------------------------------------------------------------------
----------
----Assumptions:
*       B’Elanna’s dad’s name is Marcus Torres
*       B’Elanna is five when her dad left, and is 25 when this 
story
happened.  (That would make her 18 or 19 when she joined 
Starfleet, 19 or
20 when she walked out and joined the Maquis.)
*       Marcus knew the Janeways and lots of top ranking Starfleet
officials when he was still in the AQ.
*       Kathryn Janeway’s nickname was “Kat”.
*       BIGGEST ASSUMPTION:  Marcus was a Starfleet Intelligence 
agent, and he lived on Kessik Four, unbeknownst to his family, 
because it was a perfect base.  Remote, yet close to other big 
powers’ borders in the AQ.
------------------------------------------------------------------
------
Stardate 30564.3
        He was so sorry to leave them, but he couldn’t help it.  
He didn’t
know what was going to happen when they found out he had left.  He 
silently cursed as he thought of this double life, how it takes 
him from his wife, his daughter.  B’Elanna.
        But he couldn’t help it, could he?
        *You could have never signed up from Intelligence work, 
you know.*
His mind calmly told him.
        *But then I wouldn’t have met my wife or have B’Elanna.*  
He
reminded it.
        The mind, wisely, stopped talking.  He stared at the 
shuttle’s
interior as he absently listened an ancient Vulcan tone poem and 
tried to
relax.
        He was an intelligence agent, and he was sent to 
infiltrate and
gather information on the Cardassians.  They were rumored to be 
extremely reptilian in their thinking.  And looks, his face 
tightened as he
remembered the pictures they showed him.  They looked like the old 
novels
describing “Frankenstein.”  Nonetheless, it was a mission, they 
were the
objective.
        And he would do his job.
        Now, the shuttle’s computer beeped as it signal the 
entrance into
the area known as the “Badlands”.  It was a notorious area know 
for its
turbulent plasma storms and its unpredictable temporal anomalies 
due to the reactive plasma.  He entered this area in order to get 
to Cardassia, simply because no one could really scan inside this 
region.  No, that’s not it;
He was also instructed to chart this region, gods knows to what 
end though.
        As he continued with his musings, he shaded his eyes 
suddenly
against a flash of white light.  And he realized that the shuttle 
was being
pulled inside.  As he lost consciousness, one thought kept 
circling through
his mind.
        *I’m so sorry, B’Elanna.*...

        She was heart-broken, but she was a Klingon, and she would 
act
like one.  She would not cry, but she could feel her whole world 
falling
apart.  *Why did you leave me, daddy?*  She thought.  *Why did you 
have to go away?*
        She looked at the room that was her father’s study.  
Everything was
in its place, his padd that he always read from, his standard-
settler’s
issue computer, his desk, and his chair.  All in its place, 
nothing was
missing.
        Except her father.
       In her grieving mind, she recalled a bully taunting her...

        She had been in the forest, with her quarterstaff, 
practicing the
martial arts movements her father had taught her.  Then, a boy, 
much bigger than her, came up to her and tauntingly asked, “Why, 
B’Elanna, what big ridges you have!”
        She had naively answered, “I have ridges because I’m a 
half-Klingon!”
        “Ooooooooh, you’re special, aren’t you?”  the bully 
answered
mockingly, “and that’s exactly why no one will ever want you!”
        She was furious, and the bully really deserved it.  She 
went up to
him and hit him.  As she later learned, she had broke his jaw, 
even though
she was only 4 years old...

        Now, as she stood there, remembered what that bully said.  
*Daddy
didn’t want me because I was a Klingon.  I wish I was Human, like 
him.*
        She went to her room and stared in the mirror, for what 
she thought
was the last time as she made a promise: She would never be 
Klingon again.
        And that was a promise she intended to keep.

