The Long War

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posted on Jan, 19 2005 @ 10:10 AM
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This was written by my friend and I about 3 weeks ago

Captain, I... I can't get a lock on them," The expression on Harry
Kim's face was priceless.
"Try it again, Harry," Kathryn Janeway was determined to get her
two crew members back.
"Captain, I'm sorry. They're gone."

Janeway sighed sadly. She had just lost two of her finest officers on
an unimportant mission. They had been investigating a strange
solar system, with two suns, and twelve planets. The fifth planet
had been emitting ion rays, and Kathryn needed someone to
investigate it. On their way there, they had been attacked, and
turned around and headed back. The badly damaged craft
couldn't make it in time, and an emergency transport was needed.
But, the ion rays were affecting the system. Janeway's officers,
were gone.

Lieutenant Tom Paris and his companion, B'Elanna Torres, had
beamed down, onto what they thought was Voyager. As they
rematerialized, they noticed they weren't on their ship, or even in
the Delta Quadrant.
"Tom, where are we?" Torres questioned softly, trying not to raise the
suspicion of the natives.
"I don't know B'Elanna," he replied, cautiously observing those
around him.

"They're 'Tories," someone called, "let's get 'em."
"Tories?" B'Elanna asked.
Tom just shrugged.
"Tories aren't welcome here," one of the men walked up to Paris
and Torres, trying to make them feeling inferior.
"What's a Tory?"
"Ha! Not only does this lady have some problem with her face, she's
stupid to."
"What's a Tory?" Paris backed her up. B'Elanna looked hurt, Paris
defended her with words against the mob, and with his hand on
her hip.
"They're both crazy!"
"We're not from around here," Paris explained, hand still on
B'Elanna's waist.
"Where are you from, another Earth?"
Torres was about to answer, with the truth, but Tom stopped her.
"What? Don't you want to find out what the hell this is all about?"
"Ohh.. The girl talks back to a man. That's one daring Miss. You know
you could get in serious trouble for that."
Torres ignored them.
"B'Elanna, you know I want to know what's happening as much as
you do. But we can't find it out this way," Paris was speaking softly.
"This man's acting like the girl, and this woman is acting like a man."
Torres was getting steamed, "Shut up!"
"Don't talk to me that way, no girl can do that to me."
"You want to bet."
"Women aren't aloud to gamble," this man, apparently the leader
of the mob, really had something against women.
Torres held up her fists, "C'mon. You and me, I'll make you wish you
were never born."
Paris took her arm, and whispered in her ear, "B'Elanna, no."
"I'd fight you, but I wouldn't like to hit a woman."
B'Elanna clenched her fists, and was ready to take a swing.
"B'Elanna, you'll regret this," Tom whispered, not close enough for it
to be loud in her ear, but she could hear him.
"You should listen to the man."
That was too much for Torres, she threw a punch. The man ducked,
and hit back. B'Elanna paused for a moment, waiting for the
stereotypical man to think she was weak, and had given up, then
she struck. Her fist hit him square in the eye.
"So, missy, you want to play rough."
"B'Elanna, don't to this."
She turned to face Paris, "Tom, do you want me to punch you
instead."
He took a step back, as if to signify he didn't care for a black eye,
because of her fist.
"Still talking back, we'll have to teach you a lesson."
The leader of the mob couldn't get the fact that women could be
strong, smart and in charge in his head. Maybe Torres could knock
some sense in to him, with her fist.
The man swung back, hitting Torres in the stomach, sending her into
a mud puddle.
"B'Elanna!! You okay?" Paris rushed over to her, and helped her up.
"The man always wins."
"I will be as soon as he dies, Tom," and with that, she lounged
toward him. Aiming for is ribcage, she hit her target, and smiled. He
coughed and didn't look to happy.
"I don't like you girl, and you have ugly clothes," he stood up, and
he and his mob left.

