Disclaimer:  I understand that Paramount/Viacom own Star Trek and 
its characters.  I am just borrowing them for awhile and promise not 
to abuse them (too much).  This is for fun only, not profit.


"Advantage: B'Elanna"
by Julie Evans (comments to Juli17@aol.com)


B'Elanna Torres looked at the fuzzy yellow ball in her hand 
dubiously and glanced across the court at Tom Paris.  "THIS is your 
idea of a good workout?"

"Absolutely,"  Tom said, swinging his tennis racquet in a warm up 
arc.  "You can work up quite a sweat playing this game."  He held 
the racquet over his head and stretched his triceps.  "And since you 
didn't like working out with the bat'telh, I thought we might want 
to try something a little more civilized.  And a little less 
dangerous.  I don't think anyone can get killed playing tennis."

B'Elanna swung her racquet in an arc, getting the feel of it and 
unconsciously mimicking Tom's moves.  "This is a little beyond 
civilized, Tom.  It's..."  she glanced down at the white tennis 
skirt that barely reached the top of her thighs, "...prissy.  People 
actually wear these outfits?"

Tom grinned at her slyly.  "Yes they do, B'Elanna.  These outfits 
allow for a lot of range of movement.  You have to cover the whole 
court in singles games."

B'Elanna could see how much range of movement Tom's white shorts and 
knit shirt allowed him as he stretched his hamstrings in a short 
series of lunges.  She could admit to herself that it was a nice 
view, but she was still going to do a little research after the 
game.  If she found out Tom had talked her into this cheerleader 
outfit under false pretenses, he would definitely pay.  

"Ok, let's start.  You can serve first, B'Elanna.  And remember, you 
have to get the ball into the right service court here,"  Tom 
gestured with his racquet.  "This is a game of finesse, not 
strength, so do it nice and easy and I'll return."

B'Elanna threw the ball up once experimentally like Tom had shown 
her.  Then she caught her opponent's wandering eye.  "Tom, aren't 
you supposed to be watching the ball instead of staring at my legs?"

Tom grinned at B'Elanna's annoyed tone.  "Don't worry, I'll keep my 
eye on the ball, once you serve it."

B'Elanna threw the ball up again and smacked it with the racquet.  
Tom started to bring his racquet in position to return, but instead 
he jumped backwards in a couple of awkward steps and ducked as the 
ball whizzed past his head.  He found himself offbalance, and a 
moment later he was sitting on his butt. 

"Well, I DIDN'T think anyone could get killed at this game,"  Tom 
muttered as he picked himself up off the simulated clay court.  
"B'Elanna!  You're supposed to aim for the service court, not your 
opponent!"

B'Elanna gave Tom an apologetic shrug.  "Sorry.  Guess I don't know 
my own strength."

Somehow Tom doubted the sincerity of her apology.  He walked to the 
net and picked up the ball that had thwacked off the back wall and 
rolled all the way back across the court.  "Oh, I think you know 
your own strength, B'Elanna."  He tossed the ball to her.  "Let's 
try it again, only this time, tone it down." 


"Okay, I'll try."  B'Elanna waited for Tom to get back in position.  
Darned if he didn't look a little leery waiting for her to serve.  
It was hard to keep a smile off her face.  She tossed the ball up 
and hit it, this time with a little less force and a little more 
downward curve.

Tom reached for the ball as it caught the outside corner of the 
service court and returned it neatly with his backhand.  The ball 
headed right toward B'Elanna in the backcourt and she swung at it 
with her forehand.  

Tom dropped his racquet to his side and watched as the ball sailed a 
good three meters over his head and bounced off the wall well above 
the fenceline.  "It's a good thing we're in the holodeck, B'Elanna, 
or I'd make you go find that ball."

B'Elanna ignored Tom comment and picked up another ball out of the 
basket on the side of the court.  She returned to the service line 
and tossed the ball in the air.

"Don't forget the score.  My favor, Love-15."

B'Elanna caught the ball as it came down and glared at Tom.  He had 
already explained the method of scoring to her earlier.  She could 
only consider it ludicrous.  Fifteen, thirty, forty?  Why not just 
one, two, three?  And what did "love" have to do with it anyway?  
"Whatever."  B'Elanna tossed the ball up and served.

Five serve efforts later Tom decided B'Elanna was looking a little 
frustrated.  She hadn't gotten near beaning him in the head again, 
but she hadn't gotten the ball into the service court either.  She'd 
overshot it every time.  "Last chance, B'Elanna."

B'Elanna didn't appear to appreciate Tom's reminder.  "Love-40," she 
growled, as she tossed the ball in the air and connected with her 
racquet.