------------------------------------------------------------------
------

Stardate 50783.2
        Janeway stood looking intently at the viewscreen as the 
red alert klaxon continued to wail.  As Torres got to her station, 
she let out a faint sound of amazement. “What in seven hells 
is...?”
        “My sentiments exactly, Lieutenant.”  Janeway answered, 
not taking
her eyes off the old-fashioned shuttlecraft that was caught in 
what seemed
to be a wormhole.  “All right, people, any suggestions?  Our 
tractor beam
won’t work, so we’ll have to find other ways to rescue whoever is 
inside.”
        “We could use the shields themselves,”  Torres said 
thoughtfully.
        “Please elaborate, Lieutenant.”  Janeway pulled her eyes 
from the
viewscreen to her chief engineer working furiously at her station.
        “Well, we could act as a powerful electromagnet and try to 
draw the
shuttle out.  In theory, it could work,”  Torres answered.
        “Do it,”  Janeway ordered.  As she walked to Tuvok’s 
station to
look at the sensor readings, she found her thoughts on Tom Paris 
and
B’Elanna Torres.  They worked so well together.  She knew how they 
felt
about each other, even if they don’t.  She sincerely hope they 
would, soon.
        “Shields ready.”  Torres announced.
        “Good work,”  Janeway commended. “Transport whoever is on 
board
directly to sickbay and then tractor the shuttle to Shuttle Bay 
Two.”
        “Captain, someone will have to go to Sickbay to modify the
transporter.  I scanned the shuttle, and it seems that the shuttle 
and
whoever is inside seem to be in some sort of phase shift.”
        “Go on, Ms. Torres, and come back when you’ve finished.”  
Janeway
ordered.
        “Yes, ma’am.”  Torres gave the station to Lieutenant Ayala 
and
hurried down to Sickbay.
     She had no idea who she was transporting.

        When Torres got to Sickbay, she worked on the isolinear 
chips after
reconfiguring the reinitialization protocol.  Finally, she was 
finished,
and started the initialization sequence.  As soon as the sequence
was complete, she headed up to the Bridge, not even sparing a 
glance at who she had just transported.

        At the staff meeting, the crew reported their status and 
Janeway
was gratified to hear how the ship had fared.  She then moved on 
to other
business.
        “Can we see where that wormhole leads to, Mr. Kim?”  She 
asked
        “No, Captain, we can’t.  The wormhole seems to have 
vanished, no
trace of it was left.  I would surmise that the wormhole couldn’t 
close as
the shuttle was coming out.”
        “And that leads to the shuttle.  Our sensors confirmed 
that it is
from approximately twenty years ago, and it seems to be used for
Intelligence gathering.”  Tuvok reported.  “I called up 
corresponding
Starfleet records as soon as we confirmed the origins of the 
shuttle and
found only a general description of the mission.  No mention of 
the
participating agents were mentioned.  I would surmise that it is 
still
highly classified in Starfleet Command.”
        “And that takes us to the inhabitant.”  Janeway concluded 
as she
turned to the monitor.  “Doctor, what can you tell us about the
inhabitant?”
        “Well, he is awake, and Kes is already filling him in on 
events of
the past twenty years.  He believes that we are in the Delta 
Quadrant, but
won’t give us a name.  I’ve refrained mentioning the names of the 
senior
staff, since I thought it would be better for you to tell him 
yourselves.”
The Doctor looked irritated when Paris shifted and snickered for 
no
apparent reason.  “As I was saying, I’ve run his face though the 
database
twice, but there is no mention of him.  I would surmise that he 
is, indeed,
an Intelligence agent.”
        “We’ll be down to see him right away, Doctor.”  Janeway 
answered
the Doctor.  “Maybe he’ll feel like talking when the Senior staff 
comes
down and have a nice, long chat with him.”

        When the mystery person was escorted to the observation 
lounge,
the senior staff found a man of very plain countenance.  Just the 
sort of
man, thought Janeway, that you would see in plain sight and forget 
about.
        “Well, I see the Captain and her minions have finally 
scraped up
some time to see the poor inhabitant of the shuttlecraft,”  the 
man noted
dryly.
        “I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship 
Voyager.”
Janeway announced.
        The man’s face brightened. “Kat?  I don’t believe this!  I 
always
thought you’d be in sciences!  How are you, Kat?”
        “Who are you?”  Janeway demanded.  “Kat” was her special 
nickname
given to her by her family, and only close friends knew it.
        “Oh, forgive me.”  The man apologized.  “In my line of 
work, I’ve
had to be very careful.  Don’t you recognize me? I’m Marcus--
Marcus Torres.”
        Janeway paled as she heard the man’s name.  The other 
senior staff
sat, unaware of who the man was.  B’Elanna, however, got up and 
abruptly 
walked out.  Paris followed her, and Janeway made the connection 
right
away...
        Paris found B’Elanna outside the observation lounge 
leaning against
the wall and staring at the carpet.  Her head snapped up when he 
came out,
and she uttered one word,
        “Father...”