"Well, good job B'Elanna," Paris whispered to her.
"Thanks," she smiled at him.
"I don't know what I would have done without you."
"Liar, you dirty rotten liar," she joked, punching him lightly in the
shoulder.
"Don't even pretend to hit me. Any way, we still didn't find out what
a Tory is."
"We can find that out later," she smiled, face close to his, "now, we
have to figure out where we are, and where we can stay tonight."
"Okay, 'Lanna."
She gave him a look, when he had never seen before. In all of his
years with women, he'd never seen that look. And that worried
him, and pleased him at the same time, an odd sensation.
"Well, Tom, let's go," they headed off on the dirt road.
*********************

The roads didn't look any different than they did before. Same dirt,
same endless plain streets lined with endless plain buildings. After
about an hour of walking, or wandering, as it should have been
called, a small building caught Tom's eyes.
"B'Elanna, look," he tugged at her sleeve, and pointed at the
building.
"Paranormal Inn," she read the sign out loud, then shrugged, "an Inn
is a place where people can spend the night, and get some thing
decent to eat, right?"
"Yeah. I think so at least," he paused, as if to mentally check his
answer, "well, let's go check it out."

The stepped into the Inn, it was apparently fairly new, with not
much dust. Torres stopped and looked around, she looked uneasily
at Paris.
"Tom, maybe you better wait outside," she put a hand on his
shoulder.
"B'Elanna, I'm not leaving you here," he put his hand over hers.
"Tom, I don't like something about this place. It feels, some what,
how do I put it, futuristic."
"Futuristic?" he asked with a puzzled stare.
"I.. I don't know, I let you know what I find out," she told him.
He obediently left the Inn to wait out side. Torres walked up to the
clerk's counter.
"Excuse me, ma'am? Do you have any rooms available?"
"Welcome B'Elanna, don't tell him about this. Welcome to our
planet. Go get him. Welcome here. I'll take you to your room. And
you're always welcome here, don't tell him about this, it will spell
certain doom," the clerk was creepy, how did she know who Torres
was, and why would telling Tom about this spell certain doom?
But Torres had went out to get Paris, and he followed her back into
the building. Two bags had appeared in the clerk's hands, and she
was bustling up the stairs.
"Hurry up you two," she called.
Tom shrugged at B'Elanna, then bounded up the stairs, Torres close
at his heels. When they reached the top of the spiral staircase, the
woman pulled out a key and opened the door.
"You two can stay in here. It's the only room available, but it's only
got one bed. All the clothes you'll need are in these suitcases. Have
fun you two," and with those final comments, she pushed the
suitcases into the room, pointed a finger at B'Elanna, as if to remind
her, and hurried back down the stairs.

Torres and Paris ventured into the small room. There wasn't much to
see, a dresser, a mirror, a bed, and a door that led into a smaller
room, sort of a bathroom, with no toilet, but a exquisitely decorated
bath-tub, despite the fact that bath-tubs were rare at this time.

Torres looked out the so-called _ It was dirty, and had
something that looked like a shudder, but didn't look like it should
pull down.
"It's getting late, I guess we should try to get some rest," she noticed
there were millions of stars outside of the window, just like on
Voyager.
"I guess, but there's one problem, one bed, and I'm NOT.." his voice
trailed off as he noticed B'Elanna smiling, "what?"
She laughed, "Nothing, you just had a weird look on your face. As
for the problem, I'll sleep on the floor. But you'll have to sleep there
tomorrow."
"If we're here that long," he pointed out, Torres nodded in
agreement.
"I wonder if there are night clothes in here," Paris went exploring in a
suitcase he assumed was his, partially because it said Tom Paris on
it.
"Why don't you just look and find out," B'Elanna retorted,
rummaging through her own baggage.
"I am. Ah, here they are," he pulled out some PJ-like outfit, then
headed off to the small room to put it on.

B'Elanna stayed in the larger room, looking for something to sleep
in. She finally found a long dress-thing. It was simple, and plain in
both appearance and the materials it was made of. She would
wait to put it on, at least wait 'til she could use the bathroom.

