyager for a return to the Alpha Quadrant. Neelix offered him some special "new blend" he had named for Tom. Now, considering some of Neelix's concoctions, neither one of us was too enthused, but I didn't think it tasted that bad, actually. Tom did. Then he began to get ill.

By the time Tom had landed on the floor, his face already marked by pulsing blue veins, he was in tremendous pain. I was in a panic to get him to Sickbay quickly, but the molecules of his body were in such flux that the Transporter Room couldn't even get a lock on him for an emergency transport. I stayed with him until the emergency team came. I wasn't about to let him go alone to Sickbay, to the Doctor. I stayed with Tom while the Doctor examined him.

Well, he did it for me after the Vidiians split me, it was only right I should stay with him.

But how could he possibly have become allergic to WATER, of all things!

I wanted to stay. I stroked his hair, touched him on the shoulder, let him know that I was there. He was scared, I could see it in his eyes. That usually turns me off completely, but to tell the truth, I was pretty scared for him myself. I never saw anyone transformed that way, right before my eyes. Even with the Vidiians, at least I wasn't awake when they ripped my chromosomes apart. Tom was changing rapidly into some unknown thing. I can't even imagine what that must have felt like.

I should have stayed. But the Doctor insisted he needed me to get more information in order to treat him, so I left.

If I'd known Tom would be dead so quickly, I would have stayed.

When the Doctor informed me over the comm that the data wouldn't be needed immediately because of "Mr. Paris' demise," I had to sit down because my knees were giving way. I actually got tears in my eyes. Weak, I know, but I couldn't help it. Just when Tom and I were starting to respect one another and were learning how well we could work together. Now he's gone.

I went back to Sickbay. Megan Delaney was there, crying, and Captain Janeway was comforting her. Harry was there, too, looking stunned. Kes came over and told me that his last request had been for her to kiss him, because he knew he was going to die, and that he wanted lots of pretty girls to cry over him. Then the Doctor chimed in with Mr. Paris' last words. Including the observation that he didn't trust people who didn't cry, and that I never cried. Tom didn't have time to say much else before he was dead.

I make somebody's last words, and they're about how he couldn't trust me because I didn't cry. Thanks so much, Doctor, for sharing that with me.

At the time, though, I didn't think about that at all. I was too upset; I admit it. Harry came over to me as if to give me a hug, but I walked away from him. I found myself next to the biobed, looking down at Tom's face. Those eyes, the color of my warp core. I am never going to see them laughing at me again.

I bent down and kissed him, even though I'm not sure that Tom would consider me pretty. When I straightened up, I realized that a tear or two had dropped upon his face.

It was too late for him to notice, now.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 49369.5

I don't know when I'll be out of Engineering again. Everything is still in an uproar. Paris, resurrected from the dead and turned into some monstrous creature, has just abducted the captain. I can't believe I was crying over his body yesterday! Chakotay is instituting a search, but whether or not we'll get them back before Tom is gone forever, turned into whatever it was that he was evolving into, I don't know.

And he went to transwarp, too, with the Captain in the shuttle. I don't even want to think about it.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 49391.1

We've got them back. The Doctor's treatment worked -- just in time for Tom, I understand. A few more hours, and there might not have been enough of Tom's own DNA left to get him back to being human.

Their "offspring" were left behind. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Maybe they were lizards, but what if they had enough of the right kind of DNA to be turned into human form? Chakotay and Tuvok made the call they thought that they had to, but I don't think it's the one I would have made. I'm afraid to ask Tom or Captain Janeway what they would have done themselves. The captain doesn't have time to be a mother, I don't think. And Tom, he sure isn't the fatherly type!

Still, I feel funny about it all. The decision to leave young ones that had just been born alone like that, even if they were lizards. I don't know, it just seems so cold.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 49485.2

When Tom died, I didn't get to say good-bye. I wouldn't say good-bye this time.

He's been acting so strangely the last few weeks, like the last year never happened. Tom had changed so much, really growing into that hero role he seemed to covet so. Helping me when the Vidiians split me, rushing in to save me from those murderous robots, doing the commando bit when Janeway, Tuvok and I were stuck on the Mokra homeworld -- and that was just when I was involved in the action. Even when he broke warp 10, Tom wasn't at all stuck up. Maybe the Doctor didn't get all his DNA back when he thought he did, because since then, Tom's been insubordinate and annoying, that obnoxious Paris that I hated when we first came on board. He even got himself put in the brig for shoving Chakotay around on the bridge.

I kept hoping that he would come around. When we were trying to stop Dreadnought, I even tried to talk to him about it. He just said that he envied how I'd learned to fit in, because he hadn't expected me to. Tom had been fitting in, too, I had thought. But he said he hadn't, not really.

I guess Megan Delaney's finally breaking off their on-again, off-again relationship for good didn't help his mood any. Still, I couldn't believe it when I heard he was leaving Voyager to work on a Talaxian ship.

I saw him in the mess hall last night. Harry and I tried to talk him out of it. He just said that it was time to move on because no one on Voyager gave a damn about him. I admit, I lost it then and made a scene, yelling at him that lots of people cared about him, and that if he didn't see that, then he really was an ungrateful bastard and he should go. He looked as if I had punched him in the gut and didn't say anything. Just sat there, biting his lower lip, without the courage to look me in the face. I had to leave then so that he wouldn't see the tears in my eyes. I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction!

I found out that when Tom left Voyager, only Neelix, Kes, and Harry were there to say good-bye. I was so angry then, I wouldn't even consider going to tell him good-bye when he was leaving.

But now, I feel so empty. Why do I feel this way? Why couldn't the jerk understand what he meant to Voyager? To all of the crew, and to Janeway, Neelix, Kes, Harry, and me. I just don't . . . I can't . . . I . . . oh Gods, I can't go on with this now.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 49488.2

He's back. Again. And it was all a ploy to flush out a spy. Michael Jonas. My engineer, ex-Maquis Michael Jonas, who was feeding information to that bloodsucker Seska. I'm glad Jonas is dead, because I would've gotten myself thrown in the brig for strangling him myself if he weren't. And Neelix is the hero! Along with Tom Paris. Again.

Cats, aren't they supposed to have nine lives? I wonder, how many lives has Tomcat Paris used up so far?

After he gave his talk on "Breakfast with Neelix," apologizing to Chakotay openly, Tom came down to Engineering and asked to speak to me privately. He told me that he was sorry he had hurt Harry and me when we were trying to talk him out of going to the Talaxian convoy in the mess hall, but he had to do it. He was under the captain's orders. I told him that his apology was accepted, but I was brusque with him. Dismissive. I am still so angry at him. I had gotten all upset and emotional over nothing!

He could've told me. I would've kept my mouth shut. If only he trusted me. He should've known that I could keep his secret.

I am glad that he's back, though, even if it meant that he did the hero thing again. He's going to get himself killed someday doing that.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50035.8

I've barely had a chance to make my official log entries, let alone any personal entries, with all of the work I've had to do repairing the damage to the ship from the Kazon's sojourn on Voyager. And Seska's. My late, very much unlamented former friend. I'm sorry her son is going to grow up without a mother, but I'm glad Chakotay isn't the father of her child after all. He wanted to raise him when he thought the boy was his son, but how the child would have fared on this ship, after his mother had been instrumental in marooning the crew the way she did, after the way we lost poor Hogan -- well, I'm just glad Maj Cullah was the father.

Neelix says that we are finally getting to the edge of Kazon space. We may not see them much anymore. We may have seen our last Talaxian other than Neelix, although since they often range far beyond their normal travel areas, we could see a few. They don't usually travel as far as our intrepid cook and guide intends to go, of course, but pretty far. The Vidiians will still be around for a while, too. Joy of joys.

But thankfully, we will never see Seska again.

