From bjcochran@aol.com Tue Aug 04 03:48:06 1998 Path: news10.ispnews.com!hub1.ispnews.com!news11.ispnews.com!news1.ispnews.com!dca1-hub1.news.digex.net!digex!cpk-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!news.bbnplanet.com!portc02.blue.aol.com!audrey03.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: bjcochran@aol.com (BJCochran) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW:VOY/TNG:Quintessence(1/4) J/P & R (PG) Lines: 311 Message-ID: <1998080410480600.GAA03792@ladder03.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder03.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Date: 4 Aug 1998 10:48:06 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Xref: news10.ispnews.com alt.startrek.creative:23897 AUTHOR: Bridget Cochran TITLE: Quintessence (1/4) SERIES: Voyager RATING: PG CODES: J/P & R SUMMARY: Q sends Voyager help in the form of Cmdr. William Riker. Doesn't help Tom much. Disclaimer: I own the ideas, Paramount owns the rest. Archive at will. © 1998 (VOY-TNG crossover, J/P mostly & R, PG) Summary: This could be called 'Be Careful What You Wish For', but people could get the wrong idea. It's not P/T--it's J/P do or die time. Q really tries to help, but he drops more problems onto Voyager when he drops Cmdr. Riker into the mix. Tom angst alert (what **is** it about Tom and angst?) Since it's a Q story, the title must have a word with Q in it, right? My very old Webster's Collegiate says: 2. The essence of a thing in its most concentrated form. I.e., Tom's love for Kathryn. I must let everyone know that a great deal of the backstory herein comes from Jeri Taylor's Mosaic. I know everyone has an opinion about that novel just as they have opinions about Pathways. Let's just say, I prefer Mosaic. There are also veiled (and not so veiled references to JA Toner's Mercenary--a beautiful story--and Tom's relationship with Ro Laren. *** Sandrine's was black except for a single spot light. The light shone on Harry Kim, dressed completely in black, clarinet between his lips, making beautiful exciting music. His fingers moved with skill over the keys, hardly any click registering over the beautiful notes. Eyes closed, face serene, he played a von Weber duet for piano and clarinet. Not that the majority of the audience could tell the difference between von Weber and Mozart. But von Weber always seemed more melodious, less a fingering exercise. But with most post-baroque music, the work was open to interpretation--interpretation a holographic pianist was never able to facilitate. Harry faltered a moment, losing his timing for that split second that would have left him flustered five years ago. Now he gave a mental shrug as he turned to his pianist in an attempt to connect for the meter and adjusted his playing. He just hoped no one noticed the temporary loss of tempo. Tom noticed, though. He didn't hear it in the piece. That sounded fine. The evidence was in the flicker in Harry's eyes. Harry mentioned it more than once--what he wouldn't give to be able to play with a real, live competent pianist--sure he could play with Horowitz, Rubenstein, Justinian, anybody--any*holographic*body, but it wasn't the same. Not to Harry. Tom didn't think that was too much to ask. His second wish, after doing everything in his power to make life easier for the Captain., was that Harry could find a decent, living and breathing accompanist. Didn't even have to be human, just decent. His eyes wandered to the next table where the Captain sat , resting her weary head on her fist, weary eyes trained on Harry. Hating to see her like this,Tom sighed and turned his attention back to the music. Kathryn Janeway was watching Harry, but she didn't hear a note. Her mind was rolling with all the work there was to be done, all there always was to do. She really shouldn't be at this recital. Not when she had reports to sift through, repairs to authorize, engineering status to review, et cetera, and so forth. Ad nauseum. She was glad they were in a modified Sandrine's and glad for the holo tables because she could prop her head up. If she were a lesser woman, she would just lay her head on the table and give in to the fatigue. But she wasn't a lesser woman, she thought as she took a sip at her coffee, the tepid brew no longer provided the necessary jolt, and made the extreme effort to look attentive. She really hated this enforced relaxation. It only served to bring the futility of all their actions to the fore. If Voyager **ever** made it back to the Federation, it would be by the grace of the gods. This forced, if polite, inactivity, only helped to magnify the sense of helplessness that Janeway felt when she wasn't in perpetual motion. //If only I had more help. Another command presence to help take charge.