TITLE: P/T DIAGNOSTIC AUTHOR: DASIA EMAIL: njpm143@hotmail.com DISCLAIMER: Paramount/Viacom own Star Trek and its characters. I am just writing about them because I love them, definitely not for profit. SYNOPSIS: Scenes missing from "Drive". B'Elanna applies her analytical skills to an important decision. RATING: R, for sexual content. For a PG-13 version, email me at the address above. DATE: February, 2002 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Many hands held mine through this story's lengthy gestation period. Heartfelt thanks to Barb (SamzMom) for keen-eyed and sensitive beta reading, and to Briar Rose, Brigid and Kat for moral support and many pertinent suggestions. FEEDBACK: As a beginning writer, I'd be VERY happy to hear from anyone who enjoyed this story. Even more so if they said why! NOTES: This is what (in my opinion) we didn't see in "Drive". I have avoided retelling the episode except where absolutely necessary, so if you haven't seen the episode, the story may not make sense. AND: Please do not do anything with the story without asking permission. P/T DIAGNOSTIC Luminescent wisps of cloud enshrouded the Delta Flyer. Damaged and ominously still, it hung on the fringe of the nebula that had saved the shuttle, and the surrounding sector of space, from the full force of the explosion of the Flyer's jettisoned warp core. There was grave concern on Voyager for the fate of pilot Tom Paris and engineer B'Elanna Torres, because the shuttle's position was disturbingly close to the flashpoint of the core breach. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when sensors detected two life forms. They were transported to Voyager immediately, while the task of tractoring the Flyer back to its docking bay went on. The two officers went first to Sickbay, where the Doctor tended to their relatively minor wounds. Then they made their way to Captain Janeway's ready room and set off their own bombshell there. "Marriage!" exclaimed their startled Captain. "Now, that's an original way to divert me from reprimanding you two for conduct unbecoming senior officers. You treated the transporter room crew to quite a display. Ensign Lang is still blushing." Tom's face was red too as he began to apologize. "We're sorry, Captain. We knew we were out of comm reach, and that we could be beamed aboard any time. We should have been more careful. But...well, it was my fault. I was so happy when B'Elanna accepted my proposal that I guess I got carried away..." He gazed at his fiancé with his heart in his eyes. She bit her lip and reached out for his hand. Kathryn had never seen them look at each other in quite that way. Her expression softened and transformed into one of genuine delight. "Well, if you're sure, then...my heartiest congratulations to you both. It wil be a privilege to join you in marriage. We'll hold a celebration for the entire crew, to mark the occasion properly. Have you thought about a date?" "Yes ma'am," Tom answered. "We're absolutely sure. We want to be married, we just hadn't said it clearly enough to each other until now." B'Elanna rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly as Tom went on, "Neither of us is very fond of ceremonies, Captain. We just want to make this official, as soon as possible. We were hoping the date could be...well, today, if it's all right with you." Kathryn raised her eyebrows. B'Elanna added, "We'll invite the crew to celebrate with us later, when the treaty functions are done with. But we'd like the--" she seemed to hesitate over the word-- "wedding itself to be as private as possible." 'These two!' thought Kathryn with exasperated affection. Did they think their volatile relationship went unnoticed by the crew or herself? They aired private grievances in the mess hall, gave each other the cold shoulder elaborately at senior staff meetings, and then made up their disagreements so enthusiastically that their deckmates had been driven to wearing auditory inhibitors to sleep. It was understood that even under the threat of court-martial, neither would leave sickbay if the other were seriously injured. 'They are as essential to each other as the air they breathe, but the idea of admitting it publicly has them tied up in knots,' she said to herself. But she nodded and agreed, "Well then, if that's the way you want it...come back here at 1600 hours. At the very least we do need two witnesses." "Harry," two voices chorused. "And Chakotay," added B'Elanna. Kathryn smiled. "Excellent. I'll be pleased to inform them." Even the occupant of Voyager's big chair looked forward to the satisfaction of being the bearer of such a choice piece of news. On the point of dismissing the couple, the captain suddenly looked serious again. "I take it that your idea of a simple wedding extends to skipping the honeymoon?" She paused a moment to relish the consternation that immediately appeared on the two faces in front of her, before taking pity on her lusty lieutenants. She continued, "Assuming Engineering can get the Flyer into an acceptable state of repair, why don't we say you two take her out for a seventy-two-hour 'test flight' on impulse power? That should see the rest of us past the treaty festivities." She interrupted their profuse thanks to add, "And in the circumstances, Mr. Paris, I won't expect your report on the sabotage incident until two days after your return. But I am anticipating a full account of the race. According to what Harry told us, you had stopped the Flyer even before he sent you the Morse code message. Did you have reason to suspect that Irina had tampered with the fuel converter?" "Uh, well...no, ma'am...but we were experiencing some unexpected turbulence in the Flyer that required immediate attention. It will all be in the report, Captain." "I must say I look forward to reading it, Tom. Dismissed." In the corridor outside the ready room, Tom and B'Elanna regarded each other. She rested her head on his chest for a moment, and took a deep breath. He gripped her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "This feels so right, B'Elanna." Placing his fingers gently under her chin, he raised her face and softly kissed the top ridge on her forehead. "I'll replicate wedding rings for us. Any suggestions on style?" "Just keep it simple. I'll give Engineering the orders about the Flyer, then go to my quarters and get cleaned up." He noticed that her expression seemed a little remote, and reluctantly asked, "You're not having second thoughts, are you?" "No," she responded slowly. "I'm just overwhelmed. It's been quite a day and it's not over yet." "You've got that right. The best is yet to come." Tom pulled her more tightly into his embrace and kissed her again. This time his mouth lingered on hers, seeking to reassure her wordlessly that the feeling between them deserved the recognition of the step they were about to take. "Till 1600 hours," he whispered in that breathy voice he used only with her. It was barely audible, but it never failed to make her go weak at the knees. She managed a tremulous smile. "See you there." ____________________________ B'Elanna started off toward Engineering, but felt the strain of the day weighing on her. She decided she couldn't face her staff in person just now, and headed to her quarters instead. Once there, she communicated to Joe Carey her request that the essential repairs to the Flyer be completed by late afternoon. Then she curled up on the couch with her legs pulled up to her chest, clasped her arms around them, and dropped her head on her knees. 