Title: Tender Loving Care
Author: PJ in NH
Series: VOY
Codes: P/T
Rating: PG
Synopsis: Takes place after the episode Faces. This little story
describes what happened the first time Tom and B'Elanna were
alone after they got back from the Vidiian planet.
Disclaimer: Voyager owns all the characters, etc., we are just
using the characters for a little fun and relaxation.
Email: kelhapam@lr.net; PSuther998@aol.com
Posting: OK to ASC, ASCEM, BLTS, & PT Fever. Please notify me
if you post anywhere else.


Tender Loving Care
by PJ in NH
March 1999


What was she thinking, he wondered. Ever since their experience
with the Vidiians, she just couldn't keep her eyes off of him.
He had yet to decide why. Was she trying to read his mind?
Trying to decide if he thought any less of her since their
experience, since she had been split in two? And here they
were, finally alone after that away mission. Both in the ship's
Infirmary late at night.

"What brings you here, Lieutenant?" the pilot asked her.

B'Elanna looked down at her hand and held it up for his
inspection. "I cut myself."

Taking the opportunity she presented, he took her hand in his and
examined the injury.

"Seems you did? Do you want me to fix it or the Doc?"

"You?" she asked, but for some reason she couldn't fathom she
didn't pull her hand away from his grasp.

"Well you can either call the Doctor and put up with his acerbic
bedside manner, or you can let Tom Paris, medic extraordinaire,
take care of your wound."

"Medic, huh?" B'Elanna questioned.

Tom dropped her hand and went in search of the dermal
regenerator.

"Yep, I'm the ship's medic for what it's worth. You know that
they are hard up when they have to enlist my services."

B'Elanna walked over to him and held out her hand, praying that
he would hold it again.

"Ah yes, here it is," Tom picked up the medical tool and turned
around surprised that B'Elanna had followed him.

He held her injured hand in his own, looked into her dark eyes
for a moment almost forgetting what he was about to do, when she
broke eye contact.

"So tell me, how did you do this?" Tom asked.

"Well...I...um...."

"Let me guess. You hit Vorik and he bit back?" the pilot
teased.

"I didn't!" she exclaimed astonished at his remark. "If you must
know, I sliced it open an a maintenance panel."

"So the maintenance panel bit back."

"In a manner of speaking. When it wouldn't stay shut, I hit it."

The pilot grinned, but chose not to comment on her action. So he
waved the regenerator slowly over the laceration, he didn't want
to rush this moment. It may be a long time before he had the
opportunity to hold the engineer's hand again and he wanted to
relish the experience.

"You didn't tell me why you came in?" B'Elanna asked, looking up
again into the blue eyes.

"I just came in to get something for a headache," he told her.

"Headache?"

"Yeah, I get tension headaches sometimes when I work double
shifts. Though I don't know why, lately ever since....well ever
since...."

"The Vidiians," she offered.

"Yes, the Vidiians, things have been rather quite. But I still
get them," he explained. Tom finished the last sweep of the wand,
and put away the instrument. "There, as good as new," he
declared.

"But you aren't, B'Elanna reminded him. "You still have your
headache."

"No problem, I'll just get an analgesic, and I'll be fine," Tom
said with a smile, touched that the might care..

"Let me help you," she said.

Tom just looked at her. Had her heard her correctly?

"Help me?" he asked.

"Here," she beckoned, and took him by the hand and led him over
the a chair that was placed by one of the biobeds.

"Sit down, Tom. Let me help you."

"Really, B'Elanna I'll I need is....."

"I mean it. Let me help you. And if this doesn't work, I'll get
you an analgesic. I promise."

Tom dutifully sat down in the chair as she suggested and B'Elanna
walked behind him and touched the back of his neck with her hand.
"Is this were it hurts, Paris?"

It was difficult for him to play it cool when she touched him,
especially on the back of the neck, it had always been an
especially sensitive spot for him.

"Yeah, Torres."

"Hmmmmm," B'Elanna contemplated the situation and reached around
in front of the pilot.

Tom was surprised at her action. "What are you doing?"

"I'm loosening your collar, I can't help you if I can't get to
your neck." She unfastened the gray turtleneck. Then she brought
her hands to the nape of his neck and started to massage his
tight neck muscles, but the fabric kept on getting in the way.

"You're just going to have to get rid of the top and the
turtleneck, Paris, if I'm going to help you."

"What?" the pilot asked.

"Strip!" she ordered. "Waist up!"

"Strip?" he asked.

"What's the matter? Is the headache affected your hearing?" she
growled.

"Ah, n-n-no," he stammered without pause he pulled off his shirt,
exposing his flesh from the waist up.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight. There below her,
over his shoulder and just fingertips away, was Tom Paris' chest
covered with ginger curls of hair that she had only seen glimpses
of before. It just begged to have fingers run through it.

She shook her head to try and erase that thought and
concentrating on the task at hand, she placed her hands back on
his neck and began to knead the tense muscles. Being careful not
to apply too much pressure, careful not to be too Klingon and to
call upon her Human side, B'Elanna worked on the pilot's neck.

Tom shut his eyes and sighed. If it took a double shift and a
headache to feel so good, he'd have to volunteer for extra duty
more often, he mused.

After she was finished with the pilot's neck, B'Elanna moved her
hands lower and began to work on his shoulder muscles as well.

Tom moaned. B'Elanna's hands stilled at the sound.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you. My Klingon half is..."

"No, B'Elanna, your Klingon half is just fine, YOU are fine. You
have a real talent for massage. You didn't hurt me, it just
feels so good."

"Your headache?" she asked.

"It's gone."

"You're sure?"

He heard the uncertainty in her voice, and turned to face her.
"I'm sure, but if you'd like to continue your ministrations, I'm
willing to sit here the rest of the night."

"Pig!"

He grinned.

"You are just impossible, Paris!" she growled and stormed out of
Sickbay leaving the blue-eyed pilot alone.

"I just have to learn to keep my mouth shut," he said as the door
slid shut.

"What is the nature of the medical emergency?"

Tom pivoted around. "Doc, I thought you were shut down for the
night here."

"I was just out back taking inventory."

"At 0200?"

"There is never any rest for a medical hologram, Mr. Paris," he
replied bluntly and picked up his medical tricorder and began to
scan the man. "What can I do for you. Did you hurt yourself
again?"

"Well I had a headache."

"You seem to be fine now," the EMH diagnosed.

"Actually, now I think I have a fever."

"Hmmmm, not according to my instruments." The EMH scanned the
pilot again, this time making sure to encompass his entire body.
"I see what you mean, Mr. Paris."

Tom smiled.


The end.