ST: Voyager Oneshot: Hell of Self-Love
Jan. 5th, 2014 04:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jesterladyficTitle: Hell of Self-Love
By Jesterlady
Pairing: Tom/B'Elanna
Rating: PG
Summary: When B'Elanna would rather die than be saved by a Cardassian Tom has to figure out why and try and help her see how much that hurts him in the process.
Disclaimer: I don't own ST Voyager. The title is by CS Lewis
Hell of Self-Love
Tom twisted his fingers as he walked, working out the knots of anxiety in his stomach by pure kinetic distraction.
It had been rather a rough day.
B’Elanna had nearly died. Again. But this time there had been almost nothing he could do about it and more than just the physical aspects of her condition had wrung a reaction from him. She had expressly wished not to be treated because her salvation would come from a Cardassian doctor, one who had performed atrocities in the name of medicine.
Tom could understand that. There were people he didn’t want anywhere near him either. But if it was a choice of life or death, he’d take life. B’Elanna apparently wouldn’t.
He knew she would be mad at him because of his desire to have her treated and his agreement with the Captain when she’d made the decision. Still…Tom couldn’t help but be a little angry himself at her cavalier desire to die.
He knew he was being irrational too, but then, nothing with B’Elanna ever seemed to be rational. Their entire relationship was built on legendary battles and quiet moments that no one else ever saw. Passion was a big part of it, and an understanding of how messed up the other person was. But…there was something missing. He could see that now because if that something had been in place, today wouldn’t have been such a punch in the gut to him.
Tom sometimes hated his father, but there was one area he’d always admired him in, which was how much Owen Paris valued Tom’s mother. They had a connection that Tom had always envied; none of the distance that always marked his own relationship with his father. The Admiral always put his wife first, above his career, above his children, above himself. Tom didn’t think that was the perfect way to live, but he thought there was one part right, and that was to put your spouse above yourself.
Right now Tom was feeling selfish, he wanted more from B’Elanna, he wanted her to value him above herself. Whether or not he was doing the same for her was something he’d have to examine within himself, but he could see that was what was missing from their relationship. Then again, it wasn’t like they were married. Technically there was nothing binding them to each other apart from their emotions. If there was a medical emergency where a decision had to be made and B’Elanna was incapacitated, then Tom would have zero rights to say anything and it would be the Captain who made the final decision. Not that he thought that the Captain wouldn’t take him into consideration, but it would still tie his hands.
Tom didn’t like that idea. He wasn’t about to go down on one knee and propose marriage to fix the problem. This wasn’t the right time, that wasn’t the right reason, and B’Elanna was probably so angry with him she’d say no. But it was a thought and he stuck it in the back of his mind to think about later.
Right now he had to face her.
He entered her quarters, that much he did have access to, and immediately ducked as an object was flung at his head.
“Bad time?” he asked, trying to keep the situation light. “Or were you trying to initiate something?”
“Guess,” she said, standing up, her eyes shining with rage, obviously raring for a fight.
“Well, I’d rather the latter.”
“If you ever want the latter again, you have a lot of explaining to do,” she said.
“I’m not the only one,” he said, trying to keep his hackles from rising, but it was so hard when she knew exactly what buttons to push on him.
“What does that mean?” she said.
“It means that there are a few things I want cleared up about our relationship and your commitment to it,” he said more sharply than he’d intended.
“I will not be made the bad guy here,” she said. “You intentionally went against my wishes and supported the Captain in her decision. How could you do that to me!”
“How could you decide you’d rather die and leave me than have him treat you!” he shouted back.
“That is not the point,” she said.
“No, it’s my whole point. B’Elanna, I know that you have feelings about the Cardassians and the things they did. I know this guy was…a horrible example of a person and the things he did were unforgiveable. But I don’t care.”
“You don’t care,” she repeated, sounding like she couldn’t wrap her head around what he was saying.
“I care that what he did was wrong and I care about the people he hurt,” Tom said, “but as long as he was going to save your life, I’d write a pardon for him myself. I don’t care who it is that saves you so long as you get saved. Gul Dukat or Khan or Hitler, I don’t care.”
“Who’s Hitler?” she asked, sounding irritated that she needed to ask.
“A real bad guy,” Tom said, gritting his teeth. “Do you get what I’m saying? You’re more important to me than those principles. If your life weren’t on the line I’d be the first one to toss him out an airlock, but you were dying and that changes everything. Apparently it doesn’t for you.”
“You’re putting things into the equation that don’t belong there,” she said, starting to pace. “This wasn’t about us.”
