Lost and Found
by JoAnna Walsvik

     Chakotay was the one who found them.
     He had asked the captain to be the one who went through her 
quarters, the one who distributed her personal effects to her 
friends.  To see if she had left any kind of will or bequest.
     I should have done it.  Goddamnit, I should have been the 
one.  But I was too spineless, too afraid to face the truth.  The 
truth that she was really dead.
     It shouldn’t have happened.  It was a simple mission.  A 
distress call from what seemed to be a tiny science vessel 
orbiting a small, barely habitable moon next to an uninhabitable 
C-class planet.  We answered, they said their warp core was badly 
damaged, and she went over to fix it with an engineering team.  
Simple as that.  It appeared to be harmless.
     But, as the old saying goes, appearances can be -- and, in 
our case, certainly were -- deceiving.
     Right after she and her team beamed aboard, the vessel’s 
shields went up, their torpedo tubes and phaser banks became 
operative, and their warp core activated.  We received a nasty 
transmission stating that our engineering team was “needed” 
elsewhere and if we cooperated, no one would get hurt.
     To tell you the truth, I wasn’t worried.  I figured Harry or 
Tuvok would come up with some magic trick to get us past their 
shields so we could transport them back, or at least a way to 
disarm their weapons to buy us some time.  I was sure that some 
way, somehow, we’d get them all back and there’d be a happy ending 
once more.
     I guess our luck had to run out sometime.
     We eventually got most of the engineering team back.  Just as 
I had predicted, Tuvok had come up with a way to disarm their 
shields for a window of a only a few seconds, but long enough to 
transport our people back.  While Voyager fired her phasers, as a 
distraction, Tuvok fired his beam and deactivated their shields.
     But, somehow, there was a transporter glitch and only four of 
the original five members made it back to the ship.  Then, 
everyone on the bridge watched the viewscreen in horror as the 
ship blew up.
     We later learned, from the surviving engineering crew, that 
once we started firing phasers, the crew of the “science” vessel 
became frightened.  They knew that Voyager was capable of beating 
the living tar out of their puny little ship, and they were 
determined to go out with a bang.
     Bang.  They set their auto-destruct sequence.  Bang.  Their 
ship blew up, only seconds after we grabbed most of our people out 
of there.  We barely had time to raise the shields before -- bang.
     They other ship went down in a blaze of glory...taking 
Voyager’s chief engineer with them.
     I can vividly remember the seconds before the explosion -- 
Captain Janeway called down to the transporter room to see if 
there were any injuries.  The transporter chief’s voice came back, 
panicked and stunned.  “There was a malfunction in the system, 
Captain -- we didn’t get Lieutenant Torres.  She’s still over 
there.” 
     Boom.  The other ship exploded...and just like that, she was 
gone.  Blown up.  Dead.
     It’s been one week, yet so much has changed.  The corridors 
are quieter, the Mess Hall is hushed -- it’s like everyone’s in a 
state of perpetual mourning.  We never knew how much we’d miss her 
until she was gone.
     Chakotay took it hard -- very hard.  He’s still walking 
around with that stunned look on his face, the same look that’s on 
mine.  He can’t believe she’s dead.  He can’t believe that his 
best friend, the woman he’s known for years and years and who 
stuck by him through thick and thin in the Maquis is really and 
truly gone.  Forever.
     The entire matter is still under investigation.  The captain 
insists on knowing just what exactly went wrong with the 
transporters and who, when, where, how, and why.  It’s her way of 
dealing with her grief, I guess.  Everyone has a different way.  
The captain wants to bury herself in data and facts.  She wants 
answers, to maybe find out why this whole thing happened.  
Anything to avoid facing the reality.
     Harry -- the kid is moping.  I’ve never seen him quite so 
crushed.  She was a good friend to him, and vice versa.  He loved 
her like a sister, and, although she would have never, ever 
admitted it, she felt the same way about him.  He was the kid 
brother she had never had -- yet, in a way, she looked up to him.  
Maybe it was because he represented everything she had wanted in 
life but had never gotten -- an innocent, carefree life with two 
loving parents, a Starfleet career, an easygoing nature with a 
temper that wasn’t quite as quick to ignite as hers was.  The two 
of them have always been close, ever since they were trapped 
together on the Ocampan homeworld when this whole voyage began.  
