Title:  Funeral Lessons
Author:  Jill Dannay (JADannay@AOL.com)
Rating:  G
Synopsis:  Takes place just after the episode "One."  Tom
explains to B'Elanna the reason behind his claustrophobia.

*****************************************************************

After a month of sleep and another week of getting Voyager's
main systems back up to par, Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres were
finally able to have dinner together.  Tom had reserved two hours
on the holodeck, and B'Elanna had replicated a real dinner; no
leola root.

As B'Elanna walked to the holodeck, she made a decision. 
*Tom is going to tell me about hs claustrophobia tonight.  We've
pushed off trusting each other with our hearts for far too long. 
It's time we started to trust, to learn about each other.*

Decision made, B'Elanna stepped through the doors to
Holodeck Two.  Her eyes widened as she took in her surroundings.

The three full moons over the dark beach were the primary
sources of light.  The water was dark, black in the dim light, in
sharp contrast to the white sand under B'Elanna's feet.  A slight
breeze rusted the trees and bushes that were scattered around.

B'Elanna looked down to the beach where the water met the
sand.  Tom was sitting there, staring out at the ocean and moons
above it.

B'Elanna approached him slowly, so as not to startle him.  He
didn't seem to hear her, lost in his thoughts as he was.  There
was a small box on the sand next to him.

"Tom?" B'Elanna asked softly, stepping up behind him.

Paris turned in surprise, then smiled at her.  "'Lanna," he
greeted her.  "Have a seat."

Torres dropped down next to him, waiting for him to say more. 
Finally he did.

"I suppose you want to know what Seveen meant," he said.

"She said you kept getting out of the stasis chamber.  I didn't
know that you were so claustrophobic."

Tom smiled.  "It goes back to something that happened a long time
ago.  When I was about four."

"Tell me?" B'Elanna asked.  Tom paused, considering.

"I'm not used to talking about things like this," he said
finally.  "If I stop making sense, just tell me, okay?"  B'Elanna
nodded.  "Well, when I was four, my father was still in command
of the Al-Batani," Tom began.  "He came home once, for my aunt's
funeral..."


"C'mon, Tommy, we're late, hurry up," ordered Margarite Paris. 
At fourteen years old, Margerite was Tom's oldest sister.

"He's trying, Meg," said Vanessa.  She was nine, and always took
her younger brother's side against Meg's reproaches.  Now, she
sat down next to four year old Tommy, and adjusted his shirt. 
"Want me to carry you?" she asked.  As usual, Tommy nodded and
climbed up into his sister's arms.  "Ready?" asked Vanessa.

"Ready!"  Tommy said cheerfully.  Meg nodded.

"Okay.  Let's go.  Dad's waiting," she said.  Tommy's head
snapped up, his clear blue eyes locking on her.

"Daddy's here?" he demanded, his whole face lighting up.

"Yes, Tommy," Meg answered.  "So be good."

"I am being good!" Tommy said, insulted.  He scrambled down
from Vanessa's arms and hopped down the flight of stairs leading
from his bedroom to the kitchen, bursting into the room.

Captain Owen Paris turned and smiled at the sight of his
son.  He scooped up the four year old.  Though a bit small for
his age, Tommy was full of energy, not to mention constant
questions.  Tommy, for his part, lay his head on his father's
chest, locking his arms around Owen's neck.

"Hey there, Tommy," Own said.  "How are you doing?"

"Missed you," Tommy murmered.

"I know, Tom.  I missed you, too," Owen admitted.

"Daddy?" Tommy asked suddenly, lifting his head.  "I'm being
good, right?"

Owen seemed confused, but pushed it off as another crazy thought
from a four year old's mind.  "Very good, Tom," he answered.

Tommy sighed.  "Meg said to be good, but I said I was bein' good,
but she shook her head no, so maybe I'm not," he explained
quietly.  "But now you say yes, so maybe I am."

