The BLTS Archive - When Darkness Fell (Episode addition to "Drive") by Vanhunks (vanhunks@yahoo.com) --- Date: 21 October 2000 First posted: 20 October 2000 Warning: some spoilers (episode "Drive"). DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the characters. This tale is the property of Marié. --- Today I joined in marriage Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres. A joyous occasion presided over by a smiling captain. Nothing, I think, can be as beauteous, as miraculous and graceful as when the eyes speak that complete Joy. They are the revelation of the heart of man, and any emotion, however small or insignificant or raging beyond all boundaries of constraint is soon betrayed by those damning orbs. I know that it is impossible to contain happiness if one is so privileged to experience it, and yes, sometimes even I've felt that welling in my eyes because I wanted to, in the clichéd context, "cry because I'm so happy". There were sighs of relief, there were tears of happiness, there were secret little smiles, there were discreet whisperings. There were for sure, some bawdy comments uttered with little more than veiled snickers. There were hushed tones and there were awed moments when the ring slipped effortlessly on to B'Elanna's finger. Nothing could have given me greater joy - or greater pain - than seeing the once rudderless, the once insecure, the once angry and pained, now share the same anchor. I saw unity. In hands that clasped tightly, evidence of proud and equal partnership, I saw B'Elanna bask in the love of a man secure in his feelings for her. They kissed, held hands, and she...she looked deeply into his eyes and affirmed wordlessly her brilliant, if stormy love for the man who was now her husband. Then he looked at me. For one brief, mad, giddy moment, a moment in which the soul was laid bare and the heart became a wasteland of hurt, Tom Paris' eyes met mine. It was a brief moment. An instant in which the universe opened and without regard for rank or position or name, rudely exposed a sadness, joy, love, tenderness. Vulnerable, wholly susceptible to attack and injury, the heart lay quivering...waiting... There was in Tom's eyes a flash of acknowledgement, a silent declaration that settled, accepted, hovered, then flitted away before the shutters came down. That moment was over before - I ached to believe it - anyone realized that Tom's 'thank you' look at me was more than that, or deeper. A look that asked for one thing and a thousand things. It wanted to demand the closing of a chapter - a deep, thrilling secret of a passion shared that even as I looked at him, at her, still burned deeply into my soul, ravaging all control, all strength, and leaving in its wake only debris. Tom looked at his wife again and, as if an uncomfortable second had passed, he bent down and kissed B'Elanna gently. It is now long past night, when darkness fell and the moon drifted noiselessly across the sky. It threw its rays over the water, soft golden streaks that belied the quiet rage of the knowledge that before long, day would break again and supplant the bleak beauty of the night. I think of Tom. Nothing could be as starkly real, as sorrowful as the knowledge, the truth that no one else would be the recipient of that love which shone in Tom's eyes for B'Elanna. A love that was wildly passionate, forgiving, accepting, tender, at times yes, even blind. Tom Paris reserved for her all his love. And for me? I knew what he gave me. And though it was enough, I will be left with only memories. I am left with only memories. Memories of our own little beach we created, with swaying palm fronds, rippling water that shimmered as the rays of the sun skimmed its surface, memories of times he desired my company, my arms, my lips, my body... "Tom!" I exclaimed one day when he visited our retreat, "weren't you supposed to - " "Shhh..." he remonstrated as his lips sought mine eagerly and I felt the thrill of his kiss burn through my body. I ran my fingers through his hair, sighed as he pressed into me, daring me to feel his need, to feel his heart beating against mine, exposing my own need... "Tom..." I breathed again between gasps and nips and searching tongues. His name issued as a soft moan from me. He broke the contact, his gesture so reluctant that I wanted to laugh. I couldn't. Our time together was so rare, we had too little precious time to steal... illicitly bargaining for a portion of happiness only he could give me. For this moment he was mine, and I was his. There was no going back to entertain albeit briefly, flashes of guilt, or regret, or shame. "What is it, Kathryn?" he asked in a voice hoarse with barely contained passion. His eyes were blue flames, and I knew that whatever I saw there, was mirrored in my own. Under my palms I could feel the way his heart thudded, and my own heaving breasts were enough to tell him that I wanted him to assuage my hunger quickly. Yet I had to ask. I had to. Stupid of me when I was bathed in the warmth of his assurance that for the short while he was with me, his commitment to me would be total. I felt cherished, and the heady moment was only briefly marred by the thought which burst from my lips. "Did you - " "She's sleeping, Kathryn," he