Now that she’s gone, he can’t seem to conjure up even the 
slightest glimmer of a smile.
     Not that I blame him.  The whole ship’s that way.  Even Kes 
and Neelix, who weren’t really that close to her, can’t seem to 
even act cheerful.  How can they, when no one else can either?  
The doctor’s brusque and uncivil with everyone now, even the 
captain.  He’d probably deny it if confronted, but he feels 
something over her death.  B’Elanna was his doctor, in a way.  He 
knew that if something went wrong with his program, she wouldn’t 
rest until she fixed it.  He appreciated that more then she ever 
knew, and now that it’s too late to tell her so, he’s angry at 
himself.  A grief-stricken hologram.
     Even Tuvok seems rather subdued.  Again, he and B’Elanna 
weren’t that close, but he respected her abilities.  Tuvok can 
recognize talent when he sees it, god knows he’s had enough 
experience.  The guy’s over a hundred years old, and he’s seen a 
lot.  He knew she had talent -- hell, it wasn’t talent, it was 
genius.  B’Elanna was a wonder with Voyager’s engines, and Tuvok 
respected that.  But he never told her so, not that he would have.  
He’s Vulcan.   They don’t give compliments except on extremely 
rare occasions.  But I bet he’s wishing now that he had said 
something to her.
     And me.  I’m kicking myself over and over again for not 
saying something to her.  She knew I was interested.  She knew I 
loved to flirt with her.  She knew I was hoping that we’d actually 
go on a real date someday.
     But she didn’t know that I loved her.
     I don’t know when it started.  Maybe after we were trapped 
together in the Vidiian prison.  Nah, it wasn’t then.  But after 
that experience I began to see her in an entirely different light.  
Instead of a gruff half-Klingon who snarled at anyone who came too 
close, she was an suspicious, frightened girl who was awkward 
because she was frightened.  When she was human, I could see all 
of that.  I really didn’t get the chance to “meet” her Klingon 
side, but I could see that she was the barrier B’Elanna built 
around her heart.  She didn’t let anyone get close because she 
didn’t want to get hurt.  Again.  She had loved her father, and he 
had left her, and it had hurt so bad that she didn’t ever want to 
experience that kind of pain again so she constructed all sorts of 
defenses to prevent it from happening and I was just starting to 
break through them...!
     And then this had to happen.  I thought I was making 
progress, I really did.  A huge breakthrough came when we were 
trapped on Sikaria and, while under the influence of the Pon Farr, 
she admitted that she wanted a relationship as much as I did.  
Later, she all but said that she hadn’t meant it, but...when we 
were down there, when we were kissing, I could tell she meant what 
she said.  Pon Farr or no Pon Farr, she had been telling the 
truth.  She *had* felt something, but had been to afraid to admit 
it, and that by her own admission!  
     Afterwards, when we flirted -- and yes, it *was* flirting -- 
I could sense something different within her.  Before, when I’d 
say something insinuating, I felt like I was always oh-so-politely 
snubbed.  After Sikarian, though, the flirtation was -- well, 
mutual.  Instead of feeling rebuffed, I could see this tiny little 
glint in her eye that made me feel encouraged, like she wanted it 
to continue.
     So, I continued.  And every so often, it seemed like I’d get 
a hint of something more -- like when we were trapped in the 
Nyrian ship habitat.  After we escaped, and she came to me in the 
holodeck, her words were so simple.  “Things were pretty chilly 
there for a while.  Feels good to be warm again.”  She hadn’t been 
talking about the habitat.  She had been talking about our fight, 
and she had been thanking me for saving her and not letting her 
give up when she wanted to.  I could have said something then. 
     Or when I was rewriting that “Insurrection Alpha” program for 
the holodeck.  When I suggested a steamy love scene between the 
helmsman and chief engineer, she snorted and said, “Oh, that’s 
realistic.”  But there was something -- it’s hard to describe, but 
it felt like, on the inside, she was privately agreeing with me.  
Like it was something she wanted, too.  But I never said anything 
to her.
     And now it’s too late.  It’s too damn late.
     Anyway, three days after B’Elanna’s death, Chakotay went to 
the captain to request permission to clean out her quarters.  The 
captain was hesitant at first -- she knew that if she gave him 
permission, it would be accepting the fact that B’Elanna was gone 
-- but finally she said yes.  So Chakotay went.