"Owen?  It's time to go," Madeline Paris said, stepping into the
room.  She smiled at her husband, but it was a sad smile.  All at
once Tommy remembered where they were going.  Aunt Trisha's
funeral.  *No wonder Mommy's so sad,* Tommy thought.  Trisha
McNeill had been Madeline's older sister.  Just a few days ago
Trisha had been killed in a transporter accident.

Tommy let out another small sigh.  Mommy had been said for a long
time.  He wished she'd feel better.

Owen, meanwhile, had nodded at his wife, taken her hand, and
stepped towards the door.  Once again Tommy lay his head on
Owen's chest, this time closing his eyes.  The conversation
around him faded away, and he drifted off to sleep.



"I'd fallen asleep," Tom explained.  "I guess we boarded the
shuttle."

B'Elanna nodded.  "So, your mother is Madeline, your father is
Owen, your older sister is Margarite-"

"Meg," Tom corrected.

"-Meg, then," B'Elanna agreed.  "And your other sister is
Vanessa.  Okay.  Continue."

Tom sighed.  "Well, my father woke me up when we reached the
cemetary.  We went into this funeral house..."



Tommy Paris stared at all the different coffins.  He looked in
each one.  "They're boxes!" he'd exclaimed when he'd first seen
them.  "Bigger than me!"  Now he was studying each one of them
intently.

"I like the black ones the best," he admitted to Owen, "but I
wouldn't want to sleep in there forever and ever."

"Neither would I," Owen agreed.  "Neither would I."



"Next came the ceremony," Tom said.  "Typical funeral.  I don't
remember much about that part except it was hot and a lot of
people were crying.  My father finally let me go outside for some
air, 'cause I was starting to get restless.  Meg went with me. 
She told me not to go far, and immediately buried her head in
whatever book she was reading at the time."  Tom paused. 
"Everything make snese so far?"  B'Elanna nodded reassuringly. 
"Okay.  Good.  Well, I went back to the funeral house to check
out the coffins again..."



Tommy climbed up on top of a large brown coffin.  Next to him, a
large, shiny black one was open, the lid propped gently up
against a wall, threatening to shut at any moment.  But the
inside seemed soft and relatively safe to Tommy, who was getting
tired again.

One quick move put Tommy inside the coffin.  He curled up
quickly, but accidentally hit his elbow against the side of the
coffin.  The coffin's lid snapped shut with a quiet bang.

Tommy let out a little cry of surprise.  Suddenly it was pitch
black and far too hot.  He couldn't seem to breath.  With a burst
of strength, Tommy pushed up on the coffin's lid, trying in vain
to get it open.

Tommy struggled with the heavy lid a few moments longer, to no
avail.  Finally giving up, he reached out and grabbed the small
velvet pillow at the head of the coffin and hugging it to him,
promptly bursting into tears.



"I wasn't in there very long; no longer than twenty minutes.  But
at the time it felt like forever.  I was terrified; I couldn't
think, could barely breath.  I guess it was some sort of panic
attack, though at the time I didn't realize."  Tom took a breath. 
"Finally my father found me.  I was still crying, and he picked
me up.  Took more time to get me calmed down enough to talk than
it did for them to find me."

B'Elanna looked stricken.  "You locked yourself into a *coffin*?"
she asked, stricken.  Tom nodded ruefully.

"When I finally calmed down, I explained what had happened.  Dad
got pretty upset at Meg for not keeping a closer eye on me.  He
didn't get angry at me, though," Tom said reflectively.  He
glanced down at the sand, eyes focusing on the small box next to
him.  He picked it up.  "This," he said, pulling out a small red
velvet pillow, "is the pillow from the coffin.  I was still
holding it when we left, and the manager there said that I could
just keep it.  I did... I don't know why, but when we got out of
those stasis chambers, I dug it out.  It helped me remember the
story," he admitted.

"Well, now you know the story of my claustrophobia," Tom
concluded.  "Since then I have never liked confined spaces,
especially when they are dark and hot."

"Yes.  I do," B'Elanna agreed.  She paused.  "I guess this means
you don't like the black coffins anymore either, huh?"

**THE END**