We've certainly lost more than our share of the Maquis: Not one, but two traitors, Michael Jonas and Seska. Hogan. Banderas. Suder. Too many from Engineering. But Suder. Who would have thought that the murderer would turn out to be a hero? Or that the Doctor would help save the ship? A holographic hero! But I'm not surprised that Tom Paris ended up acting heroically again. He's making a habit of it.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50160.3

Harry still doesn't look good. It's taking him longer to shake this prison thing off than anyone thought. Tom is being really good to him, and maybe that's making it worse for Harry. He still feels so guilty that he came so close to killing his best friend -- Tom's being so understanding just rubs salt into the wound.

I took Tom aside today and told him to leave Starfleet alone. He needs some space, time to sort it all out. He said, "I know, you're right, B'Elanna. I just hate to see him feeling so bad about something that wasn't his fault. Hell, I had that clamp on my scalp, too. I know what he was fighting. It was terrible, trying to think with that aggravating pain distracting you every second. You just couldn't get used to it, you know?"

Once Tom started talking, I realized that he'd been hanging around Harry because he needed someone to talk to. Tom always seems so glib, able to take anything in his stride, that no one realized he needed to confide in someone so that he could deal with the experience himself. I guess it's too easy to forget what he told me in the Vidiian mines. Tom's childhood was more like mine than I would ever have imagined. We both spent a lot of time alone when we were kids: me because the others pushed the "Klingon kid" away; Tom, because his father was so invested in turning him into Admiral Thomas Eugene Paris that he lost sight of the fact that Tom was only a little boy. He always had Tom busy with his "training." No wonder Tom rebelled. That's where that attitude of Tom's comes from, I guess. Seems familiar to me. Too familiar.

We had a long talk then. It was good to have an actual person to talk to again. It's been a long time since I'd had that kind of talk with anyone, even with Harry.

Then, later that evening in Sandrine's, he was flirting with Nicoletti. I wanted to bash his face in. Whenever I think I finally know what makes this guy tick, he goes off and gets me aggravated at him all over again.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50201.1

I had another dream. This one was even more sensual than the first one. I was in my bedroom, and I heard him knocking on my window. I let him in. My lover, Dathan. He kissed me; his mouth devoured mine. I looked up into his smiling blue eyes and began to get all quivery inside. I pulled off his shirt to reveal his beautiful, smooth-skinned torso. Then I stripped off his pants and fondled him until he cried out my name. "Korinna!"

We tumbled into bed as he tugged my nightgown away from my shoulders and slipped it down my body. My naked skin rubbed against his. I could feel his hands on my breasts, my waist, and then on my buttocks. His mouth found my breasts as his hands moved down to explore the lower parts of my body. He suckled my nipples until my blood burned inside me. His fingers probed deep inside my flesh until I was throbbing. I couldn't wait any longer; I had to have him inside me. Grabbing his shaft, I pushed him into me.

We began to move. He rolled me over onto my back, plunging in deeper and deeper, over and over. We moaned together, lost in each other's desire. Finally I could bear it no more and scratched his back with my nails, screaming out in ecstasy; his cry echoing mine a few seconds later.

Then I woke up.

My bed was damp beneath me from my orgasm. I had come to climax. From a dream.

It really has been too long since I've had a man.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50204.1

I had the dream again last night, and another orgasm. For the last couple of nights, all I've wanted to do was go into my bed and fall asleep, so that I could experience these visions, or whatever they are. Dathan is so wonderful. He's the perfect lover, tender, considerate. I never believed any man could be so wonderful.

That's it, I think. This is hard for me to admit, but these dreams -- they're about so much more than sex. It's like a holonovel, truly; and I really want to know what's going to happen next, but it isn't only that. I have never, in my life, had such sensuous dreams as these.

I have never known what it is to love, and this Korinna does know. What she has with Dathan, I can tell, it's more than sex. This is what it means to join with someone, body and soul. Every touch means so much more because of the caring that's behind it. Dathan wants to give her all of his love. Performing the act of love is just the means by which he gives himself to her.

She is so lucky.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50206.1

I feel sick. The dreams. The nightmares. I joined in, I betrayed him, I let my love be destroyed. He was burnt until his perfect flesh was charred and lifeless.

No, it wasn't me, it was Korinna. Jora Mirrell. I'm still confused and hurting.

Wait, let me start over from the beginning.

It's embarrassing, because I was late for my shift yesterday morning. I slept right through my wake up call. Well, I don't know if I can say I was really just sleeping. I was dreaming of making love in my sleep when it went off! At any rate, Chakotay came to find out if anything was wrong, and I admitted to him about the dreams, about how sensual they are. He was okay with it; and he was understanding about me being late for my shift. This time.

I hadn't told anyone else. Who could I confide in?

Then, when I was getting ready to go to bed the other night, Tom came to see me. He and Harry were going to this party for the Enarans that have been on Voyager, traveling from their colony to their homeworld. I think he wanted me there because Harry's been attracted to Jessen, the Enaran engineer who's been working with us. Tom wanted someone to hang out with at the party, since he knew Harry would be otherwise engaged. I blew Tom off, even though he looked really good. I like him better in blue or red than in those rusty colors he favors when he gets dressed in civvies. Even though his suit was earth toned, his shirt was red. Tom looked great.

He seemed concerned about me. What could I tell him? That I didn't want to go to the party because I was expecting to have more fun in my bed, dreaming about the best sex I ever had? That I never had, is more like it, I guess.

I didn't really want to look too deeply into this at the time. I mean, with Paris, all I'd have to do is crook my little finger and invite him into my bed. He'd have dumped the party and been all over me in seconds. And the scuttlebutt is that Paris is really good in bed. Not that I ever expect to know, of course. I'm not about to become another of his conquests.

If I had only known what was going to happen, though . . . . Maybe I would have been better off if I had invited Paris to bed.

Anyway, I went to bed alone to enjoy another dream. It was a little different, this time. Korinna gets lectured by her father to stay away from Dathan. After he's gone, Dathan appears from behind the curtain. We start to make love again, and I'm feeling so much passion for Dathan.

Suddenly, Dathan is before me, his face all burned away. I awoke, terrified.

I went to Chakotay and explained how the dreams had turned into nightmares. He said that with a telepathic race like the Enarans on board, I may be experiencing something more than mere dreams. I figured that Jessen might be able to help me, or maybe Jora Mirrell, the older woman who was working with us, might know something.

When I was on my way to talk to Jessen, I suddenly collapsed in the corridor and had still another dream. I was assaulted with a vision, that's a better way to put it, I think. Dathan is a "regressive." Regressives are being shipped away from Enara. And Dathan doesn't want to leave me. Korinna, I mean.

When the Doctor revived me, he was very disquieted by what was happening. He felt that these weren't dreams but memories that were being telepathically induced. They were causing brain damage.

He gave me a neural inhibitor so that I wouldn't receive any more memories, or dream at all, for that matter. Captain Janeway ordered me to take two days off "to rest." Now, when I would really rather not be in bed, I was ordered to go there.

I had to know what the finish to the story was. I think I already knew it was going to be bad, but I had to know. I removed the inhibitor.

A holocaust. An entire people destroyed because they didn't "fit in" with the other Enarans. And Dathan, my lover -- Korinna's lover Dathan -- was killed, betrayed by his lover, and burnt at the stake. Korinna cheered the executioners. The history of the Regressives' extinction was hidden by lies, including those spread by Korinna -- whom I had known as Jora Mirrell, the old woman who had helped Jessen and me in Engineering -- who now, at the end of her life, needed to let others know what she and her people had been guilty of doing. I was sick, but I was angry, too, even more so when I realized that Jora Mirrell was dead. I ran into the farewell party and accused the Enarans of genocide and of Jora Mirrell's murder. I'm sure that they silenced her by killing her telepathically.

They denied it, of course. Sure, like I always go around having these kinds of dreams and accusing alien races of wholesale murder.

