No Accounting For Taste
By Ralkana

=/\= =/\= =/\=

"Commander, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Surprised, Chakotay looked up from the status report he was reading at the sound of Tom Paris’ voice. It was a rare occurrence for the helmsman to seek out the first officer.

"Sure, Tom. Grab a seat," he said, gesturing with the padd to the chair across from him. "What’s up?"

The younger man looked nervously around the half-filled mess hall as he sat. "It’s about B'Elanna," he said quietly.

With that, he had Chakotay’s full attention. "What about her?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes and placing the padd carefully on the table. Tom’s eyes widened as he realized he was treading on dangerous ground.

"Oh, no! Nothing bad… I just…" he sighed. "Valentine’s Day is coming up very soon here, and I want to do something nice, and I’m sure you know she doesn’t really like chocolate, and well, you know her better than anyone, better than I do, that’s for sure, and I figured you could probably help me out…" He realized he was babbling and shut his mouth with a snap.

Chakotay stared at him wordlessly for a moment, trying to figure out what he was feeling. A little bit of amusement, certainly, at the younger man’s uncharacteristic unease, but something else as well. He realized that the heavy, settling feeling in his stomach had a strange sense of finality. It was as if, by finally bringing up his growing relationship with B'Elanna, Tom was closing a door on something in Chakotay’s life, something that he hadn’t really thought about for quite a while now.

In an instant, he was catapulted back to the day he’d met B'Elanna. He’d been skulking in the shadows of a colony town, waiting for Kurt to return from a meeting with a contact. He’d heard shouts and the sounds of a fight and had taken note of them, in order to stay well out of the way, until he’d heard a female cry of pain. He’d made his way to the fray in an instant and had seen that the young half-klingon woman was wounded and outnumbered. He’d thrown himself into the fight and she’d nearly disemboweled him before she realized he was on her side. Between the two of them, they’d managed to stave off enough of the attackers to engage in what Tuvok would have called "making a sound tactical retreat" and what Chakotay had called "running for their lives."

When he’d judged they’d gotten far enough away, and they were leaning against a wall panting to get their breath back, she’d thanked him and turned to leave, but not before he saw the instant of despair in her eyes. He’d asked her if she had somewhere to go, and she’d defiantly tossed her head, crossed her arms tightly across her chest and said no, but she’d be fine. The show of bravado had made his heart ache, and he’d taken her back to the Liberty, so she’d have somewhere to sleep "just for the night."

They’d seemed to click in a way he never had with any of the other members of his cell. She reminded him a great deal of his little sister, and he was the strong male authority figure she’d never had in her life. B'Elanna quickly became one of his fiercest and most loyal lieutenants, in a way that surprised the more seasoned members of the cell, but she was more than that. They were instantly inseparable friends. B'Elanna never expected him to be a calculating, bloodthirsty Maquis captain, and Chakotay never expected her to be a savage klingon warrior; they were just B'Ela and Chak. They fought together, ate together, laughed together, screamed and shouted at the injustice of the universe together, and very rarely, when everything just became too much, they cried together.

On four occasions, when they’d been through devastating battles and had lost friend after friend after friend, they’d sought physical comfort in each other, in a fierce need to connect with someone who was still vital and alive. After each time, there had been an unspoken agreement between them that those nights had meant nothing but comfort to them both, but now Chakotay found himself briefly wondering if she had ever speculated, as he had, whether they might have had so much more had the situation been different.

Chakotay had learned, when he’d taken up with Seska, that it wasn’t just the physical release he’d needed. His few nights with B'Elanna had certainly been urgent and driven, but they had renewed his determination and his will to fight. His time with Seska had just left him worn out, more worn down than before. Though he’d never sensed any jealousy from B'Elanna, it was the thinly veiled look of disapproval in her eyes more than anything else that had compelled him to end his entanglement with the woman who had ultimately betrayed them all.

And then they’d been thrown into this insane quadrant and had met up with Voyager. Old connections and relationships had been strained as everyone adjusted to their new life and new friendships, and Chakotay had gradually realized that it was no longer B'Elanna’s face that drifted through his mind every night before he fell asleep.

And the what-ifs and what-might-have-beens had weighed heavily on his mind because he and B'Elanna had never sat down and discussed them, and the possibilities for something more—even if he knew now that that wasn’t what he wanted—had lain dormant in his mind. He realized now, as a man he had once hated asked him for advice about a woman he had once loved, that the strange feeling deep in his stomach was the slight pang of closure.

Chakotay realized with a start that Tom was still watching him, somewhat impatiently waiting for an answer. He turned his dark eyes on the helmsman and studied him, gauging his sincerity. At the beginning of their journey, or possibly even a year ago, the younger man might have ended up on the receiving end of Chakotay’s fist for inquiring after B'Elanna, but Tom had changed. He was no longer the arrogant, rude brat he’d been when Voyager had first been stranded. He was making a place for himself, becoming a responsible member of society on the ship, and Chakotay was no longer concerned that he was interested in B'Elanna simply for the thrill of the chase. Chakotay realized that B'Elanna might have done far worse for herself, even with the limited possibilities on Voyager. He noticed Tom trying not to squirm under his gaze and grinned, leaning in and folding his hands on the table in front of him.