// Chakotay, Tuvok, even Tom (she flicked a fond look in the pilot's direction), had been exemplary in their assistance during the reclamation and reconstruction of Voyager after the Hirogen fiasco. Following her orders, they had directed the massive repairs well, but they were tired. As tired as he was herself. Yet, they needed relief. Relief they might never find. Lord help me, she sighed, dragging a weary hand across her brow. Harry had a sense that something changed immediately. The piano tempo rushed, then slowed, returning to its proper pace. He turned again to the piano. The pianist had changed. He was taller, had a beard shot with gray, and he was wearing a uniform--one with gray shoulders. A Starfleet uniform? With three pips? A Commander? Dark questioning eyes met blue, as they continued to play. For a moment, then the Commander surged to his feet bellowing, "Q" Janeway was a blur to the piano, echoing the call. Tables emptied as the crowd moved forward. Tom stepped in front of the Captain, to be nudged aside by Chakotay, chief protector and food taster to the Captain. The younger man moved aside, but stayed close to her shoulder. "Will Riker, what are you doing here?" She stared up at the aghast the equally disturbed Commander. "Kathryn Janeway?" Commander Riker looked over the curious crew as Tom called for lights. "Voyager," he whispered, incredulity slackening his jaw as his eye returned to settle on Kathryn. He looked down at her with narrowed eyes. "Q," he shouted again, but in vain. He sighed. "Why am I here?" "It's my fault," Tom, Harry and Kathryn said as one. Commander Riker shared an arched brow with the commander with the tattoo before turning to the young man with the clarinet. "And how is it your fault, Mr.--?" "Kim. Harry Kim. Ensign Harry Kim." Will shook the offered hand, indulgent for a moment. "Uh," Harry continued at the nod from the Captain. "I was just thinking how nice it would be to be accompanied by something other than a hologram." "Uh-huh." "I wished I could play with a living being and you appeared." Will frowned and looked from Kathryn to Tom. "You wished for a piano player, too, Mr. Paris?" Tom cocked his head. "You know me, sir?" A sparkle lit the Commander's eyes. "Only by reputation over the last twenty years." His eyes bounced to Janeway. "I've been trying to chase this kid's piloting records since we were at the Academy. He breaks Warp 10 and he asks me if I know him." Tom went pink, crossing his arm, clearly embarrassed and a tad defensive. "We're lucky to have him." Flickering eyes were his only acknowledgement to Janeway's words and smile. "I'd say." Will look around the room. "What's this program?" "It's Tom's," Kathryn offered. "A bar in Marseilles. In France. On earth," Janeway filled the quiet space with babble before she caught herself. "Let's take this conversation to my ready room. Commander Chakotay, Mr. Paris." The trio fell in behind her, leaving a gaping Harry Kim with the rest of his surprised crew members. "So, Mr. Paris, why did **you** wish me here?" Will asked as they entered the lift. Tom shrugged at the older man. "Like Harry said, he needed an accompanist." "And?" "I also wished the Captain could have more help." Will glanced at Kathryn and Chakotay, before looking back at Tom, who actually squirmed under the scrutiny. "More help?" "Yah. Chakotay and Tuvok are working 12 to 15 hour days. I'm doing what I can to keep the ship moving forward." Janeway smiled fondly. "You do much more than that, Tom." He shrugged the compliment away as they left the lift for the bridge. Chakotay looked at Tom hard, but he didn't flinch; Chakotay might not like to hear it, but he **was** only one person. "Stay put," Janeway tossed at Tuvok, "I'll update you directly." She left the Vulcan in the command chair without a backward glance. Will turned his head toward the Captain as he moved to the sofa. "Your turn, Kathryn." A smile twitched at his lips, and she sighed as she sat down beside him. "I was feeling sorry for myself. It doesn't happen very often." She looked up at Tom and Chakotay, "I have the best crew in the galaxy, and the most overworked." She looked at Chakotay. "I just wished I could give my senior staff a break." "And the great and benevolent Q thinks I'm the one for the job." Will rubbed his bearded jaw. "So it would seem." "What next?" He was serious now. "I have to assume you will be her a while. I could give you a duty rotation." "By all means, Captain." "Belay that, mister. Kathryn will do in private." Caught up in the smile Will turned on her, she missed the set of Tom's jaw as she smiled up into Will Riker's face. He'd never once been offered the same familiarity, he'd just taken it. "Permission to speak freely, **ma'am **?" Will teased. "Granted?" She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear this. "Was I really that bad a blind date?" She laughed at the unexpected question. "Oh, Will, you were a wonderful date. Just about the best date I ever had," Kathryn looked at Tom sideways. "Up until that point," she allowed. "I never knew anyone who could speak conversationally about massive compact halos. I had a wonderful evening." "Then why did you run out on me?" "Because it was too darn wonderful," Kathryn looked up into his open face. "I had just signed on to do my junior paper with Admiral Paris. An outline was due that Monday. I was set to work with him for the next year. You would certainly have distracted me." Riker took the compliment with good nature as he watched Kathryn rise from the couch to move toward her desk. Looking over templed fingers, she studied Will, really studied him, recalling the adage: Aging well is the best revenge. "I can't believe it's been over 20 years since we first met," she said at last. Will came forward to take a chair by the desk, rubbing the graying hair of his beard. "Don't remind me. I grew this to hide my baby face." Kathryn smiled at the memory of his clean shaven face. "And