Torres heard the door open, along with Tom's words, "Don't look."
She respected his wishes, so with her eyes closed she said, "I need
to get into that room, but I can't find my way without seeing it!"
"I'll help you," B'Elanna stood up and waited.
She felt two hands on her arms. They guided her across the room,
and into the smaller room. They pushed her in and they let go and
closed the door.
"Knock before you come out," Paris called.
"Okay!"
Torres quickly got dressed and began to open the door, then
remembered to knock.
"Okay," Paris called.
Torres walked out cautiously, and saw Paris hiding under the covers
of the bed.
"Why don't you want me to see your PJ's?"
"Because!"
"Because what? I'm letting you see mine!"
"Because you'll laugh at me," he said.
"Will not."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Too bad," Tom shot back and rolled over, turning his back to her.
"Don't make me come over there."
"You wouldn't."
"I would," Torres told him, but Tom kept his back to her.
She carefully, and quietly tip-toed over to him, and pulled off the
covers.
Then she did something she vowed not to do...... she laughed,
loudly.
"You said you wouldn't laugh!"
She tried to contain herself, "I lied."
"You liar," Paris put his hands around her waist and tickled her.
"Tom... stop it.. that tickles.." she was laughing hardly, and almost
fell over.
"It supposed to," and he tickled her harder.
She fell over onto the bed, right into Tom's arms. She turned to face
him, his hands still around her waist, eyes tearing with laughter.
"Stop it, I learned my lesson."
"Actually, I think you enjoyed it."
"Did not! I hated it," she lied. The truth was, she did love it, and
loved any time spent with Tom, and any activity done with him.
"Well then, serves you right."

Torres walked over to the other side of the bed and lay down on
the wooden ground, trying to sleep. But the floor was cold and
hard.
"B'Elanna?" Paris rolled over and looked down at her.
"What?"
"Want a pillow?"
"Sure."
Paris threw a pillow down, making sure it landed on her face, she
picked it up and hit him with it, then put it on the floor.
"B'Elanna?"
"What?"
"Want a blanket? IT looks cold down there."
"Stop rubbing it in."
"It was your idea."
"Do you want me to come up there, and spend the night in the
same bed as you?"
*Yes,* he thought, but out loud her simply said, "no."
"Then throw me a blanket."
So he did, and then the night was peaceful, for now.
***********************
"Why do you,
Say it's black? I know it's white.
Why can't we,
Just call it quits without a fight?
I don't think you're very smart,
You don't think I'm very pretty.
Guess we never thought at all,
And it seems like such a pity."
Meril Bainbridge--Sleeping Dogs
***********************

"'Lanna, wake up."
"What?" Her eyes were closed, she couldn't see, and was hiding
under the covers, or blanket, actually.
"Wake up," Tom voice sounded nearer.
She turned to face the direction of his voice, and saw his face.
Torres almost screamed, then noticed he was kneeling down.
"Tom, you got dressed," B'Elanna commented
"Yes, I did. Now, it's your turn, up, up, up," he rolled her over and
helped her off of the floor, but she was being resistant.
"Tom, no. Please, I'll pay you if you let me sleep in."
He got a interested look in his eye, "Pay me? How much?"
"Three days of replicator rations," she told him, sounding both
hopeful, and tired.
He considered it for a moment, "No deal."
"A week's worth?"
"Nope."
"Two weeks?"
"B'Elanna, get up," and with that, he took her and pulled her to her
feet.
"No, Tom, let me sleep. I want to go back to bed, please."
"C'mon, we're never going to figure this out if we stay in bed."
"But, we'd be more relaxed."
"B'Elanna, get up, get dressed, get going," and with that, he finally
had her standing.
"Fine," she sounded angry now.
"Find some clothes," he reminded her.
"I will," Torres promised.
"Meet you downstairs in ten minutes."
"Okay, see you then, bye."
Paris felt like giving her a good-bye kiss, then heading down the
spiral steps, but just left with a wave.
*Now,* Torres thought, *what to wear?*

