Disclaimer: Star Trek: Voyager is property of Paramount. This story
was written solely for entertainment purposes, not profit. “Then &
Now” copyright 1998 by JoAnna Walsvik, all rights reserved. Please
request permission before distributing, linking, archiving, etc.
Author’s Note: This story is dedicated to all of the Parisites for
their patience and encouragement during the creation of this story;
especially Lauren Taylor, QoD, for allowing me to meet her halfway, :-P
(inside joke) and also to Robbie McNeill and Roxann Dawson for their
inspirational portrayals of the fantastic characters of Tom Paris and
B’Elanna Torres. Robbie, Roxann, I luv ya! :)
Also, this story contains information found in the episode
novelizations of “Caretaker” and “Day of Honor.” If certain elements
don’t make sense or aren’t exactly canon, my apologies. I did the best
I could!
Watch for the gratuitous “47” reference! :-)
FEEDBACK, positive or negative, is very much appreciated at
jowalsvi@sendit.sendit.nodak.edu. A copy of this story can be
found at http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Corridor/2171, or by
contacting the author at the aforementioned e-mail address.
Summary: B’Elanna Torres’ life has been a turbulent one, but she’s
put the past behind her now that she is happily married to Tom Paris
and Voyager has returned to the Alpha Quadrant. Suddenly, however,
her past returns with a vengeance, combining with an unexpected tragedy
that attempts to mar the happiness she has found.
==============================================
And, without further ado, I give you...
Then & Now
by JoAnna Walsvik
(Post-VOY, P/T, PG-13)
part 1
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
PROLOGUE: TWENTY-TWO YEARS AGO
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Five-year-old B’Elanna Torres choked back an agonized sob.
“Daddy,” she whispered into her tearstained pillow. “Daddy, why did
you go?”
In her heart, she knew the answer. Her parents had been fighting
for a long time. She could barely remember a time when they *hadn’t*
fought. She knew that they must have loved each other once, for they
had gotten married, and she had been born. But now her parents were
separated and her daddy was gone forever. He had promised to write,
but it had been two weeks and there hadn’t been a word from him.
Her mother had barely said a word during that time. Her dark
Klingon eyes were constantly filled with burning anger that caused the
child to cringe whenever she looked her mother in the eye. But there
was something else in her mother’s eyes, too -- a touch of regret, and
sadness.
Did her mother ever cry in the night, as she herself was doing?
B’Elanna doubted it. Her mother had always taught her that only the
cowardly cried. Only the weak allowed tears. Klingons didn’t cry. It
simply wasn’t done.
*But I’m only half-Klingon,* B’Elanna thought rebelliously. *I
don’t want to be Klingon. Daddy left because Mama was a Klingon, and
because I look like her. I don’t ever want to be Klingon again!*
She buried her face into the comforting softness of her pillow,
permitting the tears to fall freely. She missed her daddy so much her
heart felt like a heavy lump in her chest. She missed his hugs, and
the sound of his voice calling, “Little Bee!”
He had always called her “Little Bee”. It was a private, special
joke between the two of them. When she had first learned how to talk,
she hadn’t been able to pronounce her own name, so she had just called
herself “Bee”, the only letter of the alphabet she knew. Ever since
then, Daddy had called her “Little Bee.” Mama thought the nickname
ridiculous. Then again, Klingons didn’t like nicknames, either.
The sound of a step outside the doorway of her bedroom caused
B’Elanna to stiffen and lay perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe.
It was hours past her bedtime, and if Mama caught her crying...well,
B’Elanna didn’t want to think of the consequences.
The door opened, and she heard her mother walk towards the bed,
the footsteps firm and solid as Mama herself was. B’Elanna tried to
lay still and breathe evenly to make her mother believe she was asleep.
A hand touched her hair, and suddenly a new sound caught
B’Elanna’s attention -- a tiny little sniffle. Was Mama...crying? No,
it couldn’t be, she decided. Mama *never* cried. It must be her
imagination.
“Poor little one,” Mama said in the stillness, her voice hushed
and filled with a tenderness B’Elanna had never heard before. Her hand
softly stroked her small daughter’s hair. “My poor, sweet little one.”
