The BLTS Archive - Episode Additions, Scenes and Codas
Survival Instinct: Passing Time
by Julie Evans (Juli17@aol.com)

---

Disclaimer:  Star Trek and its characters are the property of
Viacom/Paramount.  I am only borrowing them for fun, not profit.

Notes:  I wrote most of this story in rough form very shortly after
"Survival Instinct" aired.  After "Barge of the Dead," I once again
felt unsure where Tom and B'Elanna's relationship stood, since every
time their relationship seems to hit a comfortable stride (end of
fifth season) something happens that implies there is still plenty of
emotional distance separating them.  I wasn't sure where to go with
this story, so it's languished on my hard drive since then, until I
decided I'd better either finish it or delete it.  I decided to finish
it, however it turned out.  And that is why it's coming so long after
the episode aired.

Okay to archive to the ASC, PTC Archive, PTF Archive, and the BLTS.
All others please ask the author for permission.

---

B'Elanna Torres walked across the bedroom of her quarters, the satiny
sleeveless dress she was wearing clinging to every curve of her body,
from where the scooped neck dipped at the shadowy hollow of her
breasts to where it ended two centimeters above her knees.  The dress
was teal, or maybe aquamarine, or some other shade of blue and green.
The color of the shimmery material transmuted, rippling from shade to
shade in the soft light as she moved.  One fact was incontrovertible.
The dress hugged her small lithe body in all the right places.

"It fits perfectly," Tom said, feeling a little dry-mouthed at the
sight of her, which was nothing unusual.

B'Elanna shimmied a little in front of him, and grazed her hands down
her hips, smoothing the dress.  She smiled.  "It does fit rather well,
doesn't it?"

"Hmmm," Tom murmured as he looked at her appreciatively from his
perch on the edge of her bed, where he'd been waiting for several
minutes for her to come out of her bathroom in the new dress.
"Definitely worth the wait," he added, grinning at her.  "Too bad we
can't go to the station, but I can find something in the holodeck
files that will be a decent replacement."

B'Elanna cocked an eyebrow as she lifted her foot behind her and
adjusted the strap on her high-heeled black sandals.  Then she
straightened and looked at him again.  Tom really liked the way she
could move in and out of a near-contortionist position so gracefully.
"I planned on dinner and dancing on the station tonight, Tom."

"I know."  Tom gave her a sincerely apologetic look.  "I didn't expect
to lose the rest of my shore leave."  The confinement to quarters had
lasted only a few hours, but Captain Janeway had informed Harry and
him that, under the circumstances, they weren't welcome back on the
station during the rest of Voyager's stay.    "I'm sorry about the
change in plans."

B'Elanna kicked her foot up on the bed.  "I haven't lost my shore
leave privileges," she said, as she ran one hand slowly up her leg,
smoothing the sheer black silk stockings she was wearing.

Tom watched her hand caressing her shapely calf and thigh.  "I
know..."  Then his eyes darted up to her face as he realized what she
was implying.  "You're not thinking about going to the station without
me?"

B'Elanna slung her foot back off the bed, missing gouging him in the
thigh with her heel by mere millimeters.  She shook her head.  "No,
Tom.  I *am* going to the station without you."

Tom's mouth fell open.  "B'Elanna..."

"I've really been looking forward to getting shore leave tonight," she
said, running her fingers through her hair, and mussing the waves a
little.  "I *planned* on going with you--"

"I know that was the plan--"

"But you got in a fight and the captain revoked your shore leave
privileges," B'Elanna finished for him.  "I know.  And now you expect
me to stay here with you."

Tom looked confused.  "Well...yes."

B'Elanna moved over to her bedside table.  "I've spent most of the
past few days giving various alien races tours of engineering.  I've
barely seen the station."