'Kahless, what have I done?' she asked herself. Away from Tom's seductive physical presence, the analytical and pessimistic elements of B'Elanna's nature began to reassert themselves. In mere hours, she would relinquish her independence forever. Had she been too impetuous? Was it really in her best interests to fulfill her promise to Tom and return to the ready room at 1600 hours to marry him? Vow to spend her life with this man who, even after proposing and receiving her acceptance, had yet to come right out and tell her that he loved her? Marriage had certainly not been on her mind when she had programmed their holiday, and wheedled the holodeck time for it from what had seemed like half the crew. Yes, she had hoped that during their time alone she might have found an opportunity to tentatively broach the subject of their relationship. They had never really discussed how they felt about each other; she herself had only recently felt the inclination to do so. But marry him, just like that? At one point this morning she had barely been able to bring herself to speak to him! She remembered the bitter disappointment that had flooded her when Tom had heedlessly forgotten their plans. Naturally she wouldn't have wanted him to go on their holodeck trip if he would just have been thinking wistfully about the race. But if he really cared for her, wouldn't he have shown more regret over the lost time alone together? Oh no, far from it, there he had been in the mess hall, the life of the party as usual, kidding around with the Voyager crew and the alien competitors. She had seethed, 'Typical Tom. He takes me completely for granted. I'm just one of the many amusements in his endless quest for diversion. The exotic Klingon girlfriend. Maybe he just doesn't find me so intriguing any more...' Now that was not quite fair, she reminded herself...at least among the myriad pastimes there had not been any other women. She remembered her apprehension when the statuesque and highly intelligent Seven had joined the crew. An obvious potential rival, if there ever was one, for either or both of B'Elanna's loves, Tom and her engine room. But there was some justice in the universe, after all; neither of those fears had been realized. Even today it had been clear that Seven saw Tom purely as a colleague and, in whatever capacity the former Borg drone could experience friendship, a friend. B'Elanna had brooded for a time. She'd paced distractedly along Voyager's corridors, while all around her the crew buzzed with excitement about the race. Whatever it was she and Tom shared, it had survived personal crises, periods of numbing boredom, and daunting experiences that had made both of them all too aware of the risks of falling in love in uncertain circumstances. There something there, something worth preserving. Eventually she had found herself in the mess hall, where Neelix made it clear that in his opinion Tom deserved another chance. The Talaxian was a pretty astute observer of human psychology... B'Elanna had resolved to make one more attempt to break through whatever it was that kept her and Tom from a deeper understanding of what they meant to each other. Seven's reference to sharing Tom's interests had hit home. Wasn't there something a little out of kilter if it had occurred to to improve her relationship with Tom by sharing his interests, but not to her, his girlfriend? 'Hmm, a race,' she pondered, her competitive instincts kindling. She probably would have been enthusiastic about it from the start, if it had not been responsible for ruining their plans. Maybe it wasn't too late to get involved... but first, she would have to ask a big favour of a friend. Requesting that Harry come to her office in Engineering, so she could speak to him without Tom present, she began ingratiatingly: "Harry, I bet you'll be glad to hear you can have your holodeck time back." "What do you mean? What about that trip you've been planning for so long?" She waited for the penny to drop. Harry was sharp; it didn't take long. "Ohhh, the race..." He didn't seem to want to continue, and moved almost imperceptibly away from her. B'Elanna reached out--gingerly--and put her hand gently on Harry's forearm. "We can't go on the trip, but Tom and I really need some time alone together. It's crazy-we live on this small ship and see each other every day, but we never have time to really each other. A race is hardly what I had in mind, but--" Kind Harry made it easy for her. "You want to take my place." "I know it's a lot to ask. You've been looking forward to it. And you do look so dashing in that suit..." Cutting short her feeble attempt at humour, he put her out of her misery. "Don't worry about it. Tom was probably going to add some extra loops and spins along the way, just to torment me. My stomach thanks you." B'Elanna let out the breath she had been holding, and squeezed his arm more firmly. "I mean this, Starfleet, you're a real friend." Harry looked a little surprised; they hadn't called each other by those nicknames for some time. But he just winked and said, "Go get 'em." Tom had accepted the change in copilots with pretty good grace; B'Elanna had tried to make sure of that by waiting until almost the last possible moment to report to the Flyer. 'This just might work,' she said to herself, her black mood behind her as Tom programmed the last coordinates. 'We'll win this race, and the winning team will have its own special celebration...' Unfortunately, by the second day of the race, winning could not to be taken for granted, and B'Elanna's good intentions were being inexorably undermined by still more obnoxious behaviour from Tom. He put her back up by insisting she repeat that juvenile rhyme, and his cheerfully oblivious responses to her pointed observations about Harry and Irina's budding relationship irritated her still further. Exasperated by what was beginning to seem like deliberate obtuseness on his part, she lost her patience and cut to the heart of what was troubling her: "Maybe 'interesting' isn't enough for me." Tom's unexpected response threw her completely off balance. He'd abandoned the precious race, and with them in the lead! Turning the tables on her, he stunned her with his honest disbelief that she could possibly not know how he felt about her. Suddenly finding herself on the defensive, she was no match for the onslaught of persuasion he unleashed. He melted her resentment with his sweetest kisses and stated with real conviction that she was the most important person in the world to him. But then, just when things were moving along very promisingly, he alluded to "happily ever after." 