The BLTS Archive - Episode Additions, Scenes and Codas
Unimatrix Zero Part Two Reunion
by Julie Evans (Juli17@aol.com)

---

Archive:  Okay to archive to ASC, PTCollective Archive, and BLTS.
All others please ask author for permission.

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

Notes:  Though I wrote a coda to the first part of the episode
"Unimatrix Zero" called "The Parting," this isn't necessarily a direct
sequel to that story.  It turns out with two-part cliffhangers that
you have to make certain guesses about what might happen, about the
passage of time, and so on.  I assumed hours or even days might pass
before Voyager would recontact the away team (after Voyager retreated
from the Borg cube at the end of part one of "Unimatrix Zero").
Instead, part two of "Unimatrix Zero" picked up almost immediately
from the end of the first part (seventeen minutes was the stated
passage of time).  So those who have read "The Parting" know that the
end of that story, with its implication of several hours passage of
time without contact (and more expected before contact is 
reestablished) doesn't really jibe with canon.

For this story I simply readjusted the timeframe to match the canon as
presented in part two of  "Unimatrix Zero."  I think the two stories
still work together in an emotional sense, but it does require one to
basically ignore that final scene in "The Parting" as an alternative
possibility rather than part of the canon events.

I also built this story partly around a song, and though I know "song"
stories are a hazardous undertaking, I simply couldn't resist.  From
the moment I heard this particular song, to me it *was* B'Elanna--
B'Elanna as Tom sees her.  So I did it anyway ;-)

---
Several weeks earlier:
---

He was in his quarters, but he wasn't alone.  He'd half-expected to
find himself alone, after the doctor had called him to sickbay at the
last minute for a double shift.  He'd figured B'Elanna would decide to
settle into her own quarters for the evening, and catch up on her
sleep.  Instead she was here, stretched out on his bed.

He smiled at the sight of her, clad in her black regulation tank top
and a pair of black satin panties, and nothing else.  Her uniform was
crumpled on the floor by the bed as if she'd hastily discarded it, and
he wondered if she'd decided to work late in engineering, maybe
because of his unexpected call to Sickbay.

He walked toward the bed, toeing off his boots and tossing his uniform
jacket on the chair as he went.  He didn't have the kind of fluid
dancer's grace that B'Elanna possessed, but for a man his size he was
agile on his feet, and he performed the maneuvers without so much as a
stumble.  At the bed he came to a stop and looked down at her.

She was asleep, sprawled on her back with one leg slightly crooked
beneath the other.   She had one arm flung out and her hand hung
loosely over the edge of the bed.  Her other hand was fisted under her
cheek, and her face was turned away from him.

He was almost disturbingly pleased to see her here.  They'd begun to
do this more frequently now--sleep together even when they were too
tired to make love.  It occurred to him that they slept together far
more often now than they did apart--and as its own end, rather than as
a conclusion to an evening spent in each other's company.  In fact he
was starting to resent those nights when their shifts were so
incompatible that they couldn't sleep together.  It made him
feel...alone.  He'd become accustomed to having her beside him.  Which
he didn't suppose was a bad thing.

He looked at her profile--her dark lashes shadowing her cheek, her
full slightly parted lips--and then he noticed the strand of hair that
has fallen across her jaw.  It teased at the corner of her mouth, and
he leaned over and brushed that tendril gently away, being careful not
to wake her.  She shifted, and before he could react her hand moved
with lightning speed and her fingers closed over his wrist.  A moment
later he was sprawled on top of her.

She wasn't asleep at all.  She'd just been lying in wait.  Her eyes
opened and she looked at him, their faces just millimeters apart.
There was something penetrating in her gaze, something just short of
accusation, and whatever was up he sensed that he should proceed with
caution.  He held his silence for the moment, and though he could feel
the soft curves of her body pressed between his body and the mattress,
he remained perfectly still as an additional discretionary measure.

Without taking her eyes off him she reached back with her free hand--
the one that wasn't clamped tightly around his wrist--and her fingers
unerringly found the control panel for his music system.  He'd
extended the circuitry during his first months on Voyager, to allow
himself access to his growing music collection at the touch of a
finger while he was lounging in bed, rather than having to ask the
computer to search out the files for him.  He'd found the computer's
voice annoying in those early days, maybe because that flat,
indifferent voice seemed to be a reminder that almost no one but the
computer *would* talk to him.  Not long after they'd become a couple,
B'Elanna--who could never escape her engineer's urge to tinker and
improve--had added a few refinements to the system.  Now, as he
watched her curiously, she tapped one of the
pads on the panel, the one that repeated the last selection.  She
didn't often listen to his music, except in his presence, though he
assumed she'd been listening to this selection at some point before
his arrival.

The strains of a piano filled the air.  It wasn't one of his jazz
pieces that she usually enjoyed, nor one of the strident
twentieth-century rock tunes he sometimes favored, particularly while
he was performing his morning ablutions.  It was a twentieth-century
selection though, and he recognized it after the first few notes, even
before the lyrics began.

---
"She may be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure, or the price I have to pay.
She may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things, within the measure of a day."
---

He finally overcame his surprise enough to wonder how she'd found this
song.  And to wonder if she'd consider any of this a compliment.  He
squirmed a little, but her hand tightened perceptibly over his wrist.

---
"She may be the beauty or the beast,
May be the famine or the feast,
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell.
She may be the mirror of my dreams
A smile reflected in a stream.
She may not be what she may seem, inside her shell--"
---

B'Elanna pressed the pad that paused the selection and silence reigned
for several moments, until she asked softly, with both curiosity and a
hint of suspicion, "What is this, Tom?"

He knew he'd better tread carefully.  "A...song?"

At his half-teasing, half-cautious answer-in-the-form-of-a-question,
her gaze narrowed.  "I don't recall ever hearing this before..."

Tom shrugged casually.  "It's something I came across once in the
twentieth-century archives--"

"No!  Not the twentieth century."

He pursed his lips at the mock astonishment in her voice, caught
between smirking at her tone and protesting.

"It doesn't seem like your usual taste in twentieth-century music,
Tom," she said dryly.  "No loud drums, no cacophonous guitars, no
rocking or rolling..."

Tom did protest this time.  "Hey, my musical tastes are very broad."

Well, perhaps his tastes didn't extend too deeply into classical
music, but they did range from jazz to swing, and from
twentieth-century rock to twenty-fourth century Bolian mood ballads.
B'Elanna didn't repudiate his claim.  Instead she said, "So this song
just ended up in your permanent collection by chance."

"I did come across this song by chance," Tom answered truthfully.  He
shifted a little so that he was resting partly on his side, his weight
more on the bed than on her.  "But I included it in my collection
because it made me think of you."  He admitted that quickly since
there was no point in denying it, even if he'd wanted to.  He recalled
a little uneasily why she would have singled this out.  The
designation for the file wasn't the usual title of the song.  He
remembered now that he'd named the file simply "B'Elanna."

"Really..." B'Elanna said softly.  Not with sentimental softness, but
with slightly menacing softness.  "So I'm the price you have to pay,
Tom?" she asked sweetly, her eyes glittering.