     And he found them.
     They were sitting in a little box in her closet, neatly 
stacked and labeled.  She always was organized.  And they were 
recent, too.  She must’ve updated them every few weeks, as soon as 
she thought of something new to add.  I never knew about them.  No 
one did.
     But there they were -- ten computer chips, tidily arranged in 
that little box, each one labeled with the name of a crewmember.  
On the top of the box, there was a note -- “Please distribute in 
the event of my death.”  
     “In the event of my death”.  She had known this could happen 
someday, and she was actually *prepared* for it.
     There was a chip for each one of the senior officers, and one 
for Lieutenant Carey as well.  Chakotay distributed the chips at 
the next briefing -- Lieutenant Carey was already there as the new 
chief engineer.  I remember that just before the briefing started, 
he remarked, “You know, three years ago I would have been ecstatic 
to get this job.  Hell, three years ago I thought I deserved it.  
But now, I’d gladly become the lowest-ranking ensign on board if 
only she could come yelling and screaming into Engineering.”  
     We assured him the feeling was mutual.
     After the chips had been distributed, the captain excused us 
all to our quarters to read them.  I remember feeling apprehensive 
when I slipped mine into the slot on my terminal.  I didn’t have 
the faintest idea of what she would say.
     Then, her face appeared on the screen.  She smiled -- she 
actually smiled at me -- and began to speak.
      “Hello, Tom.  If you’re hearing this, I guess I’m dead.  I’m 
glad somebody found the chips -- was it you?  Well, it doesn’t 
matter now.  I don’t know how I died, but, as my mother would say, 
I hope it was an honorable death.  And if it wasn’t -- oh, well.  
I never cared much for Klingon tradition anyway.”  She laughed, 
and smiled again, and it made my heart skip a beat.  It wasn’t 
fair, it just wasn’t fair!  For what had to be the hundredth time 
I asked myself, why did she have to die?
     On the screen, B’Elanna became serious.  “I made these chips 
so I could tell everyone what I didn’t have the guts to say while 
I was alive.  Especially you, Tom.  I don’t know if you had any 
idea how I felt about you -- I think you did, I could see it in 
your eyes -- but it’s time I stopped denying the truth.”
     She took a deep breath and seemed to look straight at me.  I 
could feel my heart doing somersaults in my chest as she opened 
her mouth to say what she needed to say.  
     “Tom, I love you.  I don’t know how or when it started, but I 
do.  I think I realized it when we were on Sikaria.  Everything I 
told you in those caverns was true.  I did want a relationship, 
but I was too afraid.  I’ve been -- hurt -- before, and I didn’t 
want to ever take the chance of hurting again, even with you.  I 
was too afraid of the pain.”
     She laughed again, a short, ironic chuckle.  “Yes, I, the big 
bad Klingon, was afraid.  I’ve been scared of a lot of things -- 
when you were trapped in the holodeck with the “Insurrection 
Alpha” program, I was scared that I’d lose you.  Do you have any 
idea how hard it’s been for me to keep these feelings inside 
whenever you were in a dangerous situation?  Each time I was 
scared to death that you’d be hurt, or, worst of all, killed.  And 
when you came back alive and unharmed, I was so relieved it was 
all I could do not to tell you so.  I should have.  I really 
should have, but, as I said, I was afraid.  I guess it’s to late 
to do anything now.”
     She paused for several seconds, letting her confession sink 
in.  “Tom, I want to apologize for stringing you along like -- 
like I have been doing the last few months.  I know you wanted 
something more, but you always respected my feelings, and I 
appreciate that.   I just wish I had acted on my feelings while I 
was still able to.  And who knows, maybe someday I will.  Maybe 
someday I’ll erase this chip and record another message, not for a 
friend who wants to get closer but for someone closer who’s also a 
friend.  I hope so.  But if not, I’d like you to know that I’m 
really, really sorry.”
     She paused again, and when she looked back at me, those dark 
brown eyes seemed to burn into my soul.  “Tom, I have one last 
request.  Please, don’t take my death too hard.  Klingons don’t 
mourn death, they celebrate it.  Get on with your life.  Marry, 
have kids, enjoy life.  Don’t waste time moping over me.  The 
years on Voyager were the best years of my life, and I’m glad that 
I had the chance to experience them -- and have friends like you.”  
