The BLTS Archive - The Gum Saga: Stuck On You
by Bridget Cochran (bjcochran@aol.com)

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© March, 1999

The third and final story in the Gum Saga, which includes Unknown
Substance and The Psycho-Dynamics of Chewing.  For everyone who likes
RDM/Tom chewing gum, including Marianne Luber-what's-it.

Disclaimer:  I own the ideas, Paramount owns the rest.  Archive at
will, including ASC/EML and Particle 7even.  Anyone else, please ask.

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"What's up, Doc?" Tom Paris asked as he breezed into sick bay, making
a detour from the gym at the doctor's request.

The doctor looked up from his console, a frown etched between his
brows.  "It seems, lieutenant, that your prize pupil has been
practicing on her own."

Tom didn't get the joke, looking past the doctor, he saw Seven of Nine
sitting uncomfortably straight on a stool.  Looking at her profile, he
could see nothing wrong with her.

"What's up, Seven?"  He moved closer to where she sat.

Slowly turning her head, Tom saw what was wrong.  And his heart sank.
He reached for a stool, dragging it close to her.  He sat, knees
touching hers as he wrapped his fingers gently round her chin.
"You've been practicing without me," he repeated with a sigh.

"That is obvious," she snapped.

A smile threatened at her tone, Tom forbore it.  "I told you not to
practice without me."

"I--" she paused, obviously uncomfortable with what she was
disclosing," I was impatient to achieve perfection."

Aren't we all? Tom thought as he held her chin to get a better look at
her optical enhancer now covered with a dry, intractable layer of
bubble gum in varying thicknesses.

"Oh, sweetheart," he sighed.

"My sentiments exactly," the Doc said, wheeling over a tray with a
towel, tweezers and a surgical instrument.  Draping the towel over
Seven's shoulder, he gave Tom instructions for freeze drying the dry
gum a micrometer at a time.  "Understood?"  The doctor straightened,
looking down his nose at Tom.

"Oh, I understand alright."  And he began the tedious job of
de-gumming her enhancer.

The doctor left Tom and Seven alone to begin the process.  Tom raised
the freeze pen up to her eye.  "Ready?" he asked.

Her lips were pursed.  "Proceed."

Tom's eyes wrinkled with a smile.  She was pretty disgusted with
herself.  He raised the instrument and the tweezers and began to
methodically freeze pin points of the dried gum.

"What do you wish to discuss?" Seven asked as he worked.

"Discuss?"

"Humans--and Bolians--are prone to speak without apparent purpose to
avoid periods of prolonged silence."

Tom's lips twitched, but his concentration didn't waiver from his
task.  "Is that right?"

"I have observed many individuals on this ship engaging me in
irrelevant conversation when required to be in my company."

"That bothers you?"  He wiped the tweezers on the cloth.

"It is inefficient."

Tom smiled.  "How do you figure?"

"If there is a task to complete, conversation is an unnecessary
distraction serving no purpose."

Tom didn't say a word.  It wouldn't be polite to point out that Seven
was making idle conversation.

The door whisked open behind them.

"Good afternoon, commander," the doctor said.

"Came to see what trouble Tom's gotten into now," Chakotay said.

Tom's jaw tightened as he worked, unaware of Seven's examination of
his flushing skin.

The commander walked up to where the pair sat, and stood at Tom's
shoulder, touching it with his chest.  "Back off, Chakotay," Tom said
as he nudged backwards, forcing the older man back a step.  He grasped
Seven's chin gently to turn it toward the light.  "Something I can do
for you, commander?"

"B'Elanna sent me to see if there were any mechanical problems
resulting from your latest escapades."

Seven's eyes narrowed as she watched Tom's face, examining the
emotions she found there.

"Be still," he ordered, and she was.

"I am curious, commander," Seven spoke, her eyes focused on Tom.

"Yes?"  Chakotay answered from the pilot's shoulder.

"It was my desire to learn to manipulate bubble gum."

A short nod acknowledged her words.

"Lt. Paris consented to instruct me.  Errors were made in my first
attempts to master this skill."

Chakotay made a small smile of acknowledgement.  He was very aware of
the errors made in her efforts as mastery.

"It was not Mr. Paris who projected gum into your hair, although he
facilitated the removal."

