To Tell The Truth Series 01 Spirit Guide Read online

  To Tell the Truth series, Part 1/8:

  Spirit Guide

  By melanie ( www.ocl.net/~melanie's_mind )

  Code: VOY, P, P/T, ALL

  Rating: PG

  Date: Story finished: June 1998. Revised (spelling mistakes/grammar corrected): December 1999

  Comments, admiring or outraged, may be sent to me at: [email protected]

  Notes : 1) READ THIS OR YOU'LL THINK ME A PLAGIARIST! The idea of the AlphaOmegans was conceived during the penultimate season of ST:TNG as an explanation for Riker's desertion of Troi when they were a couple on Betazed. That story never flew but years later, between seasons 3 and 4 of ST:V to be precise, I thought of using it for Paris instead. "Spirit Guide," which introduces the concept of the AlphaOmegans, and "Parole," the sequel to this story, were completed in what I thought were final form for the former and rough draft for the latter before the ST: DS9 episode entitled "Inquisitions," which in a bizarre coincidence introduced Section 31 and a novel use for the holodeck which are eerily similar to details in these two stories. In a later story entitled "Sunfire" I have done my best to justify the existence of these two groups. Till then -- warped minds think alike I guess.

  2) I always have thought Starfleet was a little too quick to grant permission for Tom Paris, a convicted criminal and known traitor to the Starfleet and the Federation, to be released from prison, apparently without supervision, to help them. Their seemingly unwarranted and certainly unexpected faith in him always has struck me as odd. This is the beginning of a possible explanation for it.

  Special thanks to Laci Torres and Cheile for their series "Whispers in Blindness" which introduced B'Elanna and Tom's spirit guide animals to me and permitting me to shamelessly borrow them.

  AND to Marianne who first came up with B'Elanna's guide animal. (Am I out of the doghouse now LittleCheese?)

  And to the PT Fever list who answered my questions and listened to me grumble about the Fanfic from Hell.

  Disclaimer: The usual -- theirs, not mine, wish they were, but they're not, etc., etc., don't sue.

  Spirit Guide (pre "Message in a Bottle")

  "Hello."

  "Mmm, hello." Smiling, B'Elanna Torres snuggled into the arms of the man who had just entered her quarters. "I've been waiting for this all shift," she sighed, going on tiptoe to burrow her face into the side of his neck.

  "Me, too," Tom Paris breathed into her ear before nuzzling her neck.

  "Instead of going out, what would you say to having dinner here and doing this for a while."

  Smiling, he lifted his head to look into her shining eyes. "As much as I do love that suggestion, I have Holodeck time reserved for us."

  "Oh really?" She tugged his head towards hers. "And what on the Holodeck is more interesting than staying here?"

  Chuckling, he evaded the sharp little teeth zeroing in on his left earlobe. "Oh, just the Holodeck programme I've been working on during those long, lonely nights when a certain Chief Engineer forgot where the exits from Engineering were."

  "Very funny."

  "I thought so." His excitement became tangible. "Picture it. Amon VII. Late summer. The Celine Mountains."

  She pulled back. The fires of passion clearly banked. "Why do I sense words 'mountain climbing' about to leave your lips?"

  "Hiking actually. The Celine Mountains aren't challenging enough for any real climbing." He was perplexed when B'Elanna drew herself out of his arms and walked away. "B'Elanna?"

  "Practically every time we do something together it's us *doing* something together," she complained.

  "I don't understand."

  "Why don't we just have a date where don't *do* anything. No skiing or water skiing or rock climbing or Klingon martial arts, just the two of us relaxing for an entire evening?"

  "But all that *is* relaxing."

  "No," she contradicted, "all that activity exhausts you so you can *relax*. You may have more energy than everyone else on the ship combined, but I don't." She held up a hand to ward off his forthcoming objections. "Don't get me wrong, I love doing things together, but sometimes I'm tired and all I want to do is sit down somewhere and put my feet up for a while. I'm surprised you're not tired at the end of shift too. With all the calculations you have to do at the helm, I'd expect your brain would be aching."

