Title: Unpercedented Circumstance
Author: Briana L. Wright
Rating: PG
Codes: P/T angst, C/T; AU
Author Notes: This story contains words and phrases in Spanish: Relámpaga - a blot of lightning. Used hhere as a term of endearment.
Mi casa es su casa - my house is your house. Minor revisions as of March 12, 2003.
SUMMARY: B'Elanna breaks up with Tom Paris and unexpectedly finds comfort from Chakotay.
 

--
We envision our lives one way when they turn out another. We have to adapt. Our perception of things is constantly changing under circumstance. -- Anonymous
--

 

Chakotay sat down to his desk with a cup of tea and a copy of Anthropology Today. It was an issue he’d discovered while looking through some of his old academy belongings. A professor with a fondness for ancient Earth memorabilia had given it to him. The magazine was almost perfectly preserved, dated July 2, 2002. This should be interesting, he thought.

The door beeped. "Come in." There stood a visibly agitated B'Elanna Torres. She looked as if she’d been in a brawl. Or another sparring session with Tom Paris, he mused. Her forehead glistened with sweat and she was slightly out of breath. "I can't believe that pig."

Yep, Chakotay concluded, Paris. She let herself into his quarters. Chakotay set his drink and the magazine down. "Wanna talk about it?" An irritated expression was her only answer.

 Quiet rage was not her usual style. So he was both fascinated and concerned as he noticed her left temple throbbing.  "B’Elanna?" he asked.  When she ignored him again, Chakotay got up and took a seat next to her. "Can I expect this to blow over like it usually does, or is this finally it?" It was the third time that week she’d come to his quarters upset over Paris.

"I don’t know, Chakotay. I don’t know what I want."

Her frustration was almost palpable, even against the stifled conversation. In moods like these, he tried to offer as much comfort as he could without patronizing her. "It shouldn't have to be this hard, that’s all I’m saying." At that, Torres stood and walked over to the window. Her eyes seemed to be searching for a solution there. "What the hell was I thinking?"

"B’Elanna."

"You’re right," she said. "You’re always right. It wasn’t meant to be. I should have accepted that before all of this blew up in my face. I’ve just been wasting time." Chakotay went to her, carefully watching her movements. "Perhaps. But no one is perfect." Her gaze didn’t leave the window. "I’ve really let this get out of hand, haven't I?" Now it was Chakotay’s turn to be quiet.

She looked back to him hopelessly, waiting for an answer. "Haven’t I?"

"Maybe." 

An hour later, B’Elanna was fast asleep on the sofa. Chakotay found a blanket to cover her. He exhaled as he watched the gentle ambiance of her face. "Goodnight, relámpaga."

 

The next morning, Torres found him nearby, already suited in his uniform. "Morning."

She sat up.  "I’m sorry...about everything." He shook his head. "Not at all. Mi casa es su casa. You would've done the same for me." She rose for the door. "Thanks." He smiled as she walked out. "You’re welcome."

That afternoon, Lt. Tom Paris and Ensign Kim were entertaining themselves with jokes during lunch in the mess hall. It wasn’t their usual practice, but it helped pass the time. 

"Okay. I’ve got a joke for you, Harry. A panda walks into a bar and asks the bartender for some bamboo. He eats. Then he takes out a gun and shoots everyone in the bar but the bartender. The bartender, freaked by what he’s seen, goes, ‘What’d you do that for?!’ And the panda says, ‘I’m a panda. Look it up.’ So the bartender takes out a dictionary from behind the bar and reads, ‘Panda: Eats shoots and leaves.’"

Harry chuckled. "I get it."

"I’ve got a million." Paris smirked. 

Something over Tom's should caught Harry's eye.  B’Elanna Torres had entered the mess hall. "I see trouble at two o’clock," he warned Paris. Tom groaned. "Har, please tell me that that is not B’Elanna walking towards us."

"I could, but I’m not a very good liar."

"Then pretend."

"Too late."

Tom turned in time to see B’Elanna standing in front of him. "Don’t get up. I won’t be here long."  
Harry did his best to be invisible.

"Listen, B’Elanna, I’m really not in the mood—"

"Shut up, Paris. I won’t waste any more of your precious time. I came here to tell you it’s over. I may have to work with you, but that’s where I draw the line." It was as if the entire mess hall had gone silent. Tom, for the most part, seemed unaffected.