Paris closed the door and bounded down the twirling staircase. He
found himself back in the front lobby. He saw the person at the
front desk was a man now.
"You got yourself quite a looker. Have fun last night?" He asked.
Paris gave him a look filled with surprise, "What?"
"Your girl. Heard she gave those men quite a run for their money."
"Oh.. You mean B'Elanna.. You don't understand she's not my...
never mind.."
"I heard her laughing last night, what happened?"
"Stop with the questions, you are you?"
"Now you've got the questions... I am the one who is here. Don't tell
her about me, welcome to our planet... But don't tell her. I know
what you want to know. A Tory is a supporter of the King, a Patriot is
someone who is against him.... You are a Tory, my good man.. You
may tell her that you know what a Tory is, but don't tell her you are
one, for she is a Patriot."
Tom looked at him, confused and worried, "How'd you know what I
wanted?"
"Oh, look, here she comes now," the man's gaze was behind Tom.
He turned and saw Torres. Paris nodded to the man, then hurried off
to meet her.
"B'Elanna, did you change your clothes at all?" he was looking at
her plain white dress.
"Yes Tom, of course I did, I'm not that sick," she looked down at him
from her perch on the fourth step.
"Well, B'Elanna, let's go find some breakfast," he took her hand, and
led her out the door of the Inn, all the time, thinking about what the
man told him.
********************

"My mind's been going places,
without me lately.
I need your arms to take me back,
Take me to the ground.
But I hold back!
Get away from the heat.
Hold back!
In my field of vision.
Hold back!
Baby burning,
Fire.
The B-52's-- Bushfire
*****************

There were a few brick building that looked like a place to eat, but
none of them suited the tastes of the Starfleet officers. Then Torres
looked in the windows of a small house-like building, and saw the
woman who helped them yesterday.
"Tom, I'm going to go thank her," and with that, she opened the
door and stepped in.
"B'Elanna, you can't just.." he trailed off as the door slammed in his
face, "barge in to say hi."
He followed her in, noticed the woman, and thought of his
experience with the hotel clerk.

As Torres walked over, the woman looked up from her food, "Ah,
B'Elanna, good to see you. Remember, not a word, not a single
word."
She nodded, as Paris wandered to join them.
"Tom, please sit with us," B'Elanna swiped a chair from a nearby
vacant table.
The woman got a strange expression on her elderly face, "Actually,
I'd like to talk to B'Elanna, alone."
Paris looked hurt.
"Tom, I promise, you can come back later. I'll make it up to you,"
Torres apologized before she shot a painful glance at the woman.
"Okay, if that's how you feel," he left the two.
"Tom, no, I didn't mean it that way. Tom, please, come back,"
Torres glared at the woman across from her.
"Don't let him interfere with your work."
"My.." B'Elanna stopped, not wanted to use the word, relationship,
she finished it by saying, "friendship with Tom has never hurt our
business, relationship."
"Dear, this is more than business. You wanted to know what a Tory
and a Patriot are?"
B'Elanna eagerly nodded.
"A Tory is a supporter of the King, a Patriot is someone who is against
him.... You are a Patriot, my dear girl.. You may tell him that you
know what a Patriot is, but don't tell him you are one, for he is a
Tory."
Torres looked shocked, "How will this affect... I mean.. What will
happen to... What should I do?"
"You have a mission, my sweet child. Complete it, and you will be
fine forever more."
"A mission? What should I do?"
"Capture him... and kill him," she sounded cool, calm and
collected.
"Kill? Him? I can't, I... I lo... love... him... I can't kill him," panic filled
her voice as fear filled her mind.
"Do it child, and all will be well," and with that, she stood up and
left.

Torres sat and thought for a moment, until a voice broke her
meditation.
"B'Elanna?"
"Oh, Tom," she stood up and hugged him.
"What was that for?"
"Oh, nothing.. just forget it. Oh, guess what!!! I figured out what a
Tory and a Patriot are."
"So did I," he looked at her with an uneasy eye.
"What? Tom, what is it?"
"Nothing, really, I'm okay," his faced returned to the normal smile,
"So, what's for breakfast?"
*****************

"Think of me, like I think of you.
Give me a sign, show me you care.
Am I so far away, in your thoughts, not there?
Forget what you told me, it's what didn't get said.

It's not much to ask,
To come down off your cloud,
And with your feet on the ground,
Say something out loud."
Donna Lewis--Without Love
******************

The day was normal, except for the fact they were over 600 years
in the past. They had a wonderful breakfast. Eggs, toast,
pancakes. After that, they went window shopping, and didn't buy
anything, trying to save some of the money the woman had given
them in their suitcases. After all, who knew how long they would be
there.

