Summary: B'Elanna makes good on a bet.

Notes: For Delwin. More proto-P/T than P/T. Takes place in the third season, following Displaced.

Thanks go to Sareki for help brainstorming, and to CaptAcorn for editing (especially for her amazing and impressive turn-around time!). Thanks ladies!

The shuttle bucked violently and sparks erupted from B'Elanna's console. She raised her arms in front of her, automatically trying to shield her face, but she still felt the sting of frying circuits on her arms. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to focus on Paris' words as he shouted over the alarms ringing from every corner of the shuttle.

"I can't pull up! We're going to have to land!"

"Land?!" she yelled back at him. "I think you mean crash!"

"I'm doing what I can, Torres!" Paris called, keeping his eyes glued to the viewscreen. "Look, if you can get those thrusters back, even just for a second, that will make this much smoother."

Damn it! She hated when he was right. She reached for the console in front of her, but it burnt her fingers on contact. It would probably catch fire inside of a minute. If she was going to get the thrusters back, she was going to have to do it somewhere else. Unbuckling her restraints, she told him "I'm going into the back! This console's shot."

"No! It's too dangerous!"

"I'll be fine! Just do what you can, and I'll get those thrusters back online." She knew he wanted to fight her, but he had to focus on getting the shuttle down, and she was more than willing to take advantage. Almost as soon as she was out of her seat, the shuttle lurched and she fell to her knees. "Dammit, Paris!"

"I told you not to get out of your seat!"

"Just fly the damn shuttle and let me do my job!" She thought she heard him mutter a curse, but it was hard to be sure under the blare of the alarms.

After the second time she fell, she gave up and started crawling. Finally arriving at the engineering console in the back of the shuttle, she knelt in front of it only to find that it was dead. Fuck. She immediately dropped to the floor and began removing the panel underneath. It looked like she was going to have to do this manually. If she could bypass the the primary power coupling and get the backup power going directly to the thrusters, it should work. It would burn them out almost immediately, but long term functionality wasn't exactly her focus.

She'd nearly nearly disconnected the coupling when Paris' voice interrupted her. "We don't have much time left, B'Elanna!" The back of her mind registered the switch to her first name, but she didn't dwell on it.

"Nearly there!" she shouted. B'Elanna finished disconnecting the power coupling and shoved it out of the way. The work had left her fingers dirty and bruised, but she barely noticed. She grabbed the backup power coupling with one hand and reached back through the tangle of wires and conduits for the thruster junction.

"I need those thrusters!"

B'Elanna ignored him. Her hand gripped the junction and she pulled.

"Time's running out, B'Elanna!" She became aware of the voice of the computer counting down to impact. 6… 5… 4… 3…

With a grunt, she yanked the junction the rest of the way free and connected it to the backup power coupling. She felt the shuttle jerk as the thrusters kicked in. Then everything went black.

B'Elanna groaned and rubbed her forehead gingerly as she opened her eyes. She was on the floor, on the other side of the shuttle from where she started, but seemed whole and mostly uninjured. She winced as she ran her fingers over her ridges. That's gonna leave a bruise.

She sat up with a start when she realized the shuttle wasn't moving anymore. We must have crashed. Her eyes automatic scanned her surroundings. Smoke was coming from the open panel, but that was to be expected. No backup power then. Everything that wasn't bolted down had been thrown around. But the shuttle seemed intact. Could have been worse. Then she remembered Paris.

Getting to her feet, she started carefully towards the cockpit. It was slower going than it should have been because the shuttle was lying at an angle. "Paris!" she called. "Are you okay?"

There was no response. The smoke in the air was getting thicker as she moved towards the front of the shuttle and B'Elanna began to cough. When she finally reached the cockpit, she saw the source of said smoke immediately. It was spewing from her console and it stung her eyes. Shit. That thing's going to blow any minute. Then she saw him, slumped over the console and not moving, and her stomachs hit the floor.

"Tom! Tom, are you okay?" He didn't move. B'Elanna moved closer, waving the smoke out of her eyes. She sat on the edge of her chair and shook him, but nothing. He still didn't respond. "Dammit, Tom! Wake up!"

He took a wheezing breath and B'Elanna felt a flood of relief. Paris sat up slowly, arm clutching his ribs, and he began to cough. B'Elanna's relief changed to panic when she saw the spray of blood hit the console. Fuck fuck fuck.