I couldn't keep my hair under control." "That wasn't so bad. Kinda cute, actually," Riker said and they shared a quiet moment. "I like it short, though." Tom felt like a voyeur. He wanted to squirm, or at very least, clear his throat, but he remained still with the greatest of effort. "You know, gentlemen," Will turned to include them in the conversation, "Our lives never turn out as we expect them to." Tom snorted, Chakotay nodded; it was rhetorical. "20 years ago, I offered Kathryn Janeway a position as science officer on my command." His eyes wrinkled as he smiled at his peer, Chakotay. "Here she is with the awesome responsibility of captaining a ship in the equivalent of no-man's-land, and I'm still a first officer. Even you've commanded a ship." Will turned baleful eyes to the Captain. "Always a bride's maid…." They were quiet a moment as the Captain studied her former classmate. "I can't lie and say I'm unhappy you're here. Chakotay and I have a pressing responsibility." She glanced at Tom, "We all do. Tuvok shares the load, but Vulcan shoulders can take the oppressive weight with a little more alacrity some times. It would be nice to share the responsibility of command. Tom is still learning, but he's very capable. It would be nice to share the responsibility of command." "For as long as Q allows," Riker added. Janeway nodded. "I'd be happy to help out wherever you need me, Kathryn." "Fine, Will," she smiled. "What part of your day are you in?" Will looked at Tom, "Captain Picard and I had just sat down in a meeting with Admiral Nechayev and Admiral Paris on Jupiter Europa. About 0930." Tom blinked. "My father? How is he?" "He's fine, Tom. Had lunch with him yesterday after he supervised my delta cert." "Delta cert?" Janeway, ever the Captain, turned to Will. "What level?' "Level 4." Her eyes lit up, "Then you can retest and certify Tom--he's been certifying our pilots, but he's far from up-to-date with his own cert." She stopped and that catlike little curl came to her lips, "Assuming no one wishes you away." "Sounds great." Will stood and turned to the still standing lieutenant, "but I don't know that it'll be anymore than protocol with you, Tom. You're a much better pilot than I am." Tom blushed beet red at the compliment, so freely given by a superior officer. Tom had always bragged about his piloting skill. He was good, he knew that, but the bravado served as shield. Now a respected member of fleet was telling the world. His world, at least. "Thank you, sir." Janeway nodded her approval and turned to Chakotay, gesturing for her first officer to take a seat. "Should I relieve Tuvok?" Tom asked, "He should be at this meeting." She shook her head, once again in command mode, "Send him in, but your off duty, go back to Sandrine's. Ayala can take the seat for a while." But Tom didn't return to Sandrine's, he headed back to his quarters, concerned at the light he saw in the Captain's eyes when she looked up at their guest. She gave him the same look. That I-am-so-glad-to-see-you look that Tom had called his own. Hell, he thought as he pulled off his civvies, I wished for him, now what do I do with him? He crawled into bed and looked at the ceiling for hours. *** Feed me back at bjcochran@aol.com From bjcochran@aol.com Tue Aug 04 03:50:45 1998 Path: news2.ispnews.com!hub1.ispnews.com!news11.ispnews.com!news1.ispnews.com!howland.erols.net!portc02.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: bjcochran@aol.com (BJCochran) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW:VOY/TNG:Quintessence (2/4) J/P & R (PG) Lines: 146 Message-ID: <1998080410504600.GAA28568@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Date: 4 Aug 1998 10:50:45 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Xref: news2.ispnews.com alt.startrek.creative:23898 AUTHOR: Bridget Cochran TITLE: Quintessence (2/4) SERIES: Voyager RATING: PG CODES: J/P & R SUMMARY: Q sends help to Voyager in the person of Cmdr. Wm. Riker. © 1998 Disclaimer: I own the ideas, Paramount owns the rest. Archive at will. Tom was neither late nor early for the staff meeting the next morning. He sat as usual between Harry and B'Elanna, padd in hand, and waited for the Captain to arrive. She arrived with Commander Riker, no surprise there, laughter plain on her face and in her voice. She strode to the head of the table looking well rested, well fed and ready to start the day. The Commander sat between Chakotay and Tuvok casting smiles upon everyone. With great effort, Tom schooled his features into perfect blandness, dipping his chin to set his face in a mold of impassivity. Still standing, Janeway leaned on the table, the smile imbedded on her face made her eyes snap. "As you know, Q has been providential, for a change, and has sent us a little relief in the form of Commander William T. Riker." If the man beamed anymore he'd be iridescent. Tom's thoughts had little charity. "Chakotay can now concentrate full time on the deck repairs. Tuvok, you will relinquish scheduling to Mr. Riker--and you, Tom, won't have to take as many command shifts." Tom's eyes widened, he leaned forward, "but, Captain, I don't mind--" "Nonsense, Tom," she interrupted, as if bestowing a gift on a reluctant recipient, "You have your hands full piloting the ship." //Not really.