said quietly. Almost, almost I imagined that she knew... More pertinent questions were not necessary. Nor was any discourse into mores and ethics - these had been dispensed with with some insouciance - designed to instill some modicum of decorum in us. Tom had long ago resigned himself that he could love B'Elanna and desire me. I had long ago accepted that he loved B'Elanna and what he could give me, in our precious stolen moments, was all I needed, all I wanted. For in those moments I was wholly his, and he was all mine. Just in those moments. By the time he left, I was filled again, and sustained until the next time he came to me. I was patient. I had to be. Times when I waited on our sandy beach we programmed that first day were too numerous to count. And always, others saw it as my time out, the Captain's prerogative of recharging privately, a personal quirk. Nothing more. If they deemed me to be a very private person by design and designation, I would have been the last person to divest them of that perception and awaken them to ponder on darker alternatives. B'Elanna was sleeping and I stood in Tom's arms. I felt his warm breath on my cheeks, felt his fingers brush away strands of hair that lifted in the gentle breeze. There were clouds beneath my feet... "You could kiss me again, Tom," I ordered. His lips curved into a smile, a shadow of a smirk that was not so unkind as it was such an endearing part of him, that I wondered if he had ever graced B'Elanna with just such a tender touch. My eyes closed as I waited for his lips to touch mine again. I waited. There was a pause; my eyelids flitted open. A question. An answering gleam in his eyes. Tom slowly pulled me down on to the sand with him. I saw with some vague recognition the large beach towel spread out just behind him on the sand. I smiled. He was always thoughtful. He sat down and spread his legs, pulling me towards him. My back was braced against his chest. Hard chest that I knew if I looked, if I removed his shirt, I would have seen the scratches. The signs that he had made love to B'Elanna first. I didn't begrudge him that. I couldn't. I had to wait my turn, and if what he had to give me was only what was in his spent strength to give, I accepted it. With grace, with gratitude even. I demanded nothing he wasn't willing to give, and if he appeared on our beach, it was because he wanted to be with me. No, I didn't beg. I never begged. I just opted for the best of Tom Paris. Even if he smelled of Klingon heat. What I knew was this: there were times he needed me, needed what I could give him. Those were the times I wanted to be there, and wanted him near me. In a cocoon which shone with a light from the inside so that one could see the fine, fine golden webs, we lay bathed in its warmth. So I nuzzled my face in his neck, a caress that continued in dropping feather-light kisses on him, against his roughened jaw, his lips, the spot behind his ear. His skin was slightly salty, but it didn't bother me. His lips grazed my forehead, pressed into my hair. Our breaths mingled hotly. His damp skin, his muskiness was heady. I felt like drowning a little. Tom gave a deep sigh as his arms enfolded me fiercely, then they relaxed momentarily. "I wish - " he began to murmur. I turned a little in his embrace and saw the flash of pain. I raised my finger to his lips, bidding him not to continue. "This is enough," I whispered, settling myself into him again as his hands caressed my breasts. My thin top with the low neckline, the blue one he liked so, became not so much a barrier as it incited Tom to knead my breasts gently. Tom wanted to cry the second time we had come here and he realized there were no other barriers under my clothing. He pushed the fabric away and found the nipples that had sprung to aching, erect nubs long ago. I sucked in my breath, then it lowered to a shallow inhaling as my own hands covered his and guided him, trained them to destinations explored before, yet always so new...so new... I marvel yet again that I could quiver with intense pleasure as his fingers caressed my skin just under the waistband of my pants. I trembled with desire as the fingers traveled down, his thumb just grazing my navel before I gave myself over to the delicious thrills that seemed to turn my very blood into rushing waves and gentle eddies. Only distantly I could hear the ocean sounds. I shifted to give Tom more room to explore and gasped as long fingers gently brushed my fleshy mound, trembling over my already damp curls. A burn of swirling flames rushed achingly through me. It was impossible to contain so much passion in just one touch, but Tom was magic... I moaned my delight as my neck arched and his mouth immediately pounced in heated pleasure just where an artery throbbed in burning, racing rhythm. I was on fire. "Ah..." I gasped softly as I turned my head only to feel his lips sear long paths down my neck, reaching the hollow of my throat. He kissed, licked, even tried to grab - with little success - a rigid nipple into his mouth. All the time his lips blazed over my skin. I gave a soft cry when he nipped my ear lobe, then pressed heated lips against it. And all the time his fingers brushed lightly over my moistness. Heartstopping