B’Elanna laid motionless, hardly daring to believe what she was
hearing. Her mother had never spoken tenderly towards her, nor called
her a “poor, sweet little one”.
Had Mama ever done this before, when she was really asleep? The
thought nearly caused B’Elanna to sit up in bed to throw her arms
around her mother. But she laid still, and moments later Mama left the
room, pausing at the doorway once more before walking back down the
hallway.
In the darkness, B’Elanna sighed. First her father had left with
hardly a day’s warning, and now her mother had shown this surprising
display of emotion. Grown-ups could be very confusing. She hoped that
she wouldn’t be as confusing when *she* was a grown-up.
And with that thought lingering in her mind, B’Elanna fell asleep
for real.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
THEN: NINE YEARS AGO
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Mother.”
Maiah Torres looked up from her bowl of serpent worms at the sound
of her eighteen-year-old daughter’s voice.
“What is it, B’Elanna? I’m eating,” she said harshly, not at all
liking the calm, icy tone her daughter was using. Maiah recognized the
inflection; it was one she often used herself. B’Elanna was about to
say something that she knew her mother wouldn’t like. It caused the
older Klingon woman to stare at her daughter warily.
B’Elanna Torres drew herself up to her full height, a defiant
gleam shining her in chocolate brown eyes. “I’ve been accepted to
Starfleet Academy.”
“What?” Maiah Torres rose quickly from her seat, knocking her
chair over in her haste. “How? It’s not possible!” she spat, her
dark eyes blazing. She tossed her long, flame-red hair over
her shoulder and glared at her only child, the child that had been the
result of her mating with a cowardly human who had abandoned the both
of them when the girl was only five. The years had been lonely, and
her willful daughter hadn’t made matters any easier. She had seemed
determined to challenge her mother at every turn, especially during her
teenage years. Today was no exception.
“It *is* possible,” B’Elanna retorted tensely. “Commander
Gilbertine at the colony office has been helping me. She helped me
apply, wrote me a letter of recommendation, and persuaded Starfleet
into allowing me to take the tests here, at the colony office, instead
of at the Academy. And I was accepted.” She paused to take a deep
breath. “I leave in three days.”
“I expressly forbade you to have anything to do with that
Gilbertine woman! And you *know* I don’t want you to have anything to
do with Starfleet!”
Years back, before her marriage, Maiah Torres had applied to and
been rejected by Starfleet Academy, only because she was Klingon -- or
so she had thought and still believed. B’Elanna, however, suspected --
and rightly so -- that her mother had been rejected because she wasn’t
as good at geology as she thought she was. Maiah was the Kessik IV’s
resident geologist, and had been for many years, but even B’Elanna
could see that she wasn’t and never had been Starfleet caliber. The
rejection had stung Maiah hard, though, and she had bitterly declared
that neither she nor any offspring she might bear would ever have
anything to do with Starfleet.
B’Elanna, however, had been fascinated with Starfleet since she
could walk. Even when she was only six or seven years old, she would
hang around the docking bays of Kessik IV to watch the Starfleet
officers beaming to and from their respective ships. Once, a commander
had seen her watching him and had taken her on a short tour of his
small science vessel. B’Elanna had been so excited that she forgotten
to ask his name, but she was forever grateful to him. That short
excursion through the Starfleet vessel had changed her life. From then
on, all she could think about was someday being the chief engineer on a
Starfleet ship. Now, she was so very close to realizing her dream.
With the help of the Starfleet delegate on Kessik IV, Commander Anna
Gilbertine, she had been accepted to the Academy. And *nothing* was
going to hold her back, including her mother’s objections.
“I’m going, Mother, whether you like it or not,” she said
stubbornly. “Commander Gilbertine has already arranged transport for
me. I’m going.”
“You will not,” Maiah hissed angrily. “You have disobeyed me in
everything else, but you will not disobey me in this. You will *not*
join Starfleet!”
“I *will*.” B’Elanna crossed her arms in front of her chest in a
stubborn gesture not unlike Maiah’s.
Mother and daughter glared at each other, both equally obstinate
and both equally determined to have their own way. Maiah was suddenly
struck by how much the girl resembled her. She had always assumed that
B’Elanna looked like her human father, but now, standing with her face
to face, she realized that the proud Klingon eyes staring back at her
were, in fact, her own. So was the determined set of the girl’s chin.