// But he said, "Yes, ma'am" and sat back to brood for the rest of the meeting. He felt like a child that was forced to go out to play when he wanted to be with the grown-ups. "Can you start Tom on his Delta cert right away?" Tom came back into the meeting. "Of course." What else would the Commander say? Tom waited politely at the door to the conference room as everyone filed past. They were quiet for the first moments on the lift. "Aren't you going to ask me about your father?" Will asked. Tom lifted her eyes to the older man, hoping he didn't look too eager. "How is he?" "Proud." Tom smirked. "That's it?" Will smiled into the eyes nearly even with his, nearly the same color. "No, he's pretty hard to get off the subject of Tom Paris. When that hologram was downloaded and the information was disseminated through Starfleet your father was transformed to nearly his old self." What Will didn't say was before the Cardasscians. That episode, the captivity, had changed his dad. Changed him into a dour, unpleasable man. Tom couldn't please the new father. Couldn't live up to his impossibly high standards, screwed up big time. The lift opened. Outside the holodeck, Will paused. "He was just so glad he was able to write you and tell you how proud he is of you and the place you've made for yourself on Voyager." Tom's eyes clouded. "Never got the message." Will's jaw dropped. "Didn't get the message?" Tom shook his head as he turned to the keypad. "The network went down before B'Elanna could get it downloaded." He shrugged away the emotion and entered the holodeck to the Level 1 Delta sim. Will was silent for a few minutes as he entered data into the mock secondary helm. "It's a real shame you didn't get that message," he said at last. "He's incredibly proud of you." "I'm glad." That's all Tom could manage to say, there was just too much emotion in the subject. He went to work at the simulation. It didn't take Tom long to realize that the Delta Cert Simulation wasn't foremost on the Commander's mind. Tom had run through the lower level of the test, making a few low level errors, errors a Level 4 would notice, to confirm Riker wasn't even paying attention. "Computer, freeze simulation," he called out as he swiveled toward his senior officer. "Begging you pardon, sir, but his certification would mean more if you participated." Will's eyes hardened at the tone the Lieutenant used, then acknowledged that he had been remiss. A long, deep breath cleansed his lungs as it cleared the cobwebs from his head. "Sorry, Tom. Just thinking about the Captain." //Uh-huh. Join the crowd.// "Oh?" He pretended to adjust navigation. Riker leaned back in the co-pilot's seat. "Yeah. She sure is something." "Sure is." "She really did a number on my self-esteem when she walked out on our date." "I find **that** hard to believe." "Believe it." Will's voice had such a serious tone, Tom had to look up. "I always wondered how I screwed up. She was so smart and funny, and articulate. Didn't take me long to figure out that she might be the one. Then she got funny." Will paused at the memory. "Like I suddenly grew horns and a tail." The older man laughed at the look on Tom's face. "Don't say it. Well, she got out of there so fast, like I had a dread disease." Will rested back into his seat and swiveled toward Tom. "You don't know what a relief it was to find out I was 'too wonderful'." "I bet," Tom ground out--it was not the only thing he wanted to grind out. He called for the computer to adjust to Level 2. Another shuttle replaced the first, and they moved through the next strata of drills. But the 10 minutes of work did not alter the Commander's train of thought. "Is the Captain seeing anyone on the ship?" Tom's heart sank. "That would be fraternization," he hedged. Will frowned. "These are extenuating circumstances." Tom called for Level 3. "Yes, sir." "Is she?" "If she's seeing someone, it's not on a regular basis." At least that was the truth. There wasn't anything regular about what he had with the Captain. It couldn't even be called a relationship. "Hmmm," Will said, and turned his attention to certifying Tom. Feed me back at bjcochran@aol.com From bjcochran@aol.com Tue Aug 04 03:52:59 1998 Path: news2.ispnews.com!hub1.ispnews.com!news11.ispnews.com!news1.ispnews.com!news2.ais.net!jamie!ais.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!152.163.199.19!portc03.blue.aol.com!audrey03.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: bjcochran@aol.com (BJCochran) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW:VOY/TNG:Quintessence(3/4) J/P & R (PG) Lines: 341 Message-ID: <1998080410525900.GAA03944@ladder03.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder03.