'Sure,' was her first thought, 'like now he's going to ask me to marry him. Why does he have to joke at times like this?' Everything he had just said and done had been spontaneous and heartfelt, but if he truly wanted to marry her, wasn't there one thing he had neglected to say? Still, there had been a certain look in his eyes as he had knelt before her and touched her as though he was afraid she might break; a look that had taken her breath away... Blindsided by Harry's shocking message, they had just seconds to avert a disaster, and the only possible action could easily have cost them their lives. In the euphoric moments immediately after their survival of the warp core explosion, it had seemed unthinkable to refuse Tom's proposal. Hadn't fate had just handed them a second chance at life and happiness? And if that wasn't enough, B'Elanna's mind was whirling at the revelation that Tom did indeed care very deeply for her. He had not been joking about the "happily ever after", nor had he proposed only because they were seconds from death. Carried away by his wholehearted enthusiasm, B'Elanna could muster no convincing reason to delay their marriage. Which brought her to this point, a few hours from entering a state she had regarded dubiously since childhood. B'Elanna's grandmother L'Naan had held her counsel about her daughter Miral's marriage to John Torres. While the union lasted, she had treated her human son-in-law cordially and had made an effort to overlook his lack of regard for Klingon ways. Even after he deserted his wife and child, she had tried to spare Miral further humiliation by keeping her views on their ill-fated marriage to herself. However, during a stay at her grandmother's home, B'Elanna had heard L'Naan refer to the "bad match" Miral had made. Not wanting to confirm her fear that she had driven her father away, B'Elanna had not asked her grandmother for details about her parents' estrangement. Now, she wished she had. She had such brief experience of marriage to go on, so little of it good. How could a person really be sure she was making a "good match"? John and Miral must have loved each other a great deal to have embarked on the relatively uncommon path of an interspecies marriage. On the point of following in their footsteps, B'Elanna yearned to know what had gone wrong. Had their love not been strong enough to bridge the differences between them? B'Elanna shuddered at the memory of her mother's black moods and short temper. At one time she had assumed that they were directed at her, for her part in driving her father away. But now, from the perspective of an adult, she realized that Miral had been in the throes of depression, and she wondered if she had she ever really recovered. B'Elanna knew she had inherited that tendency...would it be better not to put herself in the position of being vulnerable to that awful desolation? Would she be any more able than her mother to bear the betrayal of broken vows, if it ever came to that? Then again, Tom sincerely respected Klingon culture. She sometimes felt he regarded it more highly than she herself did. He actually seemed drawn to her Klingon side, although they had never really talked about that either. She knew only too well many human men found Klingon women sexually exciting, but she had not wanted to consider the possibility that that could be all there was to their relationship. And in any case culture was only part of a match. Not that that was such a comfort...she and Tom had such different personalities...she regarded his hobbies as childish, they had few common interests...he thrived on social interaction, while for her a little of it went a long way... B'Elanna abruptly propelled herself off the couch. Time was marching on, and she had better make some preparations in case she did decide to carry through with their plans. She removed her torn and singed flying suit and headed for the sonic shower. But a water shower was more appealing today. She dimmed the lights, lit aromatic candles and surrendered herself to the water's soothing warmth. As residual aches and pains receded, her thoughts turned to a more agreeable aspect of her relationship with Tom. She smiled ruefully. She had to admit, there was one thing they certainly did enjoy doing together. Her physical attraction to Tom had begun as soon as it dawned on her that he was not quite the pig he so convincingly imitated. At first, she had felt chagrined to discover that she was just as susceptible to his blue eyes and boyish charm as were the other women on Voyager. Even the captain seemed to take every opportunity to get her hands on the attractive pilot. Gradually, though, as she came to know Tom as a friend, she began to appreciate the sensitive person masquerading as Voyager's resident Don Juan. As friendship imperceptibly transformed itself into a deeper emotion, she had successfully concealed her growing desire to make love with Tom. But every day it became stronger, fed by dreams and fantasies. When had Tom displaced Chakotay as the lover in her dreams? She smiled to think of the difference between that old infatuation with her Maquis comrade and the real thing. But what had been unfolding naturally, at its own pace, deep within her heart--and, she knew now, in Tom's--had been prematurely and violently ripped from its sanctuary. Seized by the ponn farr, the instinctive urge to mate, she had been powerless to control her actions. She had made a public exhibition of her interest in Tom by marking him in the most primitive way known to her mother's people. Even now, in full knowledge of his longstanding feelings for her, she reacted to the thought of that blatantly carnal act with revulsion. Vigorously scrubbing at her arms and legs distracted her from the humiliating memory. B'Elanna preferred to dwell on what had followed her crude proposition, the deed by which her suitor had won her heart. Thinking back on it, she realized that if she had consciously set out to do it, she could not have devised a more effective way to test Tom's honour. In most ways a very practical woman, B'Elanna nevertheless had a romantic streak, nourished by reading the Klingon romance novels L'Naan had introduced her to. The elder lady had noticed how her granddaughter sought refuge in literature, and tried to impart to her an understanding of fundamental Klingon values through a medium that she obviously cherished. The plan had worked only too well. If just one aspect of Klingon culture had imprinted itself indelibly upon B'Elanna's impressionable young psyche, that one was very firmly rooted. Never would she be able to settle for a lover who was less than wholly honourable. Once she knew her friend to be a fundamentally good person, Tom's chequered past and the devil-may- care alter ego he showed the world troubled B'Elanna not at all. The