***

        Oh, B’Elanna.  He wanted to put his arms around her and 
comfort
her until the shaking stopped.
        So he did.  He held her as she cried, stroking her hair
and whispering softly to her. *Fine person you are to be 
comforting
her, Thomas,* his mind chided. *Look at the relationship between 
you and
your father.*
        *I know,* he replied silently. *That’s why I’m comforting 
her.*
        B’Elanna stopped and, embarrassed, wiped a sleeve across 
her
face.
        “You’re getting your shirt wet,” Tom teased gently.
        “I got your shirt wet, too,” she observed ruefully, 
looking
at the wet splash on his shoulder.  Pride took over, ending the 
gentle
moment. “I’m sorry,” she said stiffly.
        “Hey, B’Elanna.” He reached out a hand to place on her 
arm.
“It’s okay.  And, listen, if you ever need someone to talk to....”
Instantly he regretted his words.  He’d only been trying to be 
kind,
but she might take it as pity.
        She didn’t.  “Thanks, Tom,” she said softly.
        Tom grinned, partly in relief she hadn’t decked him then
and there, partly because she *hadn’t* taken as pity, and that 
must
mean something.  Must mean she was beginning to trust him. *This 
could
be the beginning of a beautiful friendship,* he thought. “Hey, 
what are
friends for?” Tom replied.
        He sounded so sincere, she found herself looking into his
cerulean eyes to see if he was telling the truth.  For once, the
guarded mask was gone, and she only read a genuine want to help 
her
there.  It made her feel....beautiful inside, like she hadn’t felt
in a long time.
        “Come on,” he said gently, guiding her back into the 
observation
lounge.  He could feel her tighten, but she offered no resistance.

        B’Elanna Torres reentered the room, Tom Paris following 
closely.
Janeway absently noted how cute they looked together.
        “And this is my Chief Helmsman, Tom Paris, and my Chief
Engineer, B’Elanna Torres.”
        The effect on Marcus Torres was electric. “B’Elanna?!”
        She stood tall, chin raised. “Yes, Father.”
        “B’Elanna....”
        Silence reigned. Marcus’s eyes dropped to the floor. 
        Torres turned to Captain Janeway. “Captain, request 
permission
to return to Engineering.”
        Janeway was caught in a turmoil.  Obviously B’Elanna 
didn’t
want to face her father.  “Permission granted,” she relented.  
B’Elanna
would need some time to herself to figure this out.
        B’Elanna brushed past Tom Paris and hurried from the room.
Tom followed her.  She strode at breakneck speed until she reached
the turbolift, only stopping after the door had hissed closed.  
She
leaned against the wall for support and stared at Paris.
        “What do you want?” The look in her eyes alone was enough 
to make
him wince, but she needed someone to talk to.  She was glaring at 
him
like a tigress, and Tom doubted she even knew who he was right 
now.
        “B’Elanna, it’s Tom, remember? Remember me?”
        Tom....Yes, she did remember Tom.  He had comforted her.  
He had
been there for her.  She knew him.
        “Tom?”
        He gave her a half-grin.  “You don’t sound thrilled to see 
me.”
        “It’s not you I’m not thrilled to see.”
        His grin faded.  “I’m sorry, B’Elanna. I shouldn’t have 
asked
you to go back in there.”
        “Do you know what it’s like?” she whispered. “After so 
long....
I never thought....I never thought I’d see him again.”
        Tom stood in miserable silence, unsure of what to say.
        “I promised myself when he left I would never be Klingon 
again.
He didn’t want me because I was Klingon.”
        Tom was confused. “But, B’Elanna, when I met you all you 
wanted
to be was Klingon.  What changed you?” A delicate question, at 
best.
        She couldn’t very well tell him the truth: *he* had 
changed her.
She had felt so close to him when the Vidiians had split her into 
her
Human and Klingon halves.  She had felt closer to them all.  “The 
Human
half was too vulnerable,” she said shortly.
        “I’m sorry.”
        She squeezed his hand in a rare moment of gentleness.  
“It’s not
your fault.”
        The doors hissed open, offering a limited view of 
Engineering.
        “Hey, B’Elanna?” Tom asked hesitantly, “Since you had no 
real
reason for coming to Engineering, you want to head to the mess and 
get
some dinner?”
     “Dinner?” she echoed.  For a moment, she seemed to be 
considering it, and Tom’s hopes arose.  Then, she shook her head, 
and Tom felt his hopes plummet to the bottom of the turbolift 
shaft.
     “I’m sorry, Tom, but to tell you the truth...I’ve lost my 
appetite.”  She seemed to be honest, Tom decided.  Thank goodness 
it wasn’t the idea of dining with him that had caused her loss of 
appetite.  Somehow, he didn’t think it strange that she should not 
want to eat.  If his father had suddenly appeared aboard Voyager, 
he’d be in the bathroom vomiting up stuff he hadn’t even eaten 
yet.
     “No problem,” he said, flashing her a disappointed smile.  
“Are you sure you want to work?”
     B’Elanna looked past him to the engines.  “Work is about the 
only thing I have right now,” she said in a bitter tone that 
almost brought tears to Tom’s eyes.  “See you later, Tom.”  She 
brushed past him and entered Engineering.
     “See you later,” he answered, although there was no one to 
hear him.  As the turbolift doors shut, one thought crept into his 
mind: *That father of hers had better have a damn good explanation 
for all this.*