Thank the Gods Janeway believed me. And thanks to Jessen, who was courageous enough to take the memories that Korinna had passed on to me, the true story may become known on Enara after all.

I tried to go to sleep earlier tonight, but I couldn't relax enough to drift off. I went to Sandrine's to play a little pool, maybe have a little conversation. Anything, rather than go back to my bed and struggle to get to sleep. Harry and Tom were there, and they asked me about what had happened. I did tell them -- some of it, at least. I didn't tell them about the great sex part. Well, I did say that the dreams were sexy, but I couldn't bring myself to tell them how they had affected me personally. Harry was a good listener. Tom was even better, and I think he may have even had a hunch about the sex part. He had a look in his eyes that was very -- knowing. Thankfully, he didn't ask me any tough questions.

I'm going to try to go to sleep now. I hope I can.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50254.1

I can't believe I dreamed that Enaran dream again last night. Maybe it was because of all that happened with the Swarm and all -- Tom getting hurt like that, and the Doctor forgetting how to do the surgery to save his life. It was a good thing that Kes has come far enough along in her medical studies to be able to take over in an emergency. She was able to repair Tom's neural pathways. I don't know what we would have done without Kes today.

After Tom was out of danger, Kes and I worked on the Doctor. We finally got him back, even if it meant sacrificing the EMH diagnostic program. His memories are really messed up now, but when we heard him singing a bit of opera, Kes and I smiled at each other. I think the Doctor will be all right, eventually.

All that talk about memories. That must've been what caused it. I mean, Tom's fishing for a date and teasing me about Freddie Bristow, that couldn't have been it. But even if I could have predicted having the Enaran dream again, I couldn't have pictured how it was going to turn out to be so -- so different.

The dream was just as sensual as the original ones were. I was in my bedroom, and I heard him knocking on my window. I let him in. My lover, dressed in his baggy clothes. He kissed me, his mouth devoured mine. I looked up into his sparkling, clear blue eyes and started to get all quivery inside. I stripped off his shirt, revealing his beautiful torso. Then I pulled down his pants and fondled him until he cried out my name: "B'Elanna!"

We tumbled into bed as he tugged the nightgown away from my shoulders and down my body. My naked skin was against his, my hard nipples rubbing against the sensuous red-gold hairs of his chest. I felt his hands caress my breasts, my waist, my buttocks. His hands moved down to explore the lower parts of my body. He suckled my nipples until my blood was on fire. His fingers probed my flesh until I was throbbing and burning and I just couldn't wait any longer; I had to have him inside me. I grabbed him and pushed him deep within me.

We began to move. He rolled me over onto my back, plunging in deeper and deeper, over and over. We moaned together, lost in each other's desire. Finally I scratched his back with my nails, unable to stand it any more, screaming out in my ecstasy. His cry echoed mine a few seconds later.

Then I woke up.

My bed was damp from my orgasm. I had come to climax. From a dream of having sex with Tom Paris.

No, that isn't quite right. In my dream, I was making love with Tom Paris.

I think he was dressed in those clothes he and Chakotay wore when they went down to try to "out Ferengi the Ferengi," as Captain Janeway called it. But the rest of it was just like the dream of the Enaran. Just as sensuous, just as real, just as powerful a climax for me. But with Tom's face and hands and what I imagine his body must be like, from what little I have seen of it, in place of Dathan's.

What can it mean? I don't feel anything like that for Tom. He's good looking, sure; and he's my friend. But I don't think of him as being lover material.

At the staff meeting this morning, I couldn't look him in the eyes. He asked me what was wrong, and I just said I'd had a little trouble sleeping. He immediately asked me if I'd been having any flashback Enaran dreams. I'm sure it was a lucky guess, but I was mortified. I got curt with him and stormed out of the meeting. I never even asked him how he was feeling. After all, he had brain surgery yesterday!

I've had trouble keeping Tom out of my thoughts all day. It's ridiculous, I know, but I keep wondering if he could be as good a lover as he was in that dream.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50426.8

My stomachs have finally settled down. If that is what an "upset stomach" is, I intend to have a lot more sympathy for my staff when they complain of having one in the future!

Tom was great. I enjoyed our little sparring session in the mess hall when he called me in to fix the replicator. He was so funny when I threatened to leave. The crew was getting pretty irritated with him, so I can understand that bit of panic he had in his voice.

When the gelpack broke and we were quarantined in the mess hall, waiting for the illness to affect us, he joked around the entire time to keep everyone's spirits up. And when I got so sick, he stayed close by me. Even when he was looking pretty sick himself, he was looking after me.

I like teasing Tom, but he can be a good friend. I really like being around him, even though I would never tell him that. I wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea. I mean, it isn't as if I'm in love with him, or anything.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50448.2

I had one of those Enaran dreams last night. With Tom again, of course. My bed was wet. I thought for a few moments that I should go to see the Doctor to make sure I wasn't having a bladder problem, just to make sure, but I used my tricorder. It was definitely from an orgasm. And what an orgasm. I thought this kind of thing only happened to men.

I don't understand why I keep getting these dreams. That's the third one in two weeks. I certainly enjoy them while I'm having them, but when I wake up, I feel so empty. I guess I could go to the Doctor about it, but I hate to talk to him about something like this. The Doctor can be just a bit too curious sometimes. I just wish I had someone to talk to. You are a very good listener, Personal Log, but you aren't much for feedback.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50460.9

You know, I think I made the wrong choice tonight. I know that the four of us had agreed to meet at the luau without making any definite plans to sit together. Still, when Vorik told me he'd reserved a special table for just the two of us with my favorite view of the water, I could have said something. I knew that Tom had expected us to be a foursome; and really, I had, too. But when Vorik took me by the arm and led me off, I let him.

Tom looked stunned. And then Harry came in only for a few moments and left again in a huff over something -- I'll have to ask him what it was all about tomorrow morning -- but that meant that Tom was alone.

Usually, Tom can fend for himself pretty well. I mean, he has never exactly lacked for female companionship. Tonight, he circulated the room, but I never saw him with anyone for long. And he kept looking over at Vorik and me with the strangest expression on his face, like he wanted something that he couldn't have. Like he was lonely. That's ridiculous, of course. He hasn't worked his way through all of the women on this ship yet! I didn't see him dance with anyone, though.

Vorik was very nice. It was very flattering to have him remember my preferences and to cater to me like that. He's a good engineer, and for a Vulcan, he's surprisingly warm. Not emotional -- I shouldn't make it sound like that. I wouldn't want to insult him, even in my personal logs. He's easy to talk to, and he was very attentive. Not at all like Tuvok. Of course, he's so much younger than Tuvok. I enjoyed being with him tonight very much.

I guess I would have enjoyed it more, though, if Tom had been sitting with us. Even though I'd made fun of his ridiculous "Big Daddy"-whatever-it-was Hawaiian shirt, he was still very nice to me. To be honest, I was a bit rude to Tom, but he took it well, the way he usually does. And I liked hearing him tell me I looked so good in my dress. You can see if a man is sincere with a compliment by the look in his eyes when he's giving it. Tom was sincere.

At the end of the evening, Vorik wanted to walk me to my quarters, but I made my excuses. I had a nice time, but I'd had enough of Vorik by then.

I looked for Tom because I really wanted to have a chance to talk to him a bit. I was sorry that he hadn't seemed to have had a very good time. I couldn't find him. Apparently, he left early. I'll try to find him tomorrow.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50539.8

If that petaQ of a Vulcan ever comes within ten meters again about anything but an engineering problem, I will dislocate his jaw again. Or worse.

A lot happened during the last couple of days that's pretty hazy, but I can remember that absurd "marriage proposal" very clearly. There was absolutely no doubt about my refusal. How dare he try to push himself on me afterwards!

Vorik could have endangered the mission by his absence; we needed his expertise. As it was, the whole thing went so badly, I'm embarrassed that I was in charge. Maybe we got the gallicite, but that didn't have anything to do with me. It only means that the whole thing wasn't a complete disaster.

