The BLTS Archive-Crush
by monkee (wiecek@earthlink.net)

---

Disclaimers: Paramount owns Star Trek Voyager and all of it's
characters.

---

Captain Janeway and Lieutenant Torres peered into the relay access
port. "I can't wait to try out the new phase inducer modifications,"
Torres said. "I think they're really going to make these re-alignments
a lot easier."

"You're going to oversee it yourself?" Janeway asked, narrowing her
eyes. "I figured that you'd be taking shore leave."

"Not this time," Torres said, firmly.

Janeway sat back on her heels and looked at her chief engineer,
sympathetically. "B'Elanna, you really do deserve some down time," she
began.

"No, no," B'Elanna explained. "I WANT to stay. I had two full days of
leave last time we were planetside, and Tom and I spend a lot of time
on the holodeck. I honestly don't feel like I need leave right now.
Besides, this is interesting for me. I ENJOY this. Do you know what I
mean?"

Janeway sighed. "I understand."

Torres eyed her, realization dawning. "How about you. Are you going
down?"

"I HAVE to. I've been ORDERED to take a few hours off," she said,
almost forlornly.

B'Elanna laughed. "Well," she said, patting her Captain's shoulder,
"It won't kill you, probably. When are you going?"

"Tonight," Janeway replied. "But I have no idea what I'm going to do,
yet."

Their conversation was interrupted as Tom Paris bustled into
engineering, greeting people as he passed by them on his way to
B'Elanna.

"Hey, B'Elanna," he said. "Oh, Hi Captain. I didn't know you were
here."

"Don't mind me," Janeway said, turning her attention back to the
readings on her tricorder. "Just pretend I'm not here."

"B'Elanna," Tom said, "How about dinner? I found this great little bar
on the bay..."

"Tom, I told you, I'm not going down. I really want to be here for
this," B'Elanna said.

"Oh, come on," Paris pleaded. "Just for dinner. A short dinner."

"I can't, Tom. I'm sorry, these are my engines, and this is where I
belong, tonight," B'Elanna said, with finality. "Why don't you go down
with the Captain?"

At that, Janeway glanced up sharply.

"Well," B'Elanna told her, "You said you didn't have anything to do
yet. Why not?"

Paris didn't hesitate. "Come on, Captain. Please? It's the greatest
place, and I heard that the food is incredible!"

Janeway looked at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. "Oh, I don't
know," she said, "I'd hate to cramp your style..."

Encouraged by her hesitation, he said, "Oh, come on, it'll be fun! You
remember what fun is, right?"

His expression was earnest enough, so she smiled, and said,
"Well...all right then. When should we go?"

"I'll meet you in the transporter room at 2000 hours," he grinned.
"See you then!" He kissed B'Elanna quickly on the cheek, and waved as
he departed.

After he left, Janeway scowled at B'Elanna. "Now, look what you've
gotten me into!"

B'Elanna laughed. "Oh, you two will have a good time. How bad could it
be?"

Janeway shook her head, smiling dubiously, then they resumed their
work.

---

Tom Paris felt a flash of disappointment and failure when they walked
into the bar. There was hardly anyone there. 'It must be the
off-season,' he decided to himself. But the Captain seemed unfazed by
this development.

"Well," she said, "it looks like we don't have to worry about the
crowds. Why don't we go and eat at the bar?" He'd been feeling just a
little bit awkward with her since they'd met in the transporter room.
She was wearing a short-sleeved blue dress, and had her hair pinned
back on one side with some kind of silver clasp. She looked great, but
she bore very little resemblance to the Captain that he served under
on the bridge every day.

But when he glanced over at her, the open and relaxed expression on
her face set him at ease, and he steered her towards the bar with a
hand on her back. Once they got settled in, and confirmed with the
barkeep that food was still being served, conversation came easily to
them.

They each ordered what was this planet's equivalent of a cold beer,
and made casual, comfortable small talk as they took in the atmosphere
of their surroundings. Seaside bars, he decided, were much the same
throughout the galaxy. Well-worn wooden floors, nets and other boating
paraphernalia mounted to the walls, open windows letting in the damp,
salty breezes...and a disparate but congenial clientele. There were
only about a dozen people here, but some clearly made their living on
the water, and others, just as obviously, were tourists.

The bartender returned with their drinks, and started to hand them
menus.

"Wait," Janeway said, looking across the bar. "What are those?"

The bartender looked over to where she indicated, and replied "Ah,
those are steamed, spiced L'Hara's -- our specialty."

