The BLTS Archive-Gravity Well
#2: Planet X
by monkee (wiecek@earthlink.net)

---

Author's Note: This is a J/P story. Other pairings, past and future,
and friendships, are touched upon, but for SoS purposes, it should be
considered J/P.

Disclaimers: Paramount owns Star Trek Voyager and all its characters.

---

He didn't know her access code, of course, but there were ways  around
that. After tinkering around behind a panel, he heard her doors swish
open. He replaced the panel and stepped inside.  Once the doors closed
behind him, he exhaled in relief, blowing some of his longer hair out
of his eyes at the same time. In another of the random, disjointed
thoughts that entered his mind since they'd beamed up, it occurred to
him that he was going to have to cut his hair now. It wasn't
regulation.

He was glad to be alone.  He'd missed everyone, of course, but it was
strange to be back.  Walking the corridors, people would smile and
wave to him as though they'd just seen him yesterday, which, of
course, they had. They'd say, "Hey, Paris..." and then their voices
would trail off, as they noticed how different he looked. And he did
look different, and it wasn't just the hair or the tan. He looked
different because he was different. He felt like he'd lived a lifetime
in the three years that they had been inside the gravity well.

He'd gone to his own quarters first, but once he'd taken a few steps
inside, he'd stopped in his tracks.  It looked exactly as he'd left it
three years ago. There was even a pizza crust on the arm of his couch.
It was just too surreal.  It reminded him of when he'd returned home
during breaks at the Academy and his old bedroom looked like it
belonged to another person entirely. He just had to turn around and
leave. It wouldn't do to run into B'Elanna anyway. That was a
conversation he just couldn't face yet.

Still standing near her doorway, he looked around.  He'd only been
here a few times over the years. She kept it neat. It was calming,
somehow. A contrast to the chaos in his quarters.  There were fresh
flowers on her dining table, and he wondered, absently, if she and
Chakotay had had dinner the night before the ill-fated mission.  He
moved then, suddenly -- started walking around the room, fingering her
belongings.  Their life on the planet had been rough and basic, and
the pictures, books and antiques that she had in her quarters seemed
so refined and alien. It made him uneasy, that there was so much about
her he didn't know.

Of course, he'd been feeling uneasy ever since they'd walked into the
shelter to find the away team.  She had pulled away from him, and he
didn't know what it meant. He was hoping that it was simply a little
awkwardness -- that it was a shock to be the Captain again. That she
was upset about B'Elanna. He refused to believe that it could be
anything else. Not yet.  It was inconceivable to him that she would
turn away from him...from them. Not when they'd worked so hard to find
the balance. Not when it felt so right.

Her. Kath. Captain.  He didn't even know what to call her in his own
thoughts. He wondered where the hell she was.  The doctor had ordered
them both off-duty for two days - or had that been her suggestion?  He
remembered, vaguely, her telling Chakotay that she needed to get back
up to speed.  He decided she must be preparing the message for the
Gryzindars. They intended to remain on the planet, but wanted their
people notified about their fate.

He didn't know what to do. He wanted a shower, but he had nothing to
change into, and wasn't sure what his replicator status was.  He
needed to move, but he had nowhere to go.  Giving up, he sat down on
her couch and looked out the viewport at the stars.  He allowed
himself a brief moment's pleasure at seeing them like this again.  He
wasn't meant for a planet bound existence. Neither of them were. No
matter what happened now, he was glad that they both had the stars
back.

In the silence and the stillness, staring out at the blackness of
space and the stars, his mind went back to the beginning...

---
Three Years Earlier
---

He found her sitting on the ground, leaning her back against the
wreckage of the shuttle, and his heart sank.  If she'd found anything
at all worth working on, she'd be working on it. He'd suspected that
nothing would be salvageable, and this confirmed it.  What brought him
up short was the fact that she did not seem to be upset.  She was
gazing off into the distance almost serenely.

"Captain?" he said, alerting her to his presence.

She turned.  "Hello, Tom," she said.  "What did you find out about our
new neighbors?"

"You first," he replied, stooping down beside her.  "I take it there's
nothing we can do?"

"Not a thing," she said.  "The distortion field drained the power
supply to every system on board, so even if the impulse engines
weren't scattered halfway across this peninsula, we couldn't get them
on-line anyway. And, of course, we dumped the core, so there go the
warp engines..."

He winced. "Sorry. Dumping the core was my idea."

She put a hand on his arm, for reassurance. "Oh, no, it was the right
thing to do," she said.  "If we hadn't done it, we'd be dead, and we'd
have taken a good chunk of this continent with us."

"I've activated the emergency beacon," she added, "but the signal is
just being bounced right back."

"Just like last time," he mused, remembering his previous experience
with a gravity well.  "The only way Voyager will pick up our signal is
if they land right on top of us."

"Or crash right on top of us," she added, grimly.

"Oh, they won't crash here," he said, with mock cheerfulness. "Because
they'll never find this gravity well. Not when we were so far off
course - which was also my idea, by the way."