notion of a romantic relationship between them began to seem less a fantasy, and more of a real possibility. And then alone in the caves of Sakari, with no one else present to impress with his principled behaviour, Tom had proven beyond all doubt that he was the very soul of honour. The ponn farr was an elemental life force for the Vulcan race. Skilled as they were at controlling their emotions, they bowed before the mating imperative. It had come upon B'Elanna with no warning or preparation. Her instincts aflame, she could stop at nothing to have her way with the male of her choosing: Tom to be hers. She tried assaulting him, seducing him with a wantonness she hadn't known was in her, and even, most shamefully, appealing to the feelings she suspected he had for her. How he had done it, she still did not know, but he had held firm against all her wiles. Nothing but the certainty of her imminent death would convince him to take her when he was in doubt of her true feelings for him. Even though his own desire had been unmistakably, achingly, obvious. And afterward, too...his caring and discretion in that unspeakable time had confirmed her perception that here was a man worthy of her love. For a time, she had kept that knowledge to herself. Reeling from the shock and embarrassment of the way she had thrown herself at Tom, she could not bring herself to expose even feelings she knew to be genuine. She wondered if that newborn love would have survived if Tom had not in the most tactful way possible refused to pretend the whole mortifying affair had not happened. She smiled to recall how he had made it all seem so much less ugly by lightly referring to his hopes of seeing her "big, scary Klingon side" again. It had taken her some time to trust that he meant what he said. But eventually, reassured by his unobtrusive attentiveness and by the knowledge that the events on Sakari were not making the rounds of ship's gossip, B'Elanna let down her guard. And inevitably, the desire reasserted itself. Not, thankfully, that frenzied hunger that had threatened her sanity. But her nights were now enlivened by dreams of wrestling his tall body to the soft bed of a forest glade. His scent had been imprinted in her being, and when she encountered him during the course of their daily life-- which somehow seemed to occur quite frequently--she drank it in. Mixing with the oxygen in her bloodstream, becoming a part of her, it drew her ever closer to him. She longed to taste his lips again, to feel the weight of his body on hers, to drown in his passion-filled gaze as she told him yes, truly, she had wanted this for so long... They flirted, courted and struck sparks off each other. And became Voyager's main topic of gossip again. She struggled to master her desire, torn between the voluptuous thought of just giving in to it--it was beginning to seem as much of a fever in her blood as the ponn farr--and her reluctance to make a spectacle of her personal life again. On a day she faced the prospect of death with dishonour, she broke through her reserve at last. She simply could not let Tom go to his death not knowing he was loved. The inadequate verbal response he made to her confession had disappointed her, though loss of consciousness had blunted its sting. Later, though, his physical answer had more than met her expectations. As she stammered that she didn't really expect him to reciprocate her feelings, he cut short her nervous chatter and launched himself on her with a display of masculine aggressiveness such as she had dreamed of since their lamentably aborted foreplay on Sakari... And then came the wonder of their first night together. Comfortable in each other's company after sharing a good meal and an excellent wine, they savoured the novelty of being alone with time to indulge in holding each other, kissing and laughing about the misunderstandings which had kept them apart for so long. Free at last to explore bodies they had undressed many times in their dreams, their first tentative touches soon became eager caresses. Tom gave in to his yearning to kiss and nuzzle B'Elanna's graceful neck. She gasped as his lips found a sensitive spot, and her heart leapt at the murmur of appreciation that escaped him. He nibbled her earlobe and cupped a breast in his hand, and she marvelled that the merest brush of his fingers could make her wish their clothing would just-- disappear. Because of their previous intimacy, brief and ultimately frustrating as it may have been, this time Tom and B'Elanna were more prepared to deal with the unfamiliar erotic responses of a different species. When he gently reached to remove her dress, he was not taken by surprise when she instinctively growled and pushed him firmly away. His eyes gleamed, and he snarled, "No, you don't, woman." He seized her wrists and held them above her head, pinning her under him. His breath heated her neck and his teeth grazed her bare shoulder, sending a delicious thrill of anticipation through her whole being. He understood! He was challenging her to display her womanly power. She gathered her considerable strength, freed her hands, and threw herself over him in turn. They wrestled on his couch, laughing with the pleasure they took from this battle in which neither would be the loser. Finally, she pulled him down on top of her, panting, inhaling his intoxicating maleness. Running her fingers through his hair, she drew his face down to hers and took possession of his lips. She tasted the potent desire he was no longer called upon to restrain, and her body responded instantly. She was back in that cave, every part of her alive with the need to touch him, taste him, feel him inside her...but this time she was in full command of her mental faculties. Separating only the distance necessary to look deep into each other's eyes, they affirmed what had been unequivocally clear in that delirious kiss: it was time to leave the couch for the bedroom. She no longer resisted Tom's efforts to undress her. As she felt his fingers slip the straps of her undergarments from her shoulders, B'Elanna revelled in the gentleness of his touch. This time she did not see it as human passivity, but as an expression of the tenderness that essentially Tom. He was taking her there in his own way...she lay her head on his shoulder, and his arms enfolded her. Clasped against the full length of Tom's naked flesh, B'Elanna felt that she had come home. They fell to the bed clinging together. He bent his head, his hair brushing her chest as his lips captured one of her nipples. With that simple intimacy, he made her his own. B'Elanna abandoned the last of her self-consciousness and entered a realm of pure emotion and sensation. There were no more barriers between them, no need for words. He told her how much he cared for her by his sensitive response to her every movement and cry; she divined his need to be unreservedly embraced by another living soul and opened herself totally to him. When he entered her, she knew beyond all