Lunch was fun. After Paris spilled a plate of food on B'Elanna's lap,
and having to return to the Inn, things actually went smoothly.
Dinner was perfect. They ate at the Inn, candles, music, everything.
Then it was over all too soon. No time for anything important. But
the thought that was running through both of their minds was about
what the clerks had told them, about the Tories and Patriots. Then,
the sun had set, and it was time to sleep again.

"B'Elanna, I will not sleep o n the floor, it is freezing. It's winter for
God's sake."
"Sorry Tom," she was sitting on the bed, legs crossed and looking
down at him, sitting on the cold, wooden, ground.
"You're so mean," he playfully pouted.
"You deserve it, I slept there last night," she smiled at him, obviously
enjoying herself.
He stood up, and looked down at her on the warm bed. She
looked back up at him.
"You still have the *stupidest* Pjs."
"That's it. Don't make me tickle you again."
"You wouldn't dare."
"I would," if he got to do that again, he would most defiantly enjoy
it.
"Prove it," she challenged.
He sat down next to her, and faced her.
"Don't make me," he warned.
"You're just to chicken to do it again."
"That's it," he reached for her, and she got another of those looks on
her face. The same one she had when her called her 'Lanna for
the first time.
"What is it 'Lanna," he was testing her.
"Huh? Oh, nothing, good-night Tom," she gently pushed him away
and lay down in her bed.
Tom thought she was acting strange, "Good-night B'Elanna."
And that was that.
***********************

"Blame it on work, buy me some flowers.
Empty gestures, wile away the hours.
Promises Promises, sealed with a kiss.
Please acknowledge, it's me that you miss.
No message received, excuses believed you hurt me so much.

I'll never recover,
Takes time to discover,
A love like no other."
Donna Lewis-- Without Love
*********************

The night came and went, the sleepy eyes still opened in the
morning. This time, B'Elanna didn't sleep in, she, in fact, woke up
earlier than Tom.

Breakfast was similar to yesterday's, same food, same place. But
after that, B'Elanna and Tom went their separate ways. Torres
returned to the Inn, to think of a way to get home, and Paris went
to physically find one.
*Home*, the word didn't used to have a meaning. Now, it meant
Voyager, with all of her friends, and what had now become her
family, with Tom.
Chakotay had once said, "Home is wherever you happen to be."
And in a way, he was right. Home was with Tom, and he was here
now, so, therefore, here was home. But B'Elanna wanted to get
back to Voyager, where she felt at home, and could be happy,
and love who she wanted, and be who she wanted.

Torres had just eaten lunch, and was now sulking without Paris. The
woman walked up to her.
"Now's your chance."
"Chance for what?"
"Kill him."
"I can't. I don't have a gun, and I don't know where he is."
As if by magic, a gun appeared in the old woman's hand, she
handed it to Torres.
"Here you go child, a gun. You'll find him, go outside, take two
rights... Kidnap him, bring him here, and, well, you know what you
must do."
B'Elanna nodded, "Yes, I do," and she took the gun, and left.

She did find him, two rights from where she had been.
"B'Elanna," he called, heading toward her.
She carefully approached him, gun in hand, and fully loaded.
"What do you want, Tory?" were the words she snapped, as she
stepped close to him, face to face.
"B'Elanna, what the hell are you doing?" he whispered, eyes
pleading in desperation.
"Shut up, Tom. Just play along," she wasn't trying to hurt him
physically, but mentally, the pain was greater than anything he
ever felt before.
She lifted the gun and pointed the barrel to his chest.
"Well, Tory, you gonna listen to me or what?" what ever she was
doing, she certainly took the part well.
The look of pain shone in Paris's eyes. B'Elanna didn't like hurting
him, but she had to.
"Tom, just play along," she whispered softly, the bone-chilling sub-
zero winds hiding her voice, then louder, " C'mon Tory, you're
coming with me."
"No, Little-Miss-Rebel, I'm not going anywhere," it might be fun to
play this part.
In his sweet, low, whisper, he told B'Elanna, "You better have a
[Censored] good reason for this, 'Lanna."
"I do," she was smiling, and Tom could see she was trying hard not
to.
"C'mon Tory."
"No."
"Don't make me use this," she wiggled her gun, which was still firmly
pressed against his chest.
"I bet you don't even know how to shoot it," Tom was enjoying it,
and evident to B'Elanna, and B'Elanna alone.
"Wanna bet?" she aimed off into the cloud-covered sky, and fired.
"Wow, good shot de...." his voice trailed off, as Torres shoved the
gun back into him.
"So, Tory, you coming?"
The smirk on her face was truly evil. And it convinced Tom.
**********************