“Everything is about us!” he yelled, pounding his fist into the bulkhead by her door. “The moment you told me you loved me and we began this relationship, everything became about us. You’re not just yourself anymore, you’re part of me and I’m part of you. I have to think about you when I do things. I know I’ve made mistakes and messed that up before, but I know that’s what I should be doing. Do you?”
“Who are you to decide the perimeters of our relationship?” she said.
“An equal member of it, or that’s what I thought,” he said. “I guess what I think doesn’t matter to you, how I feel about you doesn’t matter, what you do to yourself doesn’t matter because you’re the only person who your decisions have an effect on.”
“You’re twisting everything,” she said. “That’s not what I said or what I mean or what I do.”
“That’s how it feels to me,” he said, stepping in closer to her. “I feel, B’Elanna. Just because I make jokes doesn’t mean I don’t feel. You can’t just throw your life away and expect me not to care.”
“I never said you didn’t,” she said. “But you’re not listening to me.”
“So tell me, let me know,” he said. “I’m right here.”
“And I’d like to throw you across the room into a bulkhead,” she growled.
“The feeling’s mutual,” he said. “But that’s not going to solve anything, so just talk to me and explain how I’m misunderstanding your decision to die rather than get help.”
“Being in the Maquis didn’t teach you anything about why we were there,” she said. “You were in it for a lark, caught up with the wrong people, barely there before you were arrested.”
“True,” he said, very pointedly not thinking about his feelings at the time or any of the circumstances before or after his time in the Maquis.
“I saw what they did,” B’Elanna said, looking far away. “I saw the mothers raped in front of their children. I saw the little girls forced into prostitution, the boys taught to enforce the same principles. I saw the smug looks on the Cardassian faces as they committed their atrocities. It wasn't as obvious as the Occupation, but it was there and the Federation did nothing!” Her shoulders began to slump and she turned away from him. “I committed my life to a cause, one that would stop them no matter what. I had a family that cared about me. That family is all gone now, destroyed because of those bastards and their alliances. I don’t care what happens to them, but I care about what they did. If I accept treatment from them then I’m saying that everything they did was all right, was an acceptable action. I’m walking around now with the blood of all those Bajorans that he butchered on my hands.”
Her voice cracked and she fell to the ground, weeping. Tom stood speechless for a moment and then went to his knees beside her and wrapped his arms around her, not knowing what to say but offering her his support. He still felt right, but he could see how much this was hurting her, how helpless she felt, living with the decisions that people had made for her, without her consent and against her beliefs.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I’m so sorry.”
He rocked her back and forth while she cried and she clung to the front of his uniform, sometimes beating her palms against his chest in her anger. He felt his own eyes start to sting because of her pain.
“You’re a selfish bastard,” she finally said. “I love you so much, but you make me think about things I don’t want to think about, make me feel things that I don’t want to feel, learn things I don’t want to learn.”
“You think you don’t do the same for me?” he asked, leaning back and tilting her head to look in her eyes. “You are constantly forcing me to reevaluate everything I believe in. You’re what makes me anything that I am and I don’t want to lose that.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” she said. “That wasn’t what I was thinking about.”
“I know, but can you please think about things like that when these situations happen?”
“I can try,” she said. “But I believe in this cause, Tom, even if I’m wearing a Starfleet uniform, I have a…a Maquis heart. I can’t just give that up, even if I’m in a relationship with you.”
“I guess it’s mean of me to ask you to,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “It’s partly what I love about you anyway. Just…just talk to me, tell me more, let me learn about how you think, what you feel, what you want to do. Make me feel like a part of your thought process.”
“You just never give up asking for things,” she said shakily, but her tone was light.
“Nope, I never do,” he said, easing their positions so he was leaning against her sofa and she was leaning against him.
“When I joined the Maquis I was angry,” she said in a low voice. “Chakotay taught me how to channel that anger into passion, into commitment. I still got angry, but I was angry about the right things. It was a righteous anger. But that meant that I believed in something and when you believe in something it’s so a part of you that to go against it is like death. Living with that decision, that betrayal, would be harder than dying. We all understood that.”
“I guess I can understand that too,” he said, thinking more about the faith he'd found here on Voyager, the cause of this ship and her crew.
“So that’s why,” she said. “It’s engrained in me to live without consideration of any other factor. I guess I just have to remember that I’m not in the Maquis anymore, that my heart belongs to another cause.”
“I believe in you,” he said, inwardly wondering if he was getting too mushy for her Klingon side to bear. “You are my cause.”
“I guess I need to work on making you mine in every way, not just in my life in the moment,” she said.
“I can be more patient,” he said.
“Can you?” she replied.
“Can you keep your temper?” he asked.