She rolled her eyes. "Tom," she said, impatiently, "This was not your
fault. You picked up some anomalous readings and suggested that we
investigate them. I agreed. And here we are. Case closed."

"But if I hadn't..."

"Tom," she interrupted, "This was not your fault. It wasn't anyone's
fault. Or maybe it was my fault for stranding us here in the Delta
Quadrant in the first place."

He looked at her sharply, but realized, by a glitter in her eye, that
she was joking.  He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay," he
said, smiling, "I won't feel guilty if you won't either. Deal?"

"Deal," she agreed.

"Besides," he added, "It's really Chakotay's fault.  If he hadn't
joined the Maquis, you wouldn't have gone into the Badlands looking
for him, and..."

She laughed. "Okay, It's Chakotay's fault. I can live with that."

After a moment, her smile faded. "So," she prompted him, getting back
to business.

"Our new neighbors," he said. "Well, as you heard when we first ran
into them, they're pretty difficult to understand. Either the
universal translators aren't working properly, or their language is
just too different. Near as I could tell, though, they've been here
about 12 years. Their vessels were irreparably damaged too, so they're
stranded. They actually don't seem too broken up about that -- I think
they were involved in a pretty brutal war."

She snorted slightly. "So they actually like it here?"

"Hey, this place isn't so bad," he said, surprised. "It's a whole lot
nicer than the last planet I was stranded on!"

"It's not as nice as the last planet I was stranded on," she said,
smiling sadly.

He couldn't think of a response to that.  "Anyway," he continued,
"they said we could use the vacant shelter that we saw over by the
river." He shook his head.  "It needs a lot of work."

She stood up and offered a hand to help him up as well.  "It's better
than nothing," she said.  "The shuttle doesn't even have a roof
anymore." As they moved into the shuttle debris to gather up supplies,
she asked, "So, what do they call this planet."

He laughed and pulled out a PADD. "I had it printed out. I can't
pronounce it."

She looked down at the PADD and whistled, low.  "That's a lot of
consonants," she observed.

"Mostly X's and Z's," he agreed.  "Maybe we should call it 'Planet X.'

She laughed, and again he marveled at how readily she was accepting
all of this.  He shook his head, mystified.

"You seem to be handling this pretty well," he said, glancing over at
her.

She stopped rummaging around for the medkit and looked back at him.
"I don't share your pessimism, Tom.  I think there's a good chance
Chakotay will find this gravity well. After all, we found you and
Tuvok last time."

He bit his lip. That had been a little different, and she knew it. But
he didn't want to depress her.  "I hope you're right, Captain," he
said, forcing a smile.

"You know, Tom," she said.  "Perhaps while we're down here we should
dispense with the formalities.  Maybe you should call me 'Kathryn."

He froze. He mouthed the word silently to himself -- a little
surprised at how difficult it seemed.  She chuckled and touched his
arm as she walked by him to the door.  "I guess I'll give you a couple
of days on that one," she said, smiling a little sadly at something
only she understood.

Together, with the two boxes of all that was salvageable from the
shuttle, they headed toward the path that would lead them to their new
home.

---

He woke in the middle of the night, his heart pounding, instantly
alert. She was awake as well, sitting frozen, bolt upright in the tent
they'd set up once they'd realized that their shelter was currently
uninhabitable.  He'd heard something, he was sure of it. Something
terrible. It happened again. A high-pitched, desperate shriek
reverberating through the nearby woods.  They were both fumbling for
their phasers for a moment before they remembered that those didn't
work any better than most of their other equipment.  He sat,
petrified, wishing that one of them had thought to get a large stick,
or something, to use as a weapon, just in case.  There was another
shriek -- it felt like it was going right through him.

"My God," she said, softly.

"We should head over to the shelter," he suggested. "There's a
hydrospanner in one of the boxes I brought. It doesn't work, but at
least it's heavy..."

Before she could respond, there was another shriek. This one was
accompanied by another, lower groaning sound.  As both the
high-pitched shrieking and the guttural groaning increased in tempo
and frequency, it became apparent that what they were hearing was not
any kind of attack.

The Captain was the first one to speak.  "I don't think we need to arm
ourselves," she said, wryly.

"Wow," he muttered.

He felt his face burning, and was grateful for the darkness.  He
shouldn't be embarrassed, but it was an odd situation. Here he was in
a tent with his Captain listening to aliens make love loudly somewhere
nearby.  It was probably a couple who snuck off regularly to make love
on the path leading away from the main settlement. Great. He hoped
they would be finished soon. The noises were arousing him now, and he
was more aware than he should be of the woman next to him.

They both settled back into their sleeping bags. Mercifully, the
energetic sexual encounter ended quickly. He heard the Captain
chuckling softly beside him and settled in for a long night. He knew
he wouldn't be falling asleep again any time soon.