I was really nasty to Neelix; and he was so good about it. He came to see me in Sickbay to see how I was, after. I tried to apologize, but he said it wasn't my fault. I couldn't help myself. Neelix told me that he and Tom both knew I was overly excited, but because they didn't know about what had happened with Vorik, neither of them had any clue to what was wrong with me. Even when I bit Tom, Neelix didn't understand what it meant, although Tom had an idea, right from the beginning.

I don't know how I will ever be able to look Tom in the eyes again.

He was really -- wonderful. Honorable. Too honorable for my good, or for his own. Really, if you'd told me a couple of months ago that I was going to throw myself at Tom Paris like that, I would've been sure that Tom's response would be to jump on top of me faster than you could say, "Take me," whether I was out of my head from a Vulcan "chemical imbalance" or not.

Ha! "Sex Compulsion" is more like it.

I have heard of the IwmeQbogh, the Klingon "Blood Fever," of course, but I had never really experienced it before. I've had sex lots of times, but I've always been in perfect control. I took what a man could give me and enjoyed myself. This was so different. I was totally out of control. My body was in a feverish heat. My crotch was burning like it was when I was having those Enaran dreams. I just had to have sex, or go crazy. But even though I threw myself at Tom, he was too principled to take advantage of me!

When I confronted him in the mines, Tom tried to be so noble. He was so noble, I guess, refusing to give in for the sake of our friendship. He was worried I would be upset when I came to my senses, after the pon farr was resolved. And he was right. I can't bear to think about being around him now, even though we didn't actually do anything. Or maybe the problem is that we didn't do anything, and we should have.

I was so happy when I found the gallicite conduits after I stormed away from Tom and Neelix I was able to control the burning, a little. But once I heard Tom's "B'Elanna" and I answered "Tom," my blood began to rage again. When Tom was standing next to me, his scent maddened me. That whole thing with me losing my temper when the Sakari were actually trying to save me from a cave in, my snapping at Tuvok and Chakotay -- I know that they happened, but they're really muddy in my mind. All I knew was Tom.

After we became separated from Tuvok and Chakotay, I was feeling even more agitated. I was aroused sexually, and I really tried to control those urges; but it was so difficult, especially with Tom right next to me. Once Tom explained the whole pon farr thing to me, I knew why I felt that way, but it didn't make it any easier to bear.

Then we fought, and Tom said it out loud. "This isn't about the gun, this is about sex. But that isn't going to happen now." The taste of his blood was in my mouth and the smell of him had drilled into my soul. I needed to taste him. I needed to feel his arms around me, for him to join with me, to complete me, two halves of the same whole. When he refused, I wanted to chew his flesh as I mounted him. Gods! What a feeling. And when he made that joke about my finding him impossible to resist . . .

I have never been such a liar in my life. Of course I couldn't resist him. Unfortunately, he was able to resist me.

When our way was blocked and I jumped him, for a minute, I could feel Tom's resolve weakening. He was still being noble, but it was really hard for him to roll out from under me and pull away.

And when I played dirty, throwing his yearning for me in his face, he admitted how he felt. He said he wanted me, but that he knew I wasn't myself. I'd told him lots of times that I wasn't interested, so he wasn't going to take advantage of me now. He was still being the noble Paris.

All my lies, to him, to myself, come home to haunt me! Pushing my body against his, I told him that it wasn't true, that I really did want him, that I'd been afraid to admit it. I didn't say that I'd been afraid to admit it to myself, but that was really what I meant.

The look that he had on his face when I said that to him, I will never forget. Incredulity, mixed with hope. Desire. I knew that he wasn't lying when he said that he wanted me.

I had him backed against the wall of the cavern, and I forced him to kiss me.

That first kiss. Kahless! What that felt like. My whole body was throbbing; and even though he was trying to pull away, he couldn't help responding to me. His eyes were closed. He was all but groaning as he shook his head, as if he were trying to convince himself that he didn't want me. But he did, and he kissed me back. For a minute, I thought it was all going to be all right. We were going to have sex, to make passionate love right on that dusty floor of the cavern.

I wouldn't have minded then if Chakotay and Tuvok came in to watch us. I wouldn't have cared if Janeway and everyone on the whole damn SHIP had been there watching us. I wanted us, Tom and me, more than anything I have ever wanted in my entire life.

He backed me up against the opposite wall, his wrist light shining over my face. He kissed me thoroughly. Then he released his lips for a moment to stroke my face with those wonderful hands of his. I have watched those fingers of his dancing over the helm, and I can admit the truth now: I have often wondered what it would be like to have those fingers touching me. Touching me intimately, deep within my body.

I remember thrusting those hands away from me when they tried to comfort me in the Vidiian caverns. Stupid, stupid B'Elanna! I would give anything for him to want to touch me with those hands now.

Then he was grazing my lips so gently with his fingers, telling me that he hoped I'd say I wanted him again someday, when I really meant it.

Why didn't I stay calm then? Just told him that I really did mean it, now and forever. Instead, my brutal, nasty Klingon side came out and screamed at him. I'm not even sure what it was I said -- that I'd go crazy if he didn't help me -- I'm not sure; I think that was what I said. That was when things started getting more and more confused and hazy. I know he looked at me with pain on his face, and said something to me. If I had thrown my body against his then, I don't think he could have held out.

But then I collapsed. I don't remember a lot of what happened after that until we got back to the surface. Tom talked to me once, but I have no idea what we said to each other. I heard Chakotay's voice, and Tuvok's. There was a rumbling noise. Maybe it was another earthquake. I felt hands on me, helping me up, holding me as we crawled over some rocks and then out of the tunnels to the surface. We stopped a few times, whether it was to get our bearings or to signal Voyager, I'm not sure. I'm pretty certain that it was Tom who held me up, though, and that it was Tom who led me out of the tunnels.

The light was so bright, I had to bend down to hide my eyes, I remember that. And then Tom was kneeling in front of me, and he was saying something that I finally realized was what I had been wanting to hear. Something about how neither of us wanted it to happen this way, but now it was too late to worry about that.

Too late for anything but for him to become my mate, to acknowledge that I had marked him as mine, and that he would give me what I wanted. What I needed from him.

I don't know how long he would have gone on talking, but I stopped him. I led him into the bushes. Tuvok and Chakotay left, I think, but I wouldn't have cared if they hadn't then, any more than I would have cared before, when we were still in the tunnels. Maybe if they had been watching, it would have been better. They could have protected us, so that Tom and I could finish what we'd started.

We found ourselves in a clearing. My mind was still pretty fuzzy, but when I started to peel back his sleeves and sniff his scent, it began to clear a bit. I know he felt awkward, which I guess is funny. Tom Paris, playboy of Voyager, wasn't sure how to make love to a woman! It was because he wanted it to be a Klingon experience, I'm sure -- normally he would have known exactly what to do. But he let me lead. He asked me about throwing heavy objects, I think. What I wanted was to feel him hold me, and then he was; we were face to face, body to body, as I growled at him in excitement.

When he growled at me -- and not very well, I must say -- a jolt went all the way into me. I burned for him, throwing him down on the ground and mounting him. He seemed confused, and I know I got angry at him. I asked him what he thought he was doing, and he said, "Enjoying myself?" in such a quizzical way.

Then those blue eyes were looking up at me, and we smiled as both of us felt his arousal. Tom finally understood, tussling with me and rolling me over onto my back, rubbing his erection against my burning crotch as he grappled roughly with my arms. The waiting was over. We were still dressed, but I knew that in a few seconds we were going to rip the clothing from our bodies. I was going to feel him thrusting inside me to satisfy the mating urge that now, I was sure, Tom felt as strongly as I did.