"It's just like any other station, B'Elanna," Tom said quickly.  "It's
nothing special.  I was down there several times--"

"Exactly."  B'Elanna pulled a hair comb out of her drawer.  "All I've
seen is the warehouse level where Joe and I picked up spare parts, and
the shopping promenade where you and I spent..." she closed the drawer
with a small thump and looked at him. "What...two hours, of which you
spent an hour and a half at one kiosk bartering for a bunch of
personal vid-sim attachments?"

"I also got you that dress," Tom said, a little sullenly.

B'Elanna looked down at the dress and smiled.  "And I like it."  She
leaned over and kissed his cheek.  "Thanks.  But my point is, I've
willingly spent most of my time on Voyager this week, since I knew I
would get to spend the last evening on the station."  She pushed her
hair up off one side of her face and fastened it back with the comb.
"Just because you got in a fight and lost your shore leave privileges
doesn't mean I should have to give up mine."

"Harry and I won the fight," Tom reminded her smugly.  That should
count for something.

She flashed him a quick, equally smug smile.  "I know."  She said it
as if she'd expected nothing less.  She shook her head once, to see if
the comb was secure.  "Which is why I'm not *that* mad at you.  But it
doesn't mean you deserve a reward either."

Tom had run out of arguments.  Maybe she had a point, but that didn't
make him feel any happier about it.  He sighed heavily.

"And don't pout about it," B'Elanna admonished him.  "It won't work."
She dropped her hands to her hips and stood in front of him.  "So how
do I look?  Okay?"

Tom wondered whether she would still leave if he said "no."  He
wiggled two fingers, motioning her to him instead.  She leaned over
and he readjusted the comb slightly, tucking a loose strand of hair
back into the tiny gold teeth.  Not that she didn't look fine with
that one silky strand of hair lying against her cheek.  It made her
look even more appealing in fact, something he wasn't exactly in favor
of under the circumstances.  But he couldn't do anything about the
general state of her appearance right now, except admit it.  "You look
beautiful," he said softly, and a little despondently.

She smiled again and pressed a brief kiss against his lips, apparently
his consolation prize.  "Thanks."

A trace of her perfume wafted across his nostrils as she moved past
him.  "Who are you going to the station with?" he asked, trying to
resolve himself to her departure without him, and hoping she wasn't
going with certain of her Engineering cohorts, specifically those who
were male.

"With Megan and Jenny, Sue Nicoletti, Janice...and some others,"
B'Elanna said over her shoulder as she walked toward her closet.

"You mean you're going out with the girls, B'Elanna?"

Apparently he'd sounded a touch sarcastic, because B'Elanna turned
around and speared him with a sharp look.  "Yeah, Paris.  I am."

"Okay," Tom said mildly, backtracking.  "So, where are you going?"

"To see some sort of art performance at one of the nightclubs,"
B'Elanna said amiably, her surprisingly mellow mood immediately back
in place.  She'd turned to the closet and was pulling out her black
silk wrap.  "It's a place Jenny and Sue picked out."

"An 'art performance' in a nightclub?" Tom asked incredulously.  What
sort of "art performance" took place in a nightclub?  Unless it was
some kind of exotic dancing...  "B'Elanna--"

"Jenny said it involves wrestling in a large basin of paint, or
something like that," B'Elanna said, draping the shawl over her
shoulders.

"Wrestling in paint?"  Tom relaxed a little.  It sounded ludicrous,
but it was better than his first thought.

"I guess the 'art' part has to do with how they spread the paint on
each other," B'Elanna added.

Tom snorted.  "I'd think that would wreak hell on their clothing," he
said dryly.

"No doubt," B'Elanna agreed.  "I guess that's why they do it naked."

Tom jerked up into a straighter position.  "Naked?"

B'Elanna was standing in front of him again and she smirked at him.
"Don't worry, Tom.  You won't be missing anything.  They're all male."

"Male?"  Tom said, his voice almost a squeak.  Great, B'Elanna was
going to go watch naked males wrestle and paint each other.  Now he
felt *so* much better.  "Is that all they do?"