“Maybe we should just work on these things together,” she suggested wryly.
“I like the sound of that,” he said. “Together.”
“I’m sorry about today,” she said. “I’m sorry you were worried. It’s nice to have someone care about what happens to me.”
“It’s nice to care about someone,” he replied. “I’m sorry too, because even though I thought I knew how much you hated Cardassians, I didn’t realize why, and I was so focused on keeping you with me, I never stopped to think about how you thought about it.”
“Makes sense,” she said. “You never stop to think about anything.”
“Hey,” he said, poking her in the shoulder. “You have a certain impetuous streak yourself.”
“I think you’re a bad influence on me,” she said.
“Then let the influencing commence,” he said, bending down to kiss her ear.
She twisted to look at him and half smiled. Her face was red and streaked with tears and she looked exhausted, but he still thought she was the face he wanted to see every day for the rest of his life.
“I don’t think so, Tom, I don’t think now is the right time.”
“Whatever you want,” he said. “I’ve done enough things today against your will.”
“But I should consider your needs as well as my own,” she said, brushing her lips against the corner of his mouth.
“That’s true,” he said, standing up, pulling her up with him.
He led her into her bedroom and pushed her gently onto the bed. He lay down beside her, pulling the blanket up across them, molding her body against his.
“Feeling tired?” she asked.
“Exhausted,” he said. “I’ve been pacing sick bay for hours.”
“Poor thing,” she said in mock sympathy.
He kissed the back of her neck, his one hand running down her side and the other under her head, playing with her hair.
“You should take pity on me,” he said.
“Never,” she whispered, her voice dropping and he bent his head to see her eyes closing.
“Good night, B’Elanna,” he whispered.
She didn’t answer and he half smiled against the pillow, enjoying the feel of her against him, the solidity of her in his arms, the fact of her continued existence.
He didn’t know if he felt better, because now he felt guilty. He hadn’t really thought much about why she’d decided what she had. He felt like he hadn’t taken the time to really see into who she was. He’d thought he had, but it was clear that there were layers she held close to herself and he hadn’t bothered to see them.
He would make it his goal to know her, to let her see into him, to consider her decisions, to try and respect them. Hopefully she would do the same for him, thinking about him and their relationship, remembering she was a part of something different now.
It was all they could do. For now he was just going to relax and hold her while she slept because one thing hadn’t changed, he would rather be with her than anywhere else in the universe.
By Jesterlady
Pairing: Tom/B'Elanna
Rating: PG
Summary: When B'Elanna would rather die than be saved by a Cardassian Tom has to figure out why and try and help her see how much that hurts him in the process.
Disclaimer: I don't own ST Voyager. The title is by CS Lewis
Hell of Self-Love
Tom twisted his fingers as he walked, working out the knots of anxiety in his stomach by pure kinetic distraction.
It had been rather a rough day.
B’Elanna had nearly died. Again. But this time there had been almost nothing he could do about it and more than just the physical aspects of her condition had wrung a reaction from him. She had expressly wished not to be treated because her salvation would come from a Cardassian doctor, one who had performed atrocities in the name of medicine.
Tom could understand that. There were people he didn’t want anywhere near him either. But if it was a choice of life or death, he’d take life. B’Elanna apparently wouldn’t.
He knew she would be mad at him because of his desire to have her treated and his agreement with the Captain when she’d made the decision. Still…Tom couldn’t help but be a little angry himself at her cavalier desire to die.
He knew he was being irrational too, but then, nothing with B’Elanna ever seemed to be rational. Their entire relationship was built on legendary battles and quiet moments that no one else ever saw. Passion was a big part of it, and an understanding of how messed up the other person was. But…there was something missing. He could see that now because if that something had been in place, today wouldn’t have been such a punch in the gut to him.
Tom sometimes hated his father, but there was one area he’d always admired him in, which was how much Owen Paris valued Tom’s mother. They had a connection that Tom had always envied; none of the distance that always marked his own relationship with his father. The Admiral always put his wife first, above his career, above his children, above himself. Tom didn’t think that was the perfect way to live, but he thought there was one part right, and that was to put your spouse above yourself.
Right now Tom was feeling selfish, he wanted more from B’Elanna, he wanted her to value him above herself. Whether or not he was doing the same for her was something he’d have to examine within himself, but he could see that was what was missing from their relationship. Then again, it wasn’t like they were married. Technically there was nothing binding them to each other apart from their emotions. If there was a medical emergency where a decision had to be made and B’Elanna was incapacitated, then Tom would have zero rights to say anything and it would be the Captain who made the final decision. Not that he thought that the Captain wouldn’t take him into consideration, but it would still tie his hands.