     “Kat, what is she doing here?”  Marcus Torres demanded, 
staring at the door B’Elanna had walked out of.
     “As I said, she’s my chief engineer,”  Janeway replied.  “And 
I would like to know just what *you* are doing here, Marcus.  We 
were told you had been killed.”
     “Wait a minute,”  Chakotay interrupted.  “First of all, are 
you really B’Elanna’s father?  How do you know the captain, and 
just what is going on here?  Where’s Paris?”
     “We’re getting to that, Commander,” Janeway retorted, 
shooting him a warning look.  “Please, be patient.  We’ll explain 
everything.”
     “To answer your first question, Commander,”  Marcus Torres 
began, “yes, I am her father, although it’s been--let me think--
about twenty-five years since I saw her last.  Yes, that’s about 
right.  She was five when I--when I left.”
     “As to your second question,”  Janeway said, “Marcus was--is-
-a very old and dear friend of my family’s.  He and I grew up 
together.”
     “And the answer to your third question is going to take a lot 
of explaining,” Torres said.  “I was investigating that wormhole, 
to see where it led, and the wormhole’s gravition began to pull me 
in.  Luckily, you arrived, or I wouldn’t have made it.”
     “How did you get here in the first place?”  Harry Kim asked.
     “A very good question, Ensign--Kim, was it?  You see, I was 
an intelligence agent, sent to gather information on the a race 
called the Cardassians.  I was in a notorious area known for its 
turbulent plasma storms and its unpredictable temporal anomalies 
due to the
reactive plasma, called “The Badlands.”  I entered this area in 
order to get to Cardassia, simply because no one could really scan 
inside this region.  I was also instructed to chart this region.  
As I was making my way through, I detected a coherent tetryon beam 
and a displacement wave coming toward me.  I tried to escape, but 
the wave was too quick.  I lost consciousness, and woke up only a 
few light-years from this location.  A passing transport ship, 
manned by a race called the Illidians, rescued my crippled shuttle 
and myself.  To make a long story short, they invited me to stay 
on their planet and I accepted.  I’ve lived there ever since.”
     “The Caretaker,”  Janeway whispered.
     “Who?”  Torres said, looking at her quizzically.
     Quickly, Janeway related the story of how Voyager had made 
her journey to the Delta Quadrant.  “The Caretaker must not have 
perfected his wave when he pulled you in,” she added as an 
afterthought.  “That’s why you landed nowhere near the Array.”
     “Most likely,”  Torres agreed.  “Illidia is only a few day’s 
journey from here; they have never said anything about this 
“Caretaker,” as you call him.”
     “You didn’t even try to get home after you got here?”  
Chakotay said, rather incredulously.
     “To what end, Commander?”  Torres asked.  “I had only a small 
shuttlecraft.  I didn’t have a chance of making it back to the 
Alpha Quadrant alive.  The Illidians warned me of the dangers of 
this quadrant early on, and I had no desire to face that danger.  
Have you ever heard of the Vidiians?  My small craft and I 
wouldn’t have stood a chance against one of their smallest 
transport ships.”
     “Yes, we have heard of the Vidiians,”  a quiet voice remarked 
from the doorway.  Tom Paris entered the room and sat down.   “And 
you’re right; you wouldn’t have stood a chance against them.”
     “Thank you,” Torres said uncertainly, unsure if this pale 
young man was mocking him or sympathizing.  “As I was saying, I 
decided to remain on Illidia.  Over the years, whenever I’ve heard 
of a wormhole or some other such anomaly in close proximity to 
Illidia that could possibly provide a link to the Alpha Quadrant, 
I’ve investigated it.  That’s what I was doing when you found me.”
     “My father inquired at Starfleet after your disappearance,”  
Janeway said softly.  “All they would tell us was that you had 
been lost on a mission, and that you died bravely and we should be 
proud of you.”
     “Do you know what they told L’Terra?”  Torres questioned 
anxiously.
     “Who?”  Janeway had no idea who L’Terra was. 
     “My wife.  B’Elanna’s mother.”  He sighed.  “Knowing 
Starfleet, they probably didn’t tell her anything so she could 
honestly say she knew nothing about my mission if the Cardassians 
ever showed up to question her.  She most likely thinks I walked 
out on her.”
     “That’s what she did think,”  Tom Paris said quietly, “and 
that’s what she told B’Elanna.”
     An uncomfortable silence descended over the room.  “I see,” 
Torres finally said, his face troubled.  “What am I supposed to 
do?”  he wondered out loud.  “I spent twenty years here, and the 
only thing that really kept me going was the thought that I could 
see B’Elanna and L’Terra again.  And now you tell me that they 
both hate me?”
        “Well, I’d say B’Elanna is pretty ticked off right now.  
So I suggest
you avoid her for a while.”  Paris suggested, his mind pondering 
over
what Marcus Torres had just said.  He wondered if sometimes the 
good
mood he had going off duty was really simply because he was going
off-duty.  *Or is it something more?*  his mind mocked. *Is it 
because
you could spend time with B’Elanna?  Is it because you could look 
at
her face and contemplate how happy you are since we’ve been in the
Delta Quadrant?  With her?*
        *I’d rather not discuss that right now,*  he told himself, 
but he
remained troubled.
        Marcus had taken in the appearance of the blond man ever 
since he
entered, and he was intrigued when Paris spoke.  Just what was he 
to
his daughter?  Could it be that his little daughter had a secret
admirer?  He was deep into these thoughts when Janeway broke the
silence.  “Marcus, I think it’s best you stay on Voyager in 
assigned
quarters for now.”
        “Of course, Captain,”  He answered, carefully using her 
title instead
of the nickname.  “I suppose the next thing you were going to ask
whether or not I’d like to go with you on the remainder of the 
trip.”
He smiled slightly when Kathryn nodded.  “I don’t see why not. 
After
all, I’ve been trying to do the same thing for twenty years.”
        “All right then, Mr. Torres.”  Kathryn grinned, extending 
her hand to
her best friend of so long ago.  “Welcome to Voyager.”