This time her only reaction to his sarcasm was a brief shrug, though
her lips quirked a little.  "From what I've heard.  Though Jenny said
they do have an audience participation segment."

Tom had a sudden vision of B'Elanna wrestling, naked, in front of a
cheering crowd, with paint all over her.  He was appalled at the
thought...and also aroused.  The vision faded and he caught her
looking at him with a carefully deadpan expression.  Dammit, she was
playing with him now.  He glared at her, but he asked anyway.  "You're
not planning to..."

She gave him an innocent smile.  "Since this is the male show, only
the men in the audience can participate, not the women."

"You're an evil woman," Tom muttered crossly.

B'Elanna grinned unrepentantly.  "I know."  She dipped two fingers
into the low neckline of her dress, and pulled a small narrow tube of
lipstick from the shadowy valley between her breasts.  He knew that
method of storage was standard for her when she went out, since she
balked at carrying any kind of "bag," unless it was filled with tools.
And lipstick was the only makeup she ever wore.  Still, he sure hoped
she wasn't going to use that particular maneuver in front of anyone
else tonight.

"Look at it this way, Tom," B'Elanna said.  She paused a moment, long
enough to trace the deep red lipstick over her lower lip.  "Think of
it as a scientific study, or an information-gathering mission."  She
outlined her upper lip carefully.  It still amazed him to watch her do
that so perfectly without a mirror.  "If it turns out to be
an...intriguing past-time, we can always recreate it on the holodeck."
She pressed her lips together, smacked them lightly, and grinned
wickedly.  "Just you and me."

That was a titillating thought--and he was really annoyed that she'd
chosen to wear that particular lipstick.  He loved that one.  It made
her lips look...wet.  "I guess I don't have much choice," he groused.

"True," B'Elanna agreed.  "And I've got to go.  I'm supposed to meet
everyone in the transporter room in five minutes.  If Seven shows up
on time."

"Seven is going?" Tom asked, astounded.

B'Elanna shrugged.  "Maybe.  Megan told Seven it was a social
experience she shouldn't miss."  She snorted.  "I don't know about
that, but the captain encouraged Seven to come along, though I think
she just wants Seven to think about something else besides that
whole...about everything that's happened the last couple of days."

Tom was surprised that B'Elanna sounded almost sympathetic, or at
least there was no condemnation of Seven in her voice.  Everyone knew
about the ex-drones that Seven been interlinked with by now, and what
had happened to them because of that link Seven had forced between
them.  Though some of the crew thought Seven had gotten a well-
deserved comeuppance, others felt sympathetic that her past had come
back to haunt her.  There weren't many on this crew who could say they
didn't have a moment or two that still haunted them in their own
pasts.  He frowned, then purposely refocused his attention.  "Wait a
minute.  Did you say that the captain is going too?"

"Last I heard she was considering it," B'Elanna said.  She reached
over and ruffled his hair while he was still trying to comprehend the
idea of Captain Janeway watching a bunch of naked men wrestle and
paint each other.  "See you later."

"Yeah," Tom muttered.  He sat on the bed looking woeful and dejected
as she walked to the door, but she didn't even look back.  Finally, he
gave up.  "B'Elanna..."

She turned around at the door, giving him a questioning look.

"Have a good time."

He'd managed to say it with a modest amount of actual sincerity, if
with a mournful edge, and she smiled.  "I will."

She slipped out the door, but a moment later she stuck her head back
in.  "Hey, if you're still around when I get back, maybe you can help
me take this dress...off."

He couldn't help returning her suggestive smile.  She winked at him,
and disappeared into the corridor.  His smile faded slowly as the door
closed and he thought of the evening in front of him, with no B'Elanna
and no shore leave.  Harry wasn't even available since he'd
volunteered for duty tonight.