---
Seven Months Later
---

"I got sunshine...on a cloudy day, When it's cold outside, I got the
month of May..."

They were on their way home from the Gryzindar's harvest festival, and
he was in a good mood.  He and the Captain were generally either too
busy or too exhausted to socialize much with their neighbors, but when
they did they usually had a pretty good time. The Gryzindar were all
right, if you could get past the language barrier, and the fact that
they ate insects. Lots of insects. With great gusto. The Gryzindar
seemed to do everything with great gusto.

He continued to sing.

"I guess...you say... What can make me feel that way? Come on! Sing it
with me, Captain!"

"I don't think so," she said, firmly.  She was walking ahead of him
with the lantern, but he heard her smile. "But it's 'My Girl,' by the
Temptations."

"Good!" he grinned. "That's right!" He took a deep breath, preparing
to continue with the chorus, when she stopped abruptly. He nearly ran
into her. "Whoa..."

"Shhh!" she said, putting her fingertips over his mouth. "Listen..."

They were both silent for a moment or two, and then he heard it, a
little ways ahead on the path. One of the short, high-pitched squeals
that he knew would lead to the heart-stopping shrieks and frantic
grunts that characterized the Gryzindar's mating behavior.  He sighed.
This was the third time this week.

"Good God," she whispered. "Not again! We’ll have to go around the
long way, I guess."

They turned back, and once they were out of range, he asked her "Who
do you think it is?"

"I have no idea," she laughed. "I always look around when we're at the
settlement and try to figure it out."

"I was sure it was Grkzyklk and that woman with the jewelry," he said.
"But they were there when we left, so it couldn't be them."

They reached the other path, the one that would lead them over the
bluff and around to the back of their shelter, and turned onto it.  It
was a smoother, wider path, and they were able to walk side by side.
Without discussing it, they both slowed down. If they were going to
have to go the long way, they may as well take their time. They had a
long night ahead of them anyway.

The day's were approximately twenty-eight earth hours long on 'Planet
X.' The longer days were gratefully appreciated, given all that they
had to do, but neither of them had adapted to sleeping through the
long nights.  And with the approach of winter, they were getting
longer.

The days were packed, though. He'd absolutely never worked as hard in
his life, at least physically.  The Gryzindars may be able to thrive
on insects, but they needed actual food.  The first thing they'd done,
even before repairing the shelter, was put in a rudimentary garden.
Because the shuttle had crashed in the late spring, they'd only gotten
some basics in.  He couldn't believe the amount of work that went into
it, and how exhausting it was. The next order of business had been to
get the shelter habitable and winterized.  That had taken the better
part of the summer. They'd spent the autumn preparing food for
storage, and drying fish.  He was profoundly grateful that her
survival skills were so good -- it hadn't been his strong suit at the
academy. Hell, he couldn't even slay spiders on the last planet he'd
been stuck on.  She said her parents had insisted that she and her
sister understand their 'pioneer roots.' That certainly hadn't been a
priority with HIS father.

He missed Voyager so much it hurt. He missed his quarters. He missed
the replicators. He missed the sonic shower -- in the warmer weather
he bathed in the river, but now that it was colder they had to heat
water the old-fashioned way.  The conditions were so primitive.  He
missed the holodeck, the messhall -- he even missed Neelix's food.
Naturally, he missed B'Elanna and his friends the most, but he tried
not to dwell on that too much, since it wouldn't do any good.

The one bright spot in his life these days was the Captain. And yes,
he still thought of her as the Captain. He never had gotten the knack
of calling her 'Kathryn,' although lately he'd been having better luck
with the shorter 'Kath' -- it just seemed to suit her better, at least
down here. With the command structure stripped away, he'd found that
the two of them were actually quite similar in temperament and
personality.  He'd always dealt with adversity by joking his way
through it, and she didn't mind that. In fact, she seemed to genuinely
share his wry sense of humor, and they worked together comfortably and
smoothly.

There were moments, occasionally, when they'd be laughing about
something, and she'd touch his arm or his chest, and he would feel a
definite spark between them. A strong attraction that was both
physical and emotional.  He supposed that was hardly surprising, given
their camaraderie, and the fact that they were the only two humans on
the planet.  They always pulled apart a little awkwardly.  It just
didn't feel right, not yet. He knew she was still hopeful that Voyager
would find them.  And other times, he knew she was discouraged.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he'd hear her quietly slip
outside and sit on the front stoop of their shelter.  He knew not to
disturb her then -- she had to mourn her losses in her own time and in
her own way, just as he did. They both had a lot to adjust to, and it
didn't seem like the right time to turn to each other. Besides, he
really liked the rapport they had now. It was nice. Comfortable.

They slowed again as they trudged up the side of the bluff, pacing
themselves.  They were winded when they reached the top and stopped to
catch their breath.  They both loved it up here. It was the highest
point in the area, and offered the most open view of the sky.  It was
a clear night, and the stars were brilliant. She looked up, smiling,
then shut off the lantern.