And then that stinking bastard petaQ Vulcan showed up, tearing Tom off me, screaming that he was my mate. I wanted to kill him. Tom yelled at him. Tuvok and Chakotay came running up then and held us back from anyone killing each other.

Tom was willing to take the "challenge," but I had to do it. If I hadn't I probably would've joined in the fight between the two of them. That wouldn't have been the honorable thing to do, but I couldn't have stopped myself. I needed to do something; I couldn't just stand around watching them. Once I started, I knew I'd made the right choice. My burning blood channeled into the muscles of my body, and the feverish heat helped me to focus on bashing the arrogant bastard's face in. I didn't succeed, of course, but I gave as good as I got until neither of us could swing any more. Vorik fell, but I still stood, wavering, until Tom's scent drew me back to him. Exhausted, I stumbled into a warm pair of arms that cradled me.

I don't remember much of what happened for a long while. Gentle hands brushed my hair in comfort, that I know. I drifted in and out of sleep, I guess. The same arms seemed to be around me whenever I became conscious for a moment, but I'm not absolutely sure. When I finally woke up, I was on a biobed in Sickbay with the Doctor looking down at me, the captain and Kes at my other elbow. The fever was purged, he said. I looked around. Vorik was on another biobed, asleep. There was no one else there.

This time, Tom didn't come to visit me while I was in Sickbay. I wouldn't have wanted to see him even if he had come. I told the Doctor to keep him away from me. What could I have said? The way I threw myself at him, I hadn't acted any better towards Tom than Vorik did to me.

The Doctor is releasing me for duty tomorrow. The Sakari have supplied us with enough gallicite to refit the warp coils in return for technical assistance to make the Sakari presence even more difficult to detect from a passing spacecraft. There is work for me to do, at least. I hope that once I'm working again on the warp coils, my mind will be occupied enough by that so that I can stop regretting what now will never be.

I don't know why I'm recording all of this. I'm just torturing myself. The friendship Tom and I have shaped with so much effort over the past three years is destroyed now. I'm going to miss it.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50540.2

I had another dream. This one was different, yet so much was the same. There was no bedroom or bed, but the figure that faced me was the same one I've seen many nights before in these dreams. He was dressed in baggy clothing, and his blue eyes smiled at me until our lips met. I tore the clothes off his body as he ripped the nightgown from my shoulders. His naked skin was pressed against mine as we rolled in the dust of dark, almost-deserted tunnels. With his mouth on my breasts, my body responded to him, to the fingers that explored the secret places deep within me.

Then there were no tunnels or caverns, just a forest clearing where cool grass carpeted the ground beneath our entwined bodies. My blood burned with a feverish heat, and I couldn't wait any longer. I had to have him inside me. Grabbing his shaft, I guided him in. He thrust more deeply as he rolled me over onto my back, plunging in deeper and deeper, over and over. We moaned together, losing our separate selves in our joint desire, until I scratched his back, screaming out in ecstasy, as his cry echoed mine.

I woke up, lying again in a bed wet from sweat and my own orgasm, alone, lonely.

I wish you could turn off dreams the way you can a holodeck program.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50545.8

It had to happen eventually. As he said, we are going to be on this ship together for a very long time. Everyone uses the turbolifts constantly to get where they need to be. It was no surprise when that was where we finally met again.

At least we were alone. We were both so incredibly awkward at first, I didn't know where to put my hands or gaze with my eyes. There was an exchange of small talk about the warp core refit, which I have never been much good at in the best of circumstances, let alone this. The small talk, I mean, not the refit. How can you chat casually with a man whom you've been making love to in your dreams for weeks? A person who was almost your lover in fact only a few days ago, when you demanded that he have sex with you? With Tom so close to me, I could catch the scent of him, too. He always smells good, but now, with the memory of the bitter iron taste of his blood lingering in my mouth, Tom was intoxicating.

I tried to make it easier for him, thanking him for being willing to . . . help me. I told him that we should just forget about it. As far as I was concerned, it didn't really happen. But he refused to accept that. He said what I would never have expected to hear him say: "You were afraid your big, scary Klingon side was showing. You know, I saw it up close, and it wasn't so bad. I wouldn't mind seeing it again, someday."

For as long as the ride continued, I could think of nothing else to say. When I reached Deck 11 and left the turbolift, however, something made me say, "Careful what you wish for, Lieutenant."

I couldn't see his face behind me, but I think I heard him catch his breath. My mind was racing furiously as the door closed behind me, but he didn't follow me to ask what I meant. I'm glad, for I'm not sure that I know what I meant myself. But I do know this:

I have marked him. In Klingon tradition, he is my mate already, my betrothed, even though we have not completed the act that will bind us together for life. Until now, I've always rejected Klingon traditions, but this time my blood refuses to agree with my rebellion.

At the staff meeting an hour later, I sat next to Tom. I could feel the blood singing in my veins the entire time as his scent floated over to me. We are going to be together on this ship for the next sixty-seven years, barring a miracle or two. I don't know what I'll do if my human side can't keep my Klingon side from lusting after Tom for all of those years.

Unless he does become my mate.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50734.6

I ended up in Sickbay again. This is the seventh time in about six months. I don't even think Tom's been here that often lately!

He came by to see me while Harry was down on the planet of the Beautiful Soul-Sucking Vampire Women, as Tom called it later. I was still feeling the effects of whatever the Doctor had given me for my plasma burns and was writhing around on the biobed trying to get comfortable when he arrived. I'm not sure exactly what I looked and sounded like when I glanced up at him, but from the look on his face, I couldn't have been myself. I do remember that he asked, "You wouldn't by chance want any company in that bed, would you, Torres?" before the Doctor came up, all huffy, to chase him away for bothering his patient. If I was bothered, it wasn't by what Tom was saying. In fact, the proposition sounded pretty good at the time. Must have been the medication.

When the Doctor released me from Sickbay, all of the excitement about the Tiresians was over. We had been able to rescue Harry, but he was still getting his spots removed when I left the Doctor's tender care. Tom walked me back to my quarters, acting like a perfect gentleman.

I guess I'm glad, because we've finally been getting back to the friendship we had before. The last thing I want is to get into some kind of situation that will set me off again. My hunger for Tom has been under control; I haven't had one of those dreams in almost two months. Since the Borg planet episode, in fact. I guess the Borg can have a dampening effect on just about anything, including the Klingon mating urge.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50839.7

Today has been a day I would rather forget. I wouldn't even make this entry, except I owe it to the Doctor to make this record, just to remind myself to be careful in the future when I start playing God. Which is exactly what I did, I'm afraid. I'm just hoping that I wasn't subconsciously trying to get back at the Doctor for the way he treated me when he overdid the personality improvement program a couple of months ago.

The Doctor's holographic daughter died today, thanks to me and my "tweaked program." Maybe the Doctor and his family are just representations of people, illusions, the images of bodies created by a computer program, but from what Tom told me, they're real enough to the Doctor. I told myself I just wanted Charlene, Belle and Jeffrey to be recognizable human beings, even if they are artificial. I'm sure I went too far with my alterations to the program, though. Sure, maybe I was reacting to all of that treacly sweetness and light I saw when Kes and I went to dinner, but "Lollipop" or not, Belle didn't deserve to die because the parameters of the program were weighted toward the more pessimistic outcomes.

I tried to make amends. Tom and I went to Sickbay after he told me what had happened. I offered to reprogram Belle for the Doctor, but he said no. Tom had talked to him about experiencing the good and the bad about families when he had tried to run away from it. The Doctor told us that whether or not he continued with his family program, the only honest thing to do was to accept the tragedy and move on, as real people do. I caught Tom's eyes when he said that, and I think Tom was thinking the same thing I was: the Doctor never seemed more like "real people" to us than he did at that moment.

We compromised. Tom and I are programming a memorial service for Belle that we will present tomorrow. Captain Janeway, Chakotay, Kes, Harry, and Tuvok have already promised to attend. Neelix is preparing a meal for afterwards. It was all Tom's idea, but it was a good one. I wish that I had thought of it.