"They look like steamed crabs," Janeway said, turning to Tom, "Do you
like shellfish?"

"I could sit here and eat shellfish all night," he told her, smiling.

"Let's try them," she suggested.

He agreed readily, and they ordered the L'Hara's, and some side
dishes. The bartender left them, and Tom shook his head, bemused. He
wouldn't have figured her to be the type to want to get down and dirty
with her food.

"What?" she laughed.

"They're going to be messy," he warned.

"They're supposed to be messy. That's half the fun!" she smiled.

"They have exoskeletons," he pointed out, smirking.

She burst out laughing, knowing exactly what he was referring to. "Oh,
God," she said, rubbing her forehead, "Poor Seven!"

"Poor SEVEN?" he exclaimed, "What about poor Chapman?"

"It must have been just awful for both of them," she winced, "Part of
me feels a little guilty that I wasn't there for her when she was
going through all that. I mean, having to get dating advice from a
hologram..."

"Actually, I think the Doc did a great job," he said. She shot him a
disbelieving look. "No, really! Actually," he confided, "I think the
Doc developed a bit of an...infatuation with Seven for a while
there..."

She absorbed this information, wide-eyed. Then she shook her head and
shrugged, smiling. "She could do worse!"

They talked about the crew for a while. He told her a few harmless
anecdotes about various crewmembers. Nothing that would get anyone in
trouble, but she was so interested and eager to hear the stories, he
just couldn't resist. He imagined that it must be isolating, being in
command. To lead people that you didn't even know very well, because
they were never completely themselves around you. He chose his stories
carefully, picking ones that he knew she'd appreciate, and by the time
the bartender brought the food, she was almost breathless with
laughter.

They tore into the L'Hara with reckless abandon, pulling apart the
shells, and prying out the meat. They did taste very much like crabs,
and the spices that they'd been steamed with were hot and tangy
tasting, a perfect compliment to the cold ale that they were drinking.
Tom remembered one of the reasons that he enjoyed eating shellfish --
it was a sociable event more than a meal. Getting the meat out was a
time consuming process, and there was plenty of time to talk and joke
around.

Some of the side dishes that they ordered were quite good, and the
rolls were fresh. There was one vegetable that they both tasted and
pushed away, as subtly as possible, trying not to screw up their faces
in disgust.

"Oh my," he said, shuddering.

"God, I'll bet Neelix already discovered this! It'll probably show up
in casseroles for the next two months," Janeway groaned.

"And we'll be forced to listen to endless pontification about how
wonderfully rich in vitamins and nutrients it is," he laughed.

"And I'll bet he'll discover that it goes really well with..."

"Leola root!" he groaned, chuckling. Neelix thought EVERYTHING went
well with Leola root.

The cracked shells and L'Hara innards piled up in the basket that had
been placed between them for that purpose. They each ordered a third
ale. They'd been there for a couple of hours already, and neither one
of them was showing signs of slowing down on the L'Hara. It was
getting late, but there was still a smattering of people in the bar,
so they weren't concerned. As they continued to eat, and drink, their
conversation turned to vacations and beaches.

"You know," Tom said, "I've been to beaches all over Earth. We
vacationed in New England every summer, and I loved the wildness of
the Maine beaches. But I think my favorite ones were the simplest.
Wide, sandy, straight beaches. With dunes and seagulls."

"Me, too!" Janeway said. "Like the ones on the mid-eastern seaboard of
North America. Delaware, Maryland, North Carolina...all of those
beaches. That's where we used to go."

"I'm surprised," he said, "I had you pegged for a California girl."

"Well, once I joined Starfleet, that's always where I wound up. And
that's where I used to go with Mark. But it never felt quite right to
me. I didn't like the glare in the evenings with the sun setting over
the water."

"Plus there was no point to getting up before dawn in the morning to
watch the sun rise over the ocean," he added.

"We used to go to the Delaware beaches off season, in September and
October," Janeway said, almost dreamily, her eyes unfocused. "There
was hardly anyone around, and there would just be the first signs of
chill in the air. Phoebe and I used to walk for hours and not see a
soul."

At the far-away tone in her voice, he glanced over at her, then
smiled.

"Captain?" he said.

"Hmmm?" she replied, turning to look at him. He reached up with his
hand. She didn't pull away, although she looked somewhat wary. Gently,
he rubbed his finger over her nose.

"You have L'Hara guts on your nose," he told her.

She smiled broadly, and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.

