Title:  Past Resurfacing (1/?) Author:  CatHeights Pairing: VOY (P/T) Rating:  R, some angst --------------------------------------------- Feedback: CatHeights@yahoo.com Archive:  If someone wants to fine by me as long as you drop me an e-mail letting me know where it is archived. ----------------------------------------------- Spoiler Warning: Thirty Days ----------------------------------------------- Disclaimer: Paramount owns all rights to Star Trek Voyager, its characters, and the Voyager episodes referred to in this story.  The story idea is mine, but I am doing this just for fun, no money to be made. ---------------------------------------------- This story is dedicated to Joe.  Thanks love for all your patience and proofreading. --------------------------------------------   Past Resurfacing       He had to get out.  He ignored his exhaustion and forced himself to concentrate on the tricorder readings.   Power was fluctuating throughout the space station, and that meant the brig’s forcefield would loose integrity periodically.  He had to take advantage of that loss.  Problem was the power loss had yet to extend beyond a second, if that.  His right hand was evidence of being too close when the forcefield resumed.  Burned and bloodied, he could feel liquid pouring from his hand down his arm.  He ignored it, as well as the cramps that periodically twisted his thighs and calves.  He now held the tricorder in his left hand.  He didn’t want blood obscuring the readings.  He had no idea how long he had been crouching, waiting for a gap long enough to jump through.  All he knew was that Cali was hurt and had been silent for too long.  He periodically called her name, but got no answer.  She has to be unconscious, he thought.  All the more reason that I need to get to her.       The tricorder showed power fluctuating in the forcefield and then it dropped completely, not just in part as the case had been before.   He launched himself forward and out of the brig.  His cramped legs refused to support him and he crumpled to the floor.  He was out though.  He pointed the tricorder at the brig.  The field was back up.  He had made it out just in time. Ignoring the pain of his screaming muscles, he moved toward the security controls.       "Cali, I’m getting you out of there.  Do you hear me?" he called frantically to her as he typed in the controls to lower the forcefield around her cell.  The infected Cardassians had deactivated voice commands on the station, but luckily, they had not blocked his access to all systems.       He hurried over to the cell.   When he reached it his mind at first wouldn’t comprehend what he was seeing.  "No, no, no," he shrieked again and again and…..       Tom Paris sat up.  He couldn’t breathe.  Where was he?  He looked around.  The brig.  Why, why was he in the brig?  Breathe, Tom think this through.  He focused on his breathing, and as calm started to return to him, he remembered what had happened.  He and Riga had taken the Delta Flyer to destroy the Monean refineries.  He had tried to save the ocean, and once again, he had failed.  Story of his life.       Then he had tried to explain his reasoning to the Captain, but she had been inflexible.  What did it matter? He knew when he had taken the Delta Flyer, unauthorized, the Captain would be furious.  He had been prepared to take responsibility for his actions.  The demotion he could handle.  Yes it hurt, but it was the time in the brig that was wearing him down.  30 days hadn’t sounded so long when she pronounced the sentence, but now it seemed an eternity, especially with the memories closing in.       He took a shaky breath.  You’re on Voyager, Tom; it’s all right, just a bad dream.  He didn’t quite believe it was all right, but at least he wasn’t dreaming anymore.  He sat up.  He was done sleeping for the night. He never could go back to sleep after having a dream like that.  He wished B’Elanna were here.  What he wouldn’t give to feel her arms right now, the taste of her mouth.  He shook his head.  He couldn’t let his thoughts go there either.  He missed B’Elanna so much it hurt.  Thinking about her just made it worse, particularly after the dreams.  He sighed.  He needed to think about something else.  So for lack of anything better to do, he continued the letter to his father.  At least it would keep his mind off of the dream.  He doubted anything could keep his mind off of B’Elanna.       Just a bad night, he told himself, things will be better tomorrow.   Only 20 more days to go. You can make it through to the end. TBC