doubt that at that moment there was nowhere in the universe she could possibly belong more rightfully than joined with this man in this place, lost in rapture as Voyager slipped through the stars. B'Elanna shivered, remembering the sound of her voice calling to Tom as the ecstasy took her, body and soul, and the answering light in his expressive eyes--almost a benediction--as he held himself still deep inside her. Anchored in his arms, she floated in bliss, never able to recall for how long. Then, as the waves of delight within her gradually subsided, Tom began to stir. She heard him take a shuddering breath as he thrust into her with renewed power, burying his face in her hair and uttering incoherent endearments as he came to her. They lay locked together for a last few glorious moments as one, until his fierce grip on her loosened, and he began to return to himself. Kissing and caressing each other's shoulders, chests and faces, they prolonged that precious sense of connection for as long as they possibly could. "So beautiful," Tom whispered, his fingers delicately tracing a path from her jawline to her forehead, his expression unguarded, adoring. With a sigh of deep contentment, he nestled his head next to her neck and shoulder, and pulled her closer, murmuring: "I could stay like this forever." His words went straight to B'Elanna's heart, and her satisfaction was complete. To think that he had found that ease of body and spirit in her... She drifted to sleep cradling her lover in her arms, profoundly at peace. Surely the perfect accord they had achieved that night, and many times since, was proof they belonged together. That feeling of transcending her individuality, of sensing his essential self...it had to be more than simply the joining of two people with strong sexual appetites who gave each other more pleasure than any other lover ever had. Perhaps they really were drawn to each other on some subconscious level, and their driving need for each other was its physical manifestation... B'Elanna shook her head as she emerged from the shower and patted herself with a towel. Fanciful thoughts for a nuts- and-bolts girl like her! She and Tom both had that ironic element to their personalities that made them feel faintly ridiculous when they tried to put such evanescent emotions into words. But that did not mean that they could not acknowledge what those feelings were telling them, even if only in their hearts. If she felt their love become a living presence in their most intimate moments, wouldn't he, too? In any case, she knew that never being with Tom that way again would leave her bereft. Whatever name you gave it, something deep within her found its fullest expression when they completed the act of love. B'Elanna slipped into her soft dressing gown and carried the candles into her living area. Tuvok was right, they did help her to relax and focus her thoughts. Nights of glorious passion, moments out of time--yes, they had those. And she knew how few were so blessed. But what about the rest of the day? What about real life as Tom Paris' wife? She surveyed her tranquil, private realm and contemplated the coming change in her living arrangements. The TV had been an inspired gift for Tom, and she loved watching him enjoy it, but would she be able to stand listening to those silly cartoons and noisy detective programs night after night? And she was not the only person on Voyager drawn to Tom's infectious sense of fun. The more sociable members of the crew tended to gather in his quarters. Where would she find the solitude so essential to her? Of course, she did have a tendency to shut herself off in here and brood her way into melancholy. Hadn't Tom's company charmed her out of a bad mood after many a frustrating day in Engineering? With his understanding of human nature--she shook her head, smiling ruefully, he actually delighted in the perversity of the species--he helped her see the lighter side of the personnel issues which were the one part of her position as chief engineer she heartily disliked. He entertained her with his affectionate observations about the foibles of the bridge staff, and put into perspective the inevitable frustrations of living cooped up with a small group of diverse personalities for an indefinite period of time. With a start of guilt, she wondered if he was having second thoughts about being exposed to her formidable temperament for many more hours of the day. And their fights...she was quicker to anger, but they were both stubborn, strong- willed individuals. Would they clash more often if they shared quarters? She shuddered, remembering her parents' heated confrontations, her little-girl self hiding from the angry voices. She had sought refuge in books or outdoors, fearing the worst only to see it happen. But fighting didn't faze Tom...he even considered it "interesting" to "scrape shields." Only this morning, he had clearly been dismayed by her lack of understanding of how he felt about her... but he had not hesitated to go ahead and propose marriage. Time was marching on. B'Elanna went into the bathroom and began to apply her makeup: a wisp of powder, and the rose lipstick Tom said made her lips look "even more kissable." With practiced strokes she smoothed her hair into its usual shining, precise arrangement. She liked the way the style expressed the professional control she exercised in her work life...but she loved it even more when Tom's fingers twined through it, disarranging it and tempting her to abandon that control... She had to admit that the signs of his growing seriousness about their future together had been there. It was just that her eyes had not been ready to see them for what they were. After he had returned from being stranded on that godforsaken planet with Tuvok, Tom had made love to her with even more than usual intensity. She had been thrilled by his ardour, but had assumed his not having been with her for so long accounted for the deep, fervent kisses, the lingering, almost reverent caresses and possessive embraces. He had been taken aback, even hurt, to learn that she had not missed him as much as he had her. She winced to recall that she had even made light of it, quipping that she had barely had time to miss him at all. And, with another pang, she realized that it hadn't been long before their relationship was back to its secondary position in their lives. He had been against her going on that mission to the Borg cube, even suggesting he would not be above committing sabotage to keep her secure on Voyager. Preoccupied with her preparations for the mission, both practical and psychological, she had not given as much consideration to his feelings as she should have. She heard again the quiet conviction in his voice when he had told her it would be worth the loss of his new rank, just to keep her safe. It struck her then: that was how Tom expressed his feelings when he could not avoid putting them into words. He would make a brief, elliptical reference, one that