Tom shrugged again, affecting nonchalance.  He could feel one of her
knees pressing hard against his hip.  "The price of putting my heart
in your hands and hoping it survives, and of having your heart in my
hands and hoping I'm not stupid enough to damage it beyond repair, I
suppose.  I guess it's the price of loving."

B'Elanna was nonplused for a minute, maybe because he'd spoken with
such easy alacrity, as if he knew he'd better hurry and spit something
out, and yet his eyes had never left hers.  They certainly both knew
that their relationship had been hard on their hearts on more than one
occasion.

"But it's definitely not too high a price," he added softly, for good
measure.  It helped that he meant that, completely.

Her gaze on him was thoughtful and a little uncertain, as if she still
wasn't sure how to respond, or whether to take him seriously.  Finally
she asked, "When exactly did you come across this song?"

Part of him had hoped she wouldn't ask that question, that she would
just let the subject drop, and they could move on to other things.  He
considered trying to distract her with his hands, something he had
some talent at, but he wasn't sure it would work in this case.  "The
first time I heard it I was here in my quarters listening to some
twentieth-century songs--well, barely listening to them actually.  I
was in middle of the letter 's' then."

B'Elanna knew about his habit of listening to old twentieth-century
songs by telling the computer to play songs starting with a particular
letter in alphabetical order.  He'd drift off into his thoughts during
some of them, but others would catch his attention, the ones he'd
eventually save to his permanent collection.  He had been somewhere in
the letter 'k' when they had become a couple.  Now he was on the
letter 'w'--slow progress, but he'd had a lot less time to indulge
lately.

"The letter 's'..." B'Elanna murmured.  From her deliberative frown
now he knew she was trying to place when he'd been on the letter 's.'
But it was one of those letters that had spanned several months by
virtue  of so many song titles starting with that letter, and his
sporadic listening habits.

"That particular night you were...busy."  Tom hesitated for just a
moment before he continued.  "I'd asked you to come by for dinner, but
you said you wanted to work out some of the long hours in engineering
on the holodeck in one of your Klingon martial arts programs.  We
argued about that..."

He saw by the way her expression froze that she knew exactly which
argument he was referring to.  *The* argument, as they'd both come to
think of it, though they rarely ever spoke of it.  The one where he'd
given her a flat out ultimatum to drop her Klingon martial arts
programs and spend more time with him.  He'd been stupid enough to
think that she would pick him over whatever was obsessing her with
those painsticks.  Instead she'd called him on his ultimatum and had
told him that maybe they should take a break from each other for
awhile, though there'd been no maybe about it in her tone.  He'd stood
in silent and pained astonishment as she'd turned and walked out,
leaving him standing alone in her quarters.  As strained as things had
gotten between them through and after the Void, her words at that
moment had been like a sucker punch right to the gut.  But it had been
the lack of any real emotion in her voice when she'd told him it was
all but over between them that had cut the deepest, though he'd
shrugged it off in the following days, as if pretending that it hadn't
happened made it not real.

"I later guessed that you were actually doing one of your safeties-off
programs that night," he added, when she continued to look at him
silently.  He'd come to realize after the fact that the martial arts
programs she'd claimed to be so involved in were as often as not
covers for her far more self-destructive programs.

B'Elanna nodded almost imperceptibly.  There were still specifics of
that period of her life--of their lives--that they hadn't discussed,
since it was water under the bridge now, and lessons learned, though
hardly forgotten.  Or maybe it was that the moments were only slowly
revisited and healed, one by one.  And right now she wasn't tensing up
or changing the subject.

"That night I came back here," Tom said, indicating his own quarters.
"And I lay here in the dark listening to music, just for...company, or
the illusion of it, so that would I wouldn't have to hear the silence,
or my own thoughts.  But I wasn't really hearing the music
anyway--until this song.  I was struck by the words, maybe because I
was trying to believe as bad as it was between us that we weren't
really finished, and that your...bad mood was just temporary.  And if
I acted like it was nothing more than another fight, just waited it
out and gave you the space you'd said you needed, then you'd come
back."

He frowned a little at that memory.  She'd never blamed him in any way
for not realizing what she was doing to herself then, because she'd
gone to great lengths to keep him from knowing, first pursuing her
programs at times when he was on duty or otherwise occupied, then
inserting more and more emotional distance between them as her
excursions to the holodeck became more frequent--and diverting his
probing questions with more lies--and finally breaking up with him in
all but the actual words during that argument two weeks before
everything had come to a head.  Still, he knows he should have seen
more, and what he did see he  shouldn't have excused so easily,
looking the other way for fear of what  he might find out about her,
and about himself.  He shook his head.  "Even if I buried my head in
the sand then, and I took the easy way out, my feelings never
changed."

B'Elanna finally spoke.  "I know that, Tom," she said quietly.

He had told her so before, though a little guilt still lingered in him
when he thought about that time, and the fact that he should have been
there for her, no matter how hard she'd pushed him away.

There was silence between them for several moments, though not
uncomfortable silence.  Finally B'Elanna shook her head.  "I suppose I
can see why you thought of me when you listened to this...song."  Her
lips pursed.  "And it is about a woman with a split personality."

"Hardly," Tom disagreed softly at her interpretation.  "Just one
personality.  One that's richly textured and complex, certainly.  And
mercurial and enigmatic.  And very passionate.  But definitely never
boring."

B'Elanna's lips twisted a little in wry amusement.  "Tom, you sound
like you swallowed a thesaurus."

Her tone was light and teasing and he gladly followed her lead.
"Actually, I learned those words at a wine tasting seminar--"

B'Elanna smacked him on the shoulder with her own brand of slightly
bruising gentleness.

"All the facets to your personality are endlessly intriguing to me,
B'Elanna," Tom told her, ignoring the slight sting on his skin.  "I
like the fact that I don't always know what to expect from you."  He
gave her a meaningful look and his lips quirked a little.  "It's one
reason I know that there was never a time when I wouldn't have found
you fascinating."

B'Elanna's eyebrows lifted at the allusion to his long ago words to
her when they were trapped together in space.  She studied him for a
moment.  "Even when I'm the chill that autumn brings?" she asked
pointedly.

"Hey, you know I like cold weather," he quipped.

B'Elanna's eyes narrowed.  "The beauty or the beast..."

"And you know I love the hot-tempered Klingon in you," he replied
without a pause.  "Though you're equally beautiful whether you're
growling or purring," he added with a grin, knowing he was pushing it.

B'Elanna frowned at him.  "Watch it, Tom.  Speaking of making each
day a heaven or a hell..."

Tom tweaked a strand of her hair.  "It's only a hell when you're not
here, B'Elanna.  Or when you're on a mission and I don't know if
you're okay." The two weeks he hadn't known if she was dead or alive
after the Delta Flyer crashed still weighed on his mind.  He shuddered
a little at the memory, even though it had been ten days now since
she'd returned safe and sound.  He brushed that away.  "So am I in
trouble?" he asked her softly.

B'Elanna looked at him silently for a moment, then shrugged.  "I
suppose it's not completely unflattering," she admitted slowly.  "And
it is just a song, after all."

"Uh huh," Tom agreed, kissing her collarbone to avoid her gaze.  "It's
just a song."  Right.

