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Maybe, if the situation were different, Tom would want to plan a big wedding, something fancy in the mess hall or a holodeck.
But they almost died.
And when B’Elanna said yes, she told him that estimates to get systems online were part of her job, so she didn’t want to wait around.
“Let’s just …” she had looked out the Delta Flyer viewport as Voyager flew closer, both ships damaged by the antimatter explosion, “let’s just get married. No engagement.”
So the system of the Paris-Torres marriage begins to come online in the captain’s ready room, padds on her desk, Harry still in his flight suit from the race, Chakotay embracing B’Elanna before she turns and stands next to Tom, both of them facing the captain.
It’s as if there’s a soft exhale from everyone at once.
Recognition.
Excitement.
Maybe a little trepidation? Tom wants this, wants it so badly, but he’s never been married before and people say it’s hard work. A little fear means he’s taking this seriously, though, and that’s good.
“Since the days of sailing ships, it has been an honor of captaincy to bring people together in matrimony,” the captain begins, gracious, inspiring — as if she hadn’t had less than ten minutes’ notice for this ceremony. “Wedding vows have changed over the years from ‘honor and obey’ to ‘honor and cherish.’ Cherishing can be difficult, though. Things get in the way. Obligations. Duties. We can forget to cherish.”
Tom glances toward B’Elanna and her dark eyes seem to mirror his thoughts. Does the captain know they had been fighting? Is this advice?
“But when it comes to Tom and B’Elanna, something tells me that one of them — or the other — will always be there to remind the other to cherish.” The captain seems far away for a moment, just a glimmer of time, as if she’s not quite in her ready room but not quite anywhere else, then she’s back. “Is there anything either of you wish to say for vows?”
There are so many things Tom wants to say — declarations of love and commitment, an apology for his recent forgetfulness, a recitation of hopeful dreams for their future together. But he can say those things to B’Elanna in private. Knowing Harry’s big mouth, the shuttlebay crew is probably busy decorating the Flyer as well as repairing it, and Tom can tell B’Elanna everything he wants to during their honeymoon.
So his weight shifts from one leg to the other and Tom tells the captain, “I, uh, think you about covered it.”
B’Elanna nods.
“Then let’s proceed.” The captain looks toward Harry. “The rings, please.”
Rings?
Oh, no — of course, rings.
Harry holds out his empty hands as B’Elanna and Tom talk over each other.
“When I said I wanted to get married right away, I forgot the human customs for —”
“I didn’t think about it before, but I can go replicate —”
Chakotay breaks in, “We can take a short pause to —”
The captain’s palms rise and the group falls silent. “Stay here. Don’t replicate anything. It’s bad luck.”
And she’s gone, the door sliding closed behind her.
Tom’s chest tightens with regret. He should have thought of this. He’d envisioned asking B’Elanna to marry him so many times, but never thought about rings. He hadn’t even asked her if she wanted rings.
B’Elanna’s fingertips encircle her ring finger, though, almost as if she’s holding a place.
“Bad luck?” she whispers, seemingly tentative to interrupt their wedding despite the departure of their officiant.
Chakotay’s shrug is slight, gentle. “They say replicating any kind of jewelry is bad luck — Vulcan amulets, Andorian brooches, human wedding rings. You know how the captain can be superstitious.”
Tom looks down. His fingertips encircle his ring finger, too. He and B’Elanna — both holding a place for rings. But what could the captain be arranging that isn’t replicated? Rings made of leola root?
The door opens again and she’s there, a small box in her hands.
“As I was saying,” the captain’s voice has gone gravelly, “the rings. Bajoran gold. Consider them a wedding gift.”
She stands in front of them again, opens the box, and the pair of rings sparkle.
They’re perfect. An old-fashioned style but a modern material that will size to their fingers, never go dull, and never need cleaning.
Appreciation sticks in Tom’s throat, but B’Elanna manages, “Captain, thank you,” just as there’s a soft murmur from Chakotay, “Kathryn …”
Why is Chakotay’s forehead furrowed in concern?
Why are Harry’s eyes blinking as if Harry is about to cry, but not tears of happiness?
Tom has read novels that describe realization as a punch to the stomach. He’s never experienced it, though. Yet as years-old gossip that Harry told Tom … about the captain, about her fiancé, about their wedding planned for not long after Voyager visited Deep Space Nine in the Bajoran system … as this information explodes like rapid-fire flashbulbs in Tom’s mind, his stomach constricts as if punched, and a small gasp escapes.
The captain somehow manages to glare at both him and Chakotay, but a glare of affection, of surety in her choice.
His stomach doesn’t relax, but Tom finds his voice. “I promise you, Captain. B’Elanna and I will treasure these.”
No, that’s not quite right. The captain talked before about cherishing — about things that get in the way of cherishing a beloved. She must have been thinking about her own wedding that didn’t happen, but she’s trying to help Tom and B’Elanna above the call of duty, above the call of friendship.
So Tom adds, “And we will cherish that you’re the one who gave them to us.”
The captain’s eyes go rheumy, but she continues. “B’Elanna Torres, do you take Tom Paris to be your lawfully wedded spouse?”
“I do.” B’Elanna looks at him and Tom’s chest rises — love, surety, joy — as he slides the cool metal of a Bajoran gold ring onto B’Elanna’s finger.
“Tom Paris, do you take B’Elanna Torres to be your lawfully wedded spouse?”
“I do.” The other ring slides from B’Elanna’s hand onto Tom’s finger, his bride smiling up at him.
“Then with the power vested in me by Starfleet Command and the United Federation of Planets, I now pronounce you legally wed.”
And call it a premonition, call it a burst of insight, but as Tom bends to kiss his wife, he can see their future unfold — getting back to the Alpha Quadrant sooner than any of them expect, a loving home, children, B’Elanna with grey in her hair and the same sparkle in her eyes that he fell in love with … and through it all the rings that could have been packed away as a sadness given to them to love and to cherish.