moments long, breathless in anticipation of more to come, I urged towards his hand, hungry for the touch to deepen, give completion... Every beat my heart gave resounded there in a pulsing that pressed rhythmically against his hand. "Kathryn..." Tom groaned as I thrust and arched into him, wanting him to move... "Yes..." I murmured, my face turned to the sun that kissed every pore on my skin. I felt exhilarated, giddy with the pleasure of feeling Tom's hands on me, and his mouth finding my neck, the dip behind my ear, my forehead, my lips... There was no restraint in me, yet Tom commanded: "Be free, Kathryn, take my hand, take my fingers and feel them liberate you from the last vestiges of your reserve. Be with me whatever you want to..." "Yes..." Every muscle, every soft fleshy fold, long sensitized, now waited for Tom. Willing... I had nothing left in me to hide, no embarrassment, no reserve, no shame, for shame had to die - at Tom's hands. I lay gasping helplessly against him, the marionette waiting to be moved. Tom's fingers opened my folds - my soft, moist, dripping folds - and entered. A minor explosion. I thought it was the sun's glare in my eyes. I gave an exultant cry, a cry that was followed by Tom's groan of pleasure at the way my body danced to him. Then there were more explosive thrusts as his fingers searched deeply into me and when his thumb unsheathed the waiting nub - how my heart waited and my veins pulsed! - it was ready for him. Everything was feeling, and every feeling coalesced into one maelstrom where it could not stop turning... I cried out again as his thumb circled and circled. Breathlessly, I bade him go faster, harder, yet Tom continued to tease, gently, patiently bringing me to blazing heights. My skin felt clammy, and registering somewhere in my conscious a gull squawked noisily in the late afternoon heat. I tried to look at the ocean, the swell of the sea as it heaved to the inexorable bidding of the unseen moon... Rose and fell, rolled and pulled, rushing waves that ended in gentle eddies as the foam-lined water lapped against the sand, only to pull back again and again, rushing inwards in searing glory before seeping softly into the sand. I rose with the waves... "Kathryn..." Tom cried out as my body heaved against his hand, rocking out of control. "Yes...yes!" came my cry of rapture as I reached the pinnacle and crashed into the storming climax that would promise my release later. His free hand cupped my breast and his legs clamped tightly against me as I spun into a series of excruciating spasms of pleasure. I gasped, cried his name over and over, spasmed uncontrollably as his finger kept rubbing my sensitized clit until I could endure it no more. Did I sob? I don't know. There was no line of demarcation that divided a sob of pleasure from a sob of bittersweet pain. "Oh, Kathryn... Kathryn!" I heard Tom cry as I spilled and spent myself against his hand. He held me close to him all the time while my own fingers dug convulsively into his thighs. "Tom..." I whispered when I imagined I heard him give a sob. He must have, and I knew, as once before, that he had tears in his eyes. That day - was it the third time he came to me? - changed the tenor of what we shared. That day I had been frantic and wild with hungry pent-up passion - a wolf in heat - and I had straddled him while his shaft was embedded deeply into me. I had wanted him badly. So badly that I threw everything about me that was fine and refined, to the wind. "Fuck me, Tom," I said to him then, "fuck me..." His body had stilled, and when he rose to a sitting position, he had held me very, very close to him. I could feel him throbbing inside me. Then he finally held me a little away from him and looked deeply into my eyes. "Don't demean what I'm doing, Kathryn, and belittle what you want," he chided gently, then continued, "I want to make love with you..." That memory had not faded and I remembered it now as Tom's hand was released finally from my center, a hundred little aftershocks later... "Shhh..." he said as I lay in his arms, my body replete as I looked into his deep blue eyes. I wanted to speak, to say something of how stupendous it was this time, but he dismissed it. "I want to look at you, Kathryn," he said hoarsely. "Tom..." "Kathryn, I -" I knew. I felt the burn of tears behind my eyes as I touched his crotch. While he pleasured me, I never felt the old hardening against my back. He looked away, his eyes filled with embarrassment, and I knew he wanted to say he was sorry. "Don't say it, Tom... I understand..." I said as I ran my fingers through his damp hair once again. "You understand..." he stated in simple imitation of my own words. "Then let me..." I promised huskily and felt my heart soar when he smiled again. "Yes..." I kept kneading his bulge, a soft, gentle coaxing that urged but did not hurry. Finally I pulled his trousers down and over his hips. I ignored the bruises as I cupped my hands around his soft length. "Kathryn..." he groaned as he braced himself in a reclining position while I caressed his musky smelling shaft. It was soft, not yet hardened to that point where he sometimes cried out from its very pain. Soft, pliable... A shudder of anticipation went