The ball headed toward the outside of the service court.  Tom moved 
his racquet into position and the ball drop onto the court.  It 
landed just outside the line.  Tom let his racquet drop and caught 
the ball with his other hand.  "Close, but no cigar.  My game."

B'Elanna didn't find Tom funny at that moment.  She stalked toward 
the net, glaring at him all the way.  Tom raised his eyebrows 
inquiringly.  "Aren't we supposed to switch sides now?"  B'Elanna 
snapped.

"Right."  Tom gave B'Elanna a placating smile.  "Don't worry 
B'Elanna, you'll get the hang of it."

B'Elanna grunted.  "It's just a matter of mechanics,"  she grumbled, 
walking around the net.   "Trajectories, spin.  It shouldn't be this 
difficult."

"Shooting pool is largely a matter of mechanics, too, B'Elanna," Tom 
commented, "but that doesn't make you good at pool either."

Tom rather regretted that remark the second after it came out of his 
mouth but B'Elanna was walking right past him and it was too late.  
She swung her racquet and hit him -hard -on the shin.  Tom groaned 
and clutched his leg.  "B'Elanna!"

"Oops, sorry, Tom."  B'Elanna patted his shoulder in mock sympathy 
and nearly knocked him over.  "I was just practicing my return 
swing.  I forgot you were there."

Tom grimaced and hobbled over to his side of the court.  "I didn't 
mean YOU couldn't play pool.  I just meant that mechanics isn't 
everything.  There are other skills involved, like eye-hand 
coordination, patience, style, intuition-"

"Shut up and serve, Tom."

Tom shook his leg a little to make sure he could still run on it and 
served the ball. 

B'Elanna wasn't surprised to see that Tom's serve was flawless.  The 
ball landed right inside the service court line.  His serve was 
hard, but nothing B'Elanna couldn't handle as long as she kept her 
eye on the ball.  She connected with her forehand and the ball sped 
over the net toward the left corner of the back court, opposite from 
where Tom had served.  He had to run to get it, but returned it 
sharply.  They volleyed over the net several times.  After a 
particularly short return from Tom, B'Elanna saw her chance and ran 
toward the forecourt and slammed the ball down just over the net.  
Tom didn't have a chance, but he gamely dove for the ball and 
missed, landing on his hands and knees.

"I think I am getting the hang of this!"  B'Elanna said excitedly.

Tom stood up and brushed the dusty clay off his knees.   "That's 
exactly how you do it, B'Elanna.  That was a great volley.  You 
could be good at this." 

Tom's sincere compliment made B'Elanna smile.  He was nothing if not 
a good sport.  She watched him limp slightly back to the service 
line.  "Thank you, Tom." 

"I meant it.  Now serving is the hardest part,"  Tom said, bouncing 
the ball in front of him in preparation.  "But you'll get it.  It 
just takes practice.  Remember," he added, as he threw the ball in 
the air, "I've been playing for awhile.  Love-15." 

Trust Tom to move directly from sincerity to patronization and not 
even realize it, B'Elanna thought wryly.  She didn't reply, she just 
returned his serve hard right back at him.  Tom had to use his 
racquet simply to stop the ball from hitting him in the face.  His 
return landed right in the net.

The rest of the game didn't go much better for Tom.  B'Elanna seemed 
to have a supernatural ability to sense where the ball would come 
next, while she kept Tom hopping from one end of the court to the 
other.  Tom managed to score only one point before losing the game.

"Your serve,"  Tom said as B'Elanna reached for the ball basket and 
carried it to her side of the court for the third game.

B'Elanna looked at Tom, who had a smirk on his face.  "What's the 
matter, flyboy, am I wearing you out already?" she asked archly.  
She took her place at the service line.  "And don't think you get to 
relax just because I'm serving,"  she added as she tossed the ball 
in the air.  "I could surprise you."

Tom watched her serve land wide and long of the service court.  "You 
didn't."

B'Elanna's next serve was aimed right at Tom's head, but this time 
he was half expecting it and moved adroitly out of the way.  "Double 
fault.  My point.  Keep that up, B'Elanna, and you'll make it too 
easy on me."

B'Elanna took a deep breath, determined to ignore Tom's deliberate 
provocation, and served again.  She double faulted the next two 
serves, but did manage to get one serve in before Tom won the game.

The rest of the set proceeded much the same.  B'Elanna had 
difficulty taming her serve, but she didn't have much difficulty 
returning Tom's serves.  And Tom discovered that once a volley got 
going, B'Elanna was a natural and aggressive player, more often than 
not outlasting him until she could get a good shot in.  He landed on 
his knees more than once trying to catch up with one of her 
forecourt slams.  He still managed to take the set 6-4.