Tom didn’t like that idea. He wasn’t about to go down on one knee and propose marriage to fix the problem. This wasn’t the right time, that wasn’t the right reason, and B’Elanna was probably so angry with him she’d say no. But it was a thought and he stuck it in the back of his mind to think about later.
Right now he had to face her.
He entered her quarters, that much he did have access to, and immediately ducked as an object was flung at his head.
“Bad time?” he asked, trying to keep the situation light. “Or were you trying to initiate something?”
“Guess,” she said, standing up, her eyes shining with rage, obviously raring for a fight.
“Well, I’d rather the latter.”
“If you ever want the latter again, you have a lot of explaining to do,” she said.
“I’m not the only one,” he said, trying to keep his hackles from rising, but it was so hard when she knew exactly what buttons to push on him.
“What does that mean?” she said.
“It means that there are a few things I want cleared up about our relationship and your commitment to it,” he said more sharply than he’d intended.
“I will not be made the bad guy here,” she said. “You intentionally went against my wishes and supported the Captain in her decision. How could you do that to me!”
“How could you decide you’d rather die and leave me than have him treat you!” he shouted back.
“That is not the point,” she said.
“No, it’s my whole point. B’Elanna, I know that you have feelings about the Cardassians and the things they did. I know this guy was…a horrible example of a person and the things he did were unforgiveable. But I don’t care.”
“You don’t care,” she repeated, sounding like she couldn’t wrap her head around what he was saying.
“I care that what he did was wrong and I care about the people he hurt,” Tom said, “but as long as he was going to save your life, I’d write a pardon for him myself. I don’t care who it is that saves you so long as you get saved. Gul Dukat or Khan or Hitler, I don’t care.”
“Who’s Hitler?” she asked, sounding irritated that she needed to ask.
“A real bad guy,” Tom said, gritting his teeth. “Do you get what I’m saying? You’re more important to me than those principles. If your life weren’t on the line I’d be the first one to toss him out an airlock, but you were dying and that changes everything. Apparently it doesn’t for you.”
“You’re putting things into the equation that don’t belong there,” she said, starting to pace. “This wasn’t about us.”
“Everything is about us!” he yelled, pounding his fist into the bulkhead by her door. “The moment you told me you loved me and we began this relationship, everything became about us. You’re not just yourself anymore, you’re part of me and I’m part of you. I have to think about you when I do things. I know I’ve made mistakes and messed that up before, but I know that’s what I should be doing. Do you?”
“Who are you to decide the perimeters of our relationship?” she said.
“An equal member of it, or that’s what I thought,” he said. “I guess what I think doesn’t matter to you, how I feel about you doesn’t matter, what you do to yourself doesn’t matter because you’re the only person who your decisions have an effect on.”
“You’re twisting everything,” she said. “That’s not what I said or what I mean or what I do.”
“That’s how it feels to me,” he said, stepping in closer to her. “I feel, B’Elanna. Just because I make jokes doesn’t mean I don’t feel. You can’t just throw your life away and expect me not to care.”
“I never said you didn’t,” she said. “But you’re not listening to me.”
“So tell me, let me know,” he said. “I’m right here.”
“And I’d like to throw you across the room into a bulkhead,” she growled.
“The feeling’s mutual,” he said. “But that’s not going to solve anything, so just talk to me and explain how I’m misunderstanding your decision to die rather than get help.”
“Being in the Maquis didn’t teach you anything about why we were there,” she said. “You were in it for a lark, caught up with the wrong people, barely there before you were arrested.”
“True,” he said, very pointedly not thinking about his feelings at the time or any of the circumstances before or after his time in the Maquis.
“I saw what they did,” B’Elanna said, looking far away. “I saw the mothers raped in front of their children. I saw the little girls forced into prostitution, the boys taught to enforce the same principles. I saw the smug looks on the Cardassian faces as they committed their atrocities. It wasn't as obvious as the Occupation, but it was there and the Federation did nothing!” Her shoulders began to slump and she turned away from him. “I committed my life to a cause, one that would stop them no matter what. I had a family that cared about me. That family is all gone now, destroyed because of those bastards and their alliances. I don’t care what happens to them, but I care about what they did. If I accept treatment from them then I’m saying that everything they did was all right, was an acceptable action. I’m walking around now with the blood of all those Bajorans that he butchered on my hands.”
Her voice cracked and she fell to the ground, weeping. Tom stood speechless for a moment and then went to his knees beside her and wrapped his arms around her, not knowing what to say but offering her his support. He still felt right, but he could see how much this was hurting her, how helpless she felt, living with the decisions that people had made for her, without her consent and against her beliefs.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I’m so sorry.”