Her daughter had inherited her mother’s stubbornness, that was certain.
But Maiah could be just as unyielding as her only child.
“If you walk out of this door today,” Maiah said fiercely, venom
dripping from her every word, “you can *never* return. I will no
longer consider you my daughter. Understand that you will be dead to
me. Dead! In my mind, you will not *exist*!” Her voice rose to a
shout as her ferocious temper rose to its peak.
Her daughter’s own temper flared. “That’s fine with me,” she shot
back. “I never wanted to *be* your daughter! All my life, I’ve tried
to live up to your expectations, but I never could! You’ve always
wanted me to be Klingon, and I don’t! I still don’t! I don’t even
want to live here!”
“Then leave. Pack your bags and get out of here. I never want to
see your face again, you -- dishonorable half-breed!”
A frigid silence sprang up between the two women. That had been
the lowest insult her mother could give, and B’Elanna knew it. Her
knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists so severely that her
fingernails dug into her palms, drawing thin crescents of blood. She
turned on her heel and stalked into her room, slamming doors and
throwing objects angrily. In less then twenty minutes she had
finished packing, and she marched into the main room of the dwelling
with her suitcase firmly in hand.
“Good-bye, Mother,” she said firmly. “I’m leaving.” She was
giving Maiah one last chance to take back what she had said.
But the Klingon woman was just as hardheaded as her daughter. She
stood silently at the window, her back to B’Elanna, her strong frame
tall and adamant.
“So you still push me away, just as you pushed Daddy away,”
B’Elanna said quietly.
Maiah whirled around to face her, her ebony eyes hard as stone.
“And you are as cowardly as your father was. You have no honor. Get
out of my house.”
Without another word, B’Elanna did as her mother commanded. She
stayed with her best friend on Kessik IV, Erva Konal, until her
transport left three days later, bound for Earth and the Academy.
*And I’ll never come back,* B’Elanna vowed as she watched Kessik
IV grow smaller and smaller through an observation viewport of the
ship. *Never.*
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
THEN: EIGHT YEARS AGO
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
B’Elanna Torres had to struggle to keep tears from spilling out of
her eyes as she packed her bags for the second time that year.
Her mother had been right. She hadn’t even lasted through the
first year. She hadn’t known Starfleet Academy would be like this --
other cadets staring at her forehead as though she was some sort of
freak, the teachers challenging her every theory and becoming angry
when she challenged theirs, boys dating her just to see if the tales
about a Klingon woman’s voracious sexual appetite were true. She
hadn’t known.
Now she did. She was leaving after a “mutual decision” between
herself and the dean of the Academy -- in other words, the dean had
heavily implied that she should leave, and she was leaving. For good.
Just as she had left Kessik IV that fateful day almost exactly one year
ago.
B’Elanna didn’t know where she would go now. Starfleet didn’t
want her and her mother didn’t want her. Her father hadn’t even tried
to contact her since he had left nearly fourteen years ago, so she knew
he wouldn’t want her, either. She was alone in the universe with no
one to turn to. A nineteen-year-old half-breed Academy dropout with a
savage temper and no real skills except for a slight knack with warp
engines.
She snapped her suitcase shut and sat down on what had been her
bunk, now having to fight to keep the tears from flowing. She would
*not* cry. She wouldn’t give those arrogant, stuffy Academy professors
the satisfaction of seeing their whipping-girl burst into tears of
misery.
*I could always paint myself green and become an Orion slave
girl,* she thought bleakly. *There isn’t really anything else I could
do. Who’d want me?*
“B’Elanna?” Her -- former -- roommate, Patricia Brooker, peeked
her head in the doorway and hesitantly stepped into the room. She was
a pretty, intelligent girl with a definite talent for the biological
sciences. Her goal was to be the CMO on a large starship someday, and
B’Elanna didn’t doubt that she’d succeed. Patsy was ranked second in
their class and all of her teachers said she was destined to a bright
future -- unlike B’Elanna, whose teachers had said she wouldn’t amount
to anything unless she could learn to control her vicious temper.
*And I can’t,* B’Elanna thought despairingly. *I never could and
I never will.*
“Are you okay?” Patsy asked, coming to sit next to her on the
bed.