They stood in silence for a few minutes; both lost in their own
ruminations. He wondered if she was looking for a light that was
moving. He was half looking for one himself.  He felt his good mood
slowly fade away, to be replaced by a contemplative sadness. He rarely
stopped long enough to look up at the stars and remember. It depressed
him beyond words to think that he might not ever be up there again.

"I miss flying," he finally said, quietly.

She sighed. He looked over at her and could just make out her
silhouette in the darkness. She was nodding.  "Me too," she whispered.
Then she looked over at him.  "You must miss B'Elanna," she added,
softly.

Gazing back up at the stars overhead, he said "Yeah. More than I can
say." They'd never really spoken directly of their losses, but it felt
right that they were now.  "I never told her that I loved her, you
know. Ever," he confessed.  "It's my biggest regret."

She touched his arm briefly.  "I'm sure that she knew, Tom," she said,
and he could hear the small smile in her voice.  "We always know," she
added.

He smiled too. In his heart, he knew that B'Elanna had known how he
felt. It was a comfort to him.  He glanced back at the woman beside
him tentatively.

"What about you, Capt...Kath?" he asked, correcting himself
mid-sentence. "What do you miss?"

She didn't speak for a long minute, and he was afraid that perhaps he
was pushing her -- that she wasn't ready to talk about this.  But then
she took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.  "I miss...everything,"
she said. "Just...everything. I mean, it was my ship. It was
everything to me.  I miss the sounds, the smells, the vibrations of
the deck plating, the blur of stars in the viewports.  And, of course,
I miss the crew."

Out of the corner of his eye, he detected a slight movement. Her
uniform rustled as she leaned up against a tree. She continued, almost
as though she was talking to herself.  "They're an incredible crew,"
she mused. "I miss seeing their faces, hearing their voices, their
laughter..."

She shook herself, slightly, bringing herself back to the present.  In
the darkness, he couldn't really see her, but he could tell that she
was looking his way.  "I miss Tuvok," she continued, fondly.  "It's
funny -- he and I didn't spend much time together off-duty, but I
never stopped considering him one of my closest friends. I miss his
presence." She sighed, and looked back up at the stars.  "And, of
course, I miss Chakotay." Her voice seemed to waver, just a little, on
the name.

He bit his lip, leaning carefully up against a tree across from hers.
"Did you love him?" he asked. It was almost funny -- that question had
been a source of unending speculation up on the ship, and he'd just
come right out and asked her.

"Yes," she said, simply.

"Did you ever tell him?" he asked.

"No," she replied.  "But he knew."

He chuckled.  "Yeah, we always know," he said, echoing her earlier
words. She snorted softly in amusement.

After a little consideration, he asked, tentatively, "Can I ask you a
personal question?"

"Mmmm," she replied, absently.

"When you and he were on...New Earth, was it? Were the two of you..."
he let his voice trail off intentionally.

She smiled a little, and looked down. He wondered if he'd crossed a
line, but she just shook her head. "No," she said, "We weren't lovers.
We would have been, I think. If Voyager had come back even a week
later...but it was really for the best. If we had, it would have been
so difficult to put it behind us back on the ship. Even as it was, it
was...difficult for both of us."

He touched her arm sympathetically, but she seemed to be okay.  She
had her head tilted thoughtfully and said nothing for a few moments,
lost in her memories.

"You know," she mused, "he made me a bathtub."

"He made you a BATHTUB?" he asked.  "How?"

"Out of wood," she replied.  "I never did ask him how.  I wish I had.
We could use a bathtub down here."

"Yeah," he agreed.  "It would sure beat the bucket and sponge bath
system we have now." He paused, then repeated incredulously, "He made
you a damned bathtub. That's...unbelievable."

She chuckled, then went on, almost talking to herself, "It was more
than one piece of wood, but I don't know how he put it together, or
sealed it..."

But he didn't really hear the rest of what she said. He was lost in
his own thoughts. He was thinking about Chakotay, and her, and the
devotion inherent in the act of building a bathtub for someone, and
wishing...

"If I could make you a bathtub, I would," he blurted out, without
really meaning to say it out loud.

He'd interrupted her, and she stopped talking, momentarily confused.
She drew in a sharp breath, and let it all out at once as she stepped
over to stand in front of him.  She looked at him with a sentimental
smile. He could see her eyes misting a bit.

"I know you would," she said, and she touched his chest. Before he was
consciously aware of it happening, his hand reached out to touch her
cheek. She froze.

"Kath," he whispered.  She reached up and clasped the hand on her
cheek, kissing his thumb softly before pulling it away.  Shaking
himself, he took a step back.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Tom..." she started, then bit her lip.  She turned away from him
slightly, and his heart sank at the prospect that he'd gone and made
things awful and awkward between them now. But then she faced him
again.

"Tom, don't apologize. It's all right. And..." She sighed sharply,
then continued.  "I'm not being coy, Tom. I mean, we're the only two
humans on the planet, and obviously at some point..."