He sighed heavily.  This wasn't how he'd planned it.  But it wouldn't
do him much good to sit in B'Elanna's empty quarters all evening.  It
was just a reminder that she wasn't here.  As he started to stand, his
commbadge beeped.

"Paris here."

"Ah, Mister Paris."

Tom groaned at the sound of the doctor's annoyingly cheerful voice.

"I understand that you're one of the few who will not be joining in
any of the various shore leave excursions this evening.   A pity..."
the doctor's voice held not the tiniest trace of sympathy, "but I
could use you in sickbay for a couple of hours."

"I'm not on duty, Doc--"

"You have some better way to pass the time, Mister Paris?"

Tom could hear the sarcasm in the doctor's tone.  "Maybe."

"Oh, really?" the doctor asked, clearly skeptical.

So he didn't have anything better to do.  In fact, sparring with the
doctor would probably keep his mind off what he was missing tonight.

"Don't forget that you still need eight more hours of sickbay duty
this week to meet your shift requirement, Mister Paris," the doctor
reminded him.

There was that too.  Tom sighed again.   "Sure, why not, Doc?" he
said, surrendering to the inevitable.  "I'll be there in five
minutes."

---

Tom walked into the mess hall a little over two hours later.  He'd
completed updating all the charts the doctor had assigned him, and had
decided two hours was as long as he could take sickbay for the moment.
He'd made a hasty retreat despite the doctor's assurance that there
were no end of additional tasks he could find for Tom to do.  Hanging
aimlessly around the mess hall for the next few hours had seemed the
more attractive option to the doctor's continued acerbic company.

The mess hall was nearly deserted.  The captain had closed off Voyager
to any more visiting aliens in preparation for departure the next
morning, an action that must have sent Tuvok into the Vulcan
equivalent of ecstatics after his continual protests about security
breaches.  He no doubt took the announcement with his usual
expressionless equanimity, but Tom was sure that, deep inside, Tuvok
was doing backflips across the bridge.

Tom noticed Neelix was nowhere in sight as he helped himself to a cup
of coffee.  Then he remembered that Neelix was babysitting Naomi
tonight while Sam Wildman was on shore leave.  In fact, of the half
dozen or so crewmembers in the mess hall, he noticed that none were
female.  He wondered briefly if the entire female crew complement had
gone on shore leave together to see that so-called "art performance."

Tom snorted disgustedly, and took his cup of coffee to an empty table.
He waved in acknowledgement to a small group gathered several tables
over, but he didn't feel like joining in their card game.  He felt
like moping.

He'd barely taken two sips of his coffee before his determined wallow
in self-pity was cut short.

"Good evening, Tom."

Tom looked up to see Chakotay standing by his table, along with the
Bajoran woman who had been part of Seven's Collective unimatrix.
Marika Wilkara.

"I don't know if you've met Marika…"

Tom shook his head at Chakotay's inquiry and stood up, holding out his
hand.

"Marika, this is Tom Paris, our chief helm officer," Chakotay said.

Marika accepted Tom's hand and shook it firmly.  Her smile was
perfunctory.  "Nice to meet you, Mister Paris."

"And you, Marika," Tom said sincerely.  He noticed that she hadn't
added, "I've heard a lot about you," a standard greeting he'd gotten
all his life, for one reason or another.  But then, she'd been on
Voyager less than a day.  Unfortunately, he *had* already heard a lot
about her.  He'd also updated her sickbay file not an hour ago.

"Tom, Marika is interested in creating a holoprogram, and she needs
some assistance.  I told her you are also our resident holoprogramming
expert.  Since you aren't busy tonight after all, I thought you might
be willing to assist her."

Tom caught a knowing glint in Chakotay's eyes.  He turned to Marika
and offered her an openly blase grin.  "What the commander means is
that I was involved in a fight on the station, and now I'm persona non
grata there."

Marika looked mildly amused.  "I heard something about that.  I also
heard that you and your fellow officer won."

Tom's grin was deliberately smug.  "Of course."

