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Spoiler Warning: Pathways by Jeri Taylor
Feedback: Please? Pretty please with Tom, Harry, and Chakotay on top?
Archive: Whatever, just ask first.
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Summary: Tom and B'Elanna are haunted by some long~dead ghosts and they have
to decide if their relationship is as strong as they thought. Takes place
directly after Pathways.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except this storyline, and not even that
*completely* belongs to me. Paramount, Viacom, TPTB..they're the gods here.
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*One*
B'Elanna marched steadily down the halls of Voyager, grateful to be back behind the bulkheads of the steady ship. As she passed, several crewmen smiled at her, friends who were as happy as she was that she was back. But at that particular moment, only one thing mattered to her. She had to see Tom.
She finally stopped in front of his quarters. Taking a deep breath and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she rang the chime. A few seconds later, the doors slid open easily, permitting her entrance. She glanced around his quarters, trying to locate him in the dim light. There. She saw his form sitting on the sofa across the room. "Tom?"
He turned only slightly and offered a small smile. "Come on in. I think I know what you're doing here," he said, sliding over and giving her room to sit down. He rubbed his head then rose, turning to the replicator. "Have you eaten?" She nodded and he ordered them both a cup of coffee. He handed her a cup and set his down on the table, then sat down beside her, putting one arm on the back of the sofa.
"I just wanted to see you," she said quietly after a few moments of silence. "You really bared your soul, Tom, and I just wanted to tell you I understand how much courage that must have taken." His bright blue eyes flashed to her face and then down to her hands.
"Yeah, well you were pretty intimate about yourself. Admitting your feelings for Chakotay had to take a lot of guts." She nodded and sipped at the hot coffee. They were silent for a few more seconds before he looked back up to her. "I had no idea you felt that way about him," he said. He didn't really sound hurt, which B'Elanna took as a good thing.
"I never told anyone. I think Seska knew, but that's only because she was a jealous girlfriend." B'Elanna smiled faintly at the memory. "But you do know that it's in the past, right? I don't feel that way about Chakotay anymore."
"Yeah, I know," he whispered, sliding his hand over hers.
Time for a subject switch. "I think that Chakotay had a really great idea. I feel so much closer to everyone now. Especially you." He looked up at that, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"What, now that you know more of my tainted past?"
"No. I know more about the real Tom Paris. The one who was locked away after Odile died." Tom winced a little at the name but said nothing. "I'm not even going to pretend to know how badly that must have hurt, Tom. To lose your two best friends and your girlfriend. And to top it all off, believe that you were responsible. My only wish is that the Tom Paris that existed back then can still exist here. Now. With me." She sipped at her chilled coffee and set it down beside Tom's untouched mug. "I'm not going to pretend to be Odile. I'm not going to expect you to love me as much as you did her. But I want to be what you need, Tom. I want to help you clear away these ghosts that still haunt you." His eyes had been firmly glued to hers as she talked, and he kept them there as he replied.
"You're already everything I need B'Elanna. Of course I love you differently that I loved Odile, there's no comparison. But B'Elanna, I'm not going to screw things up with you like I did with her. I learned the hard way," he said, moving closer to her so he could embrace her.
"If you ever need to talk . . . please come to me," she whispered as they broke the embrace.
"I will. I promise."
*Two*
He shot the phaser volley at the asteroid, then pulled up. Too late. He had taken the form too low, held the dive too long. He knew what was going to happen next. He had seen it hundreds of times before. He barely missed slamming into the asteroid, which seemed to be mocking him.
The three attack vessels behind him didn't have the luxury of an extra second, and one by one they plunged into the rocky surface, leaving nothing but a billow of orange flames. As if in slow motion, he turned the vessel and flew to the site where his friend's shuttles were burning.
They had been completely incinerated, as he'd expected. The heat from the flames that were so close caused a layer of sweat to jump to his forehead. His stomach twisted in anxiety and loss. He should've been used to seeing this sight, he'd visited it almost every night since the accident. But this time, it just felt different. Something a few meters away caught his eye, and he turned, finding that there was no longer a vessel under him. He was half walking~half floating through space. As he reached the area, he slowed considerably.
Bile rose up in his throat and his stomach heaved at the horrific sight in front of him. Charlie, Odile, and Bruno were floating lifelessly through space. They were dead . . . but it was much worse than that. Their faces were burned so badly that what was left of the flesh was pulled back, exposing the blackened skull. Their skin was nothing more than a pinkish black mound of pulp, and there were only small wisps of hair that had melded with the burnt flesh. Their eyes were open, staring at him accusingly.