The rest of what happened pales in comparison to the Doctor's loss. Tom almost became a dead hero again -- what else is new? The astral eddies were dangerous; he promised to be careful; but he was caught inside one before we could do anything about it. We managed to save him, and the shuttle, too, for once. When he was stuck inside the interfold layer, I was really frightened. I didn't think we would ever be able to get him out. I think I hid it well, except from the captain. She knew, but she seemed pretty scared herself. She didn't embarrass me by pointing out my fear for Tom.

And when he got back, Tom found out about Belle, so it was still a bad day after he was rescued. If we had lost Tom, though, it would have been so much worse.

End personal log.

Personal Log, Addendum

After listening to this really depressing log I recorded earlier, I realized that I had forgotten the one time today that actually wasn't bad. Lunch. It was fun teasing Tom when he swiped my romance novel. A technical manual, indeed! If that line about "a beautiful woman should never have to eat alone" is typical of his pick-up lines, it's a wonder he's been as successful with women as he has been!

With the astral eddies interrupting us, and all, I wonder whatever happened to my padd? Tom said he doesn't know where it is; we had to leave in such a hurry. I'll have to ask Neelix about it in the morning. I'm only half way through the story. I was just getting to the really good part.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50912.9

We've finally repaired all of the damage that the Nyrians missed fixing from Chakotay's little rampage during their takeover, so I actually had a chance to relax a bit today. I checked where Tom was, since I knew he wasn't due on duty for a while yet. He was on the holodeck, in the resort, sipping a drink in the sun. After that frigid habitat, it was a logical place for him to hang out. For both of us, really. And it made it so much easier to say to him what I wanted to say to him, without having to go into any emotionally charged apologies and explanations that I just didn't want to get into in the middle of the day like that and, uh . . . well.

I really was sorry about all of the nasty things I had said about his stupid Klingon program, but I was glad I didn't need to go into much detail.

I was able to get away with saying only that I was glad to be warm again and that it had been "chilly." And by the way he smiled to himself, I'm sure that he knew the comment had nothing to do with the sunshine.

Tom can be so annoyingly pushy, like he was with the Klingon martial arts program, but I know he's trying to send me a message about caring for all of me, for both sides of my heritage. And he's right. Sometimes I am hostile over nothing. He can take it, though. Unlike Starfleet, who flinched because I asked him if I were hostile. Tom confronted me when I was swinging a bat'telh in his face. One thing I cannot deny about Mr. Paris is his courage. He definitely has the cojones, as the Terran saying goes.

I was thinking of all that when we were sitting there together in the sun, and then, somehow, it popped out. "Tom, how about dinner tonight?"

I am not sure who was more stunned, me or him, but he accepted before I could take back the invitation.

We really had such a nice time. I've never known anyone who can be so smarmy one moment, and so thoughtful and sincere the next. Lately, sincere has been winning out most of the time. Just before he left, he asked me to have dinner with him tomorrow, and I accepted. Before he could change his mind? No, I don't think there was any way he was going to do that!

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 50953.4

Seska. I never thought I would ever say her name in this log again, other than to refer to her death a year ago. Afterwards, Tuvok told us, right when it was all happening, Tom said to him, "I guess we should've known Seska wouldn't let a little thing like death keep her from getting even!"

I cannot fathom how Tom is able to make a joke like that when his life is threatened. I wonder, is that what makes him a good pilot? That ability to think instinctively in a crisis? Whatever, at least he and Tuvok both escaped, relatively unhurt.

When the captain finally managed to break through Seska's sabotaged computer codes and shut down the program, I wanted to run into Tom's arms and hold him. I might have even ended up blubbering all over him. I guess it's a good thing that he had to go to Sickbay to get his arm treated. By the time I got a chance to see him when we were all in the mess hall, I'd calmed down enough so that I didn't make a fool of myself.

Neelix, Tuvok, Chakotay and Captain Janeway with Tom and I, all of us sitting around in the mess hall. What a nice thing that was. When we started talking about holodeck novels, Chakotay was even able to joke that he didn't want to be the bad guy the next time Tuvok wrote one! He seems so comfortable with both Tom and Tuvok now. And I wonder if anything is going on between Janeway and Chakotay. They seemed awfully cozy. I asked Tom about it later in his quarters, and he just raised his eyebrow like Tuvok does. I think he suspects something is happening, too. They've been really careful, if they have done anything. They obviously are attracted to each other.

What a long way we've come from being Maquis refugees seeking shelter on a Starfleet vessel, with so many of the Starfleet crew resentful of us. Blaming us, even, for our all being caught by the Caretaker and marooned in the Delta Quadrant. Why, the Delta Quadrant is starting to feel like home to me now.

In Tom's quarters, we talked about another holodeck program. In a moment of insanity, I made a comment about possibly doing a little something to mark the Day of Honor. The next thing I know, he's sketching out a holodeck "experience" for me based on the rituals of the day. I should have known better than to tell "Mr. Klingon Traditions" anything about it. I mean, I understand what he's trying to do. He has this crazy idea that I need to "embrace the inner Klingon" so that I can accept my true, entire self. Is it so essential that I like that part of myself more? I only seem to get in trouble whenever I get into this Klingon stuff.

I am not sure why I am holding back from telling Tom how I feel about him. I think he feels the same way about me, but the words don't seem to want to come. I know we don't want to rush into anything. The way our own families were, we both have some scars. I guess we know that once we admit it, we can never go back to just being friends again. Not the two of us. It was hard enough after that pon farr business.

It won't be long, now, before we end up doing something about it, though. I've started to have those dreams again.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51009.9

She's gone. Kes is not with us any more. It isn't as if we expected her to be on the journey with us the whole way to the Alpha Quadrant. Her life expectancy was always so short, but who expected it to end this way? Not even four years old, and she's gone. A spirit. A qa'Dol. Those powers of hers, so unbelievable once unleashed. She was right to leave, the way the ship was being affected, and for her to hurl us ten years closer to home was an incredible gift.

But we will all miss her. I may miss her most of all, because I never did get a chance to get to know her the way I wanted. At the end, when we started working more closely together because of the Doctor's programming, I was starting to think we could be friends. Like I was with Seska, only Kes was someone who was worth having as a friend!

Good-bye, Kes. I hope you find whatever it was that you were seeking.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51011.1

That Seven of Nine of Borg, what a nasty piece of work she is. She and her friends really managed to muck up my engines and just about every system on Voyager. It'll take weeks to get the ship back to normal, if it ever is.

I hope Janeway keeps her far away from Engineering. Not only does the Borg make me shiver every time she comes near me; but, if Harry's reaction is typical, no male will get any work at all done if she's anywhere within visual range.

At least we managed to get out of the Borg's part of space for the time being. Tom and I were talking about that tonight at dinner. We can't believe that a few short weeks ago, we were thinking that the Delta Quadrant was getting to be home. If it is our home, it's a pretty dangerous neighborhood.

And the Day of Honor is coming up next week, too. Tom showed me some of his plans for the Day of Honor ritual program. I agreed to work on it some more with him, but I never gave him any guarantee I will actually use it. And considering some of the things that have happened to me on the Day of Honor in the past, I really think that just lying low that day would be best.

I wonder if Janeway would let me have the day off so I can sleep the day away?

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51022.4

Day of Honor. A typical Day of Honor, for me. A miserable day, the worst day of my life.

Had a fight with Chakotay over being stuck supervising the Borg, fought with Tom over this stupid "Day of Honor" holodeck program, Seven tried generating a transwarp conduit which screwed up my engines, had to dump the warp core or blow up Voyager, went out in a shuttle to work with Tom after our fight, almost was killed when the shuttle blew up on us, and then just about died of asphyxiation when Tom's and my EVA suits were damaged while floating in space. Oh, and I had a reminder of what an upset stomach was when out in space, too. Charming. Almost the last thing I ever did was vomit in a space suit. I certainly would have wanted to die if I'd managed that one, I'm sure.