"One set is probably enough for today," Tom said as they picked up 
their water canisters from the side bench.

"What's the matter, Tom, are you tired?"  B'Elanna asked innocently, 
eyeing the sheen of sweat on Tom's skin.  

"Not at all,"  Tom said, taking a long drink of water.  But his 
knees were getting a little sore from connecting too much with the 
court surface, and his shin ached a little.  Still he wasn't about 
to back down from the challenge in B'Elanna's voice.  "I'm game for 
the whole match if you are."

"You bet I am."

"Good.  And you might even have a chance of winning, B'Elanna, if 
you could quit acting like your sandblasting the court when you 
serve and just hit the ball a little nicer."

B'Elanna snorted.  "Nicer?  What kind of advice is that?" 

"A power serve won't win you many games if you can't control it."  
Tom gave her a speculative look.  "You know, Jenny Delaney has a 
pretty nice serve.  Maybe I could ask her to show you-"

B'Elanna poured the rest of her water right over Tom's head.  He 
looked momentarily surprised with rivulets of water dripping down 
his face, then he shook his head to disperse the excess and grinned 
at her.  "Thanks, B'Elanna, that actually feels pretty good."

"Pig,"  B'Elanna muttered without much rancor as she strode back 
onto the court. 

"Hmmm, and here I thought we were past that stage in our 
relationship," Tom mused aloud as he followed her.

By the time the second set was over- the one B'Elanna won 7-6 - Tom 
was truly ready to quit.  B'Elanna's serve had only improved 
marginally, but she kept him off balance during the volleys.  He had 
to admit, despite his greater experience, she was his equal.  If she 
learned to control her serve, she'd wipe up the court with him.  

But that wasn't what was bothering him as he took a swig of his 
water between sets.  Tennis had never been Tom's best game, but he 
considered himself reasonably competent at it.  Competent enough to 
at least finish a match in the same shape as he started.  He thought 
maybe his right knee was swelling up a little.  And his left elbow 
was still smarting from yet another spectacularly unsuccessful dive 
in front of the net.  He was starting to feel a little winded, and 
B'Elanna was barely breaking a sweat.  Tom sighed, and poured the 
rest of his water over his head, without B'Elanna's help this time.

B'Elanna grinned into Tom's wet face.  "Ready for the last set, 
hotshot?"

The final set was as close as the previous two.  Both Tom and 
B'Elanna, feeling a competitive surge, intensified their play as the 
set wore on.  Even B'Elanna was breathing hard by the time they had 
reached a 6-6 tie and moved into the tiebreaker game.  B'Elanna was 
managing to get about half of her serves into the service court, and 
after they had traded points back and forth and achieved Deuce, she 
got Tom to chase a ball to the line and lobbed it back to the 
opposite side of the court, out of his reach.

B'Elanna bounced the ball in front of her.  "Advantage in."

"Match point,"  Tom corrected.

B'Elanna tossed the ball in the air.  "Whatever."

"B'Elanna, 'whatever' is not a tennis score, as I've mentioned 
before."

B'Elanna caught the ball in her hand as it came down.  "Tom, quit 
trying to delay the inevitable and just keep your eye on the ball."  
She tossed it in the air again.  "Match point."

The ball landed in the outside corner of the service court, and Tom 
returned it diagonally across the court, making B'Elanna run to 
catch up with it.  They volleyed from the backcourts for a minute or 
so.  Then Tom saw his chance after B'Elanna had to hustle to return 
a shot from the left alley.  He lobbed the ball back into the right 
forecourt.  B'Elanna had to completely change direction to get to 
the ball.  She stumbled doing so and almost went down, but she 
recovered and dove for the ball.  Her racquet connected right at the 
ground and the ball sailed over the net.  

Tom, who had relaxed his racquet and taken several steps toward the 
forecourt, sure B'Elanna could never get to the ball in time, had to 
backpedal, stretch and reach behind for the ball.  He managed to 
just barely get his racquet on the ball, but he lost his balance in 
the process and went down.  He landed on the court with a thud and 
with his momentum ended up flat on his back.  The ball, which had 
lost its momentum connecting with the racquet, fell to ground and 
bounced next to Tom's head.  Tom lay there for several seconds with 
the breath knocked out of him, staring at the simulated blue sky 
above, and wondering why he'd ever liked tennis in the first place. 
Maybe this game actually could kill someone.  

"Tom, are you alright?"

Tom stared up at B'Elanna, who was looking down at him with genuine 
concern.  Tom noticed that the fine sheen of sweat that covered 
B'Elanna's skin actually gave her a healthy, vibrant glow.  In fact, 
the woman looked downright sexy.