        B’Elanna found it hard to concentrate in the next couple 
days.  She
was treated to whispered comments and discreet looks by the entire
crew.  She was going off duty one day when she stopped by the mess
hall, expecting to find Paris and Kim.  Instead, the conversation 
had
all but died down as she entered.  She realized it was because 
Marcus
was there too.  She abruptly turned and walked out.
        Abruptly she heard someone calling her name and belatedly 
that it was
her father that called.  By the time she did, he had already led 
her
to his quarters.
        “What do you want?”  she asked tiredly.
        “Just to talk, B’Elanna.”  Marcus pleaded.  “You’ve been 
avoiding me,
and I haven’t seen you in twenty years.  Couldn’t you just give 
your
old dad a chance?”
        “I had given you chances twenty-five years ago, when you 
left!”  B’Elanna said, her voice quivering a little.  “I tried to 
give you a chance
every time I had gone to new world when I was old enough, 
searching
for you!  I joined Starfleet, partly because of you!  And when I 
left
and joined the Maquis, part of me was hoping you were there!”
        “B’Elanna, please.”  Marcus asked.  “Calm down.  I’m sorry 
for what I
did, but I had no choice.”
        “You always have choices; that’s what Captain Janeway 
taught me,” she answered stubbornly.
        Marcus inwardly sighed, because that was typical Kat, 
seeing things and connections that were oblivious because it was 
right in your face.
        “Couldn’t we start over?”  Marcus asked.  “Just give me 
one more
chance, please.”
        B’Elanna looked down at her hands for a moment, then she 
looked up.
“I had been giving you chances so many times that I don’t know 
what to
do anymore.  I tried so many things, but none of them brought you
back!  There were so many chances, but then you were never there, 
were
you?  You were in the Delta Quadrant!  You can give a chance to
yourself, but I don’t think I will!  Not today!”  Then she walked 
out.
        Marcus sat in the semi-darkness, and he sighed.  That had 
hurt, but then he deserved it.

        B’Elanna walked without a destination, and all who saw her 
stayed out of her way.  Most of them knew what B’Elanna was like 
when she was
angry, and they stayed the hell out of her way.  But then, most of
them didn’t know what B’Elanna was like before all this.
        Before her father broke her heart.