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Date: 4 Aug 1998 10:52:59 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Xref: news2.ispnews.com alt.startrek.creative:23899 AUTHOR: Bridget Cochran TITLE: Quintessence (3/4) SERIES: Voyager RATING: PG CODES: J/P SUMMARY: Q sends Voyager help in the form of Cmdr. William Riker. Doesn't help Tom much. Disclaimer: I own the ideas, Paramount owns the rest. Archive at will. © 1998 Harry was worried about Tom. They sat in Sandrine's sharing a beer watching Commander Riker play the trombone with Harry's holographic piano player. Tom had that hard look in his eye. The one he used to have when they first met. Harry didn't see the look much though, only late, after shift, here in Sandrine's. He watched his friend watch the Captain and Mr. Riker. The blue eyes would bounce back and forth missing nothing. For a half an hour, then he would finish his beer, say good night. And end up at the Sick Bay to volunteer for a couple of hours. Harry hated seeing his friend like this, but Tom stonewalled him every time he brought the subject up. "I'll get over it, Harry, just not today." But it was plain the younger man didn't believe him. "Okay, I won't get over it," Tom sighed. He still couldn't look Harry in the eye. "But it'll get better, Harry." *** Tom had finally shaken the concerned, 'let's talk' Harry off and headed for his quarters. Hoverball had succeeded in wearing him out, readied him for the couple of hours sleep he knew he was capable of. He was wiping his face with the hem of his shirt as he walked through the door to his quarters. So he missed the Captain sitting in the easy chair until he was almost in front of her. He swallowed as he covered his belly. "Kathryn?" Her brow arched at the familiarity. "I've been concerned about you." //Whatever.// "Don't be." His shoulders sagged, then he consciously straightened. Janeway cocked her head, examining him. Uneasy with the scrutiny, Tom landed on the couch and pulled a pillow into his embrace. "It's like you've lost something," she said unable to miss his defensiveness. He shook his head, blowing disgusted air through his nostrils. "Just a little off right now. It'll blow over." He stared at a point just beyond her head. "Anything I can do to help?" Tom thought of a dozen flip antagonisms he could fling at her, but there was no point. Anger served no purpose; wouldn't get him what he wanted, what he needed. He needed the Captain happy, he realized. If that happiness came with someone else, so be it. "Just let me work it out." She looked at him squarely, not allowing him to break the contact. "Work out what, Tom?" He wanted to groan, he wanted to scream, he wanted to throw himself at her feet. He did none of that. He just shrugged. "Boredom. Futility. Bone tired." //Heart sick.// But he'd never say that out loud. Nervous energy made him stand. Janeway nodded, one side of her mouth quirking. For a moment Tom thought she was going to call his bluff. Instead she slapped her knees and stood. Too close to him. He stepped back, not trusting himself alone with her. Not right now. Not when he needed her so much. "I just wanted to see how you were." She looked up at him, wanting to say more, but aware that he wasn't inviting her comment. His mind was made up and he was turning her loose. No, not turning her loose, exactly. Backing off, removing himself from her life as much as possible on a small ship. Tom had always set the pace in this dance. He'd always been so open. Now he was as distant as home--shields at full. She left without another word. And Tom left her go. She had been there, sitting in his chair, in his day room, and he left her go. He slammed into the chair she vacated, feeling like he had let her vacate his heart. Leaving a black, gaping hole that was sucking in on itself and collapsing in his chest. He couldn't be angry with Commander Riker: he liked Commander Riker. Will Riker was the man Tom wanted to be--a strong, successful Starfleet career man. The first officer of a much storied starship. A leader who was admired, respected and **liked** by everyone who knew him. Tom sighed. Everything Tom wanted. He scrubbed his hands with his face. People look up to me because I'm tall. They like me because I'm fun in a crowd. They respect me because I'm good at my job. Yah, he had everything Tom wanted. Christ, Tom had even handed him the Captain on a platter. 'Is she seeing anyone?' That had been his golden opportunity to say, 'sorry, Commander, but she's taken'. Instead he'd let him go for her. Tom shrugged, and padded toward the bedroom, tired from hoverball and the strain of his brief meeting with Kathryn. If a better man wanted Kathryn, a better man should have her. He'd just have to work on getting over her. It might just become his life's work, he thought as he fell face first onto the bed. *** Get up. Shower. Put on the uniform. Tom moved through the routine like a zombie. "Chakotay to Paris." Tom frowned as he yanked his boot on. That wasn't part of the routine. "Paris here." "Tom, can you stop by my office before your shift?" Tom's frown deepened as he glanced at the chronometer. "Sure, Chakotay, if you buy me a cup of coffee. I'm gonna miss breakfast." "No problem. Chakotay out." Uh-oh, Tom thought. Something's up. They sat across Chakotay's desk from each other, both nursing steaming mugs. "So, the Captain put you up to this?" Tom enjoyed the chagrin that the older man displayed. "She's worried about you." Anger was the first thing that gripped him. Couldn't she let it alone. He kept telling himself that anger had no place in the equation, so with great effort he calmed himself. "She worries about everybody, she's the Captain." "I think this is a little different. Her concern goes way beyond that of a crewmember," Chakotay said. Tom smirked. "Then how come I'm being lectured by the First Officer as if I'd been a bad boy." Tom was not going to make this easy. Chakotay leaned back into his desk chair with his coffee. "You might be late for your shift." "Gods, all I want to do is wallow in self pity," Tom whined. Chakotay smiled, he was going to get somewhere after all. "Okay, Kathryn and I were exploring a--a relationship. Nothing serious, just a little flirtation, comfort, sharing--I don't know. Nothing serious really." //You're repeating yourself, Tom.