He laughed quietly and looked down at the ground.

"I'm just not ready yet," she said.  "I can't...not when there's still
a chance."

"We've been gone for seven months, Captain," he pointed out. He wasn't
arguing with her, not about this. He didn't think he was being
pessimistic, just practical.  "Surely Voyager has had to move on by
now."

"Normally, I'd agree with you," she said, "but there was a temporal
differential the last time. There may be one now. It's possible that
only a few weeks have gone by on Voyager. And I just can't let go, not
until I'm absolutely sure..."

He nodded. That was true enough.  And really, he was happy with the
way things were between them. He'd just gotten carried away by the
moment.

"I understand," he said, smiling, and squeezing the hand she was
holding.

"I hope so," she said. "Because it's not that I'm not tempted...I'm
just not ready."

He nodded.

"And neither are you, really," she added.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. She was probably right, but how...

"What do you mean?" he asked, curious.

"Tom," she laughed, "you still call me 'Captain' half the time. We
both have some adapting to do yet."

He grinned. "I really am working on that."

She leaned over and kissed him, quickly, on the lips.  Then she
released his hand and indicated, with a tilt of her head, the path
that led down the bluff to their shelter.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go home.  Do you want to play cards?"

"Sure," he smiled. He picked up the lantern and turned it on again,
and they headed for home.

--- ---
Five months later
---

He nudged the door of the shelter open and stepped outside. She was
sitting on the small stoop, and didn't even turn around. This was
almost a middle-of-the-night ritual. He had woken up and couldn't get
back to sleep, and suspected the same thing had happened to her. It
was amazing that even after a year, neither of them had adjusted to
the longer nights. He sat down beside her, carefully, trying not to
slosh the liquid in the two cups he was carrying.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, quietly.  "I splurged and mixed up
one of the dehydrated lemonades from the emergency rations. I thought
we should toast the one-year anniversary of our spectacular crash."

She smiled, and took the proffered cup. "Why not?" she said.

He held his cup out toward hers.  "To Planet X," he said.

She laughed. "Planet X," she repeated. The tapped their cups together,
then sipped. A sharp, tangy sweetness exploded in his mouth, and
actually made his eyes water.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. They exchanged glances of surprise and
appreciation with each other, and then he burst out laughing.

"God, we're pathetic! Look at us! It's dehydrated lemonade!" he
exclaimed.

"I know," she chuckled. "But it tastes good, doesn't it? I'm so tired
of water."

They sat together, drinking, in companionable silence. It was
pleasantly cool outside -- cooler than it was in the shelter,
actually.  Today had been the first genuinely hot day of the season so
far. He had removed uniform layers and was wearing only the pants and
T-shirt. She was down to the tank top. He tried not to stare at the
freckles on her shoulder.

He no longer thought of her as his Captain.  It had taken a while for
him to get to that point, and he figured that it was probably because
they were always in their uniforms, which were a constant reminder of
their past lives. Also, when they first arrived here, she had the
stronger survival skills, and had naturally assumed the leadership
role between them. Now that they both knew what they were doing, their
relationship had become more balanced. Now, when he looked at her, he
no longer saw his imperious Captain. He saw a beautiful and strong
woman. Someone who laughed at his jokes. Someone who actually seemed
to believe that she could subdue the tomato bugs by glaring at them.
Someone who came back from bathing in the river with rosy skin and
wet, tangled hair, looking incredible. Someone that he wanted to be
closer to. He didn't push her -- his desire for her had become a
gentle backdrop to his life here. Occasionally, he would catch her
looking at him contemplatively, and he had the sense that she was
feeling some of the same things for him. It would happen when it was
meant to. Soon, he thought.

She finished her lemonade and put her cup aside.  She leaned back on
her elbows and tipped her head to look up at the stars through the
trees. She sighed.  "What is it about a milestone?" she asked.  "I was
fine yesterday, but today, on the one-year anniversary, I've been
agitated and restless."

He finished his drink and nested his empty cup inside hers.  "I think
milestones force us to take stock," he replied, studying her face in
the dim light. Her eyes were closed.  "They make us remember the past,
and wonder about the future."

"Exactly the two things I try to avoid," she snorted. She stood up
then, startling him, and paced back and forth in front of the shelter
for a few moments. She stopped, facing away from him, several meters
away.  One hand was on her hip, and she pressed her other hand against
her forehead. She sighed again, then seemed to slump a little, as
though her sudden movements had tired her.

"Do you believe they'll come back?" she asked, quietly.

He paused for a moment, debating on whether he should be comforting,
or truthful.  "Honestly? No, I don't think so," he finally said.

She nodded, slowly. She half-turned her head, and said, "They still
could, you know.  There was a time differential." When he didn't
argue, she turned away from him and sighed once more.  "Still," she
said, "It's been a year. It could be another year. Or five years. Or
never. I realize that, deep down."

He stood silently, but stayed where he was, by the stoop.