        Paris had walked toward the general direction of the mess 
hall, but
he slowed as he heard snatches of conversation, “..did you see
her?...I would stay out of her way for the next couple of hours if 
I
were you...Lieutenant Torres is really...”
        After hearing that last part, Tom immediately turned 
around and to
the one place he knew where she’d be.  He didn’t know what to do, 
but
he knew that he had to be there for her.
        Because he and few others were all that she had.
        Besides her work.

        B’Elanna sat at her console trying to concentrate, but she 
was
failing.  There was a problem with the matter injector, and she 
was
confident that it could be fixed tomorrow, since Voyager would 
orbit
the planet while Neelix and the botany team would beam down to 
Illidia
and trade with the friendly Illidians.  The general population of 
Voyager hoped that no leola root would be brought back this time.
        She stood up abruptly and swayed slightly.  She felt 
slightly dizzy,
but she thought it was because she stood up too fast.  She 
steadied
herself, and walked toward the main reaction chamber console.
        It was then that Paris entered and called out,
‘B’Elanna...”  But all conversational attempts were abandoned when 
she
turned to face him and suddenly collapsed.  He ran toward her 
slight
form and saw that she was in neural shock.  He tapped his 
commbadge,
“Medical emergency in main Engineering, transport Lieutenant 
Torres to
sickbay immediately.”
        As a shower of sparkles enveloped B’Elanna and the crowd 
had begun to disperse, Paris got up and began walking as fast as 
he could to
Sickbay.

        “How is she?”  Marcus asked.  He stood in sickbay, with 
the doctor in
his office after being summoned there.  As he looked through the 
glass
window, he saw that Paris was holding his little--well, not so
little--girl’s hand.  He smiled slightly.  Well, it seemed his
little girl had grown up and found someone who loved her as much 
as he
did.
        He turned his attention back to the Doctor, “...first I 
found nothing
wrong, it seemed like a case of too much stress or overwork.  She 
had
came in here recently for a sedative when her nervous system was 
too
active due to working three shifts in a row recently.  But then I
heard Mr. Paris’s report of convulsions, I did a deep tissue scan
and found this.  The Captain is coming down to take a look at it.”
        The Doctor turned on a monitor.  The device on the monitor 
was
totally alien.  Marcus had never seen anything like it.  It was a 
deep
brown.  And Marcus saw that it was on the sub-atomic model.
        “What...is it?”  He breathed.
        “I don’t know.”  The Doctor answered.  “But one thing’s 
for sure.”
        “What?”
        “It’s Vidiian.”