She looked at me with a funny, lop-sided grin.  “I’ll miss you, 
Paris, even if you were a pig.”  Her face softened slightly.  
“Good-bye, Tom.  I hope -- I hope you find your home someday.”
     The screen went blank.
     For the longest time, I just sat there, unbelieving, unable 
to comprehend what I had just heard.
     She had loved me.
     She had loved me, damnit, and I had loved her, and it was too 
late to do anything about it!
     Raising my hands to my cheeks, I discovered that they were 
wet.  I was crying.  
     I hadn’t cried in -- in years.  Lots of years.  Parises don’t 
cry, that’s what my father had told me.  Parises never show 
negative emotion.  The bottle it up inside and never let it out.  
And here I was, bawling like a baby.  All I could think was, *She 
loved me too.*
     I reflected over her last words --  “I hope you find your 
home someday.”  Not “I hope you get back to the Alpha Quadrant” or 
“I hope you make it home,” but “I hope you find your home 
someday.”  She knew that I had never considered the Alpha Quadrant 
my home, not with all the bad memories that remained there.  She 
knew I was still searching for my place in this vast universe.  
And her last words to me expressed a hope that I’d one day find 
it.
     I had a feeling I was never going to stop crying.  She had 
expressly stated in her last message that she didn’t want me to 
grieve, but for now all I could do was sob.  


     When I reported back to the briefing room a few hours later, 
my eyes weren’t the only red ones.  Everyone, excepting Tuvok, 
looked like they had just spent the last three hours in tears, 
even the doctor.  That could have been a figment of my 
imagination, but he did look rather tearful.
     We got down to business, but there wasn’t much to do.   Tuvok 
reported that Voyager was ready to leave this godforsaken place in 
a few hours, as soon as they completed the last few scans that 
Captain Janeway wanted.  I, for one, would be glad to leave.  This 
desolate moon held too many horrible memories.  
     After the official business was done with, we all just sat 
there.  Nobody said anything at first, but then, suddenly, the 
captain spoke.  “She thanked me for giving her another chance at 
life.  Throughout the entire chip all she talked about was how I 
turned her life around and made it worth living again.  But I 
never once told her how important she was to this ship, or how 
much I valued her expertise.  Not once.”  Captain Janeway’s voice 
was shaking.
     “She said that she loved me,” another voice, also shaking, 
revealed mournfully.  To my surprise I discovered that it was my 
own.  “I never told her that I felt the same.”
     Everyone turned to stare at me.  I couldn’t bring myself to 
meet their gazes, so I stared at the shiny veneer of the tabletop.  
Someone -- I think it was Harry -- said, “Oh, Tom.”
     For a long while, no one spoke.  We were all too busy 
wallowing in our own misery to have much in the way of 
conversation.  Suddenly, Tuvok’s commbadge chirped, startling us 
all.  
     “Tuvok here,” he answered calmly.
     “This is Ensign Ayala in the bridge,”  a nervous voice said.  
“Sir, I think you’d better take a look at some of these readings.  
They’re -- they’re rather odd.”  There was a queer catch in his 
voice that piqued my attention and I, as well as the rest of the 
senior staff, followed Tuvok onto the bridge. 
     “These are the results of the last scan we conducted on the 
debris of the alien ship and the moon,”  Ayala said, pointing to a 
diagram on the console.  “We ran a level-four electroscopic 
analysis -- we weren’t really expecting to find anything, but we 
did.  There was a barely discernible power surge from the ship 
right before it exploded.”
     “From the overloading warp core,” Captain Janeway reasoned.
     “No,”  Ayala said, shaking his head.  “That’s what we 
initially thought, too, but when we compared the surge to the 
explosion the power signatures were radically different.  The 
surge was from a transporter.  Or at least something like it.”
     “A -- a transporter?”  Chakotay repeated, wide-eyed.  
     “That’s right,”  Ayala nodded.  “Someone from the ship 
transported to the surface of the moon right before the 
explosion.”
     “It was B’Elanna,”  I breathed.  Somehow, I was absolutely 
certain.  She had saved herself.  She had found a way.  “She did 
it.  She knew the ship was about to explode so she transported to 
the moon.”
