The BLTS Archive - The Apprenticeship series
The Obligatory Turbolift Story: Cat Got Your Tongue?
by Bridget Cochran (bjcochran@aol.com)

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Disclaimer: I own the ideas, Paramount owns the rest.

In every writer's career, they must do an apprenticeship. Put in the
time. Follow the path of the really great writers. To that end, here
is my obligatory turbolift story. Tom and the Captain are late for the
morning briefing., and the lift conspires against them. There is a
little Tom angst. We all know that a little Tom angst can go a long
way. This story originally appeared on JuPiter Station . Go there for
more great J/P.

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Kathryn Janeway had been on duty for two hours down in the bowels of
engineering when she picked up the lift and headed toward the bridge
for the 0900 briefing. She called for the time. She'd just make it on
time if the lift didn't stop.

Darn. Deck 4. The doors swished open and Tom Paris stormed the small
cubicle. "Bridge," he called, then turned green. "Uh, morning,
Captain." His color came back immediately to the amazing shade of pink
that always accompanied his embarrassment.

"Good morning, Mr. Paris. Late night?"

"Yes, ma'am. Harry got teams together for Volleyball, estrogen vs.
testosterone."

Janeway crossed her arms and arched her brow, "The winners?"

"Estrogen, of course."

A smile began to lurk at the edge of her mouth. "Of course." She was
about to add something when the car lurched, hurling her into the wall
and back forward again into the door. Through the haze of pain,
Kathryn realized several things. The car had halted at a 20 degree
angle. She leaned into the incline as she realized the total pitch
darkness--Blacker than any part of space she'd seen. She smacked her
comm badge. "Janeway to Torres."

"We're on it, Captain. We accidentally overloaded the conduits between
decks 2 and 3 when we removed the powergrids from the holomatrices on
deck 3."

"How long, B'Elanna?"

There was a moment of silence, Janeway could almost see her engineer
working her console at warp speed. "An hour, Captain." There was a
pause. "At best."

"Very well. Do the best you can. Janeway out." She pushed herself
against the incline. She already knew the transporters were down.
She'd just come from a meeting in engineering . Vorick had the system
down to the bones looking for a shifting power lead. "Looks like we'll
both be late for the staff briefing."

No response.

"Tom?"

There was noise from Tom, sounds Janeway couldn't quite understand.

"Tom? Are you okay?" She scooted up the ramp. She had been roughed up
when the lift bounced them around, she'd never dreamed that Tom might
be hurt. She found him by touch, the small cubicle allowing no
light--no emergency red glow--nothing. She grasped his arm. "Tom, are
you all right?"

With an inarticulate noise, Tom thrust himself bodily into her arms
knocking her to her back, sending them both sliding down into the
closed door.

"Oof." She tried to push the big lug off her. "What's the matter?
What's wrong?" He wasn't budging, his head was buried between her
breasts, his arms were gripping her ribs so tight she had to tug air
into them. His weight had forced her shoulder into painful contact
with the intractable door--any more pressure and it would snap like a
twig.

"Okay," she sighed. "We're going to have to move. I can't take much
more of this." Tom continued to make muffled mewling sounds into her
chest. "Damn it, mister, get off me **NOW**."

It was the command voice: its authority worked every time. Tom pulled
himself from surrounding the Captain, but didn't relinquish the hold
he had on her as they moved around to lean against the lift door. His
breathing was quick and shallow, a moan escaping like a whimper on
every exhale. Unless Janeway was very mistaken, he'd be
hyperventilating in a moment or two. She pulled his hands from her rib
cage and shoved his palms onto his face. "Breathe, Tom. Deep. Pull the
air the whole way in. Deeper. Deeper. That's it. You're doing fine.
That's it. Another one."

He **was** doing better. Sighing sounds now followed the air out of
his lungs.

Janeway pulled back further while she forced his knees up. "Head
between your legs. Keep breathing. That's it. Again. Again. Another."
She stopped coaching, Tom was working on his own. Her hand never
stopped running the length of his thigh. "That's better," she said
after a few moments. She wished she could get a look at his face. "Can
you tell me what's wrong?"

"No."

"**Tom**"

"No."

"It's not a choice."

"Doesn't matter, Captain. I'm not telling." Now he was shaking.

Janeway moved closer. "Are you hurt?" Her hand grasped for his arm,
she squeezed it at the shoulder.

"No, ma'am."

She racked her brain for her pilot's record. Was there any mention of
this kind of claustrophobic reaction? No, she would have been aware of
something this severe, if it had been noted. She moved her hand up to
his shoulder, then his neck. She could feel his pulse raging. Her
fingers rose to his jaw and cheek, not surprised to feel tears.
Without a word, she pulled the younger man into her arms.

He went easily, and, once again, Tom engulfed the smaller woman. This
time his head fell heavily onto her shoulder as she began a methodical
stroking of his back designed to calm him. She murmured softly, her
lips resting on his hair enjoying the fresh shampoo smell.

There was a gradual slowing of his heart rate, his breathing even and
he straightened against the wall, as if unsure as to how to extricate
himself from the Captain's embrace. Unsure of whether he wanted to.

"Feeling better?"

"Some."

"Anymore anxiety?"