"At times of war,
We're all the losers.
There's no victory.
We shoot to kill,
And kill you're lover.
Fine, by, me."
The Cranberries-- Warchild
********************

"B'Elanna, what the hell were you doing?"
"Tom, I'm sorry. I had to, now come with me," she apologized, but it
sounded like she didn't mean it.
"B'Elanna, you don't mean it? Do you?"
She stopped walking, and looked at him, eyes showing signs of
both being hurt, and exposed, "How could you even think that?"
He sighed and shook his head, "You didn't mean it? Did you?"
There was rain drizzling now, and Torres hung her head, not making
any eye contact.
"Yes I did."
He lifted her chin, "Look at me. And tell me you meant it."
The look of pain was back, "You don't trust me. That's it, I can't
believe I ever..." she dropped her head again.
"What B'Elanna, you can tell me, I'm your friend."
"No.. I can't, because you don't trust me," the rain was pouring now,
soaking everything that got in it's path.
"B'Elanna, of course I trust you," he was having trouble talking to her,
something that rarely happened to him.
But it was too late, she was walking at a fast pace, several steps
away from him. She was heading back to the Inn, and would be
soaking wet when she got there. The sky was dark, and Paris hoped
she'd get there okay. Paris looked back up at the night sky one
more time before entering the Inn, and before seeing her again. He
did trust her, and she knew it too. He walked up the stairs and
knocked on the door.
"What?" the reply was harsh, and most defiantly hers.
"B'Elanna, it's me. You have to let me in."
"I don't have to do anything."
"Please let me in," he asked.
There was no answer and Paris assumed he'd be stuck out there in
wet clothes for the night. Then he heard foot steps, and a creaky
door-knob turn. There she was, beautiful as ever, B'Elanna.
"'Lanna, I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me," he apologized,
sounding genuine.
"You're soaking wet," she told him, stepping back, letting him know
her was allowed to come in.
"Yeah, I got rained on," he ran his fingers through his wet hair.
"It's okay, so did I," she pushed some of her own wet hair out of her
eyes, "that's why I changed clothes."
And she did. She wasn't wearing another old dress though, she was
back in her night-gown.
"Aren't you going to dinner?"
"I guess, I'm just not hungry," she sighed.
"Well, I guess, I'll stay here with you."
He stepped in the door, and closed it behind himself. Paris went
over and sat on the bed.
"Oh, Tom, I have something to show you."
He perked up, "You do?"
Her back was to him now, "yes, I do."
She turned around, and in her hands was the gun. Long, slender,
sleek, but a gun, never-the-less. She walked over to him, pointing it
at him.
"B'Elanna, what are you doing?"
"It's over, good-bye, Tom, I'll miss you," she pushed it to him.
"Why? B'Elanna? Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because she told me to, and because..."
"What? Hang on? Who told you to?"
"The clerk," she told him.
"The male clerk told me, that you were a Patriot, is that true?"
"The female clerk told me, that you were a Tory, is *that* true?"
"Yeah, it is. They're trying to turn us against each other."
She still held the gun to him, "have any last wishes?"
He grinned a rather silly grin, "one."
She stared into his light blue eyes, trying to figure out his thoughts
just from his smile, and she did. And, personally, she wished she
didn't.
"I'm sorry Tom," she began to fire, but stopped, and put the gun
down, "I'm so sorry."
"What did the clerk tell you?" Paris asked, relieved he wasn't going
to die anytime soon.
"To kill you," Torres replied, with no apparent emotions.
"Kill_me?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because, you're a Tory."
"'Lanna, you know, that something like that, will never, ever come
between us."
"You're sure?"
"I'm positive," he promised, and took her into his arms for a hug,
never wanting to let go.
She looked up at him, "You're all wet."
He smiled, "yes, I am."
"So," she was back to her normal self, "I guess I'll sleep on the floor
tonight."
"B'Elanna, are you crazy? It's freezing in here, and you're soaking
wet."
"So, what are you suggesting. You sleep on the floor."
He gave her a puzzled gaze, then nodded, as if an idea suddenly
came to him.
"What?"
He still had a silly grin on.
"What, Tom?"
"You could stay up here with me."
She took a pillow, and hit him with it, "You little.."
"Hey, hey, only a suggestion."
*Not a bad one either* "I'm sure we could find a way to make it
work."
He gave her a confused glance, "You're serious?"
She nodded, "it's a big bed, and I'm sure there's a way."
"Okay, whatever you say."
**********************