"Of course," Chakotay repeated dryly.  "And since you are at loose
ends tonight, Tom, with B'Elanna otherwise occupied..."

Tom was sure there was smirk lurking under Chakotay's placid
expression.  "Right.  I heard the captain is also...otherwise
occupied..."

Chakotay's expression remained bland.  "Yes, attending some sort of
art...exhibition, I believe.  The same one B'Elanna is attending, if
I'm not mistaken."

Tom could tell from Chakotay's tone that the first officer knew
exactly what was involved in the "exhibition," as he termed it, and
that he found it far more amusing than Tom did.  Tom gave him a
disgusted look.

"I hate to interrupt whatever's going on between you two," Marika
said, glancing from one to the other.  "Especially since you seem to
be enjoying yourselves..."

Her tone was sardonic, and Tom and Chakotay looked narrowly at each
other.

"And I am sorry to take up your time, Mr. Paris," Marika continued,
her voice genuinely apologetic now.  "I did program the holodeck on
the Excalibur occasionally, but that was…a long time ago.  Voyager is
much more advanced ship.  I'm sure I could figure out the finer
details of your holoprogramming, but it would take me a while, and,
quite honestly, I don't have the time."

There was a bit of sadness in her voice, perhaps even a touch of
bitterness, but mostly Tom heard simple resignation.   He looked at
Chakotay again, feeling suddenly very petty that they'd been busy
taking sarcastic potshots each other.   Chakotay frowned a little too,
and Tom  looked back at Marika.  "I'd be more than happy to help you,"
he said solemnly.

"Thank you, Mister Paris," Marika said.  "I really appreciate this."

"You're welcome.  And please, call me Tom."  Tom smiled and gestured
toward the door.   "Shall we go?"

Marika nodded, and Chakotay clapped a friendly hand on Tom's
shoulder.  "I reserved Holodeck Two for the rest of the evening under
Marika's name, Tom.  I'll be on the bridge if you need anything."

---

"Tom."

Tom shook his head as something tickled his cheek.

"Hey, hotshot."

Something tickled his nose this time, and there was a soft brush of
warmth against his lips.

"Oh, sleeping beauty..."

Tom opened his eyes.   B'Elanna's face was over his, her hair swinging
lightly over his cheek, her lips nearly touching his.  She pulled away
slightly and his sleep-bleary eyes met her dancing ones.  He was lying
on her couch where he'd been reading, waiting for her, where he'd
finally fallen asleep--and she was straddling him.  "B'Elanna..."

"Yes, it's me."

Her tone was amused, and her breath that fanned across his face
smelled faintly fruity, and faintly like alcohol.  She was smiling,
looking unusually cheerful.  His eyebrows rose.  "B'Elanna, what have
you been drinking?"

She shrugged.  "Some kind of fruit drink, or something."

Or something.  "Are you drunk?" he asked lightly.

B'Elanna shook her head, her eyes bright.  "Nope.  Just feeling...
happy."

Tipsy was probably more like it, he realized, as she grinned blithely
at  him again.  He couldn't help but notice that her thighs were
pressed tightly against his ribs, and that her dress had ridden
up--way up--- exposing the entire length of her black silk stockings.
He absently  stroked one silk-clad thigh.  "So, how was the
performance?"

B'Elanna shifted a little under the caress of his hand.  "It
was...intriguing."  She leaned down and pressed her lips against his.
"I want to paint your body all over, Tom," she whispered against his
slightly parted lips.  "Your naked body."  Then she giggled right into
his mouth.

Good lord.  Definitely tipsy.  He wondered just what kind of "fruit
drink" they'd served at that nightclub, and if she'd even realized
what she was drinking.   He had a feeling it had contained something
quite a bit stronger than synthehol.  He smiled at her.  "That can be
arranged.  As long as I get to paint your naked body all over too."