"Though the end is an...intriguing concept," B'Elanna murmured, as he
nuzzled her neck.

"Is it?" Tom asked lightly.  To him the truth of it was a little
scary, something he didn't always want to face, especially in moments
when he thought he might actually lose her.

B'Elanna was looking at him intently, aas if she could see everything
he was thinking, and it was making him a little nervous.  Before he
could speak again she gripped his chin hard and her mouth closed over
his.  They shifted until she was mostly on top of him, kissing all the
while.  She traced his lips with her tongue, and then she bit down
sharply on his lower lip.  He winced, but he knew that was B'Elanna's
way of marking her claim on him again, which was definitely a good
sign.

"So you're not going to punish me too hard," Tom said facetiously when
she raised her head to look at him.

"I don't know," B'Elanna said, rubbing her thumb over the drop of
blood on his lower lip.  She gave him a sly look.  "Did your double-
shift wear you out, flyboy?"

Tom smirked.  "I'm never too tired for *that*," he said drolly.  "I'm
a
man after all."

B'Elanna snorted at his display of ego.  "And I'm half-Klingon."

Tom smiled.  "I guess that's why we're so perfect for each other."

B'Elanna smiled back, and this time he threaded his fingers through
her hair and pulled her mouth to down hard to his.

For a time everything else was forgotten, including his choice of
music.

---
Minus one hour:
---

Tom jumped a little when his door announcer beeped unexpectedly.  He
hit a key on his computer terminal and the music faded away as he
called out, "Enter."

As he stood and moved away from his desk he was a little surprised to
see Harry walk in.  Tom knew he'd been in engineering assisting with
the repairs

"Engines should be back online in twenty minutes," Harry announced
without preamble.  "I'm on my way back to the bridge, and I thought
I'd see if you were ready to go too."

Tom nodded.  He'd given up on his half-eaten meal anyway.  He'd been
trying to force the food down but he didn't have any appetite at the
moment.  "Just give me a couple of minutes to wash up."

"No problem," Harry said, as Tom walked toward his bedroom.

In the bathroom Tom washed his hands and splashed cold water on his
face.  Like everyone else he'd been on duty for nearly a full shift
before the Delta Flyer had departed with the away team, and it had
been almost eight hours now since the away team had made it
safely--barely--onto the Borg cube.  What was to have been a two-hour
mission by the most optimistic projections had lengthened considerably
after the Borg had obtained their access codes and had inflicted
severe damage on Voyager.  They'd had to retreat out of range of the
Borg cube, and worst of all they'd lost the away team's biosignatures.

Tom grabbed a small towel from the rack by his sink and dried his face
quickly.  Twenty-two minutes of the thirty-minute break Chakotay had
insisted he take had passed, and he was anxious to get back to the
bridge.  Even though he hadn't wanted a break--like he needed any
spare time to think about what was going on--Chakotay had decided that
he needed to get away from the helm and eat something before they
confronted the Borg again.  Tom had protested, but Chakotay had cut
him off by simply repeating the order in a mild but uncompromising
voice.  It was clear that Chakotay had learned well from Janeway.

Tom cracked a small, grim smile at that thought, though it was hard to
be genuinely amused by anything right now.  All he cared about at the
moment was getting the Borg cube back in Voyager's sights, and locking
onto the away team's biosignatures again so they could be beamed back.

He tossed the towel in the sink and strode out of the bathroom.  It
wasn't until he was halfway through his bedroom that he fully
registered the low strains of music coming from his living area,
though he realized then that he'd been hearing it somewhere in the
back of his mind for a minute or two.  He stopped dead in his tracks
at the bedroom doorway as the words became distinct and stared at
Harry, who was seated at the desk, clearly engrossed in listening.

---
"She who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so gravid and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry.
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows in the past
That I'll remember till the day I die."
---

Harry finally sensed Tom's gaze on him and turned around.  He flushed
a little and said quickly, "Computer, end selection."

The computer complied with Harry's request, and the music stopped
abruptly.  Harry stood up, looking at Tom a little sheepishly.  "I
hope you don't mind," Harry said.  "I saw the music file notation on
your terminal, and I just wondered what you were listening to."

Tom knew Harry had acted spontaneously, probably expecting
something else entirely, though now he was looking at Tom with equal
parts caution and curiosity.  Harry could hardly not make the
associations in the song.

When Tom didn't say anything, Harry picked up the plate sitting on the
desk.  "Are you going to finish this?" he asked, looking at the
half-eaten sandwich and wrinkling his nose a little.  Peanut butter
and jelly wasn't one of his favorites.

"Nope," Tom said.  He walked over and took the plate from Harry's
hand.  Then he picked up the cup of cooling Tarkelian tea and tossed
both in the recycler.  "Ready?"

"Sure," Harry said.  He watched Tom uncertainly as Tom retrieved his
uniform jacket from the back of the chair.  "Tom, I'm sorry if I--"

"Don't worry about it," Tom said, slipping his arms into his jacket.
He knew Harry wouldn't deliberately intrude.  And Harry certainly knew
how he felt about B'Elanna.  He'd just been surprised.  He'd listened
to the song on impulse himself for the first time since B'Elanna had
found it weeks ago, maybe as a form of self-torture.  And now he felt
disturbed by the fact that Harry had stopped it at that particular
verse, which was ridiculous, of course.  The words had no prescient
meaning.  He focused his attention on fastening his jacket.

"We'll get her back, Tom," Harry said quietly.

Tom looked up and stared at Harry for several moments.  Then he said
softly, "I'm not leaving here until we do."

"None of us are leaving here until we do," Harry returned
emphatically.  "And we will get them back.  Very soon."   He picked up
the two pips lying on the desk.  "Don't forget these."

Tom looked at the pips as Harry dropped them into his hand.  He
fingered the new one that he'd received just two days ago, and his
lips twisted a little.  "Not that I don't appreciate the captain's
renewed confidence in me, but I told B'Elanna before she left that I'd
give this up in a second if she'd forget this crazy mission."  Or
words to that effect.  He wished desperately now that she had taken
him up on it.  He looked ruefully at Harry.  "Of course, she went
anyway."

Harry shook his head.  "Tom, you don't have to convince me of your
priorities.  I know how much you love B'Elanna, even if you don't
always show--" Harry stopped abruptly, as if he realized what he'd
just said.  "I didn't mean--"

"It's all right, Harry," Tom said.  "I know what you meant."  He
probably deserved that.  "I guess I let myself forget sometimes.  When
times have gotten really rough for us, I've even managed to anticipate
the end, and convince myself that it wouldn't kill me if I lost her."
That was one of the bigger lies he'd ever told himself.

Harry snorted.  "Like that will ever happen.  No matter what kind of
crises you two go through, you always end up back on your feet again,
together.  It'll be the same this time--"

"Chakotay to Paris."

Tom tapped his commbadge.  "Paris here."

"Fourteen minutes until full power is restored.  You're invited back
to the bridge."

Tom's eyes narrowed at Chakotay's facile remark.  Sometimes he
wondered what could pierce Chakotay's equanimity, especially if
B'Elanna, and Kathryn Janeway both being hung out to dry right now
didn't do it.