"Tom, can you move? This console is going to blow and I don't want to be here when it does." Her hand went to his shoulder and he struggled to focus on her.

"I..." he wheezed. "I don't..." Another wheeze. "Know."

There was a crackle behind B'Elanna and she knew they were out of time. "You can do it. I'll help you. Come on."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she began dragging him away from the console. He cried out as she pulled him from the chair but she forced herself to ignore it. She had to get them to safety first, then she could worry about his injuries. Not that she had any idea how to treat them…

Tom stumbled badly and almost took her down with him. She adjusted her grip and pulled him closer. "Come on, Paris! On your feet!"

His only response was a pained wheeze in her ear and B'Elanna's heart sank.

He's going to be okay, she told herself. He has to be.

"B'Elanna! B'Elanna, wait up!"

The familiar voice made her turn and she saw Tom jogging towards her. She quickly smothered the smile his presence brought to her face. "I was just on my way to Engineering," she told him.

"Then I'll walk with you."

The offer made her stomachs flutter, but she tried to ignore it. What was so odd about two friends walking together in the corridors together? Who said it meant anything? But the fact was, they'd been getting along uncommonly well since the incident with the Nyrians, and frankly, B'Elanna found it somewhat terrifying. But apparently not quite terrifying enough to stop her from taking him up on the offer. "Sure."

They walked quietly for a moment until Tom broke the silence. "So… have you talked to Harry recently?"

"Not today."

"Well, let's just say someone is on a roll at the pool table, and it's not him."

"Lieutenant Paris!" She gave him a scandalized look. "Are you telling me that you have once again relieved poor Harry of his replicator rations?"

"Well, not only Harry. But yes." Tom gave her a conspiratorial grin.

"Sometimes I don't know why he tolerates you."

Tom chuckled good-naturedly, then he cast a sidelong glance at B'Elanna. "I don't think Harry is the biggest mystery."

B'Elanna tensed, but slid deftly past the implication. "I agree, it's really a mystery why anyone tolerates you."

Tom stopped walking and turned to look her in the eye. "Oh really? You don't have any ideas?" His voice was low.

B'Elanna planted a hand on her hip and met his gaze, then deliberately turned away from him and continued down the corridor. "I suppose your company is occasionally pleasant."

Tom barked a laugh and jogged to catch up with her. "'Occasionally pleasant'? I guess I'll take it for now." He fell into step next to her. "Anyway, I was just wondering if, when you got off shift today, you wanted to see if you could triumph where Harry has repeatedly failed."

"Are you asking me out, Lieutenant? Haven't we been over this before?"

"I'm not asking you on a date, Torres." He grinned at her. "I'm challenging you to a game of skill. Meet me at the pool table. Twenty two hundred hours."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Unlike Harry, I have no interest in parting with my replicator rations."

"Then something else. If I win, you have to let me borrow that book."

Shit. "What book?" she asked, playing dumb.

"You know the one. I believe it was called "Women Warr-"

"Yes!" She cut him off, glaring at him. "I know the one you mean." She crossed her arms. "So what do I get if I win?"

Tom stopped and leaned in staring intently at her. "What do you want, Lieutenant?"

B'Elanna squared her shoulders and ignored the sudden impulse to shove him against the bulkhead and take just what it was that she wanted. But she was a professional and the Chief Engineer didn't make out with people in the corridor like some hormone-driven teenager, even if they really wanted to. "If I win, you have to do a shift scrubbing the plasma manifolds."

Tom grinned. "You're on."

B'Elanna considered herself a respectable pool player.

Tom was better.

He'd beaten her handily that night, despite her best efforts. She wasn't sure if she was more annoyed by her own performance or Paris' gloating, but she couldn't deny he'd won fair and square. But that had been three days ago, and she had dragged her feet on keeping up her end of the bet - avoiding him after morning briefing, claiming she couldn't find the right PADD.

Having him brag about beating her at pool was one thing, but when she considered his likely reaction to some of the more… passionate scenes with M'Nea and Rorg… Well, the last thing she needed was Tom Paris to have an even more heightened view of Klingon sexual mores than he already did. Or even worse, to think he did.

He hadn't let her off the hook, though. Even as they were prepping the shuttle this morning, he'd harassed her again.