could, if need be, be explained away as a joke, while he watched for her reaction. The deceptively light statement, "I'd wouldn't mind seeing it again sometime," echoed from that long-ago conversation in a turbolift. Until that moment, she had been sure she had repelled him forever with that unbridled display of the Klingon side of her nature. She knew now that for Tom, especially in those days, that seemingly offhand remark had been a baring of the soul. He had cared for her even then, but he had left the next step up to her. She had finally taken that step--more like a terrifying leap--into his arms. But even then, glad as he had been to catch her, he had assured her he never would be "so presumptuous" as to assume they would have a future together. Maybe at one time he had been as wary of commitment as she was. But more recently--could he have been worried about frightening her away? Perhaps he had been trying to walk a fine line between letting her know how he felt, and not putting pressure on her. Was that why his messages were so subtle that someone not attuned to hearing them could overlook their significance? Someone, well, like her, till just now? B'Elanna threw down the brush. Some engineer she was! She had been so distracted by surface noise, like his thoughtlessness about their weekend and their different preferences in leisure pursuits, that she had overlooked the pure, clear signal that had been sounding steadily in the background all along. Hurrying out of the bathroom, she dressed in a clean uniform, pulled a carryall out of her closet and returned to the bathroom to tuck a few toiletries into it. She picked up the tiny vial of perfume that Tom had replicated for her last birthday. He had chosen well; every time she put it on she appreciated how the freshly natural, but elegant floral scent eased the transition from her utilitarian work world into their private sensual realm. It did have a strange name, though: "Ma Griffe." Tom had just smiled enigmatically when she had asked him what it meant, and suggested she look it up in the database of regional Earth dialects. She made yet another mental note to do just that.* Checking her image in the mirror, B'Elanna suddenly had to laugh. 'Who are you kidding, Torres? Look at you--dressed, groomed, ready to go with time to spare.' There was no way she was not keeping that appointment at 1600 hours. She loved Tom, and had never been as happy as she had been during their years together. There was no denying that he had his own demons; Tom unquestionably did. But she dared to hope that she was equal to the challenge of helping him deal with them. And if they kept him from saying out loud that he loved her, she would just have to live with it, because she couldn't live without him. Taking his love on faith would be a fair exchange for his understanding of her temperament, the value he placed on her lineage and the way he could transport her to the heights of ecstasy with the touch of his knowing hands. 'Diagnostic complete,' she said to herself. She had reached her conclusion: taking into account the known capacities and limits of the mechanisms involved, allowing for a reasonable margin of error, and accepting a certain measure of inevitable risk, the Paris-Torres system was definitely viable, its parameters well within the limits necessary for a safe mission into marital territory. She felt a sudden surge of joy. It was her wedding day. And there stood the bride, neatly attired in her everyday uniform. They had agreed that uniforms would do for their no-fuss ceremony, but suddenly she felt the need to do more justice to the occasion. Tom was replicating their rings, and he hadn't mentioned her sharing the considerable cost in rations. What gesture could she make to show him how much the day meant to her? She let her mind wander back to the time when a little half-Klingon girl had dreamed of her wedding day. An idea began to take shape...she moved to the computer console and accessed the Klingon cultural database: 'Female Clothing, Ceremonial.' She punched in commands to replicate a gown of bold design, fashioned of a rich bronze-toned fabric and trimmed with metal and leather in a manner that accented womanly curves. Clinging here, flowing like molten mist there. She paused; she couldn't imagine appearing before anyone but Tom dressed like this...so, why not create a dress just for private viewing? She entered modifications: lower the neckline, push up the cleavage; make the fabric more translucent, shimmering with golden highlights. The Delta Flyer certainly did not have the spectacular tropical ambiance of Gedi Prime, but if she had anything to do with it, Tom Paris would have a memorable sight to behold on their wedding night. Daring to wear this for him would show him how far she had come in accepting the Klingon within her, and pay tribute to the part he had played in that arduous quest. She hoped Tom would also see it as a testament to the high regard his half-Klingon bride had for her groom's own honour. She pictured again the anguish and regret in his eyes as he had refused her advances on Sakari, felt anew the control he had forced on himself in spite of his own rampant desire. Because he was her 'friend.' Yes, her grandmother would have considered him a worthy mate for a Klingon, a member of that race for whom honour was more important than life itself. L'Naan had promised B'Elanna that one day, she would find her honourable warrior...and she had told her what the women of her house did when that day came. Did she dare follow that tradition now that, yes, she felt certain, it had? She just might. 'If Tom's in the mood to take vows today, maybe he will go so far as to take an oath with his mate tonight,' she said to herself. It was second nature to B'Elanna to be prepared with the proper implements for any eventuality she might reasonably anticipate...her fingers danced over the computer console. So absorbed was she in her task that the door chime only registered as a distant distraction. The spoken message, "Chakotay to Torres" got her attention, though, and she invited the Commander to enter. "It's getting close to 1600 hours. I was wondering if you would like an escort to the ready room," he offered. "That's thoughtful of you, Chakotay. I'd appreciate it." Still intent on her work, B'Elanna tapped in the last commands, then sat back. The replicator hummed in the background. "This is all pretty sudden. I went to congratulate Tom and asked him why the haste. He said he was afraid you might change your mind." B'Elanna smiled. "He knows me only too well." "So you are having second thoughts? You shouldn't feel you have to go ahead unless you're absolutely sure this is the right thing to do." "I admit, I needed to take some time to think it over," B'Elanna answered slowly, meeting her friend's eyes. "But now that I've looked back over our time together, I can say I'm willing to trust the instinct that tells me Tom and I are right for each other." "You're sure you