"Even the eagle knows when to rest," she said, almost in a whisper.
"Maybe it's time for me to let go."

He walked over and stood behind her. He didn't touch her -- he just
wanted to offer his presence, his comfort. Whatever she wanted from
him. Neither of them moved for a long moment. He was standing so close
to her that his every breath shifted her hair slightly.  She didn't
move away.  In fact, almost imperceptibly, she slowly straightened and
leaned back against him.

He closed his eyes and his breath caught at this first intimate
contact between them.  "Kath," he whispered into her hair, bringing
his hands to her shoulders, finally touching her. He heard her inhale
sharply as he brushed down the length of her arm with the back of his
fingers.  With his other hand, he stroked her hair off to one side,
then nuzzled the side of her head until she tilted it. He gently
kissed her exposed neck, but didn't move his lips afterwards -- just
continued to breathe into her skin. As close as he was to her, he
barely heard her muted, "Oh, God..."

But when he closed his hand around her wrist, she stiffened. He froze.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his heart racing.

She didn't pull away, much to his relief, but she was tense.
Uncertain. "Tom," she said, "Maybe this is a bad idea. We shouldn't
turn to each other just because we're all we've got..."

"I think there's more to it than that," he said, directly into her
ear. "For both of us."

She didn't deny it, and she still didn't pull away. This was right; he
was sure of it.  Emboldened, he began caressing her again, releasing
her wrist and trailing his fingertips from her waist to the side of
her breast.  He slid his other hand slowly through her hair, down her
neck and spine to the hollow of her back, then around her waist.  He
spoke fervently as he touched her.  "All I know is that I like to be
with you.  I want to be able to lean over and kiss you when we're
working in the garden.  I want to swim with you in the river. I want
to sleep beside you at night so I can hear you breathe. And I want to
make love to you tonight."

She shuddered in his arms, then moaned quietly.  She turned to face
him, resting her hands on his chest and looking directly into his
eyes. Apparently satisfied with whatever she found there, her own eyes
flashed with intensity and desire and she kissed him, softly at first,
and then with increasing fervor.  Her right arm snaked around his
neck, holding him firmly in place, and she moved her left hand up his
chest, cupping his cheek, then moving back into his hair.  He kept one
hand pressed against the small of her back, holding her close, and
moved the other hand to her breast, squeezing gently and reveling at
her gasps of pleasure.  Their bodies melded together as she moved her
lips over his.  He flicked his tongue out to brush her lower lip, then
opened her mouth with his, then he felt her press her pelvis
deliberately against his arousal, and he groaned.

They broke the kiss but stayed locked in each other's embrace,
catching their breath.  Damn. That had been...he couldn't believe how
she had responded to him, or even how he had responded to her.

"Well," she said, after a moment, "that was...all right."

He grinned at her understatement. "Yeah," he agreed. "Definitely all
right."

At that moment they both heard the telltale opening squeals of
Gryzindar sex. It was their regular couple, back on their path now
that the warm weather had returned.  She smiled broadly, her face
still buried in his neck. He felt her shake with laughter. He was just
damned grateful that at least this time, he was going to be able to do
something about the feelings that listening to them always aroused in
him.

She began pushing him gently toward the shelter. "Hey," she said,
seductively, "Let's make some noise."

He certainly wasn't going to argue with that. And when they reached
the door of the shelter, and she pressed the heel of her hand firmly
against the bulge in his pants, he made the first noise, a loud groan.

He fumbled with the handle of the door, and eventually they both
managed to get it open. Then they stumbled inside, into the darkness,
and a new phase of their life on Planet X began.

---
Several months later
---

She cornered him in their sleeping alcove. He'd planned it that way.
She was still dripping wet, and furious.

"I can't believe you took my clothes!" she sputtered.

"It's called 'streaking'," he said, dropping their clothes and evading
her as she circled around him.  "And it was quite popular back
in...Uff!"

He'd underestimated her agility, and now he was pinned on their
sleeping mat beneath her. No problem. He rather liked the wicked glint
in her eyes.

The sex was incredible. Back before they'd become intimate, he would
wonder about it, and he'd always figured it would be good, but it was
much more than good. He should have known that their natural
synchronicity would extend to their sex life. Granted, their
relationship was still in its early passionate stages, but the way
they responded to each other was definitely special, he was sure of
it, and it had been obvious from their very first kiss.

Now she straddled him, her hands on his chest.  "Well," she said, "The
sleeping mat is already soaking wet, and muddy. We may as well trash
it completely." She leaned over and began kissing him. His tongue
tangled with hers in his mouth. They were both still wet and nude from
bathing in the river, and wrestling together on the sleeping mat had
made him hard and eager.  Groaning, and summoning all his strength, he
braced himself against the mat, then flipped her over and covered her
body with his.

"You can't always be on top, Kath," he chided.

"I'm not ALWAYS on top," she retorted, then moaned as his erection
poked insistently against her thigh.