  "Brain, yes, sometimes, but not the rest of me." Tom's patience was wearing thin at this revisiting of one of their oldest arguments since becoming a couple. "You're able to run all over the ship fixing things or ripping the heads off of unsuspecting ensigns, but I spend all shift sitting at the Conn or confined to Sickbay, studying with the Doc. When I'm free, I like to do something active."

  "You know what I think your real problem is?" she asked him.

  Crossing his arms, he regarded her through narrowed eyes. "What, pray tell, is my problem?"

  "You can't sit still for a minute."

  "I can't sit? What do you think I do all shift at the Conn?"

  "I've watched you, Paris. You're always moving some how. Your feet, your hands, something."

  Smirking, he leapt at the chance to change the subject. "You watch me, huh?"

  B'Elanna glared at him.

  Tom was imperturbable. "Just how often do you watch me?"

  "Stop trying to change the subject," she chastised. "The point is you can't sit still for two seconds, no matter where you are or what you are doing. I come off shift tired and looking forward to a little relaxation and there you are wanting to go do something athletic. What I am suggesting is why don't we just do nothing for a change. Just curl up somewhere and talk."

  Her words gave her pause. Four years ago, even four months ago, the idea of really *talking* with someone was something a woman who always kept others at arms' length would not have considered. How she had changed, she marvelled. How much this man had changed her.

  As if he knew her thoughts, he walked up to her and laid a kiss on her forehead ridges. "Just talk, huh?" he asked, beginning to press kisses down from her temple and along her jaw.

  A hand up to ward him off, she moved away from the hands encircling her waist. "Oh no, you don't, Mister, that is doing something."

  Tom grinned and stalked her until she was backed into the bulkhead "I guess you're right," he allowed. "That could be classified as athletic."

  His lips descended towards hers, but she pushed him away at the last moment. He groaned and dropped into a nearby chair. "Okay, fine. What *am* I allowed to do?"

  "I'll make you a bet, Grumpy," she offered, carefully arranging herself in his lap, arms snaking around his neck. "If you can go an entire evening without doing anything athletic...." She nipped his earlobe as his arms encircled her once more.

  "You'll what?" he gasped.

  "I'll do that Klingon martial arts programme with you again."

  He pulled back and looked into her warm brown eyes. "One evening of inactivity in exchange for a workout, huh?"

  "Only if it's the whole evening."

  He thought about it. "And if you win?"

  "I get to choose what we do on our next date and you have to do it, no matter what, with no arguing or griping."

  Blue eyes narrowed pensively then he grinned. "Shine up your bat'leth, beautiful."

  "Huh! Why bother? I know you, Thomas Eugene Paris. You won't last five minutes."

  "Oh, yeah?"

  "Yeah."

  "Name the time and place."

  "Tomorrow night. The Resort."

  "You're on. Now come here." He pulled her closer. "If am to be expected to go a whole evening with any athletic activity, I'm going to have to-"

  Her lips cut off whatever smarmy comment he was about to make
.

  -------

  "Harry? Neelix?"

  "Yes, Captain?" the pair answered in unison.

  She covertly gestured to the men's closest friends who were seated at a table across the Resort terrace from their position. "Is something wrong with Tom?"

  Inquiringly, the pair's eyes ran over the pilot.

  "Not that I know of," Harry answered for them. "Why?"

  "He's just not acting right."

  "In what way, Captain?" the Talaxian asked, cocking his head to one side. "He looks okay."

  "Usually by this point he has B'Elanna out on the dance floor or walking on the beach or doing something with some of the crew. But tonight..." She shrugged. "They've been here for almost half an hour and he hasn't left that chair."

  The trio watched Tom shift positions uncomfortably in his chair. The half- Klingon woman at his side turned her head slightly towards him and raised an eyebrow. Tom stilled, gave her an innocent look, then reached for his near empty glass. She stared at him for a moment, a mysterious smile dancing about her lips, before returning to her conversation with Joe Carey.

  "See what I mean? Something strange is going on."

