"Speculations" or "The Mystery of Tom Paris' Lunch" By Pari Summary: Tom Paris' odd behavior causes the Captain to come to some misguided conclusions. Rating: I'd give it a NR. There's nothing naughty in this short story, but there are some mild (very mild!) glimpses into a m/m relationship. (I'm not usually into any type of slash, but some crazy sprite inspired me to write this - so there you go). Pari106@hotmail.com **Please feel free to tell me what you think - but be gentle! I'm still just a newbie at this fanfiction writing stuff. And if you really liked it, check out my page at http://www.geocities.com/frndly_grrl_tx/index.html** Disclaimer: You know the kiddies belong to Paramount (big whoop for Viacom). I'm just trying to corrupt their upbringing a little bit. Consider the relative material officially disclaimed. Now, finally, on with the story..... Captain Kathryn Janeway didn't know when exactly she noticed it...or perhaps the real mystery was why she hadn't noticed it before. Regardless, sitting in the mess hall that day, the usual bustle of starship life going on around her, crew rushing here and there, coming and going, it suddenly occurred to her with startling clarity: there was something very wrong with Tom Paris. She couldn't say what it was, really, that brought about this revelation. Perhaps it was the way he breezed in and out of the mess that day, grabbing and finishing his lunch in a rush, barely stopping to say a 'hello' or 'how are you' to anyone near in the meantime. That was certainly peculiar behavior for Paris, who always had something to say to someone in the immediate vicinity. Tom never seemed to enter a room without a joke to share or some small talk to strike up, some little light-hearted flirting to carry on with some pretty officer or another. But today he hadn't even bothered to bother Chakotay, who was usually the brunt of some pretty heavy, good-natured ribbing whenever the cocky young pilot was around. The Captain could see this came as a surprise to the large Indian as well, judging by the perplexed expression on the older man's face when Paris passed by his table with no more than a nod and a "Good afternoon, Commander." In fact, when she came to think of it, Paris hadn't bothered with more than the off-handed platitude or two with anyone for quite some time. He was coming to the mess hall less and less, and behaving more and more preoccupied each time. That day he hadn't even sought out Harry Kim and B'Elanna Torres, his usual mealtime seatmates, at their table in the corner. Peculiar behavior indeed...but that wasn't what alarmed her. It could have been Tom's bedraggled appearance, which Janeway supposed she should find alarming. Paris was usually rather conscientious about his appearance; careful to look just as charming as he imagined himself to be (which, as a red-blooded female just like any other on the ship, Janeway had to admit was pretty damned charming). For the past couple of weeks, however, that conscientiousness seemed to have disappeared, or at least to have been momentarily forgotten. Tom showed up in the mornings with his hair uncombed, sometimes unshaven - really pushing ship dress code regulations to the limit, as if he hadn't had the time that morning to groom or as if he'd overslept. Janeway vaguely remembered Chakotay having commented about it, saying he was going to have to take the matter up with their troublesome helmsman if he didn't shape up sometime soon. The Captain hadn't really paid it much interest at the time- Tom was well known for his passion for pool-playing, women, and late nights out at Sandrine's (where he could indulge in both). Occasionally he'd enter a phase where he indulged a little too much, but those phases were usually short, few, and far between. Tom had a lot of passion within him - but none more intense than his passion for flying. Kathryn knew he'd never let his nightlife interfere with his work on the bridge. No, Tom's appearance might have been a little out of the ordinary, but it wasn't particularly alarming. But then again, as she sat there in the mess hall, a neglected plate of something truly vile cooling before her (Neelix's culinary tragedy of the day) Janeway realized Sandrine's couldn't have been the cause of Tom's sleep-deprived appearance. She'd frequented the little holographic cantina quite often in the past couple of weeks herself and remembered having considered it odd that Tom had been absent each time. A bit of scuttlebutt she'd overhead the other day came to mind - some drivel about someone or another that was currently churning about in the gossip mill aboard Voyager. The Captain generally ignored the day to day speculation that harmlessly floated about the ship, but at the tail end of that particular conversation she recalled a reference to Paris, the gossip mill's most frequent and favorite topic of interest. This reference concerned his sudden reclusive tendencies. Apparently Paris hadn't just been avoiding Sandrine's on the nights that she was there, but had stopped making any appearances there altogether. The same with the holographic resort program and any other form of social activity that had occurred on the ship in the past fourteen or so days. At the time Kathryn had merely smiled, thinking that, considering Tom's reputation, he must have grown tired with public social interaction and taken up more private forms of entertainment instead. Now, however, she frowned as it occurred to her that in the time since she'd overheard that conversation not a single speculation as to the identity of that entertainment's other participant had emerged. Surely if Tom had been seeing someone so exclusively for so long a period of time scuttlebutt would at least have determined who by now. After all, Paris was always somewhat less than discreet about his romantic liaisons. He didn't flaunt, of course - he was brought up to be much more the gentleman than that - but he wasn't particularly secretive either. And considering the entertainment value ship's gossip would undoubtedly put on the identity of anyone capable of so thoroughly monopolizing Tom Paris' time over the last couple of weeks, Janeway figured that if Paris was seeing someone all this time and the gossip mill just didn't know it, that would have to be the result of the secret-keeping effort of the century. When Janeway saw that Neelix had retreated back into the rear of his kitchen for some purpose or another she made her move - a bee-line for the refresher, where she could dispose of her plate and the barely-touched orange goo residing upon it with noone the wiser. As she watched with some satisfaction and a little expression of repugnance, the Captain reflected that there had been a lot of changes in Tom Paris lately that could be considered alarming - his preoccupied manner, his appearance, his tendency to shy away from social interactions. However, none of these things had really caught her attention; none had prompted the brief mental analysis she had just completed. There had been, however, one incident that finally opened her eyes to the troubled state of her ship's pilot - an incident that had occurred just a short while ago, right there in the mess hall. Tom Paris had entered the mess hall, sat down, and ate an entire helping of Neelix's cooking. A helping that was identical to the one she herself had just discarded. And he hadn't made a single comment about its odd texture or that peculiar odor it had emanated. In fact, he'd even managed to smile at Neelix as he left and he had looked genuinely sincere. That was the moment when Captain Janeway realized her Mr. Paris was indeed an ill, ill individual. Now it was time to find out the whys and whens of that illness and to see what could be done about it. As she left the mess hall, thinking back on lunch with a shudder, she hoped Tom's sickness wasn't chronic. Or catching.