Then he saw something else, and he screamed, a long torturous howl of pain and cold fear. B'Elanna. Odile had suddenly morphed into B'Elanna. Her eyes widened and she blinked, then opened her mouth, a strew of maggots pouring out and catching in the mash of skin around her mouth. Her mouth began to move, she was trying to talk. "Look . . . what you've . . . done to . . . me . . . " she croaked in Odile's voice. At her words, Charlie and Bruno began to move, what was left of their arms outstretching towards him, like zombies in a bad 20th century horror movie.
Somehow he knew he was dreaming. Maybe it was the pins~and~needles sensation he got when he tried to move, or the all around sluggishness he felt, even though every vital system in him was screaming with alertness. He tried to move, run, float..anything to get himself out of there, but his limbs were heavy, and every move he tried to make got him nowhere.
Then B'Elanna was Odile again, but Charlie and Bruno were changing. They morphed into Chakotay and . . . his father . . .
=/\=
In her quarters, B'Elanna tossed and turned, kicking fiercely at the blankets, sending them down to the foot of the bed. But she wasn't aware of any of the physical movements she was making. Her mind was elsewhere, lost in her dream, more specifically. Telling her story had stirred up the awful memories, but one in particular. The part she had failed to tell the group. The part that had made her keep everyone at arm's length for so many years. The part that scared her more than anything ever could..
*Three*
He was so close she could taste him. His raunchy breath was pelting down at her face and she could feel the hand on her waist tighten. "You, Klingon, will obey me," he said, his breath hot on her face. "You're the only one left, so don't think anyone will come to your aide."
"I can defend myself," she muttered, beginning to squirm out of his grasp. Mistake. He threw her to the floor of the cargo deck and planted his humongous foot on her stomach. All the breath left her body, as did her will to fight. She probably could have taken him quite easily, but something stopped her.
"I've always liked your race. You've got guts. Not to mention the smoothest skin.." he murmured, dropping to his knees beside her and rubbing her arm in soft circular patterns. His fingers felt like fire on her skin, assailing and unwanted, ignoble and nefarious. She desperately wanted to kick him in his growing member and make a run like the wind, far, far away from the Cardassian beside her. Away from the smell of dust and mold tinged with sweat and blood. But her legs wouldn't move, nor would any other part of her. She was still sputtering for air, reeling from the kick in the stomach.
The Cardassian growled softly in her ear, all the while gently removing her clothes, as if he were nurturing her instead of raping her. She howled out every curse that was flung into her mind, English and Klingon. He paid no attention and continued on his task, his filthy hands memorizing every twist, turn and dip of her body. He quickly stripped himself, never taking all his weight off of her.
When his pudgy hands wrapped themselves around her breasts and tugged, something inside of her realized what was truly happening. She tried to lash out with her arms, hoping to catch him unaware, but he was ready for that, and had her arms pinned painfully down. She tried to beat out her legs, but they too were pinned.
"Tsk, tsk. I thought you realized that resisting me is futile."
She whimpered quietly as he continued his downward tour of her body, pausing at the dark nesting of hair between her legs. He laughed almost sinisterly, then pulled up quickly. Praying that this was her chance to get away, B'Elanna tried to thrash out yet again, but just as quickly as he had moved off of her body, he was back again, impaling her with himself. She dug into the palms of her hands in pain, blood springing under her fingernails.
He thrust violently, all the while talking to her, almost sounding like he was trying to reassure her. Finally, it was all over, and the Cardassian was shuddering on top of her, his hands leaving bruises everywhere they touched. Then he moved away from her, landing a crashing blow to her stomach, then she mercifully slipped into the awaiting blackness.
=/\=
Even as she slept, she could feel the blow to her stomach. She sat up, sputtering and sobbing, clutching her abdomen, rocking back and forth. She rubbed her belly, thinking of the unwanted baby she had been impregnated with after that. The sobs wracked her as she remembered the cold doctor's office on the Maquis ship, the hypospray coming at her stomach, followed by the doctor telling her it was over.
In the dark of her quarters, B'Elanna Torres remembered the darkest time of her life, recalling every agonizing moment, and praying to any gods that might exist that she'd have the strength to finally tell someone what she went through . . . and finally deciding against it.