        Paris didn’t know what to do but sit there and hold her 
hand.
Her normally tan skin looked so pale. He stroked her hand gently.  
She opened her eyes and looked at him.
        “Tom?” she asked hoarsely.
        “Yeah?” he answered, trying to smile but failing 
miserably.
        “What’s wrong with me? It feels so strange,” her voice 
quavered, and
Tom realized that for the first time since he had met B’Elanna, 
she
sounded frightened.
        “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.  “The Captain 
and....your
father...are talking with the Doc now.  But you’re gonna be okay,
B’Elanna.”  *You have to be okay.*  It wouldn’t be just anything 
if the Doc had called the captain down.  *Please be okay,*  he 
begged silently.
        She smiled weakly. “I’ll take your word for it, Tom.”
        He smiled a little at that. “First time you’ve ever 
trusted me
on anything, Torres.”
        “Believe me, I don’t intend to make it a habit,” she 
joked.  His own
complexion paled a bit at that as old ghosts came back to haunt 
him.
Quickly she squeezed his hand.  “Thanks for staying.”
        He shook it off, and flashed her a grin. “You still owe me 
a dinner
date.  I *have* to make sure nothing happens to you.”
        She actually laughed at that.  “Tom Paris, self-assigned 
bodyguard.”
        He grinned.  “That’s me.”
        She coughed harshly and her grip on his hand tightened.  
He winced
but held on grimly.  “You okay, B’Elanna?”
        “I think so,” she murmured.  There he was, looking 
concerned about
her again.  She was beginning to suspect he really had a soft spot 
under
that hard mask.
        The Captain and Marcus Torres exited the Doctor’s office, 
followed
closely by the Doctor himself.  Tom rose hesitantly to leave, but
B’Elanna held his hand firmly.  “No,” she whispered.  “Please stay 
with me.”
        The words almost broke his heart.  How far they had come 
from the
first few months.  He reclaimed his chair.  “I’ll stay,” he 
promised.
        The Captain looked very upset and anxious, and Marcus 
looked like
he was about to cry.  He looked at Tom.
        “Mister Paris, I have to ask you to leave.  I’d like to 
keep all
nonessential people out.”
        Tom’s throat tightened.  “Captain?”
        *No,*  B’Elanna cried silently.
        “Mister Paris,” Janeway said slowly,  “I have to recognize 
father’s
prerogative.  Perhaps you’d be of more use on the bridge.  I 
believe
your shift starts in four minutes.”  She didn’t mean to sound 
harsh, but she
was annoyed at Marcus for sending the young man away when he was 
obviously so concerned about Torres’ daughter.
        “I’m sorry,” Tom whispered to B’Elanna.  He stood and left 
the room
quickly, leaving behind the woman he cared about, the woman who 
needed
him, to learn on her own what awaited her.  Life was officially 
unfair.
        “Bridge,” he called out wearily.  The turbolift started 
its upward
descent.  Tom sighed.  *Well, B’Elanna, I’m there with you in 
spirit.*
        They’d come so far.  It couldn’t end like this.  He’d 
recognized
the look on the Doctor’s face -- it was the same one he’d seen as 
he’d
lain on a biobed in Sickbay, dying.
        The doors hissed open and Commander Chakotay half-turned.  
“Morning, Lieutenant.  You’re on time today.”
        Chakotay never seemed to want to let him forget the 
several times
he’d been late, even though it had all been part of a ruse to 
capture
a spy.
        “Thank you, Commander,” he returned evenly as he took his 
station.
The minutes seemed to drag by, then the hours, with still no word 
from
Sickbay.  *Come on,*  he pleaded.  There had to be *something*.
Anything.
        “LIEUTENANT PARIS!!”
        Tom started. “What?” Out of the corner of his eye, he 
noticed
Harry’s shoulder’s slump.
        Chakotay stared at him angrily.  “Mister Paris, your 
attention
seems to be wandering.”
        “I’m sorry?”
        “This is the third time I’ve asked you a question, 
Lieutenant.  Is
there a problem?”
        Was there a problem??  Of course there was a problem!  
He’d been
thrown out of Sickbay already this morning, leaving him sitting on 
the
bridge wondering if the woman he cared about would be all right.  
And what he would do if she wasn’t all right.  What would he do if 
she *didn’t* get better.
        “Lieutenant,” Chakotay’s voice quivered with anger, and 
Paris
belatedly realized he’d spoken the words aloud.  “You are hereby
relieved of duty and confined to your quarters.”
        Tom sat there in stunned silence.  Harry sighed.  Tom had 
been doing
so well.  The Captain would not be happy when Chakotay told her 
about
this. Then Paris stood abruptly and left the bridge.