"Gone?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think we got it all," he grinned. He studied her peripherally
-- he couldn't get over how different she looked tonight. The dress
that she was wearing was actually quite modest, but just seeing her
out of uniform, in this environment, and this relaxed, was startling.
He knew that she was an attractive woman, but there was something just
so warm and human about her tonight -- the bare skin showing on her
neck and around her collarbone, where usually there was just
uniform...he was aware of her in a way that he usually wasn't. He
wondered briefly if that were appropriate, and thought of B'Elanna
with an unexpected pang of guilt. But no, there was nothing wrong with
this evening. They were just two friends and colleagues enjoying each
other's company.  No problem.

Still, her comfort with the situation and the sparkle in her eyes was
disarming him. He forced his attention back to what she was saying.

"What I love best," she said, "is to walk on the beach at night. I
love the way the sand feels so cool, and the water, after you get used
to it, feels so warm. And when the moon is full, and rising over the
water...it's just incredible."

And for an instant, he could just picture her, walking lazily along
the shore, a breeze blowing back her hair, carefree relaxation
permeating her features, and the moonlight shimmering on the water
behind her. He wished that she could have those things again, even for
a short time. And he wished he could be around to see it.

"You know," he said, suddenly, "The next time we stop at a planet with
a beach, we should have a clambake. I'll bet Neelix would love to
organize something like that -- it would be great! Set up a huge
bonfire..."

"Yes! And a volleyball net, and...what a great idea, Tom! We could set
it up for around a shift change, so everyone would have a chance to
go!" She was clearly enthusiastic about the idea. He loved seeing this
side of her. He remembered seeing it a lot more often in their early
years in the delta quadrant. The years were taking a toll on her
spirit. But for tonight, she was her old self again. He hoped that
he'd had something to do with that. She looked so happy.  It seemed
like a lifetime ago, now, it WAS a lifetime ago - but the unguarded
expression on her face, and the conversation, reminded him of the
first time he'd met her.

"I wonder," he started to say, then stopped. Maybe he ought to leave
this topic alone.

"You wonder...what?" she asked, taking another sip of her drink.

Oh well. Too late now. "I remember a clambake that my father had, for
some of his crew and staff, back at our house on the cape. You were
there, do you remember it?"

She smiled. "I do, now that you mention it. It was the first year that
I served on the Icarus with him. Why - were you there?"

He buried his face in his hands in mock devastation. "You don't
REMEMBER me?" he asked, laughing. "At ALL?"

"No," she said, apologetically.

"I'm hurt, Captain! We played on the same volleyball team," he told
her. "And we had, oh...about a ninety second conversation about the
Mach 47 shuttle, which had just come out that year."

"Oh, NOW I remember you. That was you! I remember being impressed that
a kid your age could converse so intelligently about shuttle engine
dynamics."

He groaned, dramatically. "That's all I was to you, of course. A kid.
Well, I'll have you know that I was 15 and you were 23, and I got an
unbelievable crush on you that night!"

"Get out of here!" she laughed, rolling her eyes.

"No, really. It went on for years and years. I was completely obsessed
with you. I remember my father being mystified by my sudden interest
in his career. I used to interrogate him about his work on the Icarus.
He mistook it for an ardent desire to pursue a career in Starfleet.
God, he was so happy! Of course, I couldn't tell him that I was just
digging for information about you. One mention of your name would put
me off-balance for days..." His voice trailed off as he realized that
he was probably saying too much, as usual.

She was leaning with her elbows on the bar, gaping at him,
incredulously. He noticed that her face had gotten flushed. "I...I
don't know what to say!" she said, shaking her head. "That's...that's
unbelievable. I'm flattered, I guess. And...well, a little bit
embarrassed! How long did this go on?"

Well, now that was an interesting question. He wasn't sure he'd ever
gotten completely over it. But he couldn't tell her that, it would be
too awkward. He thought back, remembering...

"It didn't end so much as...well, it just changed, a couple of years
later. When I went to your father's funeral."

"You were there?" she asked, the slightest catch in her voice. "I...I
barely remember my father's funeral."

"You were numb," he said, gently. "Not even completely recovered from
your physical injuries, I don't think. I watched you - you just stared
straight ahead. I don't think I saw you speak to anyone, not even your
family. Suddenly, in the face of that kind of brutal loss -- you lost
your fiancé in that crash too, right?"

She nodded.

"In the face of all that, my crush just seemed so inane. Childish. I
was disgusted with myself for feeling that way when you were in so
much...pain. So, I put it aside. Then the next year, I went to the
academy. Grew up."

She snorted a little in amusement at the notion of him having ever
grown up, but her eyes were still serious. "I don't know what to say,"
she admitted.