Patsy had been the one person at the Academy who hadn’t shunned
her or treated her like a freak because of her Klingon heritage and
violent temper. Her grandmother was half-Yrommian, Patsy had told
B’Elanna on the occasion of their first meeting, and her grandmother
had taught her to respect everyone no matter what their ancestry.
“I’m fine, Patsy,” B’Elanna said slowly, but the faint quiver in
her voice betrayed her true emotions. “I -- I’m just not sure what I’m
going to do now. I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“You don’t have any family?” Patsy asked sympathetically.
“Yes, I have family,” B’Elanna sighed. “My mother lives on the
Klingon homeworld, but she doesn’t want anything to do with me. We had
a falling out before I left for the Academy, and I haven’t seen or
spoken to her since.”
“That’s too bad.” Patsy’s distinct violet eyes -- her only
inheritance from her Yrommian great-grandmother -- focused on the wall
in front of her. “Have you heard,” she said conversationally, “that
Seri’s older sister, Lyra, resigned her Starfleet commission a few
weeks ago to join the Maquis?” Seri was one of their Bajoran
classmates.
“Yeah, I heard,” B’Elanna replied, her ridged brow furrowing in
confusion. Patsy had told her the news herself a few weeks ago. In
fact, the hot new topic on campus was the formation of the resistance
group, the Maquis, that were determined to save the Federation colonies
that had been handed over to the Cardassians as a result of the new
treaty. Even a professor at the Academy had resigned to defend his
homeworld. Patsy knew that she had heard, so why was she bringing up
the topic now, of all times?
“Seri told me that Lyra had told her that the Maquis need good
people,” Patsy continued, giving B’Elanna a sideways glance. “You
know, doctors, pilots....engineers.”
The word hit B’Elanna like a lightening bolt, and she finally
understood what her friend was driving at. “I -- suppose they do,” she
said, a faint hope beginning to glimmer in the back of her mind.
“According to Seri, there’s a supply ship headed to Bajor tomorrow
that a few people who want to join are going to be on. She was
thinking of being on it when it left, so she could help Lyra defend
their colony, but she’ll probably chicken out at the last moment. You
know how she is. She probably won’t even be on the transport ship that
leaves from McKinley station tomorrow at 0900.”
“Probably not,” B’Elanna echoed, realizing what her friend was
doing. All cadets had been expressly ordered not to disclose any
information to anyone that they might have about the Maquis or their
recruiters, but Patsy was tiptoeing around those orders. After all,
she hadn’t *meant* to tell B’Elanna about the transport. She was just
making innocent conversation.
B’Elanna’s eyes swelled with unshed tears. She hadn’t realized
what a good friend she had.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your packing,” Patsy said nonchalantly,
seemingly oblivious to her former roommate’s tear-filled eyes. She
rose from the bunk and walked towards the doorway.
“Thanks for everything, Patsy. I’ll miss you,” B’Elanna said,
realizing that Patsy would be the *only* person she’d miss from this
godawful place.
Patsy paused at the doorway and turned back. “Good-bye,
B’Elanna,” she said. “I hope -- I hope everything works out
for you.”
“It will,” B’Elanna vowed with more certainty then she had felt
in months. “I promise you, it will.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
THEN: FIVE YEARS AGO
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
*How did I get myself into this?* B’Elanna Torres thought
fuzzily. She coughed weakly, knowing that she should get herself and
the Starfleet ensign up and out of these damned Ocampan caverns, but
she didn’t have the energy. Whatever it was that the “Caretaker” had
infected her with had drained her strength and left her too weak to
even raise her head.
Suddenly, a new sound grabbed her attention. The precarious metal
stairway she was resting on was shaking, like...like someone was
running up the stairs. Like someone was coming. But that was
impossible, unless...
*Starfleet?* she wondered. What was it the ensign...Harry...had
called his ship...Voyager? Was it the crew of Voyager, coming to
rescue their fallen friend, and maybe her as well?
“I see them!” a clear voice suddenly rang out, one that she had
never heard before but was, to her, the most beautiful sound in the
galaxy. There was someone here to help.