"You'd think it would be considered dishonorable for a Klingon to welch on a bet, Torres."

She'd just growled at him at the time, but now - as she carried his broken and bleeding body across the shuttle - she knew he was right.

So she was going to get him stabilized, fix the shuttle, and get him back to Voyager. And Tom Paris was not going to die until he got that damn book. Not if she had anything to say about it.

She finally got him safely into the back of the shuttle and laid him on his back. But once her goal was achieved, she had to deal with the reality that she had no idea what to do next. She was a woman who knew how to fix a lot of things. She could build an engine out of scraps and spare parts. But a person? "Tom? Tom, are you okay?"

His breathing was labored, and it took him a moment to respond. His blue eyes blinked open and he struggled to focus. "Totally… fine. Never…. better."

How could he joke at a time like this? "Tom, please, what do I need to do?" She hated the panic she heard in her voice.

"Get… the medkit. Behind… you."

The medkit! That was a good idea. She really should have thought of that one herself. B'Elanna retrieved the kit quickly and grabbed the tricorder to scan him.

"What… does it… say?"

B'Elanna looked at the readout and tried to fight the wave of panic it brought on. "Um… broken rib. Punctured lung. Internal bleeding. Your O2 sats are dropping."

Tom nodded. "Okay. First step. Stop the bleeding."

An explosion from the cockpit told her the console had finally blown, but she tried to focus on Tom. Unfortunately it was getting harder not to panic. She didn't know how to stop his bleeding! And now he was doing to die because she hadn't made it in the Academy long enough to take first aid. She shook her head. "I- I don't know what to do Tom. I'm sorry, I-"

"B'Elanna… " he gasped. "You… can do… this." She shook her head and bit her lip, but he ignored her and grabbed her arm. "You… can. Just… stay calm. For me."

Her stomachs twisted, but she nodded, resolved. "Okay. What do I do?"

Unfortunately, they weren't able to do much with only the medkit, regardless of the inadequacy of B'Elanna's first aid skills. He led her successfully through stopping the bleeding and knitting his ribs back together, but there was nothing she could do about the progressing pneumothorax. Tri-ox would keep him oxygenated an hour or two, but he needed to get back to Sickbay and see the Doc as soon as possible.

When she was done, she packed the medkit back up and knelt on the floor next to Tom and took his hand in hers. "Tom… I need to take a look at the engine and see if the hull is still intact so I can get you back to the Doc. Will you be okay if I leave you for a little while?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, remember?" He gave her a smile then he coughed and the smile turned into a wince.

B'Elanna frowned. "Tom… "

His face softened. "I'll be okay for now. Thank's… for taking care of me."

Her hand closed over his tightly and she nodded. "I'll be back soon to check on you, okay?"

Tom smiled again. "I knew you couldn't get enough of me."

B'Elanna smiled back despite herself. "I'll be back soon."

There was no power.

None.

The backup power couplings were all burnt out, as predicted. And B'Elanna quickly discovered that there was no way to fix the primary couplings without a complete refit. The emergency power was keeping the life support and communications on, but that could never power the engines. They weren't going anywhere.

She threw the hyperspanner against the burnt out remains of her engine, her frustration erupting in an unproductive but cathartic release. The spanner clanged satisfactorily against the tritanium casing.

"You okay in there?" Tom called from the main compartment. She was surprised but reassured to hear his voice was soft but steady.

"Just peachy."

Tom made a wheezing chuckle, and B'Elanna let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Tom. We're not going anywhere," she called in his direction. "I'm going to boost the distress signal as much as I can, then we're just going to have to wait for Voyager to find us." She picked up the hyperspanner. "You holding things down out there?"

Another wheezy chuckle. "Oh yeah. Got everything under control." A harsh cough then silence.

"Tom?"

"I'm fine. You keep working, I'll be okay."

When she was done, she crawled out of the engine compartment and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She felt gritty after clambering around the innards of the shuttle, but there was nothing to be done for it at the moment. Tom turned his head towards her. He was still lying on the floor under a blanket where she'd left him.

"Sorry I haven't been any help," he told her when she approached.

"Don't worry, Paris. I'll put you on report as soon as we get back to Voyager." The sarcasm was automatic, as was her expectation that he would respond in kind. But she saw him wince in pain and she changed the subject. "How's your breathing?"

"Okay."