"Make it quick and come prepared.  I'm counting on your helm skills,
because we are not retreating again until we have the away team back
onboard."

At Chakotay's terse words Tom and Harry looked at each other, and it
was Harry who replied.  "We're on our way."

They left Tom's quarters quickly, and Tom was immensely relieved that
they were finally going to take some action again.  Waiting out the
five hours of repairs had felt like fifty.

"By the way, you should do something about that," Harry remarked
casually as Tom's door slid closed behind them.

Tom looked blankly at Harry as they strode down the corridor.  "About
what?"

"How you feel about B'Elanna," Harry said.  His gaze was guileless.
"It's about time, don't you think?"

"Right now, all I can think about is getting her back safely," Tom
said softly as they stopped in front of the turbolift.  Everything
else he would have to think about later.

Harry clapped his hand on Tom's shoulder as turbolift doors slip open
and they stepped inside.  "We will, Tom.  We will."

---
Zero hours:
---

Tom listened to the conversation around him, though he kept his
concentration on the evasive maneuvers he was performing as both
Voyager and K'Rok's Borg sphere continued to fire weapons at the Borg
cube.  Finally they were engaged in pitched battle, trying to take out
the cube's shields so they could get a lock on the away team.  He
breathed a huge sigh of relief when Neelix finally spoke the first
magic words.

"I'm picking up the away team!"

"I'm isolating their biosignatures," Harry replied almost immediately.

"Get a lock," Chakotay commanded.

A moment later Harry replied, "I still can't penetrate their inner
shields."

Tom's heart sank a little at that as Chakotay hailed K'Rok and asked
for his status.  He executed another flawless maneuver as they
continued to fire on the cube.

"The Borg keep remodulating the shields!" K'Rok barked.

"Then we'll just keep at them until we wear them down," Chakotay said
sharply.

They kept at it for two more minutes that seemed like two hundred.
Tom kept Voyager moving, out of the way of the Borg fire, but close
enough so tactical could get the shots in.  His fingers were perfectly
steady even though his heart was pounding.  Something had to give soon
and he prayed it was the Borg cube.  And even as he thought it,
several small explosions erupted from random points on the outer
perimeter of the cube.  Neither Voyager nor K'Rok's sphere had made
the kind of hits that would cause that much damage, and he realized
almost immediately what was happening.

The Borg cube was self-destructing.

Tom's heart lurched, and then he nearly jumped out of his seat when an
indicator flashed at his console.  "Their shields are down!" he
shouted.  Someone inside, maybe B'Elanna, had gotten the job done.

"Energize!" Chakotay ordered.

As Chakotay spoke Tom engaged reverse thrusters.  The Borg cube
exploded, and Tom watched the fireball quickly expand.  The outer edge
of the shock wave bounced harmlessly off Voyager's shields as they
retreated.

"Got them!" Harry shouted.  "Ayala reports that the captain, Tuvok and
B'Elanna are all safely aboard," he added, both relief and
satisfaction in his voice.

Tom glanced at Harry quickly, and Harry beamed a broad smile at him.
Tom smiled weakly back.  He returned his attention to the helm and
took a deep, shaky breath.

They were safe.

"Tom, get us out of range.  Then have Baytart relieve you and get down
to sickbay to assist the doctor."

Tom flashed Chakotay a quick, grateful look as he initiated warp
speed.  "Aye, aye, sir!"

---

B'Elanna was on a biobed in sickbay, and after the dim lighting on the
Borg cube she had to squint a little.  The bright, cheery whiteness
around her was in stark contrast to the dull gray interiors of the
cube.  Despite the momentary discomfort to her eyes, she smiled in
appreciation.  And relief.  It was good to be back.

"This will help prepare your body for the removal of the Borg
implants,"  the doctor said, speaking to the captain as he pressed a
hypo to her arm.  He'd already done the same to B'Elanna moments
earlier.  "And now I have to check on Tuvok."

Tuvok had lapsed into unconsciousness right after they'd reappeared on
Voyager's transporter platform, and had stayed that way after Ayala
had them all beamed directly to sickbay.  As the doctor moved away
B'Elanna met Janeway's concerned gaze, before the captain slowly
closed her eyes.

B'Elanna felt bad for Tuvok, but she couldn't help feeling grateful
that her own neural suppressant had never worn off.  She suppressed a
shudder at the thought of not being able to separate her own identity
from millions of other voices in her mind.  Remembering the sense of
disorientation--and the feeling of her own mind and thoughts being
ripped away from her when that first tubule had pierced her neck--was
disturbing enough, even though the doctor had warned them to expect
it.  Thankfully the neural suppressant had been in effect when she'd
regained full consciousness, and it had remained that way.  She hadn't
sensed anyone else's thoughts, only her own, still intact.

"B'Elanna."

B'Elanna turned her head slowly, and found Tom standing by her
bedside.  He smiled as she looked up at him, and said in a soft, husky
voice, "Hey."

No single word had ever sounded so welcome.  She smiled and
murmured "Hey," back.  The vocal subprocessor didn't seem to be
working, and her own voice came out thready and weak.

Tom took her hand in his and squeezed it gently.  She felt his thumb
stroking her skin.  Then he leaned over and lightly brushed his lips
over hers.  "Thank god you're okay."

His voice was fervent, and the expression on his face reflected only
relief and gratitude.  And affection.  It occurred to her that he
hadn't flinched at her appearance at all.  She'd seen herself several
times in the reflective metal surfaces on the cube, and she knew how
she looked.  She wanted to forget her appearance right now.  "I
feel...dizzy," she said, realizing that she did feel distinctly light-
headed.

Her voice came out in a whisper, but Tom heard her.  "It's the
anesthetic kicking in, so you won't feel any pain while the doctor
removes the Borg components."

He looked upset at that thought, and B'Elanna wanted to tell him that
she didn't need the anesthetic.  She hadn't had any when the Borg had
physically assimilated her, though after the initial part of the
process she'd been unconscious.  She didn't care about the pain; she
just wanted to be herself again.  And she didn't like this woozy
feeling that made her feel out of control.  It reminded her of the
Borg assimilation.  She tried to tell Tom, but her mouth wouldn't
cooperate.

"Mister Paris, I could use your assistance."

The doctor's voice seemed to come from a distance.  Tom leaned over
and kissed her again, his lips warm and gentle on hers.  She wanted to
kiss him back, but she felt herself slipping away.  She squeezed his
hand tighter, trying to hold on.

Tom seemed to sense her distress.  "You're going to be fine,
B'Elanna," he assured her softly.  He stroked her cheek gently with
his other hand.  "Trust me."

She did.  She let go then and fell asleep, still feeling her hand
clasped securely in his.

---
Twenty-two hours:
---

She woke feeling groggy.  She had a headache and her body felt
incredibly heavy, as if it was being held down by some force she
couldn't see.

"B'Elanna."

Tom was by her side.  She met his warm gaze.  He looked tired, about
as tired as she felt.

"How long?" she asked, her voice croaking.

"Twenty-two hours," Tom told her.  "You're doing great.  The doctor
removed the vocal subprocessor, so your voice is a little raspy, but
that will go away soon."  He brushed his hand gently over her scalp
and smiled.  "The doctor also stimulated your hair follicles, so your
hair is starting to grow back."