through me. "Don't worry, Tom. I will feel you grow in me..." I promised as I lowered my head and took him into my mouth. He gave a soft cry, then gave himself over to my ministrations as I kissed and sucked, thrilled at the way he swelled deeper into me while my fingers caressed... cupped his balls and incited...burned... I willed him to grow, letting my tongue play on the underside of his shaft, a teasing up and down movement which didn't seem possible when all of him was in my mouth. He maneuvered himself onto his knees, gave a cry of victory as he held my head close against him while never releasing me as he started thrusting. Gently, insistently, he moved into me. For a moment I smelled B'Elanna on him, then I pushed the thought from me as I enjoyed the fullness of Tom's swollen length while he moved and moved. My fingers dug into his thighs, scoring new long scratches as I felt him increase his rhythm. I went with him, never letting him go, pulling him harder against me. He cried my name as his fingers gripped clumps of my hair. Yet I never felt the pain as my hair strained at the roots. His heated flesh was in my mouth, swollen, hard, the pre-cum already dripping from the tip. My neck arched, and Tom found suddenly new depths as he sank deeper into me. He gave a long satisfied groan and I pulled his thighs, willing him to go faster, thrust harder. He grunted and I reveled that I could pleasure him in such an elemental way. Then his body stiffened... "Yes!" he cried as he gave one final thrust and spilled into me. "Kathryn!" he cried my name as his body rocked. Cool...milky...warm...strange...salty...beautiful. I took all he gave me... He drew out of me, a slow, slow action. I wanted him to stay there, holding on to him. At last, when he lay away from me, exhausted, I bent down and licked him. His hand was in my hair, gently rubbing my scalp. He must have known... "I will come again, Kathryn," Tom said softly after he made himself presentable again. "If you'll excuse the pun," he said, smiling. My heart lifted. "It depends on which of the meanings you intended," I told him. "Whichever one you want, Kathryn," he said as he rose from the towel. He pulled me up with him and took me into his arms. "Next time, I want you on top, Tom..." "Sure thing, Kathryn," he answered, his voice muffled as his lips were pressed against my hair. --- We never quite arranged our meetings. If I saw him here, on our beach, I accepted that he was here because he wanted to here, that he made ten times sure we were alone and not disturbed. That it was safe... Then our time together became a precious opportunity to bond in a way different from what he had with...her... He once told me she couldn't smell me because there was something indefinable about me. I always thought it was too sweet of him to say it in that way. He wouldn't hurt my feelings by saying he scrubbed down to remove all of my scent from his body before he went to lie with her again. That their shifts were so uncompromisingly uneven, probably worked to our advantage, since it did afford him the chance to eradicate me by the time he made love to her. If I ask myself whether I feel any guilt, my answer to myself would be an unequivocal ''no'. I occupied a corner of his heart where many believed was just Tom's genuine high regard for me. It was not a lie. So I remained there, and if he looked at me, who could say it was a look of hidden desire that lurked in those cool depths? That he was attracted to me could never be denied by him, nor would I deny it. He loved B'Elanna, yes. But he needed to find an outlet, a receptacle of hope and trust that would not ridicule his deepest, funniest, wildest ideas, his abiding love for old things, his pride in his heritage. I provided that receptacle into which he could unendingly pour things he could not share with others. Not even with her. He loves her. It's as simple as that. For a long time, he desired me, and on those moonlit nights, or red sunsets when we were huddled in our own cocoon of togetherness, he was all to me. I asked nothing he didn't want to give. I cannot begrudge him his love for another woman, nor can I deny that what Tom and I had, was just as fulfilling. It was fulfilling because we made no demands; it was fulfilling because I knew where I stood with him. It was fulfilling because always, always there was the specter of just such a day as today. Today I joined in marriage Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres. This little beach will still be here, and the sun in the late afternoon would glow red as it settled towards the horizon. Tom would not be here. Not anymore. I will still come here, and like on Earth, like the real little beach we recreated here, the sun would set, and it would rise. It is inexorable, and seen in the cosmic context, it would be the pulsing of time. I will still come here but I'll be alone. I will think of what Tom and I had. It carries with it no guilt, no embarrassment, no shame, no regret. With only my memories to feed me, I will nibble at each one, only enough that there will always be something left. Something. I can spend the rest of my life living on memories. Because, living is all I have to do... when darkness fell. --- The End