He rocked her back and forth while she cried and she clung to the front of his uniform, sometimes beating her palms against his chest in her anger. He felt his own eyes start to sting because of her pain.
“You’re a selfish bastard,” she finally said. “I love you so much, but you make me think about things I don’t want to think about, make me feel things that I don’t want to feel, learn things I don’t want to learn.”
“You think you don’t do the same for me?” he asked, leaning back and tilting her head to look in her eyes. “You are constantly forcing me to reevaluate everything I believe in. You’re what makes me anything that I am and I don’t want to lose that.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” she said. “That wasn’t what I was thinking about.”
“I know, but can you please think about things like that when these situations happen?”
“I can try,” she said. “But I believe in this cause, Tom, even if I’m wearing a Starfleet uniform, I have a…a Maquis heart. I can’t just give that up, even if I’m in a relationship with you.”
“I guess it’s mean of me to ask you to,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “It’s partly what I love about you anyway. Just…just talk to me, tell me more, let me learn about how you think, what you feel, what you want to do. Make me feel like a part of your thought process.”
“You just never give up asking for things,” she said shakily, but her tone was light.
“Nope, I never do,” he said, easing their positions so he was leaning against her sofa and she was leaning against him.
“When I joined the Maquis I was angry,” she said in a low voice. “Chakotay taught me how to channel that anger into passion, into commitment. I still got angry, but I was angry about the right things. It was a righteous anger. But that meant that I believed in something and when you believe in something it’s so a part of you that to go against it is like death. Living with that decision, that betrayal, would be harder than dying. We all understood that.”
“I guess I can understand that too,” he said, thinking more about the faith he'd found here on Voyager, the cause of this ship and her crew.
“So that’s why,” she said. “It’s engrained in me to live without consideration of any other factor. I guess I just have to remember that I’m not in the Maquis anymore, that my heart belongs to another cause.”
“I believe in you,” he said, inwardly wondering if he was getting too mushy for her Klingon side to bear. “You are my cause.”
“I guess I need to work on making you mine in every way, not just in my life in the moment,” she said.
“I can be more patient,” he said.
“Can you?” she replied.
“Can you keep your temper?” he asked.
“Maybe we should just work on these things together,” she suggested wryly.
“I like the sound of that,” he said. “Together.”
“I’m sorry about today,” she said. “I’m sorry you were worried. It’s nice to have someone care about what happens to me.”
“It’s nice to care about someone,” he replied. “I’m sorry too, because even though I thought I knew how much you hated Cardassians, I didn’t realize why, and I was so focused on keeping you with me, I never stopped to think about how you thought about it.”
“Makes sense,” she said. “You never stop to think about anything.”
“Hey,” he said, poking her in the shoulder. “You have a certain impetuous streak yourself.”
“I think you’re a bad influence on me,” she said.
“Then let the influencing commence,” he said, bending down to kiss her ear.
She twisted to look at him and half smiled. Her face was red and streaked with tears and she looked exhausted, but he still thought she was the face he wanted to see every day for the rest of his life.
“I don’t think so, Tom, I don’t think now is the right time.”
“Whatever you want,” he said. “I’ve done enough things today against your will.”
“But I should consider your needs as well as my own,” she said, brushing her lips against the corner of his mouth.
“That’s true,” he said, standing up, pulling her up with him.
He led her into her bedroom and pushed her gently onto the bed. He lay down beside her, pulling the blanket up across them, molding her body against his.
“Feeling tired?” she asked.
“Exhausted,” he said. “I’ve been pacing sick bay for hours.”
“Poor thing,” she said in mock sympathy.
He kissed the back of her neck, his one hand running down her side and the other under her head, playing with her hair.
“You should take pity on me,” he said.
“Never,” she whispered, her voice dropping and he bent his head to see her eyes closing.
“Good night, B’Elanna,” he whispered.
She didn’t answer and he half smiled against the pillow, enjoying the feel of her against him, the solidity of her in his arms, the fact of her continued existence.
He didn’t know if he felt better, because now he felt guilty. He hadn’t really thought much about why she’d decided what she had. He felt like he hadn’t taken the time to really see into who she was. He’d thought he had, but it was clear that there were layers she held close to herself and he hadn’t bothered to see them.
He would make it his goal to know her, to let her see into him, to consider her decisions, to try and respect them. Hopefully she would do the same for him, thinking about him and their relationship, remembering she was a part of something different now.
It was all they could do. For now he was just going to relax and hold her while she slept because one thing hadn’t changed, he would rather be with her than anywhere else in the universe.