"Okay."  She sat up suddenly, as if she thought he meant now.  She
swayed just a bit.

He pulled her back down.  "But maybe another night."

"Okay," she repeated agreeably.  She pressed closer against him, and
her lips started moving down his throat with obvious intent.  He
moaned as her actions pushed him deeper into the couch.  Then he
groaned.

Her head came up and she looked down at him, half-aroused, half-
annoyed.  "What?"

He shifted enough despite her weight to pull out the datapadd that was
digging into his back.  "I was reading so I could stay awake," he
said, when B'Elanna looked at it blankly.  "Though I didn't know it
would be after...0100 hours when you got back," he said, glancing at
the chronometer reading at the bottom of the padd display screen.

B'Elanna took the padd from his hand.  "You were waiting up for me,
Tom?"  She tossed the padd over the back of the couch and gave him a
delighted smile.  "That's so sweet."

Sweet?  "You must have really had a good time tonight," he said
softly, shaking his head.

B'Elanna shrugged, and pushed a strand of hair out of her face.  He
noticed that her hair comb had become mostly dislodged.  "It was okay.
I missed you."

That wasn't something B'Elanna said often.  "I missed you too," he
told her softly.

She smiled, and then looked at him curiously.  "How did you pass the
time tonight?"

"I worked in sickbay for a couple of hours."  He smiled at her
exaggerated grimace.  "Then Chakotay asked me to help Marika with a
holoprogram she was creating."

B'Elanna looked momentarily confused.  "Who?"

"Marika, the Bajoran woman who was part of Seven's Collective
unimatrix," Tom reminded her.

"Oh."  Comprehension dawned on B'Elanna's face.  She pushed her hair
back again, and then rubbed her eyes, her expression sobering a
little.  "Oh," she repeated softly, her tone sympathetic.

"She used to be an engineer on the Excalibur," Tom said.  "She'd like
to be part of our crew for the time she has left."

B'Elanna frowned for several moments, as if she was trying to
concentrate, and then nodded.  "I can find a place for her.  We can
always use more help."

"Thanks," Tom said.  He kissed her forehead.  She immediately dropped
her head to his shoulder, and snuggled up against him.  "Did Seven
show up tonight?"

B'Elanna mumbled something that sounded negative, and shook her
head.  Tom took that as a "no."  He wasn't surprised  "Too bad," he
murmured.  "I guess she's still feeling a little guilty."

"Prob'ly," B'Elanna grunted.   She was silent for a moment.  "But she
didn't know what she was doing."

Tom assumed she was talking about Seven.  "B'Elanna, do you actually
feel sorry for Seven?" he asked with mock astonishment.

B'Elanna's hand slid down his chest and she wiggled her fingers into
the waistband of his pants.  "Let's not talk 'bout Seven," she
murmured.  "Aren't you s'posed to help my--me...um, my dress--"

"Help you take your dress off, B'Elanna?" he supplied for her, smiling
at her slurred words and the husky tone of her voice.

"That's it," she agreed, her voice a low contented purr.  Her lips
were pressed against his throat, her body was almost molded to his,
and her fingers tugged lightly at his waistband.  She was using more
restraint than usual.  More often than not she would have had his
pants off by now.

"Help you...like this?" he asked softly as he grazed his hands up her
thighs.  He pulled her dress up slowly over her hips, letting the tips
of his fingers caress the warm soft skin exposed between her stockings
and the lacy edge of her underwear.  He expected some reaction, an
aroused tightening of her muscles, but she didn't move at all, and her
fingers that had been tugging the waistband of his pants were
completely relaxed.

"B'Elanna?"  He raised up slightly and her head fell back against his
shoulder.  Her eyes were closed.  "B'Elanna..."

No doubt about it, she was asleep.  Sound asleep.