She was glad of that.  She didn't relish the idea of being bald.  She
tried to move, and she felt stiff.  She winced.

"Take it easy," Tom said, pressing gently on her shoulder.  "Don't try
and move too much.  We still have to remove the spinal implant, and a
few other Borg components, but we're getting there."

"How much longer?" she asked.

"Another thirty hours or so," Tom said.

B'Elanna groaned.  She wasn't sure the sound even made it out of her
mouth, but Tom sensed her frustration, because he took her hand again.
"You're doing great, B'Elanna," he repeated reassuringly, rubbing her
hand warmly between his.  "So is the captain."

She noticed that he didn't include Tuvok, maybe because he'd been
fully assimilated after his neural suppressant had worn off.  She
remembered Tuvok attacking her before the other drones had led the
captain away.  They'd left her behind, and she didn't know if they'd
forgotten about her, or had assumed Tuvok would deactivate her.  But
he'd just walked away, leaving her the opportunity to further sabotage
the cube, and finally bring down the inner shields.  Maybe a small
part of Tuvok's individuality had remained inside him.

She looked at Tom questioningly now, and murmured, "Tuvok?"

"The process for him is a little more complicated because he was fully
assimilated," Tom said soberly.  "But the doctor says he will be okay
too."

"He will be," the doctor agreed emphatically from the other side of
B'Elanna's bed.  "As will you, Lieutenant," he added.  He pressed a
hypo against her arm before she could protest.  "But you need to go
back to sleep so your body can keep regenerating."

B'Elanna frowned.  She didn't like that word.  "Sounds Borg," she
grumbled, her voice low but audible.

The doctor heard and understood.  He shook his head.  "It's only a
figure of speech, Lieutenant."

B'Elanna wanted to argue that, but she couldn't even keep her eyes
open.  She turned her head toward Tom.  "You staying..." she murmured
drowsily.

She heard the doctor snort.  "I've barely been able to get him to
leave."

"I'll be here," Tom's voice said softly near her ear, before she fell
asleep again.

---
Forty-seven and a half hours:
---

B'Elanna had been awake for almost two hours.  She looked completely
like herself now, except for the lines of fatigue that remained on her
face, the testament to nearly two days of surgeries and recovery.
Those lines didn't make her any less beautiful as far as Tom was
concerned.  The Borg components were completely gone and her hair had
grown back.  Straight.  She'd smiled about that a few minutes earlier.
All the trouble she'd gone to for years to straighten it, and now it
decided to grow in naturally straight.

They'd talked about that, and about other things, including how
engineering was holding up in her absence.  She'd actually been
grateful to hear that Seven was running the department, and was
keeping everything in order.   She'd also eaten her first meal in
three days, and Tom had watched her like a hawk, determined that she
finish every bite.  She'd finally given him an annoyed look and had
told him to stop it.  He'd dryly offered to feed her himself, to which
she'd responded by asking him acidly if he really wanted her to dump
her plate over his head.  They'd both smiled then, feeling the blessed
return of normalcy at that exchange.

Neelix had stopped by to retrieve the empty dishes a couple of minutes
earlier, and had beamed with pleasure at both B'Elanna and Janeway,
telling them that it was wonderful to see them both again.  Tom had
seen Neelix's frowning glance at Tuvok before he'd left.  Tuvok was
recovering but it would be another day or two before he would be awake
and completely himself again.

The doctor walked by right after Neelix departed, and B'Elanna asked
him the question Tom knew she had been impatiently waiting to ask.
"When am I going to get out of here?"

The doctor was unperturbed by B'Elanna's testy attitude.  "In another
twenty-four hours.  Maybe."  He returned her frown with a severe look
of his own.  "Your body is still recuperating, Lieutenant.  You
couldn't walk out of Sickbay right now if you wanted to." Then he
shrugged.  "Though you're welcome to try and stand up.  I'm sure
Mister Paris will be kind enough to catch you when you keel over."

B'Elanna's eyes narrowed at the doctor's smug smile, but she remained
where she was, even if she looked unhappy about it.  Tom was glad she
acquiesced.  He'd seen how gingerly she moved right now, even in bed.
He knew her body was still sore and exhausted from all the abuse it
had taken over the past three days.  "It's just one more day," Tom
told her reassuringly.

B'Elanna sighed.  "Right."  Then she looked at him critically for
several moments.  "Tom, you look really awful."

"I wouldn't wonder," the doctor cut in.  "Mister Paris hasn't left
sickbay for the past two days except when I've thrown him out."  He
gave Tom a considering look.  "Which I'm doing right now."

"Doc--"

"No arguments," the doctor told Tom.  "Everything is under control
here, and you need sleep nearly as much as Lieutenant Torres does."

"Go, Tom," B'Elanna said softly.  "I'm fine."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yes."  B'Elanna gripped his chin lightly and pulled his face toward
hers.  She pressed her lips briefly against his, then smiled at him.
"Go get some sleep."

Tom kissed her back, letting his tongue graze hers for a moment.  He
wanted to do so much more, but the doctor cleared his throat very
loudly behind them.  Tom pulled away reluctantly.  "I'll be back first
thing in the morning to watch you eat breakfast."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.  Tom squeezed her hand
one final time and met the doctor's sharp gaze.  "I'm leaving," he
said. "I'm leaving."

"Good," the doctor said with satisfaction, watching Tom move away
from B'Elanna's bed before he stepped over to check on Tuvok.

Tom gave B'Elanna one last smile before he disappeared around the
partition.  Chakotay was sitting with Janeway.  He'd heard them
speaking in low tones from the other side of the partition.  The
captain looked up at him as he walked by and smiled.

"Tom."

He stopped as she greeted him and smiled back.  "Captain, you look
like you're feeling better."

"A little," she agreed.  He knew she was stiff and sore, like
B'Elanna.  "However, you look awful," the captain added, warmly.

"Thanks, Captain," Tom replied breezily.  He knew he looked tired.  He
*was* tired.  But it was for a good reason, and it was a damned small
price to pay.  His lips quirked a little at that thought.

"I understand from Chakotay that your performance as acting first
officer was exemplary," Janeway said.

Tom glanced at Chakotay, who looked back at Tom with that usual
secretly amused gleam in his eye.  "I hope so," Tom replied.  "Though
the acting captain and I did disagree once or twice on how to
proceed."

"That's what I heard," Janeway said.  She gave him a pleased look.
"Any captain knows that the sign of a good first officer is someone
who can not only act as a supportive presence and right-hand person,
but who also doesn't back away from speaking his or her own mind when
the situation warrants."

"I guess I don't have a problem there," Tom said dryly.

Janeway smiled at that.

"No, you don't," Chakotay agreed equally dryly, though there was a
note of humor in his voice.

Janeway looked at them both, and her expression became more serious.
"Thank you both, for keeping Voyager safe, and for rescuing us."

"B'Elanna had a large part to do with that," Tom pointed out.

Janeway nodded.  "She certainly did.  As did everyone.  It took a lot
of teamwork to accomplish this mission.  And it was successful."

"It was," Chakotay agreed.