She checked his O2 stats on the tricorder: they were dropping again. It hadn't even been an hour since his last dose. "I'm going to give you some more tri-ox."

He nodded and when she pressed the hypo against his neck she could hear and see his breathing ease. B'Elanna checked the hypospray and felt a fresh twinge of anxiety.

"How many doses are left?" he asked, as if reading her thoughts.

One. One fucking dose left. How can there only be three doses of tri-ox in this damn thing? "We have plenty. Don't worry about it."

He's going to make it. Don't panic. He'll be fine.

"B'Elanna?"

"I'm right here, Tom."

"I'm cold."

She bit her lip. Emergency power could only do so much - the shuttle was as warm as it was going to get. B'Elanna had already put every blanket they had over the injured pilot.

Only one option left.

"Don't go getting any funny ideas. This is a one time deal, Paris."

"What is?"

Without another word, she slipped under the blankets and pressed up against him.

"Now what?" he asked, his eyes slipping closed.

"Now we wait."

B'Elanna was so cold, she'd forgotten what it felt like to be warm. The cold didn't even feel cold anymore, it just felt painful. Her fingers ached with it and she was starting to feel weak. Stupid Klingon genes. Just when she could have used its strength, her Klingon half was going to kill her.

The phaser tumbled out of her stiff fingers and then his hands were on hers, rubbing new warmth into them. His hot breath felt like life and she never wanted it to stop.

And it had helped, a little bit, but they couldn't find their way out and soon she could barely walk. Maybe if I just rested for a minute, I could build up the strength to keep going... She slid down against a wall of ice, and the chill of the ice against her back was barely even distinguishable from the chill of the air. Just a minute, then I'll be okay…

"Oh, I'm so sleepy…" she mumbled.

"No, B'Elanna, get up," Tom commanded, taking her by the arm.

"No, you go on," she insisted. "I'm just going to rest here."

"If you do that, you'll die!"

Would that really be so bad? she found herself wondering. B'Elanna knew she should be more bothered by the thought, but she didn't have the energy to fight it anymore. "No, I'll be fine. I just have to close my eyes for a minute…" Why wouldn't he just let her rest? She just needed some rest. Didn't he know she was too weak to go any further?

Then she'd felt warm hands grabbing her, lifting her up. "Oh no, I'm not going to let you do this. On your feet now, Torres! That's on order."

She'd resisted of course. Who the hell was he to tell me what to do? But once they were warm again, once they'd been translocated out of the Argala Habitat and back to safety, what she remembered was his warmth.

They'd been lying there together quietly for over half an hour. Tom had slipped in and out of consciousness, but for the past several minutes his eyes had been open and staring, his wheezing breath now laced with soft sounds of pain. "I'm sorry I didn't give you the book before the away mission," B'Elanna murmured, hoping to distract him.

Tom's forehead creased in confusion. "What?"

"The book. Women Warriors at the River of Blood."

He chuckled softly, then it turned into a cough. B'Elanna squeezed his hand when his face contorted with pain.

"It's okay," he reassured her after a moment. "Don't worry about it."

"I… I have it. With me."

"The book?"

"Yeah. I mean, it was still on my PADD, so…"

"Great," Tom muttered. "I mean, I'm not sure I'm up for reading right now. What with dying and all."

"You're not dying," she snapped. Nice, B'Elanna. Yell at the guy who can't breathe. "I mean... I could read it to you. If you want. If you need something to keep your mind off things."

His voice softened and he shook his head. "You don't have to do that."

"It's okay. I want to."

Tom raised an eyebrow, but nodded, so B'Elanna got up and retrieved her personal PADD from her locker in the back. Once she was lying down next to him again, she pulled up the beginning of the book and began to read aloud. She was three paragraphs into a description of the honorable house of T'Kret when Tom interrupted her.

"B'Elanna - is this a Klingon novel or a Vulcan one?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"When does it get to the good part?"

"You can't just skip to the end!"

"All this house business is just making my pain worse. Read me the part you were reading at lunch."

B'Elanna's cheeks flushed hot. She knew very well what he wanted, but she'd been hoping that they would get rescued before she got to the end, where the protagonists finally consummated their relationship. "But you won't understand what's going on!"

Tom frowned at her. "Is the plot actually that important?"

B'Elanna shrugged. "Maybe not. But it makes it better when you understand the stakes and are invested in the characters."

