"…Fucking God-lover," the man cursed. "This’ll teach you to act like a fucking decent--"

"B’Elanna," Tom whispered to himself, blood freezing in his veins. He broke into a run; barrelled round the corner and into the man, knocking him to the ground with a thud.

"Dalby," he growled when he saw who it was. "I swear, Dalby, if you do so much as *touch* B’Elanna again I swear I’ll break every bone in your body." He thumped the crewman’s head against the floor for emphasis. "Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Dalby muttered sullenly.

Paris snarled silently, then let him up. He watched Dalby walk away, then turned to B’Elanna, anger suddenly dissolving into exhaustion. "Are you all right?" he asked softly.

"Yeah." B’Elanna prodded herself cautiously, wincing when she found a tender spot. "Bruised rib, I think. Nothing life-threatening."

"We should get you to Sickbay," Tom said, moving towards her in concern.

"I thought you were on my side," Torres joked. "I just want to sit down for a bit, okay?"

Paris hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Okay. In here." He hit a couple of controls beside the holodeck arch and led her inside.

The sanctity of the place hit him almost instantly. He’d known about B’Elanna’s church program for a long time, but she’d never invited him in and he’d never asked. It was so quiet he could almost hear dust falling, like snowflakes, to the floor.

B’Elanna made her way to one of the carved wooden benches, adjusting the long blue cushion before she sat. Tom took another look around; at the gold-patterned blue carpet in the aisles, at the huge crucifix and what he could only guess must be the communion table at the front of the church, and at the softly resonating bronze pipes to the left.

A soft light, like golden gauze, filtered through the church from a scattering of primitive bulbs hanging from the domed ceiling. Each bulb was encased by an open cylinder of cream-coloured cloth and wire. What could have been garish sunlight was transformed into a brilliant rainbow by the stained glass windows adorning the walls.

"It’s beautiful," Tom said quietly. B’Elanna ‘hmmed’ non-comittally, the slight noise bringing his attention back to her and what had happened. He started pacing the aisle with a rush of frustration.

"I can’t believe he-- That *bastard*," he spat, and looked at her curled up on the pew. "Why didn’t you fight back?"

"Bad timing," she said with a wince. "I was just coming out of confession when he-- found me."

Tom tried to pretend he understood how that explained anything, and sat on the next pew back, legs dangling idly off its side, to study her. She was staring at one of the stained glass panels, a small silver cross hanging out of her uniform. He guessed it had slipped out of hiding and been what had given her away to Dalby. "I’m sorry," he said softly.

"Don’t be." She leaned over the back of her pew to face him. "I should be thanking you. If you hadn’t come along…"

"I would have had to kill him later," Tom said lightly. "I wish I hadn’t told the captain. I had no right--"

"It’s okay," B’Elanna reassured him. "Captain Janeway’s not the type to hold it against me."

"I wouldn’t be so sure," Paris said darkly. He stared over her head at the crucifix for a moment.

"What’s this? Lover’s quarrel?" Torres teased.

"We’re not lovers," Tom snapped, rising to pace the aisle again. No, the captain had made that abundantly clear.

B’Elanna stood and held his arms, forcing him to stand still. "What happened?" she asked gently.

Tom was silent for a second, then looked away. "After we had dinner with you, I walked her back to her quarters. She invited me in, and I… said no." He closed his eyes briefly, remembering. "She got mad. Hasn’t spoken to me since. It turns out all she wanted from me after all was an illicit tumble or three."

B’Elanna drew in a breath, letting go of his arms. "Well, that explains the exponential icicle growth during _waiata_ practice," she said awkwardly. "Actually, I’m surprised she’s been coming at all. She wasn’t keen about performing in your little Waitangi Day concert to start with, and if what you said is true--"

"Oh, it’s true," Tom said painfully, remembering the anger in her eyes when he’d refused.

"Maybe you misunderstood," Torres offered.