It was on the tip of Tom's tongue to add "barely," but he thought the
better of it.  "As long as you are all back and safe, then I consider
it successful too."

Janeway gave him a sympathetic and mildly amused look.  "I'm sure you
are very happy that--"

"I thought I told you to leave, Mister Paris."

Tom looked at the doctor, who was glaring at him.  "I was on my way
out."

"And you may go too, Commander," the doctor told Chakotay sharply.
"The captain needs to get some sleep."

"In half an hour, Doctor," Janeway said.  She held up the datapadd
she'd had in her lap.  "I want to glance over these reports the
commander dropped by for me."

"Now--"

"In half an hour," Janeway repeated softly, cutting off the doctor's
protest.  Her voice was mild, but it was belied by the steely glint in
her eyes.

The doctor sighed, knowing when he was beaten.  He shook his head.
"Fine.  I'm only the doctor.  Why should anyone listen to me..."

"Chakotay and Tom are leaving," Janeway offered at his grousing.

The doctor looked only mildly mollified.  "A half an hour," he told
the captain sternly, reasserting his authority.  "And right now I'll
be in my office recording my logs if you need me."  He looked at
Chakotay and Tom and added pointedly, "Goodnight, gentlemen."

"I'll see you in the morning, Captain," Chakotay said.

Janeway nodded.  "Goodnight, Commander.  And Lieutenant..." She
gave Tom a meaningful frown.  "For god's sake, get some sleep."

Tom grinned.  "You too, Captain," he said impudently, and she smiled
back.

Instead of following Chakotay immediately as he left, Tom took several
furtive steps in the other direction, keeping one eye on the doctor,
who'd retired to his office.  He had to look at B'Elanna one more
time, just to reassure himself.  She'd settled on her side, and her
eyes were closed.  She was peacefully asleep.  He thought again, for
perhaps the hundredth time in the past day, that she looked beautiful.
But he would have taken her even as a Borg, just as long as she was
back.

He smiled, satisfied, and caught the captain's amused, understanding
gaze on him as he turned around.  "Goodnight, Captain," he said,
quickly making his exit, and almost running Seven down outside sickbay
in the process.  She raised her eyebrows as he passed, though she
refrained from telling him that he looked awful.

---
Sixty-seven hours:
---

"Deck nine."

B'Elanna sighed and leaned against the back wall as the turbolift
responded to her command and whisked her toward her quarters.  She
felt good.  Maybe not one hundred percent yet, but at least
ninety-five percent.  Close enough.  After Neelix had come by with
their early dinner, she and the captain had ganged up on the doctor
and had convinced him to release them both a few hours early.  After
all, Janeway had reasoned, they hadn't had any relapses, and they'd
passed all the doctor's tests with flying colors, so why did it matter
if they rested in sickbay, or in their quarters?  The doctor had
finally relented, though his parting shot had been to put them both on
medical leave and restricted duty for thirty-six more hours.  She
could review reports and communicate with Engineering via her computer
terminal, but she couldn't step foot there for another day and a half.
But it was worth it to get out of Sickbay.

Tom had eaten breakfast in sickbay with her, though he hadn't come for
lunch.  He'd told her at breakfast that he had something to take care
of during his lunch break.  As the turbolift stopped at deck nine and 
the doors opened, she wished that he was here with her now.  But he 
had another hour of bridge duty.  She knew he would show up as soon as 
his shift was over, and that was good enough.

The door to her quarters slid open as she approached, and though it
had been less than four days since she'd left to go to the Borg cube,
she thought it felt more like weeks since she'd last been here.  She
took several steps inside before she stopped and stared in surprise.

Once Janeway had decided on their plan of action, B'Elanna had needed
to get ready to join the away team so quickly that she'd had no time
to tidy her quarters.  She'd left her previous day's uniform still
draped over the couch, and a dozen datapadds spread across her desk.
She was sure she'd even left the cup she'd drunk coffee out of that
morning on her small dining table.

Everything now was as neat as a pin.  The coffee cup was gone, and in
its place was a crystal vase filled with a dozen roses.  They were
coral roses, her favorites, the kind that Tom often gave her after
they'd had a fight.  She'd started an argument with him intentionally
on more than  one occasion, just to give him some incentive.  Her lips
curved a little as she looked at the subtly colored petals, shaded
from darker to lighter. She could smell their strong, heady scent from
across the room.  She noticed that the datapadds she'd left scattered
on her desk were gathered in a small neat stack and next to them was a
candle in a small glass holder, its flame glowing and flickering.

She walked slowly across the living area to her bedroom.  There were a
dozen more roses on the table by her bed.  Or maybe only eleven,
because one single rose had been placed on her pillow.  The magenta
silk robe Tom had given her two birthdays ago was laid out neatly
across her bed.  There were more candles on the dresser.  Her closet
was open and the clothes were all hanging in perfect order, far more
perfect than she'd left them.  On top of the closet, next to her
neatly stowed empty duffel, sat Toby, looking quite comfortable
watching her from his perch.

B'Elanna looked at the datapadds on her bedside table, no doubt the
same ones she'd left there--the ones with the current warp equations
that she liked to mull over before she went to sleep.  They were in a
neat stack too.  Next to them was a bound book, something she didn't
recognize, and she stepped closer to read the title.

"Third Battle at the Caves of Kor."  A classic Klingon warrior
romance, in the same mold as "Women Warriors at the River of Blood,"
the type she liked to read occasionally when she was in the mood for
some recreational reading.

Feeling a little dazed she picked up the rose from her pillow and
briefly inhaled its scent.  Then she walked around the bed, pausing to
glance into the bathroom.  There were more roses on the counter, and
more candles.  Her towels were fluffed and placed within easy reach
next to the sonic shower.  On top of the towels was a bottle of
lotion, the kind that she liked to use when she got out of the shower.

B'Elanna looked around again, at the roses, and the candles flickering
in the still silence of her quarters.  She knew this was what Tom had
been busy doing on his lunch break, and she couldn't help but be
touched by his thoughtfulness.  A small smile touched her lips again,
right before she turned and practically ran out of her quarters.

---
Sixty-eight hours:
---

Tom stood in B'Elanna's quarters, alone.  He looked at the roses, and
the candles that were still burning.  Her robe was still folded neatly
across her bed the way he'd left it.  Everything was as he'd left it
after he'd spent his lunch break here.  Except for one thing, the
thing that told him B'Elanna had been here.  The single rose he'd
placed across her pillow was gone.

He walked back into the living area.  "Computer, where is B'Elanna
Torres?"

"Deck four, section seven."

He'd half expected that she'd gone to engineering against the doctor's
orders.  Instead she was in his quarters.  Though they could burn all
night safely, he quickly extinguished the candles throughout her
quarters.  Then he left.

A little over a minute later he was at the door to his own quarters.
He hadn't been with B'Elanna for three years without learning the
quickest way to get from his quarters to hers, and vice versa.  The
first thing he heard as he walked in was the television.  He saw Emma
Peel kicking the snot out of some hapless crook with one high-heeled
boot, and he smiled.  He'd always liked a woman who could kick the
snot out of someone, and not have a hair out of place afterwards.