And one other little thing. Expecting we were going to die, I finally got brave and actually told Tom I loved him. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Because now we aren't dead, and he didn't even have the courtesy to tell me he loved me back, even if he were lying. After all, if we were dead, what would it have mattered? Instead, what do I get? "You picked a great time to tell me!" A joke!

I can't understand it, either. The look on Tom's face when I told him -- he got sad, almost. He's been pursuing me for so long -- am I really only just a conquest to him? Even if he couldn't have had my body, isn't my soul enough?

He was flirting with me earlier, talking about "first contact' and wanting me to "work his controls." He just about begged me to tell him I didn't think he was a pig anymore. When we were floating in space, clasping our bodies as close as we could while waiting to die, Tom told me that he was glad that the last thing he was ever going to see was my face. I could feel his arms tightening around me as we were getting the countdown on how much air we had left -- how many more seconds of awareness we had of holding each other. I was concentrating on being with him so much for those last few moments that it didn't even register right away that Voyager was coming towards us; my eyes were closed. I didn't know until I heard Tom's answer to Janeway's comm signal.

Suddenly we were in Sickbay and the Doctor was pulling off our helmets so that we could breathe. He gave us some Tri-Ox to help us recover. Tom could have told me then what he feels for me. Or did he think I was lying to him because of oxygen deprivation? All I know is that he held me in that hug for several more seconds, just gazing into my eyes, without saying word one to me. This man is really so infuriating.

The call to go to Engineering came then, of course. If the Doctor could release me, Janeway needed me right away to help get the warp core back on line. He let me go, and I worked all night, getting madder and madder at Paris every time I yanked on a hyperspanner.

And my typical Day of Honor luck seems to have carried over into today. At 0930 this morning, Chakotay found me still on duty and yelled at me for working all night, ordering me to my quarters to rest! Who did he think was going to take care of all the repairs with me in bed? Seven and Vorik?


I will try to calm down and get some sleep now, but I don't expect too much.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Addendum.

I guess I needed the rest. I slept for over nine hours.

I have been lying here since I woke up, thinking about Mr. Paris. No wet dreams, this time, thank God. But I have been pondering everything that happened when we were floating in space, and about our fight yesterday. It was over my pushing him away all the time to keep him from getting too close to me; and it made me think about the fight we had when the Nyrians had us. Tom wasn't quite as angry this time as he was that night in the Federation habitat, but it was bad enough. That time -- when the Doctor's wonderful psychological tidbits while we were trying to make up made us angrier at each other than we had been to start with -- well, the thing is, the Doctor was right. I am trying to protect myself from getting hurt when I push someone away. I even admitted that to Tom when we were stranded in space. And Tom, he makes a joke and pretends it all doesn't matter anyway. I was right about that, too, I know it.

Was that what he was doing? Was my telling him I loved him so overwhelming that he had to protect himself with a joke, even at a time like that?

The thing is, Harry once told me that, for a while, Tom was always falling in and out of love. I'll just bet that telling a woman he loved her was something he did casually, as part of the game. Maybe it wouldn't have meant very much to him if he had said that he loved me yesterday. Instead, he told me he was glad that I was the one he was going to die with.

And he seemed so stunned when I told him. Maybe, if I hadn't prodded him into saying something to me, he never would've said anything at all in words. Now that I'm not oxygen-deprived any more, I remember how we touched each other's helmets. I remember that look he gave me, when we thought it was the last look we would ever share. He held me close, as close as we could get with those suits on. They would have found our dead bodies wrapped up together like that -- if we had died, that is.

I wish I were better at this kind of thing. I know I'm not the most self-aware person. My own feelings overwhelm me sometimes. Being able to figure out someone else's, well, that really is a bit much. But I think I need to get in Tom's face about this, or we will just drift on forever the way we are.

That isn't going to be enough for me, not anymore.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51026.1

Three days I avoided him. I admit it. After all those brave words in my log about having to confront him, I didn't want to. I didn't want to hear him say that he didn't really want me after all. At least, not as anything more than a friend. Then he cornered me coming out of the dinner for Tuvok's promotion to lieutenant commander.

He still hasn't told me he loves me in so many words. Although "shut up" seems like a pretty good way to let someone know you care for them, if you get kissed the way he kissed me right afterwards. Really, truly kissed me. But then the Doctor interrupted us and I ran off. I didn't expect to see him again so quickly, but Tom must've have run all the way from the mess hall to get to my quarters the same time I got there.

Tom and I couldn't have a very late night. It was almost 2300 already when the dinner broke up. He has to go on duty this morning at 0600.

I love it. I'm in love with Tom, the Doctor's new nurse. I wish I could tell that to Kes. I think she would've gotten a big laugh over that.

End personal log.

Chief Engineer's Personal Log, Stardate 51028.6

I'm so mad at him. He wants me to go through with that Klingon program after all. If he really did love me, he wouldn't ask that. It's a stupid program.

And he was so sweet up to then, taking such good care of me after that lunatic hologram Dejaren -- excuse me -- that lunatic isomorphic projection Dejaren -- tried to rip all eight chambers out of my heart. The Doctor may have repaired the physical damage, but Tom was taking no chances. He held me and kissed me, but nothing too exciting, he said.

My heart was perfectly fine! I was really eager for sex, but he said we should wait until I was healed up. I told him I was healed up enough; he insisted he could wait. That was frustrating enough, but that wasn't all that was frustrating. He still hasn't told me if he loves me.

I wonder if that's the real reason we fought? Because that was when we started talking about that program, and we had the fight. How many times do I have to tell him I don't want to have anything to do with that Klingon stuff? He says that I have to. It's ridiculous. And yet, if it really didn't mean anything to me, why am I still thinking about the Day of Honor, almost a week past the day, and thinking about my mother?

I was so little when Father left Mother. I never asked her what happened -- if he just couldn't take being married to a Klingon, or if there was some other reason he left. Even if I do get back to the Alpha Quadrant some day, who knows if I will find her still alive? Or if she'll even talk to me about it if she is alive? With that code of honor she has, she probably will keep the secret to her grave. If only I knew why it didn't work for them.

All I know is that Tom has shown me over and over that he wants me. All of me. Klingon temper and all. And I keep pushing him away. Is he right? If I can't accept that part of me, are we doomed to repeat what happened to my mother and my father? Is that why he can't bring himself to tell me he loves me?

This thinking out loud is making me crazy. I have to do something.

End personal log?


I found Tom in Holodeck 1. He had the Klingon Day of Honor program running, but he was just standing in the middle of the cavern. The holocharacters weren't there when I walked in; Tom was alone. His back was to the entrance. He was so dazed, he didn't even notice me until I appeared in front of him.

The look on his face was so -- how can I describe it? He seemed so lonely, bleak, even bereft. As if he'd lost his best friend.

He actually jumped back a step when he saw me. I guess I was my usual self. A bit belligerent. I really meant to apologize about our argument, that's all. I'm not sure what came over me, but instead I shouted that if he expected me to finish this damned program, he'd better be prepared to finish it with me. He stared at me, totally confused.

"But B'Elanna, I'm not a Klingon." He actually said that to me.

I then informed him that he was more Klingon than me, sometimes. Honor means more to Tom, I think, than any non-Klingon I know. He managed to throw his away with one lie in a time of panic, and he's been doing his level best to get it back by becoming a dead hero ever since. And then I added the clincher: "Unless you aren't up to it, of course."

Men are sooooo predictable, especially Tom. Challenge their manhood, and you can get them to do anything you want.