"What else am I supposed to think?" Tom demanded. "It was sleep with her, or get out of her life. And frankly, I’m glad to be rid of her."

B’Elanna gave him a measured look. "Just keep telling yourself that," she said sarcastically. "Come with me." She took his hand and led him, unprotesting, to the front of the church. She knelt in front of the communion table, bowing her head, and after a moment Tom copied self-consciously.

"Father," she started, in a voice filled with quiet conviction, "I bring You Tom Paris, whom You know as one of Your children on Earth-Shut up, Tom, I know we’re not on Earth," she hissed at Paris. "I kneel before You," she continued, "to ask that You help him know peace, and have faith in himself and his role on Earth. Even though he does not believe in You, I pray that You bless him and be with him in his troubles, and give him strength to see this through. Amen."

"Amen," Tom echoed awkwardly, feeling as if he’d just been put in his place by someone very large and stern. B’Elanna smiled at him, so he guessed that had been the right thing to say.

He stood up with an ‘oomph’, dusting off his knees and holding out a hand to her. She rose easily, as if she did this all the time - which, he admitted, she probably did. "B’Elanna," he said thoughtfully.

"Yeah?"

"Did we just have an adult conversation?"

She paused, making a show of thinking carefully. "You know, I think we did. Maybe there’s hope for you yet."

"That’s what I was going to say," Tom grumbled.

B’Elanna made a silly face at him. "Tough cookies."

"Computer, end program," Tom said, watching the church melt into the geometric bars of the hologrid. "Come on, let’s get you to Sickbay."

"I hate you," B’Elanna complained.

"Hey, I have to *work* with the guy," Tom pointed out. "Besides, you can threaten him if he gets too unbearable. If I so much as touched his program you’d tear me to pieces."

"That’s true," B’Elanna conceded. "Okay, let’s go." She tucked her necklace carefully back under her uniform, and walked into the corridor with Tom. "I think you should speak to the captain," she said quietly.

Tom glowered briefly at the floor, folding his arms as they walked. "I don’t want to."

"So much for adult conversations," B’Elanna muttered. "How do you know she’s not feeling just as lousy as you are?"

"Because she’s a--" Tom stopped himself hastily as the object of their discussion walked around the corner.

Kathryn hesitated when she saw them, then kept walking. B’Elanna muttered something disparaging under her breath and caught Janeway’s arm. "Captain, Tom wants to talk to you."

A flash of something crossed Janeway’s face, fear or nervousness. Well, today was her lucky day, Tom thought, because he wasn’t going to put her through a lengthy discussion about How It Made Him Feel. "No, I don’t," he said firmly.

"Yes, you do," B’Elanna shot back. "Even if I have to lock you both on the holodeck myself."

"I don’t think that will be necessary, Lieutenant," Kathryn said frostily. "If Mister Paris has something important to say to me, I’m prepared to listen."

"Oh, nothing *important*," Tom said sarcastically. "Just a few feelings, but since when did those matter?"

"I’m glad you agree, Mister Paris," Kathryn said steadily, meeting his angry glare. "Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do." She continued briskly down the corridor, and Tom thumped the wall with a low snarl.

"Did you see that?" he demanded loudly. "She’s such a--"

"Still in hearing range, Mister Paris," she called from behind him. Tom held himself still for a moment then continued.

"I told you I didn’t want to speak to her," he said, voice only slightly lowered.

B’Elanna looked at him for a moment then shook her head sadly. "You must love her a lot," she said, with the air of wisdom Kes had used to project.

"The hell I do," Tom retorted. B’Elanna’s eyes flickered behind him for an instant; to see if the captain was really gone, he supposed.

"Then why do you care so much what she thinks of you?" she prodded.

"I *don’t*," Paris insisted. "I just can’t believe I let myself fall for that whole semi-maternal concern routine. Semi-maternal my ass," he snorted. "If that’s family, I’d rather live with the Doc."

He strode off without waiting to see if B’Elanna was following, and they continued to Sickbay in silence.