  Harry was about to offer to find out when Joe bade the couple adieu and left. Rising, B'Elanna reached for Tom's now empty glass and her own. She said something which made him grimace and her laugh as she walked off to the bar for refills. The man she left behind crossed his arms and scowled at the tabletop.

  "I think now would be a good time to happen to drop by their table, Mr. Kim," Neelix announced. He had hurried off before Harry had the chance to suggest he, as Tom's best friend, might get more of the story, alone. With a quick glance for the Captain, he hurried off himself.

  "Good evening, Tom," Neelix greeted in full Morale Officer mode.

  "Neelix. Harry."

  An obvious effort was made by him to relax and appear normal in front of his friends, so obvious it only made to further alert the pair to something being amiss. They shared a look then took the seats the Chief Engineer and her second had so recently vacated.

  "Tom," Neelix began, "is everything all right?"

  "Uh, yeah."

  "Tom, we were over there and we couldn't help noticing-"

  "Well, the Captain noticed first," Harry corrected.

  "Yes, Captain Janeway noticed first that, umm, that you were rather..."

  "Less than your normal self."

  Tom looked at both of them in turn. "What do you mean?"

  "Well," Harry started, "you're..."

  "You're not your usual exuberant self tonight," Neelix leaned conspiratorially close as did Harry. "Are you and Lieutenant Torres having some sort of problem?" he asked in a hushed voice. "Maybe we can help."

  The object of their concern groaned and covered his face with his hands

  "Tom, whatever happened, it's nothing that can't be fixed," Harry insisted anxiously. "You two have been through so much together..."

  Another groan.

  Neelix laid a hand on Tom's knee. "We are your friends, Tom. Let us help."

  For the already frustrated pilot this was too much. His shoulders began to shake. Harry and Neelix's startled gazes slammed into one another, each clearly thinking the same thing -- the pilot had lost total control over the emotions he usually hid behind a facade of impassivity or joking. They were floundering around for appropriately comforting words when Tom's hands dropped. The crying they had expected instead was laughing.

  Harry touched the forearm closest to him. "Tom?"

  Visibly trying to restrain his laughter, Tom placed a hand on the shoulder of each of his companions. "As much as I appreciate the gesture, it's hardly necessary." He leaned forward himself. "B'Elanna and I are in the midst of a bet."

  "A bet."

  "She bet me I couldn't sit still for an entire night without giving in to the urge to do something."

  The ensign grinned and slapped his best friend on the back before sitting back in his chair as Tom did the same, dropping his hands from their shoulders. Neelix however was a little slower on the uptake.

  "So your agitation was..."

  "Me, slowly going out of my mind." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "But don't tell her that."

  Harry winked. "I think she probably already knows, Tom."

  "Yeah, probably, but I am going to win this bet, Harry."

  "What do you get if you do, or do I want to ask?"

  "Me, her, the Holodeck, and..." he paused for effect, "my Klingon Martial Arts programme."

  "Oh, you just know she's not going to let you win, Paris," his best friend laughed. "She hates that programme. She tells you so every time I've ever heard you invite her to share it with you again."

  "I have to agree with Mr. Kim, Tom. Lieutenant Torres does dislike being reminded of her Klingon heritage. Not as much as she used to but still..."

  "Ha, you two have so little faith in me. I *will* win this bet. B'Elanna *will* do the programme. And you two *will* eat crow."

  Harry grinned at his friend's hubris. "Tom, you are deluded," he laughed, squeezing his best friend's shoulder.

  The pilot merely grinned as Kim left with Neelix in tow. The grin broadened as the cook began pestering the ensign with questions about what "crow" was and if he should be replicating some of it for the next party were it a food item the crew might be missing. Tom made a mental note to avoid the next party.

  Given the fact only about forty or so of the crew were present, it was not long before everyone heard from the Talaxian of the couple's bet and were placing their own sizeable bets on when, not if, Tom would lose the dare. The consensus was that under normal circumstances, Paris could not withstand enforced inactivity for very long, but his ingrained competitiveness with Torres might just give him the strength he needed to hold out longer than normal. They all agreed that sooner or later B'Elanna would win.