"What exactly do you want me to tell you, Paris?"

"Um… well, you’d know better than I would what kind of… treat B'E would want."

Chakotay’s eyebrow shot up. "‘B'E’? Do you call her that to her face?" Tom nodded, and Chakotay whistled under his breath. "And she hasn’t ripped your arm off and beaten you with it, I see."

He was impressed. B'Elanna hated nicknames, and only those closest to her were given reign to use them. Even then, it was prudent to use one sparingly, the way a chef will hoard a fine spice. Bones had been broken for smaller offenses.

"Treat, hmm? Let’s see…"

Chakotay fell silent again, lost in memories of evenings they’d spent cajoling, coaxing and threatening likes, dislikes, and secrets out of each other. In the volatile world of the Maquis, the sharing of each tightly held fact about themselves had been both exhilarating and frightening because each one meant a closer connection to a person who might not be alive the following night. He finally looked up with a wistful smile.

"She likes jellybeans," he said.

Tom looked surprised. "Jellybeans?"

"Yeah."

Tom’s face was blank for a moment, and then it lit up like a supernova. "Oh! Oh, that’s perfect! Thank you, Commander, I really owe you one!"

He shot to his feet, only to be halted when Chakotay said, "Tom…"

"Yes, sir?"

"We’re both off duty. I think it would be okay for you to call me Chakotay."

Tom blinked, surprised. "Uh… okay, Chakotay. Thanks again."

He hurried out of the messhall, leaving the first officer alone with his ghosts.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

A week or so later, Chakotay leaned back in his office chair, scrubbing a hand wearily over his face as he looked up from the seemingly endless pile of padds on his desk. He glanced at the chronometer, realizing that his shift had ended a half-hour ago, and took a sip of his tea, grimacing when he realized just a second too late that it was stone cold.

He thought of hailing Kathryn and asking her if she had dinner plans before he remembered that she was on beta shift this week. She was still on duty and would be for quite a while. He’d go pay Voyager’s current resident invalid a visit instead, he thought with a smile. I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t throw something at me for my concern.

"Computer, what is the location of Lieutenant Torres?" Better make sure she’s not in Sickbay.

"Lieutenant Torres is in her quarters."

"Is she awake?"

"Affirmative."

Chakotay stood, stretching and shaking out the legs of his uniform trousers. "Chakotay to Torres."

"Torres here."

"I thought you might like some company for a while, B'Elanna."

"Sure, come on down," she growled. "I’m not going anywhere."

When he got to her quarters and rang the chime, she called for entry almost before the chime had finished sounding, and he knew she was desperate for company. He stepped in and saw that she was sitting in an armchair with her injured leg up on the coffee table, and there was something large on her lap that he couldn’t quite identify. She was desperately trying to stuff a padd between the cushions of the chair.

He laughed as he came closer. "Another romance novel?"

Her chin came up defiantly. "Engine specs," she replied, but the slight reddening of her cheeks told him otherwise.

"How are you?"

"I’m fine! Don’t know why Doc won’t let me go back on duty!"

"Your leg was pretty badly shattered, B'Elanna. Give it a chance to heal."

She growled in reply, and he came close enough to see what was on her lap. It was a large white box, with little compartments of color.

"What the hell is that?"

She colored again and ducked her head slightly, embarrassed. "A gift from Tom."

"Those aren’t…"

"Yep. Forty or so flavors of jellybeans. Sit down," she added, and he dropped onto the couch by her, making himself comfortable. "Tom found them in the database… they’re called Jelly Belly beans."

"Let me guess, the twentieth century." When she rolled her eyes, he chuckled, and then frowned. "There can’t be forty flavors of jellybeans."

"There are. And they’re good… for the most part," she amended with a grimace. "Try one."

He stared hesitantly at the riot of colors in the box and reached for a bright orange one. It seemed safer than some of the strange speckled and spotted ones he saw. It was good. Tart, but good. She saw where he’d grabbed it from and consulted the chart in the box lid.

"Tangerine."

He chuckled, and her gaze turned sly.

"The funny thing is, I’m almost certain I’ve never mentioned the word ‘jellybean’ in Tom’s presence…"

He brushed a piece of lint off his jacket. "Can’t imagine how he might have figured out you like them," he said nonchalantly. She laughed and swatted his arm.

"Oh really? Well, I might have to let out a secret or two of yours in return," she said, chuckling again when he raised his eyebrow in challenge. She sobered and said, "Seriously, Chakotay, it means a lot to me to know that you… approve."

He laughed in disbelief. "What am I, your father now? You have to have approval from me before you get serious about a man?" She didn’t answer, only grinning wryly at him, and he chuckled, but it was a weak sound. "Don’t answer that. I’m not sure I want to know; I don’t think my ego can take the answer."