Tom smiled. "How about a compromise? You can just tell me the plot."

She sighed, ready to give in. "Fine. So… it's kind of a Romeo and Juliet story. You know, two people from warring houses falling in love and all that. But with a much happier ending." Tom nodded and twisted his fingers through hers. She gave him a squeeze and continued. "Anyway, so M'Nea is betrothed to a man from a house her family is allies with. But she thinks he's a dishonorable lout, so she eventually runs off to avoid the marriage, having decided to find honor for herself in battle. So she joins the Women Warriors."

"She sounds-"

"Hostile?" B'Elanna bristled.

"I was going to say passionate. And uncompromising."

B'Elanna fidgeted uncomfortably against him. "So, anyway," she continued, "M'Nea fights with the warriors, and they achieve great victories on the battlefield. But finally she meets Rorg at the River of Blood. He's a fierce warrior from an enemy house and when she's about to kill him she changes her mind. He is so fierce and honorable, and she's just so impressed by him. And attracted to him, of course. So they, um… consummate... their relationship, and bring peace to their houses."

Tom was silent for a moment. "Well, that sounds way better than Romeo and Juliet."

B'Elanna laughed at his response. "Well it's certainly a fun… distraction."

"It would make a great holonovel," Tom suggested.

"You think everything would be a great holonovel," B'Elanna protested.

Tom laughed. "Fair enough." He turned his head towards her. "So? Are you going to read me any of it?"

B'Elanna flushed again but nodded. You got yourself into this, Torres. "Yeah, just let me find the spot." She skimmed through the pages on the PADD until she found it. Clearing her throat, she began. "Rorg turned his fierce eye upon her, and M'Nea felt her heart begin to quicken, even as her hand went to her dagger. She had intended to plunge it into his throat, but something about him made her hesitate. The tangy scent of the blood dripping from his leg filled her nose, and knowing death was coming for him, he rose to meet it bravely, baring his neck to her and waiting for Sto-vo-kor."

B'Elanna paused and licked her lips. "With a fierce cry, she threw down the dagger, and seized him by the neck, nails digging into his throat. Then she bit him-" B'Elanna cleared her throat uncomfortably at the memory of Tom's flesh splitting under her own teeth. "- her sharp teeth piercing the flesh of his cheek. His blood on her tongue was even sweeter than she had dreamed, and it inflamed her senses. Then he was on top of her, pinning her beneath him. For a moment, she wasn't sure if he was going to attack or accept her proposition. She felt his… " B'Elanna winced. "... love sword... against her and it was as hard as a targ's tusk. She hoped that meant that he was going to accept her proposition."

Tom started wheezing and she looked at him in concern until she realized it was him laughing. "Love sword!" He wheezed again, then rolled to his side and curled inward, clutching his ribs. "Ow."

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Great." He wheezed again. "Totally… fine."

"Are you sure? Maybe I should give you another analgesic…"

Tom rolled back onto his back, then turned his head to look at her. "No… No, I'm fine. I swear. Keep going." He grinned up at her. "Please?" he asked.

B'Elanna had just opened her mouth to protest when she heard a soft beeping coming from the communications console behind her. Voyager! She smiled broadly at Tom, then ran as fast as she could on the uneven deck to the console. "Voyager! Voyager, do you read me?"

There was a crackle, then she heard Captain Janeway's voice. "Lieutenant Torres, are you alright?

"I'm fine. But Tom's badly injured. He needs to go straight to Sickbay."

"Understood, Lieutenant. We'll beam him there as soon as we are in range."

B'Elanna ran back to Tom and took his hand in hers. "They're nearly here, Tom. Everything's going to be fine."

He smiled up at her. "Don't think this gets you out of holding up your end of the bargain. I expect you to read me the rest of that book."

"Me reading it to you was never the deal, Paris."

"What about double or nothing? If I can beat you again, you be M'Nea to my Rorg on the holodeck?"

B'Elanna shook her head. "You're clearly getting delirious. Besides, I don't think you're going to be up for that level of activity for a while."

His pale grin was only a shadow of his normal smarminess, but he was able to squeeze her hand tightly. "I think you'd be surprised what I'm up for, Torres."

"Voyager to Torres. Prepare Lieutenant Paris for transport."

B'Elanna released his hand and watched him dematerialize in the transporter's beam.