"Well, it's nothing," he grinned, "I just thought you'd get a kick out
of knowing about it, now. It's nothing to worry about. Over the years,
my feelings just...altered a little. Now I feel a...different kind of
affection, and respect."

That earned him a lopsided smile, and he saw her brush a tear away
from her cheek with the back of her left hand. She reached out with
her right hand, and he took it. And they sat together in companionable
silence; each lost in their own thoughts.

---

After dinner, they wandered out to the docks, just outside the bar.
They strolled side by side, down to the end of one pier, then back and
around and down to the end of another. There they stopped, and
listened to the night sounds -- clanking channel markers in the bay,
waves lapping up against the pilings, and the muted clatterings in the
closing bar.

Tom watched as Janeway sighed, closed her eyes, and tipped her head
back. He smiled at the complete lack of tension on her face. He
doubted that even Chakotay ever saw her look this way anymore. He
found himself noticing things -- things that he hadn't dared linger on
until now -- the slight upward curve of her nose, the muted blue of
her eyes, the almost regal angle of her cheekbones. So intently was he
studying her that he didn't realize that she had noticed, and was
looking directly back at him.

"What?" she chuckled. "Do I have more L'Hara guts on my nose?"

He smiled briefly, then grew serious again. "No," he said, softly.
Then, with trepidation, he stepped closer to her. He had no idea what
he was doing, really. He was caught up in a spiraling web of
conflicting feelings. He'd had his ups and downs serving under her
command, and over the years he'd felt anger, admiration,
combativeness, respect, gratitude -- all these things. Now friendship
had been added into the mix, along with the memory of an ancient
romantic obsession. Without thinking, he reached for her. Again she
did not flinch -- but her eyes were scrutinizing him intensely. He
touched her face, and bent down fractionally, towards her, stopping
when her eyes flashed a subtle warning.

"Indulge a twenty-year-old fantasy?" he asked, quietly. She stared at
him, but didn't pull away, and finally, smiling ever so slightly,
closed the distance between them, and kissed him softly on the lips.

Her lips were warm and still carried the tangy taste of the spices
from the L'Hara. She started to pull back, but he held her head
lightly until she relaxed and he deepened the kiss, just a little,
moving his lips over hers gently. She took a deep breath, then pulled
away slowly.

He resisted the urge to tell her that it had been worth the wait,
although it was true. He was reluctant to disturb the moment with
conversation just yet. Still touching her face, he smiled at her, and
was relieved when she smiled back. He touched his forehead to hers,
and they stood that way for several heartbeats.

Finally, she pulled away, a little reluctantly, it seemed to him. She
took a deep breath and said, "Tom, this is..."

"Over the minute we beam back to the ship -- I know." he said, with no
hesitation.

"But...not all of it. I hope," she added, raising her eyebrows
questioningly.

"Of course not," he smiled, letting go of her face. He didn't want to
lose their newfound closeness either, even if it had to stay platonic.
And of course it did, he knew that. He took her hand and they ambled
back up the pier. He swung their clasped hands between them, and she
laughed and rolled her eyes.

Back on shore, she sighed and said, "Well, I'd better go back. It's
getting late."

It WAS getting late. But he felt a sudden tight panic at the prospect
of the evening coming to an end just yet. It felt...magical, somehow.
Right.

"Are you sure? We could have them beam us over to the ocean side," he
suggested. "You could get your night walk in the surf..."

Now she touched his face, forcing eye contact and stilling his words.
"I don't think that's a good idea," she said quietly.

He knew she was right. He'd just gotten caught up in the moment.
Caught up in his vision of her walking on the shore with moonlight
glimmering behind her. The evening had to end now. For his sake, and
for hers. And for B'Elanna's sake, he suddenly reminded himself,
guiltily.

"Right. I know," he agreed. "You go on up. I...I'm going to stay here
a while longer. Walk around a little..."

She nodded, and smiled at him sadly. "I had a wonderful time, Tom,"
she said. "I'll see you tomorrow." She called for transport and he
watched as she de-materialized in a cloud of shimmering particles,
then disappeared completely. Magic.

He shook his head, stunned at the abruptness of it all. Marveling, as
he had all of his life, at transporter technology. How someone could
be standing beside you one moment -- solid, warm, palpably present --
and in the next moment vanish completely into thin air.

Almost like they'd never really been there at all.

He sighed and pulled his hand through his hair -- then he turned and
began to walk slowly along the shore of the bay, alone with his
thoughts. Already wondering if any of it had really even happened.

---

The End