He pulled her arms over her head, and pressed her wrists down to the
mat. "Do something for me..." he whispered.

She exhaled sharply, shifting beneath him.  "What," she asked, closing
her eyes.

He continued holding her wrists, and nuzzled her face until she looked
at him.  "I don't want you to move. I want you to leave your arms over
your head, okay?"

"Oh, God," she whispered.  "Tom, no. I want to touch you..."

"Not this time," he said, insistently.  "Please. I want to give you
pleasure. I want to watch you...just... Please. Don't move, all
right?"

Breathing heavily, her eyes half shut, she nodded quickly once.  When
he moved his lips to her neck, she closed her eyes completely, and he
saw her hands clench around the material of the sleeping mat over her
head.

And he gave himself to her. He touched her gently -- his fingertips
smoothing over her skin, tracing her collarbone, her ribs. He touched
her not so gently -- squeezing and kneading her breasts. He tasted her
-- her lips, her neck, the hollow of her throat. When he brought his
mouth to her breast, he felt her fingers threading through his hair,
guiding him.  He moved her arms back over her head. "No," he reminded
her.  She complied, and squirmed beneath him as he suckled her --
gasped as his teeth grazed her nipples. He stroked her stomach and
studied the muscles beneath her skin as they hardened to his touch.
He shifted down her body still farther, and when he nipped the inside
of her thigh, she strained toward him, lifting her hips off the floor.
He stroked her pubic hair, still soft and damp from the river.

"God, Tom..." she moaned.  "I'm...I'm going to explode. Please."

So he pressed two fingers into her -- slowly, steadily -- and watched
in wonder as she stiffened, and came quickly.  Her face transformed,
an expression of complete ecstasy and pleasure washing it clean. She
threw her head back and cried out loudly, a low moan that moved right
through him. "God, Kath..." he groaned, overwhelmed.  She was so
incredibly beautiful this way -- he was close to coming himself.  He
wanted to be inside her. He'd never wanted anyone so much in his life.

She gasped for breath, and when she was able, said, "Tom, please...I
want you to..." But before she could finish the sentence, he'd moved
between her legs and thrust into her, as far as he could go. "God!"
she shouted, stiffening again as their bodies crashed together. He
felt her fingernails digging into his shoulders -- she'd violated the
'no moving' rule, but he was past caring. He pounded into her, holding
onto her hips hard enough to bruise her, and then he was coming --
pumping into her and shouting her name as she cried out, almost
wailing.  He was pretty sure they could be heard by anyone within a
hundred kilometers of the shelter. He hoped any nearby horny
Gryzindars were suitably impressed.

Still holding her close, and without withdrawing, he shifted them onto
their sides so she wouldn't have to bear his full weight. They were
both breathing hard, and she buried her face into his neck. He thought
she might be crying a little bit. As he held her, a montage of images
of her from over the years flashed through his mind. He saw her
standing over him at Auckland, the sun behind her, offering him a
chance at redemption. He remembered her slumped over the body of an
old man in a prison, some kind of pendant clutched in her hand -- he
remembered touching her back, trying to lend his support. He saw the
pain in her eyes as she pulled the Lieutenant's pip from his collar.
He saw her standing imperiously in Arachnia's gown, getting into the
spirit of things.  "Remember," he'd told her, "You're the Queen!"
Then he saw her surfacing in the river next to him, her wet hair
plastered to her head, her arms moving around his neck, a seductive
smile on her lips. And one final image -- her face transformed by
pleasure, as it had been just now. Overwhelmed by the path that had
brought them to this point, he put a hand under her chin until she
looked up at him.

"I love you," he said. He wouldn't make the mistake of not telling her
directly. And, to his surprise, the words were not hard to say at all.

She took a deep breath and smiled, putting her hand on his cheek,
stroking his hair, still damp from the river, and from sweat.  "Tom,"
she whispered, "I..."

He put his fingers over her lips. "Shhh," he said. "You don't have to
say it."

"But, I do love you," she said, simply.  "It was easy to fall in love
with you."

His eyes stung, and he blinked back tears at her honesty.  He kissed
her temple, gently, and pulled her even closer to him.  "This would
never have happened on the ship, though," he said.

"No, of course not," she replied, nestling her head back against his
neck. "But here, right now, I can love you. And I do."

---
Back to the Present
---

In the stillness of her quarters -- her, Kath, Captain -- he
remembered what she'd said the day he had first told her that he loved
her. 'Here, right now, I can love you. And I do.' In the current
situation, the words seemed to suddenly have a darker meaning, and the
uneasy feeling that he'd been fighting all day began to grow into a
sharp tightness in the pit of his stomach.

Naturally, when he was feeling the most unbalanced and vulnerable, he
heard her doors hiss open. She walked into the room and they closed
behind her. She didn't see him at first and he watched as she surveyed
the room with the same shell-shocked expression he knew he'd been
wearing in his own quarters. Then her gaze swept over to him and she
blinked, surprised. He imagined that he must look incongruous standing
in the ordered calm of her old life, her books and her antiques.