  Some present even decided to help things along by trying to entrap Tom. An invitation to a game of pool. A hastily organised volleyball game. An interesting conversation a few metres away which "would greatly benefit from Lieutenant Paris's imput if he would come over to join them." Nothing worked. Knowing B'Elanna's eyes were firmly locked on him from across the terrace where she was conferring with some of her staff, Tom refused each invitation with a plausible excuse. Eventually, a new tactic was devised. A crewman from Maintenance "accidentally" lobbed a beach ball in Tom's direction. Without realising what was happening, Tom quickly was drawn into a game of catch with the crewman and his partners in crime.

  After nearly hitting an unsuspecting Ensign with the ball, Tom's opponents scampered off, either in search of the runaway ball or to evade the disgruntled Ensign, it was not clear. Laughing, Tom settled back in his chair then froze, realising what had just happened. A guilty look on his face, he scanned the area for B'Elanna. Her smugly grinning at him from a couple of metres away told him she had seen all. He groaned and slumped down in his chair, hands over his face, to the laughter of everyone. Chakotay, who had been watching and was grinning almost as widely as B'Elanna, assumed the seat next to the young man.

  "That was entrapment!" Tom moaned. "Why did I ever agree to this?"

  "Because it was a challenge," the Commander laughed, "and I've never seen you refuse a challenge, Tom Paris, especially not one issued by B'Elanna Torres."

  "Go ahead and gloat."

  The First Officer laughed out loud. "I am."

  Hands falling, Tom slumped even farther down in his chair. "You know, what really amazes me is that she can do it. If I ever saw anyone that was a bundle of energy it was her."

  The lack of comment from Chakotay made Tom's blue eyes open. The older man's thoughts were turned inwards and he was smiling.

  "What?"

  "Huh?" he seemed to remember Tom's presence. "Oh, I was just remembering what she was like when she asked me to show her how to contact her spirit guide. She barely could sit still, like someone else I know, but she was determined to try it anyway. When we'd
begun though, she actually calmed down considerably. Then of course she actually saw her spirit guide and all Hell broke loose and she tried to kill it," he laughed. He stopped at the thoughtful look on Tom's face. "What is it?"

  Tom was quiet for a moment, clearly trying to pick the exact words to phrase whatever he was thinking. Once he had them, he sat up and leaned towards the big man. "Is that why you are... the way you are?" he asked quietly.

  "The way I am?"

  "So... calm all the time? Can your spirit guide do that for you?"

  Chakotay's look became as serious as Tom's. He leaned forwards, unconsciously mirroring Paris's position of hands clasped, elbows on knees. "One's spirit guide can offer assistance in finding inner peace and provide guidance in time of confusion, yes, but it doesn't dictate your actions or moods. It is your life, not your spirit guide's. You are in control of everything about you, Tom. It is only a guide, not a master."

  The younger man thought this over for a moment. Suddenly, his eyes rose to Chakotay's. The expression on Tom's face could only be termed as wary and more than a bit tentative. "Could you..." Tom looked at his hands then looked at the other man again. "Could you show me how to do it?"

  He was a bit taken aback, not knowing what to say.

  Tom took this a stalling tactic while the Commander searched for a way to politely refuse. As always, his standard self defence mechanism of retreat and disguising his true feelings kicked in. He made a move to get up. "It's okay. It's not important. I-"

  A hand was laid on Tom's forearm. "I can, *if* you are serious about wanting to try."

  He relaxed only slightly and nodded once.

  "All right. My quarters. Tomorrow. After your shift in Sickbay."

  "Fine."At the sound of a delighted squeal, the shadows in Tom's eyes vanished, as did the serious mood. A small green clad body launched herself at the pilot. Laughing he caught the little girl in mid-leap and hugged her to him.

  "Give us a kiss," Naomi Wildman demanded in a singsong.

  They gave each other a big, noisy kiss on the lips.

  "Give us a hug," Tom responded automatically.

  The child wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed. With considerably less force then she was exerting, Tom hugged her back.