He tried rousing her, but when he shook her lightly she didn't stir.
He pulled himself to a sitting position with her in his arms, and she
still didn't react.  He leaned back against the couch, her sleeping
form cradled against him, and considered his options.  He didn't want
to leave her on her hard couch.  If her unresponsiveness now was any
indication, she was going to wake up with a hell of a headache
tomorrow as it was.  And she'd be facing a full shift in engineering.

The one thing he did know was that she preferred to be left alone when
she was grumpy and out-of-sorts. That was a given.  She'd probably
also be a little embarrassed that she'd all but passed out on
him--literally-- even if she wasn't likely to admit it.  He'd done the
same to her once, not long after the Hirogen array had been destroyed,
when he'd chosen for the first time in a long time to forgo synthehol
for a bottle of the real thing.  He'd thought at the time he was
handling his over-indulgence just fine, though he knew afterward it
hadn't been so.  He couldn't recall much of the conversation or
anything else.  He'd awakened the next morning to find her gone but a
blanket tucked securely around him, and glass of water and two
analgesic tablets within easy reach.  She'd never mentioned the
incident later.  It was one of those moments they kept privately,
silently between themselves.

He shifted her a bit in his arms so he could stand.  When she realized
he'd undressed her and put her to bed to boot, that probably wouldn't
enhance her morning mood.  All things considered, it would definitely
be better if he wasn't here when she woke.  She could find him later
in the day, once she'd recovered her equilibrium and hopefully her
disposition.

He carried her to the bed, where he took her dress off, though not in
quite the circumstances he'd originally envisioned.  He removed her
undergarments, and found an oversized t-shirt--one of his--in one of
her drawers, and managed to get her into a sitting position against
him long  enough to pull it over her head.  B'Elanna generally didn't
sleep naked, since she felt the cold easily, unless she fell asleep
that way next to him after they'd made love.  Which was what he'd been
hoping for tonight. Or, last night, now.

He sighed and let her fall back gently onto the bed.  She'd barely
moved while he'd undressed her, but as he pulled the covers over her
she turned and curled up on her side.  The comb in her hair had
already fallen on the floor somewhere and he brushed several errant
locks of hair off her cheek as he tucked the covers tightly around
her.

He walked into her bathroom and filled the glass on the sink with
water.  Then he opened the cabinet next to the sink and rummaged in
the portable medikit, bypassing the dermal regenerator this time.  He
took out two small tablets--the standard analgesics suitable for
headaches-- and closed the cabinet.

Back in her bedroom, he set the glass of water and the two tablets on
her bedstand.  He checked her alarm, knowing the last thing she'd want
is to be late for her shift, no matter how she felt.  Then he leaned
over the bed and kissed her lightly on the cheek.  "Sleep tight,
B'Elanna.  Maybe we'll have better luck next shore leave."

Then he left her there and went back to his own quarters alone.

---

B'Elanna did find him the next day, in the mess hall after his shift,
and though her disposition was clearly still affected by the late
night and lack of sleep, and probably a lingering headache, her mood
was only mildly surly.  He was sure she remembered the previous
evening, and probably how it had ended, but she didn't mention any of
that.  Instead she told him that she'd talked to Chakotay and had
arranged for Marika to be assigned to engineering.  She told him
Marika's knowledge of Starfleet vessels was at least a decade behind
the technology on Voyager, but that Marika was a quick study and she
actually listened, unlike Seven.  Tom didn't hide his satisfaction at
her favorable impression of Marika, and though B'Elanna looked a
little curious about his interest, his abbreviated recounting of
creating the holoprogram of Marika's home sparked her sympathy.

A short while later, despite the fact that B'Elanna was still a little
touchy, giving him a sharp look when he asked if her head still hurt
after she'd rubbed her temples for the third time, he ended up back in
her quarters.  They took up where they'd left off the previous night,
more or less, with a little more gentle stroking and a little less
gymnastics than usual.