     The captain looked from me to Ayala, her excitement mounting.  
“Is it possible?”
     “Yes, it is!”  Carey exclaimed.  He had been a part of the 
engineering crew who had transported over to the alien vessel.  
“She wasn’t with us when we were transported.  We were on their 
bridge and she was in their engineering room, where the main 
transporter controls were located.  It’s very likely.”
     Kathryn Janeway flew into action, smiling for the first time 
in a long while -- or at least it seemed that way.  “Mr. Kim, scan 
the moon,” she ordered.  “Any sign of B’Elanna?”
     Harry quickly complied, but shook his head.  “There’s too 
much interference in the atmosphere.  I can’t get clear readings 
on anything.  All I can tell you is maybe.”
     “We’ve analyzed the course of the alien transporter beam,”  
Ayala added helpfully.  “It was directed towards a mountainous 
region in the center of the southernmost continent in the northern 
hemisphere, one of the more habitable spots on the planet.”
     “Can we beam through the interference, Mr. Kim?”
     Harry studied his readouts for a moment.  “Yes, Captain.  
It’ll take about an hour to modify the transporter to match the 
polaron frequency in the lower ionosphere, but we can do it.”
     “Get started.  This is top priority,”  the captain ordered.  
     “Aye, aye, captain.”
     “Mr. Paris, I want you and Mr. Chakotay on the away team,” 
she continued.  “And take Kes with you, just in case she’s hurt.”
     “Yes, Captain.”  I felt like I was walking on air.  We were 
going to get her back, I could feel it.  We were going to get her 
back!

     The transporter set us down on a large, flat plateau.  We 
were surrounded by ugly brown mountains.  Some were so tall they 
seemed to disappear into the clouds, but on others you could 
clearly see the pointed peaks.  Some mountains had cliffs jutting 
out of their broad, rocky tops, and others were dotted with caves 
that penetrated their stony cores.
     The moment I was released from the transporter beam, I 
slapped my commbadge.  “Paris to Torres.  B’Elanna, do you read?”  
Nothing but silence.  “Paris to Torres, please respond.”
     “Tom,”  Chakotay called from the edge of the plateau, were he 
was perched with a tricorder in his hand.  “Down here.  I’m 
getting some faint lifesign readings from one of the caves.”
     “I’ll go on ahead to make sure it’s safe,”  I told Chakotay, 
making my way down the side.  “I have more experience with rock 
climbing.”
     He nodded, but I could tell that he knew that I wanted to be 
the first to reach her.   B’Elanna told me once that Chakotay can 
be a great guy when he wants to be.   I didn’t believe her then, 
but I do now.
     “B’Elanna?”  I called once I reached the bottom of the 
plateau.  I checked my tricorder and, sure enough, there was a 
lifesign reading up ahead, in one of the nearby caves.  Faint, but 
steady.  It was her.
     I kept calling, but she didn’t answer.  She was either asleep 
or unconscious.  I prayed it was the former and not the latter.   
I didn’t really know who I was praying too.  My father had brought 
me up to believe that there were no gods and that man evolved from 
hominids, like all scientists believed.  But surely, somewhere in 
the universe, there was a god who watched over half-Klingon chief 
engineers.  There just had to be.
     The lifesign readings grew stronger as I approached the 
largest cave in the mountain’s foundation.   She was in there, all 
right, but she still wasn’t answering my shouts.
     “B’Elanna?”  I peered inside the cave, my voice echoing in 
the stillness.  Still, there was no reply, and I waited for my 
eyes to adjust to the darkness.
     Then, I saw her.  She was lying on the floor of the cave next 
to the ashes of a long-dead fire, and several large boulders and 
gravel were strewn around her.  In fact, she was half-buried in 
them.   My stomach twisted in knots as I realized what had 
happened.  A rockslide.
     Instantly I rushed to her side.  “B’Elanna,” I cried, 
scanning her with the tricorder.  She was alive, but her breathing 
was labored.  From what I could tell from the tricorder readings, 
there was no internal injuries, so I gently slipped my arms 
beneath her inert body.
     “You’re going to be okay, B’Elanna,”  I assured her, even 
though she couldn’t hear me.  As gingerly as I could, I carried 
her out into the sunlight.  She was a lot lighter then she looked 
-- I could carry her with no problem whatsoever.