"I see. Then I guess the next time I see you, it’ll be in engineering." He stuck out his hand. "It was fun while it lasted, Torres." B’Elanna—insulted by the gesture—simply glared. "Yeah, fun. See you around, Flyboy." She left as quickly as she came in.

Harry sat across the table, amused. "That went considerably well. She didn’t even hit you." 

"You know what they say, Harry," Paris said as he returned to his plate. "You can’t win ‘em all."

Later that evening, B’Elanna was bent over a console in engineering, massaging her neck. She’d spent most of her time working on another pet project. 
"Long day?" 

His voice brought her out of her isolation.  When she looked up, she found the smile that was Chakotay's greeting. "You could say that. I've been looking at these specs all day.  After awhile, you forget where it was you began, and where it is you end."

"Kind of like your relationship with Paris?" 

She raised an eyebrow. "You’re perceptive. I’m guessing you heard?" He nodded. "Harry might’ve mentioned a detail or two. I just came here to confirm what I already knew."

"It’s over."

Chakotay folded his arms and leaned against the console. "And how are you holding up?"

"Fine. Relieved, I guess…" She trailed off. "Let some one else handle his emotional baggage." Chakotay met her gaze. "This isn’t going to complicate things, is it?"

"You mean working together? No. I don’t think so. In fact, I think he’s the most tolerable that way."

"Good. Glad to hear it."

Torres groaned in annoyance. The kink in her neck was beginning to aggravate a headache. She grimaced. "You should call it a night, B’Elanna. I’d suggest a long, hot bath." She rubbed the tight muscle again. "This is what I get for sleeping on your couch, Chakotay." He chuckled. "Let me ease the pain, then. It’s the least I can do." 

He replaced her work-worn hands with his own, massaging along the nape of her neck and down her shoulders. B’Elanna relented against his ministrations. Consistency brought the throbbing down to a dull ebbing. And soon B’Elanna forgot about the tension she’d been withholding since her meeting with Tom.

In her relief, a moan escaped her lips. Chakotay thought to stop. This type of intimate, physical contact wasn’t something he was used to sharing with her. And judging by her moan, perhaps she was enjoying it too much.  He slowed his pace a little. 

B’Elanna leaned into his strokes, urging him on. So Chakotay continued.

A few minutes passed before B’Elanna remembered herself. This was Chakotay, not her personal masseuse. She straightened and Chakotay loosened his grip.

"You know," Torres said, placing distance between them. "A bath does sound really good. Thanks, Chakotay. I’ll see you tomorrow." She headed out of engineering for her quarters. "Sure." Chakotay’s words echoed against the hum of the warp core. The emptiness of the room did not keep him company for long.

As he made his way back to his quarters, Chakotay wondered about B'Elanna's sate of mind.  Despite her tough-as-nails exterior, she had a fragile heart.  Granted, she was good at hiding her feelings. That didn't make it any easier to deal with the consequences of those emotions.  It wouldn't be impossible if the breakup with Tom was affecting her more than she let on.  Give her time, he thought.  He knew that with B'Elanna, emotional wounds were often harder to bear than the physical ones.

Still, Chakotay worried.  He didn't want this to be another excuse for her to hide in the holodeck for a few days of self-mutilation.  He waited another hour before deciding to visit her quarters.

 

Steam rose quickly from the hot water.  Once again, B'Elanna's hands found her neck. She closed her eyes, letting the heat penetrate her aching muscles. With the day slowly vanishing with the water down the drain and Paris out of the picture, she recalled Chakotay’s massage from a few minutes ago. 

She had fantasized about that kind of physical proximity he had demonstrated countless times during their relationship. Though years had passed since she'd first served with him, Torres still found Chakotay unbelievably attractive. The difference between past and present was the discipline of those erotic thoughts. As an officer and a mature woman, she kept her mind from carelessly wandering through endless scenarios of sexual possibility. Scenarios B’Elanna usually reserved for the confines of romance novels.

Romance novels or the shower. Whichever came first.

She closed her eyes and envisioned Chakotay, nude with her in the shower. He was behind her, massaging her neck as he had before. Except this time, his rubbing dissolved into sensuous caresses, and followed by tempting kisses across her bare skin. Against his muscled form, B’Elanna’s body molded perfectly to his. Their brown flesh made a perfect match of lust.