She cracked her eyes open and saw that someone bending over Harry
Kim, speaking to him in hushed tones. Two others followed, an Ocampa
and a...something else. She wasn’t sure *what* species he was.
“Neelix,” she heard the other man say to the unknown alien, “you
and Kes help Harry. I’ll get -- um -- B’Elanna.”
*How does he know my name?* she wondered.
The Ocampa -- Kes, the man had called her -- and the Neelix person
bent over Harry, while the other man kneeled next to her, and suddenly
B’Elanna found herself looking into the bluest pair of eyes she had
ever seen.
“Hey,” the owner of those cerulean eyes said soothingly, sliding
an arm over her shoulders. “Don’t worry -- we’ve come to help.”
With infinite gentleness he raised her to her feet, all but
carrying her up the last flight of shaky metal stairs, with the other
two helping Harry. Somehow, they made it to the surface, and B’Elanna
had never been happier to see the sun. She turned to look at her
rescuer, and was struck by handsome he was, even with soot and dirt
clinging to his blond hair and -- his Starfleet uniform. A uniform
that didn’t have pips on the collar, she noted in confusion. If he
wasn’t in Starfleet, why was he wearing the uniform?
“Kes,” the man called, motioning to the Ocampa.
B’Elanna was so groggy that she couldn’t object when the petite
Ocampa -- who really was stronger then she looked -- shouldered her as
the other man headed back down to the cavern. *What is he doing?
He’ll be killed!* she thought, sudden panic flowing through her body,
even though she didn’t even know his name. She did know, however, that
she didn’t want him to leave her.
But then a transporter beam caught her up in its shimmery
spectrum, and she lost consciousness. Her last thought was of those
beautiful cerulean blue eyes.
It wasn’t until later, after she and Harry Kim had been cured by
the holographic doctor and the Starfleet captain, Janeway, had blown up
the array, that she learned the name of her rescuer. Tom Paris. She
also discovered that he wasn’t an officer, just an observer, and that
the reason he had gone back down in the caverns was to save the lives
of the captain, Tuvok, and Chakotay.
That act of bravery had impressed her, and the feeling remained,
even after Chakotay had told her that he was nothing but a Starfleet
failure turned Maquis mercenary turned jailbird that had gotten a
lucky break on Voyager and who happened to be an “okay” pilot.
He wasn’t an “okay” pilot, as Chakotay had said, though. He was a
*fantastic* pilot. At first he seemed like an arrogant, conceited pig,
but as she got to know him, B’Elanna realized that it was all just an
act to keep people from seeing how vulnerable and how desperate to
prove himself he really was. Just like she put an act to keep people
from knowing that deep down inside, she was still an insecure half-
Klingon who just wanted to be accepted.
After a time, she was accepted on Voyager, and her dream of being
chief engineer on a starship was fully realized. B’Elanna was finally
happy and somewhere she felt she really belonged -- although sometimes,
late at night, she’d wake up and realize that her dreams were of those
beautiful cerulean blue eyes. Her old insecurities returned to haunt
her -- how could a man like Tom Paris ever love her, a temperamental
half-Klingon who wasn’t even liked by her own mother?
Although B’Elanna didn’t know it, often Tom Paris would wake in
the middle of the night after dreaming of dark Klingon eyes full of
fire. He’d lay awake and wonder -- how could a woman like B’Elanna
Torres could ever love him, a Starfleet failure who wasn’t even liked
by his own father?
Somehow, a miracle happened, and over time love blossomed between
the two dreamers. It wasn’t long before they decided that they wanted
to spend the rest of their lives dreaming together.
And so they were married. The two found more happiness and joy
with each other that they had ever thought possible. Just when they
thought life couldn’t get any better, it suddenly did.
Voyager, after over five years in the Delta Quadrant, was returned
home by the companion of the same force that had brought them there.
The crew were hailed as heroes, both B’Elanna and Tom were
welcomed back into Starfleet with open arms, and, best of all, the same
father that had disowned Tom wept with joy at his son’s miraculous
return.
Yes, life had gotten better. (Not having to eat Neelix’s cooking
was an added bonus.) Tom and B’Elanna Paris were infinitely happy. It
seemed like nothing could ever mar the perfect joy they both felt just
being together.
________________________________________________________________
END OF PART 1