// "And then Commander Riker landed here. They had so much in common, age, the Academy, a mutual attraction, good standing with Starfleet." "You and the Captain have things in common." "Uh-huh," Tom dismissed. "Mutual attraction. Blue eyes." "Fleet brats." He smiled a genuine smile at the older man's tone. "Fleet brats and earth born humans--an elite brotherhood." "So?" Rubbing a hand over his hair, Tom sighed. "So, when Commander Riker asked me if the Captain was seeing anyone on board, I said not anyone seriously, and the rest is history." "History?" "Yah, I backed off, he took over." "Do you think Kathryn should have been involved in your decision?" Tom shrugged. "Wasn't her decision to make." Chakotay blinked at that stupid statement. "And isn't she somehow involved in the decision you made?" "Chakotay, how could I hold her if she wanted something else, someone else?" Tom pled his case. "If she had opted for you after all, I would step back. I'd have to. The most important thing in my world is that Kathryn is happy. I'd never stand in the way of that. If Mr. Riker is what makes her happy, I live with it. Learn to live with it," he amended. He sat back and watched a smile creep across Chakotay's dark face. "You probably wouldn't consider a relationship with me." To Tom's credit, a smile crept across his paler face, but it was a sad, wistful smile. "You amaze me, Chakotay. If I wanted a man, you'd be the man." Tom shrugged his face. "How about we just leave it at thank you, but no thank you." It was a long minute before Chakotay smiled. "Probably not a good idea, anyhow." Tom shook his head, but said gently, "Bad idea. There's only one person for me, whether she loves me back or not." He stood up calling the meeting to an end. "Thanks for talking. You decide what you want to tell Kathryn. I have to get to the bridge." Tom did feel better after meeting with Chakotay. The offer from the Commander aside, it was nice talk with someone who shared the misery of the love of Kathryn Janeway. Jeeze, maybe he and Chakotay should form a club. Maybe not. He smiled at Will as he took the helm from Ensign Decker. Yah, he did feel better as he logged himself in and set up initial shift protocols. A hell of a lot better. "Commander Riker, may I see you in my Ready Room?" the Captain spoke over the comm. "On my way," Will said and he was. "You have the conn, Mr. Paris." He acknowledged with a nod, but stayed put. He usually manned the conned from the helm, and it wasn't long before Will returned. "Mr. Paris, my Ready Room **now**." Tom swiveled around to meet the measuring blue eyes. "Your turn," the older man said with his usual good humor, and a hint of something else. Tom returned the look measure for measure as he moved to the steps and the Captain's office. He didn't see the sparkle in Will Riker's eyes as the door slid shut behind him. *** "You must think I'm stupid, Lieutenant," she said without preamble from her seat behind her desk. //Where'd that come from?// "I don't recall ever thinking you were stupid." Tom frowned down at her. "You're pretty far from stupid." "You've been treating me like a pariah." Tom gaped, unable to think of a denial that wouldn't sound lame. "You're not a pariah." Her mouth twisted. "I'm well aware of that. What I'd like to discuss is your misguided attempt at matchmaking." Shutting his eyes and clenching his fists, Tom began his downward spiral into embarrassment. She was going to flay him alive. "I like Will Riker--always did--always will." He cracked an eye open at her gentle, low tone to see her wistful smile. "But I made the choice to let him go twenty years ago. He didn't have a place in my life then, he doesn't have a place in my life now." "But he could have a place now," Tom advocated. "No, Tom, he can't. He's a nice man, fun to be around. But the place he'd have is occupied." He stared at her, she stared at him. Neither moved; he on one side of the desk, she on the other. "By me?" he whispered, almost afraid to ask. "By you." She finally moved from behind the desk to stand before him, looking up into the patent incredulity. "You are a noble, selfless jerk." She whispered. "I am?" he asked. She nodded. "I'm a jerk, at least." She didn't disagree. "Chakotay told me about your conversation." She placed her palms flat on his chest. "Figured he would." Tom gingerly eased his arms around to rest at the small of her back. "He told me about his offer." Tom pinkened and rolled his eyes. That would have been something to hear. "He can't have you." "Oh?" "No. He can't." "Okay." "I spoke with Will, too." Her ear rested over his beating heart. "I know." "Why wouldn't you fight for me?" He smiled at the childish petulance in her voice. "Because he seemed like the better man." Kathryn pushed back to look up at the idiot. "The better man?" "Hail fellow, well met. Been, seen, done." "Oh, you're pretty 'well met', Tom," she laughed at his verbal short hand. "Been, seen, done--good and bad." Tom sobered, pulling her back to him. "Of all the good and bad, you've been the best part." It was quiet for a few minutes. "Why didn't you talk to me, Tom?" she