"Tom, should I call for an emergency beam out to Sickbay?"

"No!"  Sure, that's just what he wanted, to become known on Voyager 
as the guy who was beamed to Sickbay with a critical tennis injury.  
"I'm fine.  And congratulations."

"Thanks,"  B'Elanna said, suddenly remembering that she'd won the 
match and feeling a little pleased about it.  Then she looked down 
at Tom, wondering again if she should be concerned.  His legs were 
splayed out and he had one arm draped across his forehead, and the 
other resting on his stomach.  He looked sweaty and tired, and he 
was sporting a few new bruises and scrapes.  And damned if he didn't 
still look good.  B'Elanna consigned that thought to the recesses of 
her mind.  "Can I do something for you, Tom?"

"Carry me off the court?"

B'Elanna saw the slight smile playing across Tom's lips and the 
twinkle in his blue eyes as he spoke in that beseeching tone.  He 
was fine.  "I don't think so."  She prodded him lightly in the side 
with her foot.  "Come on, Tom, you can get up."

"That's what I love about you, B'Elanna," Tom said as he pulled 
himself up into a sitting position.  "Your boundless compassion."

B'Elanna reached down and grabbed Tom's hand as he started to stand 
up and helped him to his feet.  "Call me Florence Nightengale.  
Computer, end program."

"I think maybe we should go back to the bat'telh," Tom said as they 
walked toward the exit.  "I've decided it's less dangerous than 
tennis."

"Oh, no.  I like tennis.  This was a great workout, Tom!  I feel 
sort of invigorated."

"And I feel like I was attacked by a Capellan tiger.  Or at least 
hit in the shin by one."

"Tom-"  B'Elanna's protest went unfinished as the holodeck door 
opened and she and Tom almost collided with Harry Kim and Ethan 
Simms.  "Harry, did we go over the allotted time?"

"Uh..."  Harry was staring at B'Elanna and Tom.  Particularly Tom.  
"No, we, uh..."  Harry looked at the scrapes on Tom's knees, one 
which looked a little swelled, the several bruises accentuated by 
his fair skin, especially the large one on his shin, and the 
generally sweaty, mussed image he presented.  "We just got here."  
Harry suddenly noticed what they were both wearing.  "Were you 
playing...tennis?"

Tom sighed at the note of disbelief in Harry's voice.  "Yes, Harry, 
we were."  He looked down at his disheveled appearance.  "Let's just 
say we went all out."

"Well, someone did anyway,"  Harry said.  He couldn't keep the grin 
off his face.  "Do you need to go to Sickbay, Tom?"

"Don't start, Harry,"  Tom warned.

"B'Elanna, what did you really do to Tom?"  Ethan asked, looking at 
Tom with an even bigger smile on his face than Harry's.  Tom just 
gave him the coldest look he could muster.  Ethan was unfazed.

"Okay, ensigns, enough gawking.  Go have your holodeck adventure 
now."

"Yes, ma'am."  Harry and Ethan slid past Tom and B'Elanna to the 
holodeck entrance.  

"Nice skirt, lieutinant,"  Ethan said as they walked past.  

B'Elanna gave him a look that would freeze boiling water.  The 
ensign hurried into the holodeck.

"Hey, when you two play your next match, sell tickets.  You can rake 
up a ton of replicator credits, believe me."

"Shut up, Harry!"  Tom and B'Elanna said in unison as the holodeck 
door closed on Harry's grinning face.

B'Elanna looked at Tom, a small smile playing around her lips.  "Are 
you sure you don't want to try tennis again, Tom?"

"Yes.  You don't like the bat'telh.  I'm giving up tennis."

"Okay, we'll just have to come up with something we both like,"  
B'Elanna said as they walked down the corridor.  "Something a little 
less...  strenuous for you,"  she added slyly.  "I know!  What's 
that other game with little balls?  Golf!"

Tom stopped in his tracks and stared at B'Elanna.  "Are you 
kidding?!  I'm not about to put a golf club in your hands!"

B'Elanna put her hands on her hips and glared at Tom.  "And why not, 
Tom Paris?"

"Why not?"  Tom repeated, walking again.  "Because I barely survived 
putting a tennis racquet in your hands.  And I won't even mention 
how you swung that bat'telh around, now that I think about it."

B'Elanna snorted.  "Baby."

Tom gritted his teeth.  "B'Elaaanna..."

Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres argued all the way back to the crew 
quarters and if anyone who passed them had any thought of running 
interference...well, they knew better.


The end. (maybe)