Pain sticks. Hand to hand combat. Fighting with the bat'telh. Traversing the stinking sulfur lagoons of Gorath. Side by side, we endured the pain. Back to back, we fought away holographic enemies. And when we were done, standing in the center of that first cavern, dripping with sweat that stung the scratches the holodeck safeties couldn't prevent, I turned to him and told him that the foreplay was over. "Now it's time for you to see that Klingon side of me the way you've always wanted to, Tom Paris. Don't deny it, and don't make any more excuses. My heart can take it. And no more jokes."

His chest was heaving as he gulped in air. Those clear blue eyes of his gleamed, illuminated by the flaring torches. I didn't need to hear him say any love words then, I could see it in his eyes. Not just desire, although that was aflame in them, too. But love. I knew he was mine.

I bit him, claimed him. He kissed me, devoured my mouth until my insides were quaking in anticipation. I pulled his uniform open, yanked his turtleneck over his head to reveal his body. I drew my hands over his broad shoulders. Slowly I dragged my fingers through the tangles of red gold hair I encountered as I kissed his chest. He gasped when I pushed his uniform and briefs down past his knees and fondled his balls.

How vulnerable a man is at that moment. Exposed. How much must he trust you, to let his vital and tender flesh, suspended by such delicate tissues, be pulled and rolled that way? A quick cut of a knife, and his life as a potent male is over. I wonder if a man even thinks of that, when he is lost in the sensations a woman is engendering in him? I thought of it as I was playing with Tom, tugging on his erection, until he was groaning and calling out my name. "B'Elanna." I thought, he does trust me. Completely.

My turn. Tom ripped my uniform open, stripping me naked in seconds before dragging me down with him onto the dusty floor of the simulated cavern. His mouth tasted my naked skin; his hands, those wonderful hands, alternately kneaded and caressed my entire body until I was murmuring his name, too. His lips kissed my mouth and my neck before descending to my nipples. I cried out, orgasmic just from the pull of his mouth on my breasts and the pain of his bite on my shoulder. Hands, lips and tongue probed me, sucking and pulsing the secret places deep inside me until I was moaning in tormented pleasure, burning for him to enter me.

When I thought I couldn't bear to wait any more I reached out for him. He rolled me over onto my back and thrust his penis within me, plunging in deeper and deeper, until we screamed out in ecstasy, our cries echoing in the torch-lit cavern.

I did not awaken in my quarters, alone in my bed. This was not a dream. My senses were filled by his musky scent, the taste of his salty skin, his panting breath, the weight of him on top of me. Tom raised his head. His eyes met mine, and I fell into his soul. He finally said, "I love you." It really didn't matter then. I didn't need to hear him say it anymore. I knew it. The look on his face, every touch of his hand, every kiss, had already told me. This had been about so much more than just sex.

He's lying in my bed now, long body sprawled every which way in sleep. There are plenty of wet spots on my bed tonight, and I don't need a tricorder to verify my orgasms. I am happy to say that every one of them can be attributed to one or more of the body parts of Thomas Eugene Paris. Mouth, tongue, hands, body. He had me crying and screaming in delight over and over again. He kept up with me. Whatever I wanted, Tom was. A gentle lover, he was gentle. Passionate, sweet, tough, commanding, each in turn.

And enthusiastic -- always, very enthusiastic.

I finally got him to admit tonight that he'd had my padd with Women Warriors at the River of Blood all this time, studying it to see what Klingons liked when they made love. He happily demonstrated the expertise that he had gleaned from his studies.

What do you know, it was a technical manual, after all!

After he fell asleep the last time, exhausted, I started listening to selections from my personal logs from the very beginning of my time on Voyager to the present. I have to laugh now at some of the entries. I don't want to just delete any of the entries, but if there were any way to amend the logs after the closing words of "End personal . . . etc." were said, I think I would be changing a lot of them. I can't believe how hard I was on him. How blind I was about what he means to me, and about how long he has meant all that he does to my life. After the whole pon farr thing, how could I just let myself go back to being only his friend, knowing how badly I wanted him? Both of us almost died several times since then, even apart from our space walk adventure. We could so easily have never known what we know now.

I don't know what else to say, except that now I understand why Ro Laren cried so hard when she lost Tom. Why she said that I could trust him, back when I was too stupid to listen to her. Now that I really know him, I love this man to the core of my being. Tom is everything to me, and will be forever. Or for as close to forever as we are lucky enough to get, way out here.

I hope I've seen the end of dream lovers.

[You have, B'Elanna. As long as I have anything

to say about it.]

Tom! I thought you were asleep!

[How much sleep do you think I'll get when

all this talk about sex is going on in here?]

How long have you been listening to me?

[Well, I can recall hearing something about what

a pig I am . . . ]

You were eavesdropping on my personal logs the entire time!

[B'Elanna, you've got the volume set so high, I think

they can hear your personal logs on the bridge.]

Gods! You've been in there lis . . . what are you doing?

[You seem so overdressed. I thought I would help

you get more comfortable . . . .]

All I've got on is this robe. And don't change the subject.

[I thought that maybe a little massage would calm you

down. Now, isn't that better?]

Well, uhh. Hmm. Hmm. Oh, yes. That's pretty good.

[How about a little of this . . .]

Oh, yes . . . Tom . . . Do the other one now. Ahhhhh.

[Still mad?]

Ahhh. Hmm. Well, uh, oh, uh, you should have let me . . . oh, yes! Ahh, umm. You should have let me know, oooooh . . . Ahhh, yes, hhhmmm . . . that you were, ohh,. . . uhmm . . . you were there. Ohhh. Listening to my logs. Ohhhhh. Hmmm. That's good, Tom. That feels sooooo gooood, Tom.

[To make it up to you, I'll let you hear mine

::::mmmm:::: sometime. You can hear me tell all

about the times ::::mmmm:::: I woke up with

:::::hhh::::hhhhh:::: my sheets all stained from

my wet dreams of you ::::HHHMMmmm::::

that's it, B'Elanna! Ohhhh.]

OOHHH, keep it up, Tom, oohh. MMmmm. MMmmm.

[And you can hear me try to ::::HHHmmMMM::::

convince myself ::::ooohhhh:::: that I was in love

with other women ::::hhhmmm:::: when I knew it

was you :::::mmm:::: from the time ::::HHhhhm::::

when the Vidiians had us :::::Hhmmooohhh::::

Oh, B'Elanna, ohh. Ohhh, yes.]

Oh, Tom, oh. Ohh.

[Why don't you get up here, yes, like that:::hmmm:::]

Watch that, Tom, don't let it ::::ooohhh:::: fall ::::ooaaahhh::::

[B'Elanna, ohhh, B'Elanna, hunh.]


[Hunh . . . ]


[Hunh . . . ]


[Hunh . . . ]


[Hunh . . . ]


[Hunh . . . ]


[Hunh . . . ]


[Hunh . . . ]


[Hunh . . . ]


[Hunh . . . ]


[Hunh . . . ]


[Hunh . . . ]


[Hunh . . . ]


[Hunh . . . Uhhhghh.]

Oh, Tom, Oh, Oh, Oohhh, please, don't stop . . . not now . . . AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!


[UNHHAAAAHHHNGHHHH! Ahhhh. HHhhhhhh. Huh. Hmm.]

Hmm. Umm. That was so nice.

[Hmmm. Hmmm.]

Tom? Why are you smiling at me like that?

[Hmm. B'Elanna, I love making love to you. But, uhh,

as much as I would like this recorded for posterity,

don't you think you should have ended your

personal log entry before we did this?]

Tom, don't be ridiculous. I already did, ages ago.

[I don't recall you saying the three magic

words, 'end personal . . . ' etc.]

Of course I, uh, did . . . didn't I? Computer, when did I finish my personal log entry?

:::::Personal log is still recording::::

Oh, no!

[It's okay. You can delete the whole entry.

Or just amend the last part before you

save it with the magic words. No problem.]

Oh, well.

[B'Elanna? Why are you smiling?]

Computer, end personal log.