don't need more time?" he persisted. "No...you know, Chakotay, I'm used to dealing with things that can be taken apart and analyzed, to gathering data and making calculations, and drawing conclusions based on the scientific method. I've tried to do something like that in making this decision, but it seems that, in the end, intuition has a part to play too. Something deep inside me tells me I want to build a life with Tom, and that we can make it work, even though it may not always be easy. And he's right--why not start right now? If we wait until every detail of our relationship is perfect, we won't be married till we're seventy, if then." "I must say I admire you both. You're not afraid to act on your feelings." "I don't know about 'not afraid.' I've gone into battle feeling less nervous. That's one reason I just couldn't invite the whole crew. Saying those words out loud to Tom...somehow it just feels like the most private thing in the world. I can't explain it any better than that." "Knowing you both, I think I understand. But I am honoured to be on the very exclusive guest list," said Chakotay, smiling more broadly. With a final click, the replicator presented a resplendent golden gown. B'Elanna snatched it up, shook it out and folded it as best the leather and metal trim would permit. The bronze metalwork twinkled in the candlelight for just an instant, as she whisked it into her carryall. Chakotay blinked. His glimpse had been brief, but the design of the dress appeared to be provocative in the extreme. He ventured, "Tom seems to think you are getting married in your uniforms." "That's right. This is for later." B'Elanna's tone invited no further comment. A small dagger followed the dress out of the replicator. Its scabbard was embellished with a raised design, a motif of two opposed shields entwined in a complex scrolled pattern. B'Elanna grabbed it and reached for the carryall again. Chakotay appeared to weigh the advisability of commenting. He decided to risk it. "You know, I don't think Seven ever finished her comparative study of mating habits. She would be very interested in all this." B'Elanna froze and fixed her gaze intently on her Commander. "If Seven ever mentions anything about this," she intoned, "I will know exactly who told her. And there will be repercussions." She drew the dagger from its sheath and closely inspected its keen edge. Chakotay stifled his smirk. "Understood, warrior woman. Now, shall we?" He waited as she placed the dagger in her carryall, then picked up the bag in one hand. He offered her the other. B'Elanna extinguished her candles and took his arm. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Lead on." As they waited for the turbolift, Chakotay turned to his companion. "You know, I'm glad you've come to this decision. You and Tom are both so different from the way you used to be: you're more assured, much more comfortable with yourselves. Part of that has come from meeting the responsibilities of your command positions. But you've also brought those qualities out in each other. You didn't ask me, but for what it's worth to you, I think you're doing the right thing." "Thanks, Chakotay. I guess you could say I just ran a complete diagnostic on our relationship and came to the same conclusion." _______________________________________ Tom was waiting in the corridor outside the ready room. Chakotay clapped him on the back and went into the room while B'Elanna stopped beside Tom. "Still sure you want to do this?" she asked him. "More than ever." Taking her hand, he placed two rings on her open palm. "What do you think?" B'Elanna picked up the smaller one and noticed the letters inside the perfectly polished, gleaming gold circle: 'BT & TP ~ wa' tIq.' Her glance flew to his. "'One heart.' That's just right, Tom. They're beautiful." She handed the ring back, and they stood in silence for a moment. This was it. Tom motioned toward the open door. "The Captain is waiting." Barely hesitating, B'Elanna reached for his hand and nodded firmly. 'Steady,' She told herself. 'Just take hold of his hands, say the words, and it's done. How hard can it be?' Harry rushed up to them. "Hey, Maquis! When you said you wanted to be his copilot, I didn't think you meant for good!" The three friends laughed, and B'Elanna felt some of her nervousness fade away. Harry went on, "Sorry I'm late. We've been busy down in Engineering, it took quite some work to get the Flyer back in shape in such a short time." "No problem, Harry. And don't think we don't appreciate it,' Tom told him, continuing, "Here, will you keep track of these for a while?" Tom handed his friend the rings, and the three entered the ready room. Tom and B'Elanna took their places in front of Captain Janeway, flanked by Chakotay and Harry. The five officers exchanged glances acknowledging the special bond they shared, and the Captain began to utter the first words of a traditional Earth wedding ceremony. B'Elanna realized then that it wouldn't have mattered after all if they had invited the whole crew, or indeed everyone gathered for the treaty festivities. As Kathryn's first words reached her ears, her perception of everything around her shifted. Suddenly she was aware only of Tom's face, his hands clasping hers, and, from somewhere far away, the Captain's voice. She was mesmerized by Tom: the naked honesty on his face and the rock-steady grip of his hands, as he made his promises in a voice resonating with sincerity. For only the second time in her life, B'Elanna experienced the sensation of time standing still. How could she have thought this ceremony would be a mere formality? The last time she had felt such a sense of rightness had been when she had joined her body with Tom's for the first time. He really means what he is saying here, she thought, awed. How she loved him, this man who had had the insight, the courage, and the patience to look past his own self-doubts and insecurities and see through hers as well. He had given them both the chance to reach for the kind of life neither had once dared envision for themselves. Thrilled to the depths of her soul, her own expression as radiant as her groom's, B'Elanna repeated the vows the Captain recited, aloud and again in her heart: "Love, honour, cherish..." 'I do, Tom, I do.' As she lifted her face for his kiss, B'Elanna felt Tom tremble in her arms. One more reason she was glad she had married him came to her: Tom needed her, her strength and her belief in him. She felt both humbled and proud to think of what she meant to him, and vowed to do her best never to let him down. The witnesses watched the couple, lost in each other. Harry pictured another bright-eyed, vibrant engineer, far away on her chosen path of exploration. He wondered if she thought of him as often as he did her. 