"Some."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Embarrassed?"

"Very."

"Don't be, Tom."

He shifted, tried to pull himself away from her. "Be still," she
ordered and he complied immediately. She crawled onto his lap, her
eyes finally adjusting, she could only see him dimly. She moved her
face close to his. "Tell me," she whispered.

Tom's ragged breath rumbled in his chest, but he knew he was caught,
that she'd never let him off the hook. "Do you remember the old flight
sim building at the academy?"

"Vaguely." It had been across the quad on the backside of the
Presidio--a hopelessly early 23rd century monolith that had been
retrofitted ad nauseum. The obsolete, gray mass of neostone had
lingered because it had been named for James T. Kirk--so many had
claimed it sacrilege whenever the subject of replacing the building
came up.

"Well, I loved that place--the codes to get in the sims were easy, the
sims themselves were a blast--a lot of out dated, old fashioned
ships--hard as hell to handle--but the controls were simple, almost
all manual and nobody used them. Never had to reserve a sim either.
Always a free one. When my dad would get saddled with me, that's where
he'd put me. For hours. A virtual baby-sitter. Loved it.

"I guess I was six when they finally condemned the building. Funny
thing, they never thought to tell me." Tom laughed with no humor." My
dad took me into his office, told me to sit in the lobby and
disappeared. So I went over to the Kirk. The door was locked--I
thought it was odd--worked it for a few minutes and let myself in.
Lights went on when I called them, lift went to the second floor where
my favorite sims were. I played for a couple of hours, but the power
kept schitzing out, so I headed back for my dad's office." He paused
again. "You know, a six year old who knows the power on his programs
is going in and out isn't immediately aware that the same power
applies to turbolifts."

"Oh, Tom," Kathryn hugged him tightly to her.

"The lift jerked, started falling when the safety caught. I must have
been knocked out because I remember waking up in the dark. I started
screaming for my mother, my father, God. Nobody answered. I didn't
have a comm--'lost' it earlier in the week. Somewhere along the line I
had wet my pants. I screamed and cried 'til my throat was raw. God, it
was **so** dark." Tom stopped speaking, but he had begun to shake and
sweat again. "They found me hours later. I was goofy by then--weeping,
babbling, wild eyed. I plastered myself to my dad. He carried me out
of the dark building to my mom. I guess I stuck to her for the rest of
the day. The next day dad had me back at the Academy riding in every
lift on campus. I wasn't thrilled--but we rode lifts until I got
bored. I've been stalled in lifts since, but they've always maintained
emergency lights." He sighed, and stiffened as he realized their
positions.

"I'm not moving, so don't push me away." She read his mind.

"But, Captain, you're sitting on my lap," he said as his arms fell to
his sides.

"I'm aware of that, Lieutenant."

"Uh, you can get off now."

"I don't want to." Janeway could vaguely make out the opening and
closing of Tom's mouth. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Only Kat around here is you--and your mouth is no where near my
tongue." Her Tom was back.

My Tom, huh? The Captain pulled his face to hers. "Are we flirting,
Mr. Paris?"

"Uh-huh." Tom let his forehead rest against Janeway's. His arm came
back up to rest on her hips. "Is this a strategy to get my mind off my
phobia?"

"Could be," Kathryn rubbed her nose gently on Tom's. "if I had thought
of it, but I didn't."

"Uh-huh," Tom's voice held humor, tinged with disbelief. "You're
making a pass, aren't you?"

"Maybe a little one."

"A little pass? How is it possible to make a 'little pass'?"

Janeway shrugged in Tom's embrace. "I don't expect us to be in this
situation again, so I can let my guard down for a few minutes."

"I'm honored," he reached up into her hair.

"You should be, the lights go on, and I go back into command mode."

"Then I have to make the most of these couple of minutes." With that
Tom dipped his head to capture Kathryn's mouth in a tender kiss. It
was a slow gentle melding of flesh and breath and tongue. Lips
tenderly nipped, exploring before meeting and surging into a deep,
searing kiss that left the two panting and laughing when they finally
pulled apart. It was Kathryn's turn to rest her head on Tom's chest.
"You're pretty good at that," she sighed.

"Thank you," he answered. "You have some skill, too."

"What a pretty compliment," Kathryn groused.

"How about: your lips are like cherries, your eyes like the sky at
dusk, your skin like a pale white rose, and smells just as sweet."

"Now, you're just full of shit."

Tom burst into laughter. "But, Kat, truer words were never spoken,"
and he dipped his lips to hers once again.

"Torres to the Captain."

Janeway groaned, "Janeway here." She lay her cheek against Tom's.

"Captain, Sue Nicoletti and Ken Dalby will have you out of there in a
couple of minutes, stand clear of the--"

The door they were leaning against slid open, tumbling them out into
the corridor of deck 3 in a tangle of arms and legs, their laughter
easy as they moved apart helped up by their fellow crew.

Janeway looked around at the corridor, then back at the askew, gaping
lift, a frown marking her forehead, hands on hips. "How do we get to
the bridge now?" She swung her smiling face to Tom's.

"The Jefferies Tubes," they said in chorus and went off in a friendly
gate, swinging their arms at their sides leaving the members of the
engineering staff watching and wondering.

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The End.