Tom knew where this was going, and he took a deep, hard swallow.  He
gave the tiniest negative shake of his head to stop her, but Seven
stared baldly into his eyes.  She would not be complying.

"I was examining the physics of the elastic properties of the bubble
gum.  The substance did not produce the expected results."

"The bubble burst," Tom muttered, depositing another speck on the
towel.

"Precisely.  The lieutenant was not involved until I contacted him for
the remediation."

Tom could feel the commander stiffen.  "What are you curious about?"
the commander prompted.

Seven stared into Tom's eyes for several long moments before she said,
"Why do you assume Mr. Paris is responsible for my incompetence?"

The freeze pen and tweezer now seemed too heavy for Tom to hold up; he
rested his hands on his thighs.  Seven's eyes broke contact with Tom
to look at the commander.

"I don't assume any such thing."

Seven frowned.  "You asked what trouble Tom had gotten into now.  He
is repairing my error."

"Sweetheart," Tom wanted to stop her.  There wasn't any need to defend
him from Chakotay.  If the issue were important enough, Tom would be
arguing it for himself, but just wasn't important enough.  "Let it
go," he said softly.

Her eyes snapped back to his.  "I wish to understand," she said.
"There have been other incidents in which you have been blamed for
incidents beyond your control.  Events that clearly had no
relationship to your function in this crew."

Tom sighed, and shoulders slumped as the air left his body.  Seven
studied his bowed head.  She raised her gaze to the uncomfortable
Chakotay.  "I wish to understand."

She didn't see Tom's shrug.  "It's nothing.  Really, Seven.  It's just
that once you goof up, you never quite get back to where you started."
Now she watched him sigh and raise his head and the medical instrument
to continue the removal process.

His face showed an emotion she didn't understand.  His lips were
quirked up, but she could not call their positioning a smile.  His
eyes were not smiling either.  Instead, his face held a catalog of
emotion:  irritation, sadness, embarrassment, and perhaps there was
gratitude.  She noted that she would have to seek clarification from
Tuvok.

"I understand.  My past will never be forgotten, as well.  Humans are
unforgiving."  She allowed Tom to position her face.

"Ah, Seven," Tom groaned, "Don't lump all of humanity into one group."

"I have no experience with all of humanity.  Only with this crew," she
paused, "They are unforgiving."

Chakotay didn't know what to do.  He was no longer in this
conversation, but then, he never really was in it.  Seven asked him
why he assumed Tom was the culprit in her most recent experiment.  He
didn't have a good answer.  It was so easy to assume if a joke went
wrong, Tom was in the middle of it.

So, he said, "Carry on." And left without another word.

Tom was relieved that the commander was gone.  He glanced into Seven's
eyes.  "Thanks."  He kept working.

"Your thanks are not necessary."

"Oh, they're necessary alright."

They were silent as Tom worked until Seven said, "You are a good
friend to me."

Tom's mouth quirked, "It's not that hard."

"I disagree.  I can be difficult."

Tom made no comment.  Wasn't a person he knew that couldn't be
difficult at one time or another, everyone on Voyager just a life time
of a head start on her.

"Lieutenant?"  Seven said to break the silence.

"Yes?"

"Are you aware that you have referred to me as 'sweetheart' twice
during this encounter."

His hands stilled a moment before continuing his freezing and picking.
"Really?"  He hadn't been aware of it.

"It is an endearment."

"Yes, it is."

"Why would you express such a sentiment?"

Tom lowered his arms once again, and looked deeply into the blue eyes.
She was so intense in her naivete. He placed his hands gently to her
knees. "Because you are endearing."

Her chin came up a notch as she gauged his words and tone for
seriousness.  "I find you similarly endearing--" she stopped,
"Pumpkin."

Tom's nose wrinkled as he suppressed a burst of laughter at the stiff
effort at a verbal show of affection.  He dropped the pen and tweezers
on the tray before taking both of Seven's hands in his.

The desire to laugh had lessened, but his smile didn't diminish.  Her
eyes held question as he pulled her stool closer.  Leaning toward her,
he gave her hands a gentle tug to keep her from pulling away.  "I'm
glad you're my friend," he whispered.

"I'm glad you find me endearing," she answered as she watched him tilt
his head to a 46 degree angle while slowly moving his face toward her.

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The End