"Old man, you know you mean more to me than my worthless excuse for a father ever could."

"Less of the ‘old man,’ brat," he growled, but he was smiling. She saw he was in a good mood and decided to push a little.

"You know that you have my… approval too, don’t you, Chakotay?"

She watched in dismay as his smile disappeared. His face smoothed into blankness in what looked like a well-practiced maneuver.

"I don’t think I know what you’re talking about, B'Elanna."

She was about to argue angrily when she looked into his eyes. His face was blank but his eyes were pleading with her not to press the subject.

"All right," she said softly. "You don’t know what I’m talking about. But just know that you’ve got my blessing, and Tom’s. Hell, you’ve got everyone’s."

She saw the muscle in his jaw tighten and decided it was time to change the subject. Wordlessly, she handed him a yellow and white speckled jellybean. Still tense, he popped it into his mouth without looking at it. His blank face morphed instantly into a grimace of disgust, and she had to fight to keep from laughing. She’d been gleefully anticipating his reaction to that one.

"What the hell?! Gods, B'Ela, at least I’m prepared when I’m eating Neelix’ food! I wasn’t expecting that from a jellybean! What was that?"

"Buttered popcorn," she said sweetly.

He shuddered. "Ugh. That was disgusting," he said, grabbing another tangerine one to get the taste out of his mouth.

"Fine," she said in mock indignation, popping a popcorn-flavored one into her mouth. "More for me."

"You actually like those?"

She said nothing as she ate another one, and he laughed, shaking his head.

"Well, I guess it’s true what they say…"

When he didn’t continue, she glared at him. "What?"

"There’s no accounting for taste." Though his voice was teasing her about the jellybeans, his eyes were teasing her about something else entirely. She smiled back but there was banked fire in her eyes.

"Guess not," she said, and then in a quiet but vehement tone, "He’s a good man, Chakotay."

He put his hand over hers. "I know, B'Elanna. He has to be, to have earned your friendship, let alone anything more. I’m happy for you."

She squeezed his hand briefly, and then handed him another jellybean. "Here, try this one." He eyed it warily, and she rolled her eyes. "Just eat it, you big baby."

Chakotay ate it and his eyes widened in surprise. "That was good."

"Caramel apple. Knew you’d like that one."

They worked their way through some more of the flavors, catching up on recent events and remembering old times, as well as commenting on some of the stranger flavors. They were just musing on what could possibly have been going through the mind of the creator of the jalapeño jellybean when her door chimed.

Still laughing, she called, "Come in!"

Tom strode in, stopping short at the sight of Chakotay sprawled on the sofa, laughing.

"Am I interrupting? I can come back later."

B'Elanna shook her head. "Nope, we’re just trying out the jellybeans."

"Ah." Tom moved closer, picking out a green speckled one. "The juicy pear ones are the best. They taste like real pears," he said, and B'Elanna cast a sidelong glance at Chakotay, who was staring at the helmsman suspiciously. He’d said something similar not five minutes before Tom’s entrance.

Chakotay stood, feeling vaguely uncomfortable in their company, though he knew he had no reason to, and he also knew it was a situation he would have to get used to.

"I’m gonna head out, see if I can find Ayala and grab something for dinner. Thanks for the jellybeans," he told B'Elanna, with a wink.

"Isn’t it about time for the captain’s lunch?" Tom asked cheerfully. B'Elanna froze but Chakotay just smiled ruefully.

"Probably, Paris."

"Oh, wait!" B'Elanna said suddenly. She awkwardly put the large box of candy on the sofa and tried to stand. Both men were instantly at her side, helping her up. She tried to put weight on her injured leg and bit her lip to keep from groaning.

"What do you want, B'E?" Tom asked, easing her back into the chair. "I’ll get it for you."

"Replicate me a little paper bag," she said, "Fifteen centimeters high by eight centimeters wide by five centimeters deep."

Tom did as she asked, and Chakotay watched, mystified, as she took it from him and scooped out one of the compartments of jellybeans, dumping the entirety of it into the bag. She rolled the top over and handed it to him.

"Here."

"What’s this?"

"I know someone who will appreciate these far more than I will."

He cautiously unrolled the top of the bag and fished out one of the speckled brown candies. He stared at it for a moment and then popped into his mouth, simultaneously grimacing and laughing as the bitter taste of coffee exploded on his tongue.

B'Elanna grinned. "It’s actually cappuccino, not coffee, but I think it’s close enough."

Chakotay shook his head, grabbing a pear-flavored one to cut the taste of the coffee. "I’m sure she will appreciate them. Thank you, B'Elanna," he said, and his eyes thanked her for far more than the jellybeans.

"You’re welcome. Thank you, old man."

He rolled his eyes. "Good night, Tom. Take care," he said, striding out the door with his captain’s treat tucked safely in one hand.