Though B'Elanna wasn't kicking anyone right now.  As he approached
the couch he saw that she was curled up with his blue robe spread over
her, asleep.  She had a datapadd clutched loosely in one hand, and the
rose had been placed on arm of the couch.  He crouched down next to
her and glanced at the datapadd screen, not surprised to see some sort
of engineering report displayed.  He touched her arm lightly.
"B'Elanna..."

B'Elanna sat up abruptly, startled, and the datapadd slipped from her
hand.  He caught it neatly.  She'd tensed her muscles, as if
automatically on the defensive, but she relaxed almost immediately
when she recognized him, and her surroundings.  "Tom."  Her voice was
husky when she said his name, and she rubbed her eyes with one hand.
"I guess I dozed off."

She frowned at him, obviously annoyed that she'd fallen asleep.  Tom
handed her the datapadd.  "I went to your quarters, but you weren't
there."

B'Elanna looked at the datapadd screen intently for a minute, before
she finally looked up at him again.  "I thought I'd wait for you
here...since you have the television."

"The television?" Tom repeated.  B'Elanna didn't pay all that much
attention to the television, even when they were watching it together.
And he'd known the first thing she would do after the doctor released
her from Sickbay was read every engineering log and report that had
been filed during her absence.  He glanced at the television, where
John Steed was making some pithy comment to Mrs. Peel.  Then he looked
back at B'Elanna.  "You mean you didn't want to be alone."

"I didn't like the silence," B'Elanna replied a little shortly.  Then
her lips twisted a little.  "Not that it was silent on the Borg cube.
Everything...hummed.  But drones don't talk to each other.  They're
like walking shadows."

Tom knew that she had been separated from Tuvok and Captain
Janeway for several hours, left to carry out the rest of the sabotage
on her own--as she very effectively had, for which he was immensely
grateful.  But she also hadn't known where the captain had been taken,
and she'd had to keep out of sight of the fully assimilated Tuvok.
And she hadn't known where Voyager was, or when or if the away team
would be beamed out before they all ended up fully assimilated.  That
had to have been a little nerve-racking, even for someone as tough as
B'Elanna.  "Well, you're welcome to stay here as long as you like," he
told her softly.  He had to fight the sudden impulse to say "forever."

B'Elanna looked at him for several moments.  "Thanks.  And thank you
for everything in my quarters.  You didn't have to do that."

Tom shrugged.  "I wanted to do it."  He stood and plucked the rose
from the arm of the couch, and then handed it to her.  "Replicator use
is limited to repair items and other necessities right now, so I
cleaned out the entire supply in the hydroponics bay."  His lips
twitched.  "Ensign Molina will be hunting me down soon."

B'Elanna smiled, and sniffed the rose deeply before she put it back on
the arm of the couch.  "I did appreciate the roses, even if I didn't
stay."

Tom shook his head.  "All I care about is that you're here now," he
said softly.  "When you weren't in your quarters, I thought that maybe
you'd snuck into engineering against the doctor's orders."

B'Elanna frowned.  "No, but I should have."  She glanced down at the
padd in her hand.  "There are at least a week's worth of repairs still
to do.

The whole conduit system needs to be--"

"Hey," Tom said, stopping her.  "It will all get done.  Seven is
supervising the repairs until you get back, and you know *she's*
keeping everyone on their toes."

When B'Elanna didn't look amused by his humor, he added quickly, "If
not quite as well as you do."  He motioned toward the datapadd.
"Seven also told me that she filed the repair schedule for the next
thirty-six hours, so you can see exactly where she and the repair
crews will be working at any given time."  He gave her a significant
look.  "And since it's Seven, you know it's minute by minute, and
there won't be any deviations from the schedule."

Tom wasn't entirely sure the possibility had been part of Seven's
motivation, but B'Elanna immediately understood.  If she happened to
drop into Engineering to check on how repairs were progressing, she'd
know exactly where not to be seen, and the doctor would be no more the
wiser.

"But at least wait until in the morning," Tom said at B'Elanna's
calculating look.  She was still recovering and needed a good night's
sleep away from sickbay, though he knew better than to tell her what
she needed.  He said instead, in a low, husky voice, "I've missed
you."

They hadn't touched each other since he'd tapped her shoulder lightly
to wake her a few minutes earlier.  And during the past couple of days
their contact in sickbay had been limited to hand-holding and a few
quick kisses, cut off every time by the doctor's amazing ability to
show up at B'Elanna's bedside at the exact wrong moment, probably
intentionally.  Her eyes met his now as she stood and pushed his robe
away.  He reached out and cupped his hands around her jaw, resting his
palms lightly on either side of her face.  Her skin was soft and warm,
as if it had never been marred by the Borg assimilation.

B'Elanna flinched just a little, and her hands came up to his in a
gesture that was almost impulsive.  He thought for a second that she
was going to pull his hands away, but she stopped, and instead she
skimmed her hands over his arms and slid them around his neck.  Tom
immediately dropped his hands and wrapped his arms around her waist,
hugging her tightly.  He smelled the faintly antiseptic scent of
Sickbay still on her, so different from the slightly greasy scent that
often clung to her after a day in Engineering.  But beneath anything
he could always smell B'Elanna's own musky scent.

She didn't move, and neither did Tom.  It felt so unbelievably good
just to hold her; to hold each other.  They stood that way for a
minute, or three, before he finally whispered in her ear, "You okay?"

B'Elanna pulled back a little so she could look at him, though her
hands remained linked behind his neck.  "Didn't you promise me that I
would be fine?" she asked softly.

Tom's lips quirked.  "Yeah, I did."

"I am fine, Tom," B'Elanna told him, her voice confident.  "Especially
now."

He smiled, and then studied her for several moments.  He didn't see
any shadows or evasion in her direct gaze.  He knew there had to be
some trauma in being physically assimilated by the Borg, and going
through two and a half days of deassimilation, even though B'Elanna
was incredibly strong.  Still, he planned to keep a close eye on her.
If she had any problems readjusting, physical or otherwise, he'd make
sure he saw it.

"And any lingering effects I'm sure you can kiss away," B'Elanna said
lightly, with a small smile on her face, humoring him no doubt.

Heck, it was worth a try.  He slipped his fingers into her hair, soft
and silky as always, though straight now after he'd gotten used to the
curls this past year.  But he couldn't care much less how she wore her
hair, especially when his mouth met hers.  This time they didn't have
to worry about the doctor interrupting them or anyone else seeing.
The kiss deepened quickly and their bodies melded as closely together
as their mouths.  B'Elanna clutched at his hair, trying to get even
closer.

Tom sank gladly into the sensation of her mouth on his, and her body
pressed intimately against his, and her hands stroking his hair and
his back.  He felt himself responding in more ways than one.  He
moaned...and he pulled away.

"Tom..." B'Elanna protested.

"We can wait--"

"There's no reason to wait," B'Elanna said.

Tom saw the determined look on her face and knew better than to
remind her that she'd just gotten out of Sickbay.  He smiled and
stroked her cheek.  He started to say that they could take it slow,
but she clenched her hand tighter in his hair, and pulled his mouth
down to hers again.  Their bodies molded together, and B'Elanna lifted
one leg and wrapped it around the back of his knees.  She jerked her
leg forward, buckling his knees, a method she'd perfected long ago
when she wanted him on his back.   A second later that's where he was,
on the couch, with her on top of him, and her mouth still on his.