A primal growl made its way from her belly to her throat. She could almost smell him. 

Sighing, B'Elanna resigned from her private musings. Get a grip, Torres.  It hasn't even been twenty-four hours and you're already thinking of another man.  She signaled the water off, stepped out and wrapped a towel around herself. Minutes later, B’Elanna was dressed in a purple satin nightgown. She crossed the room to the nightstand for a brush. No sooner had she started, did the door chime. "Who is it?"

"B’Elanna," she recognized his voice, "It’s me."

"Come in."

Chakotay noted her change of dress. "I can come back some other time."

"No, it’s okay." She found the matching robe for a little modesty and put it on. "Make yourself comfortable." She sat down on her bed, and gestured to the chair opposite her. Chakotay sat. 

"I just wanted to apologize for earlier." She expected that he would’ve forgotten all about it by now. Maybe that was just wishful thinking.

"Apologize? Chakotay, you gave me a massage. That’s hardly a crime. You were doing me a favor." He watched as B’Elanna tucked her legs beneath her. "I was worried that because you left, I had offended you in some way." When he looked again, her robe had opened enough to reveal her thighs. "You didn’t do anything wrong," she said, "I’m sorry for being insensitive."

"It’s…all right," he breathed. The function of his mouth was suddenly secondary to his eyes at the moment. Chakotay couldn’t ignore the sight of purple satin and brown skin. He thought of something to say that would distract him. "I saw Tom earlier today. He was crying on the captain’s shoulder."

They both laughed. "You’re kidding?"

"Honest. I saw it with my own two eyes."

"Let’s hope Harry doesn’t find out. He might get jealous."  There was an awkward silence for a moment. And then: "Did you come here to comfort me, Chakotay? Because if you did--"  

"I know you, B'Elanna," he stopped her before she could finish her protest and before he found himself gaping over her skin again.  "You say one thing, and feel another. I wanted to make sure you were as okay as you said you were." He rose from the chair and sat on the bed next to her.  

Torres resigned with a sigh. "I haven’t thought any more about it. Maybe that’s just denial to you, but there isn't anything left to contemplate. Tom was a challenge. Maybe he thought I was, too. I don’t know. The chase lasted longer than I expected, I guess."

"Maybe you were scared," Chakotay suggested, "because you almost had feelings for him."

"Maybe. But even so, I didn’t see it. I didn’t see a future for us."

"Your priorities have changed," he concluded. B'Elanna nodded. "I’m tired of playing games."  

Chakotay crossed his arms and looked at her with amusement. B’Elanna eyed him suspiciously. "What are you smiling about?"

"Your maturity."

"You mean my impatience!" He laughed. "I’m not going to be chasing pilots for the rest of my life."

He put a hand to hers. "I have friends," she continued, "I've had lovers.  But it's not the same..."  She struggled for the words against her emotions.  "It's not the same as having someone to come home to every night," Chakotay finished for her.  He offered his arms.  She let herself be enveloped by them.  "I know," he said.  "I know, B’Elanna."

Looking down, Chakotay saw the tiny pools of tears reflected in her eyes.  It made him think of the angry warrior in the tale he'd been told as a child.  The sight almost made him cry.  Chakotay stroked her cheek with his fingers. "Everything will work out. You’ll see." He gently kissed the ridges on her forehead. 

When he withdrew, he saw B'Elanna's robe absently slip off of her shoulder.  He stared at her helplessly.  B'Elanna was still; she didn't put it back. 

Suddenly Chakotay wasn't thinking about Tom.  He wasn't thinking at all.  All he could see was the purple of her gown, and all he wanted to touch was the skin beneath it.  Spirits, he thought.  He moved in closer, until his lips brushed the corner of her mouth.

B'Elanna closed her eyes and let him kiss her.  And then she kissed him back.  It was sweet and encouraging.

"Chakotay." She said his name in a way he hadn't heard for a very long time.

He met her eyes.  In them, he found a certain helplessness there.  He couldn't tell whether it was because of him or because of the vulnerable state she was in.  "If you want me to leave..."

B'Elanna kissed him again.  "Please," she whispered against his lips, "don't." 

So he stayed for the evening, and for much of the next morning.