'One day, he promised himself,' rejoicing for his two friends, 'I'll find a love like theirs.' Kathryn and Chakotay regarded their protégés with something like parental pride for the part each had played in bringing them together. The feeling was tinged with regret for what might have been, if only another couple had been able to surmount the barriers that had kept them from reaching out to one another... When at last Tom and B'Elanna drew apart and turned to the others, the Captain moved first to hug B'Elanna. "You're a beautiful bride, 'Lanna," she told her. "You both deserve all the happiness in the world." She brushed tears from the younger woman's cheeks, tears B'Elanna had not been aware of shedding. As Chakotay reached out to kiss the bride, Kathryn turned to Tom. 'Funny,' she thought. 'This morning I fully expected to be congratulating him for winning that race...but he's won the highest prize in a much more important contest, and doesn't he just know it. Protocol be damned.' She took the tall man into her arms for a long, loving embrace. As she released him, she looked deep into his eyes and told him smiling, but with absolute sincerity: "Your parents would be so proud of the man you are now, Tom." "Captain, I'll never be able to thank you enough for giving B'Elanna and me the chance to prove ourselves. Everything we have, including today, came from that. We'll never forget it." Beside him B'Elanna nodded in agreement. "I don't think I really took all that much of a risk," Kathryn said, trying to lighten the mood before she disgraced herself by bursting into tears. A Captain could only let herself go so far...she finished, "Now, Mr. Kim here: there was a challenging reclamation project..." It worked. They all left the ready room laughing. ____________________________________ The wedding party entered the shuttle bay to the applause of most of the crew. B'Elanna gasped, but was immediately disarmed by the sight of Naomi Wildman advancing toward her and Tom, arms full of an extravagant bouquet of fresh flowers. "On behalf of everyone on Voyager," the beaming child recited, "May you always be as happy as you are today." B'Elanna bent to kiss her and take the flowers, while Tom thanked them all, adding, "We should have known it would take more than just the Engineering staff to fix the Flyer that fast." His wife found her voice. "Yes, thank you, everybody. We do appreciate it, very much." Neelix stood behind a table full of glittering champagne glasses. "Everyone, take a glass so we can drink a toast to the bride and groom!" B'Elanna felt a stab of guilt. "Neelix! I'm so sorry. You of all people--you should have been at the wedding." "No need for apologies, my dear." the Talaxian assured her. "I'm just thrilled it all turned out this way. And some of us had quite a lot to do down here, you know." Harry coughed and gave him an eloquent stare, and Neelix took the hint. "Still, I wish you had been there," insisted B'Elanna. "The talk we had yesterday...it made quite a difference..." She took hold of his hands and kissed him on the cheek. Before moving away, she whispered, "You were right. Thank you--and thanks for always being there for me." Neelix squeezed her hands, his eyes misty. "It does my heart good to see you and Tom 'tie the knot' at last." He told Tom, "You're a very lucky man, you know." "That's for sure," Tom agreed, putting his arm around his bride. "So it was you who gave B'Elanna the idea to take Harry's place in the race?" B'Elanna answered him herself: "Not exactly. To give credit where it's due-- I decided to foist myself on you as copilot after a chat with Seven." Hearing her name, Seven strolled over to join Neelix and the newlyweds, announcing in her distinctively flat, carrying tones: "My congratulations to both of you, Lieutenants." Turning to B'Elanna, she continued, "And I am pleased to hear our discussion about my relationship with Lieutenant Paris was helpful." A hush fell over the room. Harry's mouth dropped open. The doctor looked stricken. From some ancient lexicon in his database, the words 'cad' and 'bounder' leapt out and set his optronic pathways ablaze. Chakotay hid a smile as he bent to stow B'Elanna's carryall just inside the door to the Flyer. 'Perhaps I have underestimated Seven,' he mused. 'The woman has a sense of humour almost as twisted as my own.' Stalwart Neelix stepped into the breach. "A toast, my friends! To our intrepid pilot and his resourceful chief engineer, as they start out on life's journey together." The company saluted the pair, and a buzz of conversation broke out. Tom was aghast. It was just not fair. Okay, he had screwed up by being so careless about their plans. But did he deserve to have some stupid misunderstanding mar his wedding day? For the second time in two days, he prepared himself to face a furious B'Elanna. To his infinite amazement, when he did he saw she was-- giggling! 'Women,' he said to himself. 'You can work with them, sleep with them, fight with them and love them to distraction, but can you ever possibly hope to understand them?' As he made his way back to join Kathryn, Chakotay overheard Tom whisper to B'Elanna, "What in the world did she mean by that?" He almost choked at her terse response: "She made a clean breast of it, Helmboy. I suggest you do the same." B'Elanna saw the adorably baffled expression she had captured with her camera just before the race appear on Tom's face again. Really, he was heartstoppingly handsome. And all hers! She almost burst out laughing, so overflowing was her joy, but she managed to hold back. She and Tom would share the joke later, when she explained Seven's comment. Not a bad way to start off a marriage, with laughter. In the meantime, thanks to their unlikely Borg matchmaker, the crew would have something besides their honeymoon to speculate about. 'The Paris legend,' she observed to herself, with an outbreak of giggles that she just could not contain, 'is undimmed.' B'Elanna picked up a bottle of champagne and handed it to Tom. She helped herself to two glasses and entered the Flyer cradling her armful of fragrant blooms. They would toast their good fortune with the champagne, but the wine couldn't possibly raise her spirits any higher. No intoxicant could even come close to pure happiness. They settled into their seats, only to freeze at the sound of the communicator. "Bridge to Lieutenants Paris and Torres." It was Tuvok. The newlyweds exchanged a look of dismay, but Tom made the automatic response. "Paris here." The Vulcan's gravity would never have permitted him to say a word like "Gotcha!" but Tom heard it loud and clear nevertheless, as the answer came in tones warmer than usual for Tuvok: "You are cleared for departure, Lieutenants, with the best wishes of the crew on the bridge. And--Tom felt it coming, the coup de grâce, and saw from her gleeful expression that B'Elanna did too--my friends," he continued, after an impeccably timed pause, "Live long, and prosper." *"La griffe" literally means "the claw." It also appears in these idiomatic expressions: "Je suis entre ses griffes" (I am in his/her clutches) and the verb "griffer" (to seize, to stamp [with signature, etc.]).--New Cassell's French Dictionary.