They were too engrossed in each other to notice that the television
was still on, though its bluish light spilled over them.  On the
screen Emma  Peel and John Steed were standing over several recently
dispatched bad guys.  Steed brushed a speck of lint off his suit, and
tipped his hat to  Mrs. Peel.  Then they turned and walked away
together.

---
Seventy hours:
---

B'Elanna lay curled on her side, drowsy and almost asleep, and feeling
very content.  Incredibly content.  Tom was spooned around her, and he
had one arm draped over her waist.  She could feel his soft, steady
breathing against her hair.  Her hand was over his, and their fingers
were intertwined, and her thumb touched the underside of his wrist,
where a bruise was forming.  She grazed her thumb over it lightly.

They'd made love on the couch, and then again a short while ago in
bed.  She'd been aggressive at times during their lovemaking, partly
because she'd missed him, but also because it was a way to immerse
herself back into her own life--letting the passion of her reunion
with Tom wash away the memory of the past few days.

Tom could and had met her aggression with the same in the past, and
there were times when they both enjoyed a little rough sex, and left
their marks on each other.  But tonight Tom had countered all her
aggressive moves with gentleness, accepting her aggression but not
returning it, as if he was afraid of hurting her.  His
over-protectiveness should have annoyed her, but for some reason she
hadn't minded it this time.  She'd even appreciated what it said about
his feelings.

She rubbed the bruise on his wrist again where she'd gripped him hard.
It was just one of several marks, both bruises and teeth imprints,
that she knew she'd left on his body.  And the only mark he'd left on
her body was the lingering warmth where his hands had stroked her.

She sighed and closed her eyes, still stroking his wrist absently.
She had told Tom that she was fine, and she really *was* fine, if
maybe just a bit more tired than usual, which she found damned
annoying.  But she had every intention of checking the progress in
engineering tomorrow, doctor's orders or not.  She was a little
tempted to get the datapadd she'd left on the couch and read the rest
of the reports she hadn't finished, since she always hated not being
completely aware of what was going on in engineering at any given
minute.

But the temptation was slight.  Right now she felt too comfortable,
and too content where she was to move.  Tomorrow would be soon enough.

The dream she'd had last night in sickbay suddenly came back to her,
though she certainly hadn't forgotten it.  She'd dreamed she was a
fully assimilated Borg drone, and she was on Voyager.   She'd stalked
down the corridors, assimilating everyone she met, forcing the tubules
that shot out from her wrist into their necks while they screamed in
agony, and watching with satisfaction as the nanoprobes began to
spread under their skin.  She'd assimilated Sue Nicoletti, Chakotay,
Harry, Tom...

She'd jolted awake from that nightmare sweaty and a little shaken,
though luckily the monitors hadn't tripped and alerted the doctor to
her agitated state.  She'd recovered quickly, though the images had
lingered, keeping her from falling asleep for a while.

It hadn't been a pleasant dream, but it had just been a dream.  She
knew if that was all she had to deal with after the past few days--a
bad dream or two--she could do that.  And if she woke from a nightmare
tonight, she'd only have to feel Tom's arms around her to know where
she was and who she was, and the images wouldn't have the power to
disturb her.

She snuggled a little deeper into the bed, and Tom's arm tightened
reflexively around her in his sleep as if he'd sensed her movement,
and didn't want her to leave.  She would have told him not to worry,
if she wasn't almost asleep herself.

She wasn't going anywhere.

---

Tom was still awake, spooned around B'Elanna's warm, slumbering
form, feeling a deep contentment all the way to his bones.  The events
of the past few days, harrowing as they'd been at times for B'Elanna,
and for him, were over.  They were in the past now, and it was all
fading into a memory, a mildly disturbing one still, but a memory.
Already the worry and fear that had been so sharp were blunted and
hazier in recall.  It was yet another blip in their lives that they'd
moved beyond, its effect softening as normal life took precedence
again.

Last night when he'd slept here alone, incredibly happy that B'Elanna
was well and herself again but still missing her while she'd spent
that final night in Sickbay, he'd had an odd dream.  He'd dreamed that
he was stretched out in bed next to B'Elanna, who was asleep--as he
was now, and as she was now.  He'd rubbed his hands over her warm
skin, and pushed her tangled hair back from her face.  Then he'd
brushed his fingers along the contours of her jaw and over her cheek
and he'd traced the gentle ridges on her forehead.  As she'd started
to rouse, he'd kissed her gently on the lips and told her that she was
everything to him, and that he wanted to be a part of her life--and
her of his--forever--no ifs, ands, or buts.  Then he'd said,
"B'Elanna,  I love you more than life itself.  Will you marry me?"
She'd looked at him with her dark, slumberous eyes, still half-asleep
and bemused--

And then he'd awakened, and the dream had ended.

He'd stared into the dark for a while, wondering what she would have
said in his dream if he hadn't woken just then.  If she would have
given him one of her amused, slightly exasperated looks, assuming he
wasn't serious, and patted his arm, telling him that maybe they could
talk about it some other time besides the middle of the night, before
turning and snuggling back under the covers.  Or if she would have
taken his confession and appeal to heart, and he would have seen that
small rush of vulnerability that flashed in her eyes when she was
moved by something, before she could hide it.  And if she then would
have studied him intently for several seconds before her lips lifted
just a little at the corners, and she nodded a bit hesitantly, and
finally answered in a low,husky whisper, "Yes."

He still wondered what she would say, and he was tempted for a
moment to wake her now and find out.  But he shied away from taking
that step, even though he hadn't forgotten what Harry had said to him.

Maybe Harry was right, and it was about time, but both B'Elanna and he
been shaken up a little over the past few days.  He'd sensed in their
lovemaking tonight that she was still fighting the memories of being
assimilated, and was using him to help her forget, though he didn't
mind at all.  He should be and he wanted to be the person she would
come to unreservedly with everything, the good and the bad.  Still,
she obviously needed time to recover completely, and they both needed
time to return to normal again--to get their relationship back to the
comfortable state it had been in before she'd left.

A little voice inside him chided that they were pretty much back to
that state right now.  Nothing between them had changed, and maybe it
was time to move forward.  But another voice in his head said that he
should take it slow, and perhaps it was a slightly cowardly voice, the
one that wasn't sure exactly how B'Elanna would react if he broached
the idea of making their relationship permanent.

Not that he considered his relationship with B'Elanna anything but
permanent.  Sometimes he wasn't good at admitting it even to himself,
but he knew in his heart that she was the center of his life now, and
that wherever she was, he wanted to be there too.  Always.

He snuggled a little closer to her, cradling her sleeping form,
feeling pleasantly drowsy, assuring himself sleepily that there was
plenty of time yet to let her know how he felt, to tell her that he
wanted them to be together forever.  He wasn't sure how or when, but
as he drifted off into sleep he knew that one of these days, maybe
soon, he would ask her to marry him.

---
"She may be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and rainy years.
Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears,
And make them all my souvenirs
And where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is she.

She."
---

The End