"With you I'm not a little girl,
With you I'm not a man.
When all the hurt inside of me,
Comes out, you understand.
You see that I'm ferocious,
You see that I'm weak,
You see that I'm silly,
And pretentious, and a freak."
Madonna--Rescue Me
*********************

All things and been worked out, and all was well. They both had
gotten a good night sleep, and morning was just around the
corner.
"'Lanna?"
"What?" she replied, still mostly asleep.
"Do you want to wake up?" a silly question to ask, for he already
knew the answer.
"No," she rolled over and away from him, "go back to sleep."
Paris fell out of his side of the bed, and fumbled over to the other
side.
"C'mon, B'Elanna, wake up."
"No... let me sleep," she rolled over, back to him again.
"Wake up lieutenant!!"
"I'm up, I'm up.. By the way, your Pjs are still stupid," she pulled
herself out of bed, and tripped into the bathroom.

When she came out again, she was dressed, and Paris walked in to
the bathroom.
"I'll meet you downstairs," she called, and left.

When Torres had reached the bottom of the flight of stairs, the old
woman, and male clerk, were there to meet her.
"Congratulations," the woman said.
"Yes, congrats, you learned in three days, what it took a civilization
over 300 years to learn."
"You can go, if you want," the man and woman were alternating
sentences, and it was getting confusing.
"You may need this," the man held out his hand, and in it, two
Comm Badges.
"Mine, and Tom's, Comm Badges," Torres gasped.
"You may need them to reach your ship," the woman said.
"You may," and with that they disappeared, literally, disappeared.
"Tom," Torres called, and Paris came rushing down the stairs.
"What is it B'Elanna?"
She held out her hand.
"Our Comm Badges?"
She nodded.
"But how did you get them?"
"The clerks," and they both understood.

They walked outside, and looked up. The cloudy skies were
clearing, and above them were storms, ion storms.
"Can we reach Voyager through that?" Paris asked.
"I dunno. There's only one way to find out," she looked at him.
"Paris to Voyager," as if magically, the ion storms vanished, and a
response came through.
"Janeway here."
"Captain, we've experienced some kind of, well, how do I describe
it? Captain, we've experienced something," Paris explained.
"B'Elanna, can you describe it better?"
"Yes, Captain," she shot Paris a disapproving stare, "we've have
apparently been under-going some sort of tests. About realizing
the down-side of war."
"War? Please explain," Janeway told her chief engineer.
"Well, Captain. How about I tell you about it, after you get us back
on board Voyager?"
"Understood, we can't beam you through these storms, so a shuttle
will be coming for you shortly. Janeway out."

Torres looked at Paris, then up at the sky one last time.
"Well Tom, did you have fun?"
"I must admit, I've had better away missions."
"Better? Really? Do tell."

And he went on, telling about his favorite away mission, until the
shuttle came and took them away. Away from the place that
taught them so much about, love, war, and friendship.

[edit on 19-1-2005 by JBurns]




posted on Jan, 19 2005 @ 08:45 PM
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Please, let me be the first to say that that is indeed a wonderful story



posted on Jan, 20 2005 @ 07:27 AM
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Thank you Mac
, but at least half of the credit should be given to my friend Eric who had the idea for us to write it.





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