"Where've you been?" he blurted out. He merely wanted to know, but he
didn't like the way the words came out -- they sounded demanding,
petulant.

She raised an eyebrow, but responded, warily.  "I sent a message to
the Gryzindar homeworld.  It took a while to locate them."  She looked
as disoriented as he felt, and bone weary.  He ached to draw her into
his arms, and just lie with her quietly overnight, so they could
absorb what had happened together.

He stepped towards her, reaching out, desperate for some kind of
physical connection, but she pulled subtly away, just as she had back
on the surface. And then he knew, without a doubt, that his nagging
feelings of foreboding had been justified. He stood in front of her
and crossed his arms over his chest.  "You're breaking it off, aren't
you?" It was more of a statement than a question, but he repeated it
anyway. "Aren't you?"

She sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead distractedly.  "Tom," she
implored, "Do we have to have this conversation now?"

"Yeah, we do," he said,  unable to keep the anger out of his voice.
"If you're going to turn my life upside down, then I'd rather know
about it sooner than later."

She turned away from him abruptly, and walked a few paces, then turned
with her arms folded across her chest, too. Confrontational. Defiant.
Exactly what he wanted to avoid.  "I'm your commanding officer, Tom.
I can't be involved with you. It's that simple."

"You already ARE involved with me!"  He was almost shouting and he
knew, he KNEW that was the wrong approach, but he couldn't seem to
stop himself.

"I'm sorry," she said. Her face was firm, but her eyes...her eyes were
anguished.

"So, that's it," he said, hurling the words into the air between them.
"You can just decide to forget that the last three years happened,
right?  You can just decide to block out your feelings for me. What
about my feelings?"

She didn't answer right away. "You said you loved me," he reminded
her. "You said it at least a hundred times in the last two years."

"I did," she said, quietly. "I mean, I DO, but..."

"No," he snapped. "DID was the right word. You DID love me there, but
you won't love me here. It's unbelievable! You can just
compartmentalize all of this, can't you? There and here. Then and now.
I wouldn't be a bit surprised. You're just like my..."

"I am NOT your father," she interrupted, angrily. "There are at least
a dozen good reasons for us not to do this, and if you were thinking
clearly..."

"Fuck!" he spat.  His crude epithet jolted them both out of the rhythm
of the argument.  She was crying silently, and he had to force himself
not to storm out of the room. He fought against the feeling of
futility that was overwhelming him.  This was not the way this should
be going. This wasn't going to work. He tried to backtrack, tried to
think of the right words - the magic words - that would convince her.
He couldn't think any.

"Do you think this is easy for me, Tom?" she asked, quietly. "Because
it's not. I'm confused. I'm upset. But I just can't see any other
way."

"You aren't even trying to see any other way," he said, tiredly.

"What about B'Elanna?" she asked.

He snorted. "B'Elanna deserves better than someone who's in love with
another woman, don't you think?" He didn't wait for an answer.  "Don't
you get it? Everything has changed!"

"That's just it," she said, stepping toward him. "Nothing has changed.
On this ship, everything is the same as it was yesterday. And I'm the
Captain again, and there are things I can't have. I'm sorry."

"Kath," he said, putting his hand on her arm, "I LOVE you!" He tried
to draw her close, and he knew she wanted to come, but she jerked out
of his grasp.

"Don't," she said, flatly.

He shut his eyes, and bit back more angry words. He had to stay calm -
he needed time. She needed time. "Look," he said, after a moment, "You
said it yourself. You're confused. You're upset. We're both in shock
and we're both exhausted. Please, just don't make up your mind about
this tonight. Please. I think you owe me that much. I'll go now, and
we can both get some rest and talk about this later. Okay?"

He tried not to talk too fast, and he hated the desperate edge to his
voice. None of this felt right. Getting angry was not the way to go,
but this felt wrong too - like he was giving up without a fight. He
didn't know what to do anymore. He forced her to look in his eyes.
"Promise me," he said, intensely, "that you'll think about it."

She drew a deep breath and exhaled sharply.  Her expression softened,
became a little more uncertain. She looked down at the floor, then
back up at him. "All right," she said.  "You're right. Everything's
happening so quickly. I...I'll try. That's all I can promise you,
but..."

Her voice trailed off and she was shaking her head absently in a most
discouraging way. Retreat was his only option now. He'd just promised
her some time and space. He reached for her, tentatively. She looked
at him warily, but took his extended hand. It wasn't much, but at
least it was physical contact.

"I'll try," she repeated, but he couldn't tell if she meant it, or if
she was just grateful that he'd given her a reprieve.

He held onto her hand for as long as he could, then squeezed her
fingers. "Goodnight," he whispered. He drew her hand to his lips and
kissed her fingers. Then he turned away, and walked out the door
quickly. He didn't want her to see the hopelessness in his eyes.

---

The End