     We reached the mouth of the cave, and I carefully laid her 
down, keeping her head and upper torso cradled in my arms.  Kes 
and Chakotay were just starting over the ridge, Kes carefully 
keeping her medical kit close to her so she wouldn’t drop it.  I 
guess she knew we needed it.
     Just then, someone wonderful happened.  B’Elanna’s eyes 
fluttered open and she gazed up at me, her black eyes clear with 
recognition.  “Tom?” she asked weakly.
     “Yeah, it’s me,” I replied, smoothing her hair from her 
forehead.  “Don’t worry.  You’re going to be okay.”
     She smiled, a weak smile, but beautiful nonetheless.  “Took 
you long enough.”
     “We thought you were dead.  We just found out today that you 
transported -- thank God Captain Janeway insisted on those last 
few scans -- and, B’Elanna, we found the chips.”  I knew I should 
be concentrating on her medical needs, but I had to let her know 
how I felt before another second passed.  Time was too precious to 
waste, something I had learned firsthand.
     For a moment, her brow furrowed in confusion, but then she 
realized what I meant.  “You did?”  Her tone was one of relieved 
embarrassment -- relief that we had found them, but embarrassment 
at what she had said to each of us.  No wonder, as they were meant 
to say what she hadn’t had the nerve to tell us to our faces.
     “We did.  And B’Elanna -- I love you too.”
     Before either of us could say anything more, Chakotay and Kes 
reached the cave opening.  Kes immediately opened her medical 
tricorder and began to scan B’Elanna, while Chakotay grinned down 
at his friend, taking her hand in his.
     “Hey, Torres,” he said affectionately, “if you wanted 
attention all you had to do was ask.  You didn’t have to fake your 
death, you know.”
     She rolled her eyes, managing to feebly grin up at him.  
“Sure, next time I’ll just blow up the warp core.”
     Chakotay laughed as Kes snapped the tricorder shut.  “We 
should get her to sickbay,” she said quietly, but her tone was 
urgent.   Chakotay didn’t hesitate to slap his commbadge.
     “Chakotay to Voyager.  Four -- “  he smiled at B’Elanna as he 
said it, “-- to beam directly to sickbay.”

     She was lucky.  She was very lucky, in fact.  The doctor said 
that if she’d have stayed down there a few days more, she might 
not have made it.  We came just in the nick of time.
     When she was strong enough, B’Elanna told us what happened.  
Once she realized the ship was about to explode and that Voyager 
hadn’t gotten her, she managed to break free of her captors and 
reach the transporter panel.  She picked a set of coordinates and 
energized just as the ship blew.  The next thing she knew, she was 
lying on the plateau.  She found shelter in one of the caves, the 
cave we found her in, and waited.  The rockslide had happened that 
morning after she had accidentally bumped into some loose rocks 
that set off a chain reaction with some larger boulders.  From the 
way she shuddered as she talked of the whole experience, we didn’t 
make her elaborate.  We were just glad to have her back.
     I think B’Elanna was a bit amazed at all the attention she 
received once she was released from sickbay and returned to work.  
Her staff told her over and over again how happy they were that 
she was back, the doctor actually thanked her for all of the time 
she had spent working on his program, and Captain Janeway called 
her into the ready room one day.  I don’t know what the captain 
said, but when B’Elanna came out she had a smile on her face and 
tears in her eyes.  
     We were all happy to have her back -- and I most of all.   I 
have to admit, it was a bit bewildering, going from stark grief to 
abject elation all in the period of a few hours.  I caught myself 
staring at her a few times, unable to believe that she was real.   
It seemed like some wonderful dream that would dissolve if I dared 
to believe it was really happening.  But it wasn’t a dream.  She 
was really here.
     And she loved me.  She said that to me, many times, after her 
release from sickbay and our first real date as an “official” 
couple.  I said the same to her.  In fact, I couldn’t say it 
enough.  
     I know one thing for sure -- I’m never going to take B’Elanna 
or anyone else for granted again.  Life is too precious and death 
too unexpected.  She really could have been taken from us.  We 
were just lucky yet again.  Another happy ending, like always.  
     There’s an ancient hymn from Earth -- “Amazing Grace” -- that 
has a line saying what I mean.  She was lost, and then she was 
found.  And I’m never going to let her go. 

THE END