asked. He hugged her closer. "I have no ties on you, Kathryn. No hold." "No hold?" She took a full step back. "I'm in your chain of command--" She snorted and folded her arms. Her toe wasn't tapping, was it? "You **are** the boss." She wasn't buying, because she knew him too well. "You are so full of it, mister. You know in your mind we're equals--we were raised for this life--and we've been given the opportunity to live it together. Promise me you'll never give another man the opportunity to come between us. Either of us," she added with a smile. "Promise. What about you?" His pout was perfect. "No one will come between us," Janeway promised. Tom hauled her back into his embrace, heaving a cleansing sigh as relief bordering on euphoria wash through him. "Ugh. Tom. You're squashing me." He eased up a little on the slight frame. "Aren't you going to kiss me?" It was Kathryn's turn to sound petulant. He held her away from him by her shoulders, but gave her a quick shake of his head. "Can't. I'm on duty." He moved to the door. Kathryn shook her head after him. Her Tom was back. "Convenient that you remember that now." Go to the Epilog Feed me back at bjcochran@aol.com From bjcochran@aol.com Tue Aug 04 03:56:19 1998 Path: news2.ispnews.com!hub1.ispnews.com!news11.ispnews.com!news1.ispnews.com!nntp.abs.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!152.163.199.19!portc03.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: bjcochran@aol.com (BJCochran) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW:VOY/TNG:Quintessence(4/4) J/P & R (PG) Lines: 217 Message-ID: <1998080410561900.GAA28750@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Date: 4 Aug 1998 10:56:19 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Xref: news2.ispnews.com alt.startrek.creative:23901 AUTHOR: Bridget Cochran TITLE: Quintessence (4/4) SERIES: Voyager RATING: PG CODES: J/P & R SUMMARY: Q sends help to Voyager in the form of Cmdr. Will Riker. Doesn't help Tom much. Disclaimer: I own the ideas, Paramount owns the rest. Archive at will. Quintessence, Epilog By Bridget Cochran © 1998 Will and Tom sat late in Sandrine's sharing a beer. The place was deserted, the piano silent, the cue sticks racked, holochairs on holotables. They'd been quiet for some time, neither really drinking the amber liquid in front of them. Tom tipped the rim of his mug with a circling finger. Will held his mug between his warm hands, rendering the brew undrinkable. "You know I can never apologize for what I've put you through in the last week," Will said at last, a small smile flirted on his mouth. Tom only nodded, continuing to trace the rim of his mug. "I'm never going to be able to make it up to you," he continued. "Sure you can," Tom straightened and pushed his chair back from the table. The scraping chair legs brought Will's attention from his tepid beer. His curious blue eyes met intense, bluer ones. "How?" Tom paused only a moment before plunging ahead, "By answering a couple of personal questions." The Commander's eyes narrowed. "How personal?" "Very personal." "Ask away," he said with confident bravado. Tom saw the lie. He'd used it often enough himself. "Tell me about Ro Laren." Whoa, Will thought, where did that come from? "Ro Laren," Will sighed and abandoned his beer, pushing his own chair back. "I don't think I ever met a more irritating, annoying, infuriating insufferable woman in all my life." He paused as he looked at Tom. "And I've never missed a woman more in my life." Tom blinked and looked down, when he looked back up Riker was struck by the raw pain that burned bright in the pilot's eyes. "Me, too." "How do you know Ro?" "Laren and I went to the Academy together. Best and the brightest of '64." The facetious tone struck Will. "**You know**," Paris added, his voice harsh, "Like a nova." The simile was not wasted on Will. Ro had deserted Starfleet, Paris had disgraced the fleet, and both had gone down in flames. "She was the best friend I ever had," his eyes were trained on his abandoned beer, yet Will knew he didn't see it. "After Caldick Prime, I wasn't worth much--not even the oxygen I breathed. I was everything everyone said I was: a worthless drunken mercenary and womanizer. Nah," he scoffed at the memory, "womanizer was polite for what I was." He didn't see the inquisitive brow raise. "Laren found me face down in the mud after a whore and her--accomplice rolled me for money I didn't have. They probably would have killed me if she hadn't come along disguised as a vedek." "A vedek?" Will couldn't hide his surprise. Tom looked at him squarely. "Yah. And she was a pretty good vedek. Convinced a lot of people on that forsaken port. Delistor II. A disgusting place." "Never had the pleasure." Tom nodded. "She picked me up--nursed me to health, took me to work for Chakotay. I had some bills to pay." "Bar bills?" Tom nodded again. "Chakotay was not impressed. I was a complication he didn't need. Laren stuck up for me, though. But my behavior was less than stellar. I was fucking her over. "Tom ignored the raised brow. " I was such an asshole. She actually dragged me out of a bar by the ear. She told me I shouldn't be screwing anything that moved, but making love to my best friend. That best friend being Laren. She was actually my only friend, best friend by default. "Up until that point, I didn't even know if she liked