The days on Voyager proceeded at their typically hectic pace, and
Marika merged quickly into the crew. B'Elanna spoke highly of her
abilities, and of the ease with which she'd become part of the
close-knit engineering staff.  Tom didn't know how Marika chose to
spend her free time, though he saw her deep in conversation once or
twice with Gerron and Tabor.  He did speak with her on occasion, when
he'd meet B'Elanna in engineering, or when they crossed paths in the
mess hall.  They never had the time, nor made the opportunity to talk
much beyond the basic pleasantries, but he was gratified to see that
she looked content, even happy.


It lasted just over three weeks.  One afternoon while Marika was in
engineering refitting warp coils with Shaun Mulcahy, she got dizzy.
B'Elanna immediately sent her to sickbay.  The doctor's prognosis
about her rapid decline was correct, and by the time Tom heard and
made it to sickbay to check on her, she'd lapsed into a coma.  The
next morning she
was gone.

Tom didn't know if B'Elanna and Marika had ever shared any topic of
conversation beyond engineering formulas and warp drives, but he could
tell B'Elanna was upset, even though she put him off when he tried to
talk to her about it.  They attended the brief memorial service
together, along with the captain, Chakotay, the doctor, and most of
the engineering staff.  And Seven, though she stood alone at the back
of the room and ducked out immediately at the end of the service
before anyone could speak to her.

Tom had little opportunity to think about Marika after her body was
consigned to space.  That very afternoon Voyager's sensors detected a
possible wormhole signature in a nearby nebular field, and the captain
sent a multispatial probe--the only one they had--to locate the
source.  When the probe's subspace guidance system failed several
hours later, B'Elanna was to first to volunteer to retrieve it.  Tom
wondered if Marika's death had anything to do with her enthusiasm to
leave her engines for a while and go chase the probe.  Even though
they worked together running the Delta Flyer through its pre-flight
checks, he had no chance to ask her about it.  B'Elanna's thoughts
were consumed with her job at hand, which was not unusual, and she
barely seemed to acknowledge his brief goodbye kiss as she started the
final pre-flight sequences.

Restless after he left the shuttlebay, he used his brief break before
he returned to the bridge to access the holodeck database. He entered
Marika's holodeck code and accessed the one program filed under her
name, a program that would be erased from the database at the next
automated computer update now that she was listed as deceased.  He
recoded the program file and moved it to his private directory in the
holodeck database. It wasn't exactly within the regulations, but it
wasn't unethical either, because he knew Marika wouldn't mind.  Just
the opposite in fact.  He would probably never use it, but the fact
that it remained meant that a part of Marika survived on Voyager.  Or
maybe he would visit it sometime, and bring B'Elanna with him.  She
might like to see Marika's home.

He got back to the bridge just as B'Elanna announced that she was
ready for take off.  The mission was a fairly routine one, not
particularly dangerous, and hardly something that was going to alter
the course of anyone's life, but he wanted to monitor the flight
anyway.  He checked the remote status indicators and systems monitors
for the Delta Flyer, and smiled with satisfaction when he saw that
everything was at peak performance levels.  A few moments later the
captain gave the go-ahead for departure.

Tom always felt a twinge of envy when anyone but him was at the
controls of the Delta Flyer, even when it was B'Elanna.  But he was
also secure in the knowledge that she flew the Flyer almost--almost--
as well as he did.  Barring any unlikely delays or unforeseen
circumstances, she'd be back in a few hours.  And by the time they
were both off-shift tonight things would be a little closer to normal
again, more so than they'd been for the past couple of days.  Maybe
they could relax a bit, and talk a little.  He was already planning
the specifics of the evening in his mind as the Delta Flyer glided
smoothly out of the confines of the shuttlebay and into open space.

Tom forgot briefly that unforeseen circumstances *were* almost the
norm for Voyager and its crew.  He also forgot that nothing stayed the
same for long on Voyager, or for B'Elanna and himself.

Instead, just as before Marika's brief time on Voyager, their lives
were again about to go through changes.

---

The End