men, you know, after the Cardasscian work camps." Tom saw the older man's eyes flair. "You didn't know about the rapes?" There was a negative movement. "Hell would have been a comfort,' Tom said. "But, apparently, you changed all that for her. She said an alien messed around with your minds and the computers on the Enterprise to facilitate some fascist aggressor tactics against another race." "Something like that," Will nodded. He stretched his long legs out and crossed them at the ankles. He knew what was coming, felt the color already rising in his neck. "She said that's when you got together. When she had no recollection of the horrors of the camps. She said you and I were on par for the Lothario Olympics. And she said you were good--well--better than good." Tom cleared his throat. "Thank you." Will rubbed his beard, then ran the hand throng his close cropped hair. The subject of the conversation had made him quite uncomfortable, at first. But nothing in Tom's demeanor told of anything but sincerity. "This is the first time anyone has ever thanked me for being there first." Tom winced at the reference. Will held up his hand. "I think you understand what I mean." He paused. "I didn't know all the details about her past. I knew she had been an orphan in a Cardasscian camp. I also know the subject was off limits as far as she was concerned. It was clear she was an angry woman. And some women are so beautiful when they're angry. "I take it you and Ro were lovers," Will wanted to hear Tom say it. "A little more than lovers," Tom answered. "She was my first love. It just took me a few years to figure it out." "You couldn't have been--together very long." "You mean 'together'?" he looked at the ceiling to figure it out. "No. We only had a couple of weeks. Certainly not enough time. Then we went back to Delistor II. Fleet was there. They had zeroed in on Laren--I almost walked into them. I sent her off on one ship, then I took her old crate out of the port into the trap." "You sacrificed yourself for the Maquis?" Tom laughed a dark laugh. "Hell, no. I wasn't fighting for the cause, I was a mercenary. Had bills to pay. Any noble thing I did, I did for Laren." The silence resumed, two men lost in memories that might touch at moments, but never actually intersect. "My only wish is that I could have given her more reason to smile," Will mused, "She had such a beautiful smile." He looked up into the sparkling blue eyes, tears wet on Tom's cheeks matched the ones shining in his eyes. *** Sandrine's was dark again. Will and Harry each emerged from the darkness into soft light wearing identical black slacks and long sleeved pullovers. There was a smattering of applause as Harry moistened his already moist reed in the mouthpiece of his clarinet. Will smiled at the nervous ensign as he rubbed his hands to scare away the butterflies. Harry nodded and the program began. Harry and Will had put together a diverse program. Harry condescended to learn several jazz and swing tunes--Will learned the piano for two Bernstein clarinet etudes. The Captain and her crew sat rapt as the two men worked their way through the program, relaxed and enjoying the two performers. But it was their rendition of Rhapsody in Blue that brought the house down. Kathryn Janeway was the first to congratulate Harry and turn to Will. "That was wonderful. You are an artist." "I'm a piano player," he negated. "A pianist," she corrected. He sat back down on the bench. "I enhanced the program to make me seem better than I am." "Liar." He shrugged as he laughed, "You're right. I was good, wasn't I." "And so modest." "It's what you like best about me." She clapped his shoulder affectionately. "Not best. Top 5, though. Thank you. Thank you for everything." The poof of light and not-quite noise sent Kathryn Janeway stumbling back into Tom. "No," she shouted. "Damn you, Q." "What better place to be then, than on the Voyage of the damned." Kathryn jumped a foot at the voice near her ear. She felt Tom nudge her aside. "Couldn't you have let him say good-bye?" Q huffed. "Billy boy is pitching a royal fit on Jupiter Europa." He looked into the quivering eyes of Captain Janeway's rage. "Very well." And a very angry Will Riker stood before her. His eyes narrowed on Q. "Just say good-bye and get it over with Commander." The Captain moved forward to the towering Commander. Will grasped her shoulders as he smiled down at her. "I knew this couldn't last forever, but I'm glad you could say good-bye properly. I'm proud of you; for an aspiring science officer, you make a damn fine Captain. I've seen a few captains in my time--you're in the top five." His eyes beamed down into hers. "Now I want to do something I didn't get a chance to do twenty years ago." He flicked a quick I'm-gonna-do-it-and-you-can't-stop-me look at Tom before he slid his hands up to cup her jaw. Slowly, taking anticipation on her face before their lips met and eyes closed. Tom's thoughts were not still as he watched Will thoroughly kiss Kathryn Janeway. At last the Commander pulled away, reluctant as hell to end the kiss. "Everything I thought it would be," he said as he swiped at the moisture on her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. And he was gone. Kathryn turned. Q was gone, too. The only man left in her line of sight was Tom Paris. The end. Feed me back at bjcochran@aol.com