        B’Elanna glared at her father angrily.  “Why did you send 
him out?”
she demanded.  She and Tom Paris had never been more than friends, 
but
now she needed his strength to lean on.  She resolved to take him 
up on his
dinner invitation when she was well enough to get out of bed.
        “B’Elanna,”  Marcus said softly,  “There’s something we 
need to talk
with about.”
        “What?” she asked suspiciously.
        The Doctor stepped forward.
        “Lieutenant,” he said carefully, “I’m afraid you’ve been 
infected with...the Phage.”
     B’Elanna’s face went an even paler shade of white then it had 
been.  “The--did I hear you correctly?”
     “I’m afraid so,” he said gently.  “Apparently the virus that 
causes the Phage was in the DNA of your Klingon counterpart that I 
reintegrated into your cellular structure.  The virus remained 
dormant until external stimuli--in this case I would hypothesize 
the recent emotional trauma you’ve experienced--stimulated the 
virus into activity.  That was the reason you collapsed.”
     “What was the Phage virus doing in B’Elanna’s counterpart in 
the first place?”  Janeway asked, her face ashen.
     “He infected me...”  B’Elanna murmured.  “The Vidiian 
scientist--infected her--my Klingon half--with the virus.  But her 
body was fighting it off--she wasn’t getting sick!”
     “Apparently the virus hadn’t been totally eliminated from her 
DNA when I integrated it into your cellular structure.  The virus 
was too small to show up in any scans.”  The doctor was frowning.  
     “Am--am I going to die?”  Her voice was barely above a 
whisper.
     “Not if I can help it,” the doctor said firmly.  “I promise 
you, Lieutenant, I will not shut myself off until I’ve found a way 
to beat this thing.”
     “I’m not contagious, am I?” she asked worriedly.
     “No.  As far as I can tell, the Phage is a hereditary 
disease, carried by a defective gene that all Vidiians have.  The 
only reason you got it is because you were deliberately injected 
with it.  The only way someone else could get it is if I were to 
do the same to them--which I don’t plan to do.”
     “This is all my fault,”  Marcus Torres said heavily.  “If I 
hadn’t shown up in the first place--you wouldn’t have had any 
emotional trauma--this thing wouldn’t have been activated.”
     “It’s not your fault,” B’Elanna surprised them all by saying.  
“It would have shown up sooner or later, regardless of who or what 
was here when it happened.”
     “She’s correct, Mr. Torres,” the doctor agreed.  “No one here 
is to blame--except for, of course, the Vidiian scientist who did 
this to her.”
     Janeway’s commbadge suddenly chirped.  “Chakotay to Janeway.”  
     She tapped it.  “Janeway here.”
     “Captain, I’ve caught Tom Paris daydreaming on the bridge--
again.  I had to shout at him three times before I got his 
attention, and then he made some rude comment to me. I relieved 
him of duty and confined him to his quarters.”
     “No!”  B’Elanna cried weakly, struggling to sit up.  “You 
can’t--he was just worried about me--”
     “Lieutenant, lie down!” the doctor commanded with such 
ferocity that B’Elanna obeyed instantly.
     “I believe that’s a bit drastic, Commander, considering the 
circumstances.  I’m calling a meeting of the senior officers in 
five minutes to explain everything.  Spread the word.  Janeway 
out.”  The captain looked at B’Elanna and smiled reassuringly.  
“Don’t worry, B’Elanna. Everything will be just fine.”
     “Do you promise?”  she asked anxiously.
     “I  promise,”  Janeway vowed.  “Now rest.  I’ll come back 
later.  Marcus, I think it would be best if you accompanied me.”
     “It would be a good idea, Mr. Torres,” the doctor said before 
B’Elanna’s father could even open his mouth.  “What B’Elanna needs 
most right now is to rest.”
     Torres looked reluctant to leave, but he slowly nodded.  He 
reached down and carefully touched B’Elanna’s hair.  She didn’t 
flinch at his touch, but simply laid and watched him.
     “You be good,” he said gently, a hint of a smile on his lips.  
“When you were three you were hospitalized with Rigellian fever 
and you nearly drove the poor doctors to insanity.”
     B’Elanna was silent for a long moment.  “I remember that,” 
she said finally.  “You brought me strawberry ice cream.”
     “That’s right,” he said.  “I did.  Be good and this time 
it’ll be chocolate.”
     B’Elanna actually smiled a tiny smile.  “Yes, Father,” she 
said, and closed her eyes.

     “The Phage?”  Chakotay said, his face drained of color.
     “I’m afraid so,”  Janeway said quietly.  “Apparently the 
virus that causes the Phage was in the DNA of her Klingon 
counterpart.  When the doctor reintegrated her Klingon DNA, the 
virus went with it.  It remained dormant until external stimuli--
the doctor believes it’s the recent emotional trauma she’s been 
under--stimulated the virus into activity.  That was the reason 
why she collapsed.”
     “How long does she have?”  Tom Paris asked, surprisingly calm 
under the circumstances.  Janeway guessed he was too numb with 
shock to feel anything right now.
     Janeway paused.  “I don’t know,” she admitted.  “It could be 
a week--or it could be months.  There’s really no way to tell.”
     Silence dropped over the room.  Janeway could see that 
everyone was thinking the same thought:  *B’Elanna’s going to 
die.*
     “The doctor said he’s not turning himself off until he can 
find a cure or a treatment,”  she announced firmly.  “We have to 
keep our hopes up--for B’Elanna’s sake, at least.  She’s upset 
enough as it is and our despondency will only make things worse.”
     Still, no one said a word.  Finally, Chakotay spoke.
     “When the captain and I were infected with a virus for which 
there seemed to be no cure, this ship didn’t give up hope until 
they *found* a cure for us.  I think it’s the least we can do to 
do the same for her.”
     “I agree,”  Janeway said, giving him a slight smile.  “We 
have to believe that the doctor can do something.  I have every 
confidence that he *will* find a cure, and that’s what I intend to 
tell B’Elanna.”
     “B’Elanna isn’t going to die.”  Marcus Torres’s tone was 
confident.  “She was born three months premature, you know.  She 
weighed less than two pounds.  Her mother and I didn’t think she 
had a chance, and neither did the doctors.  But it was the 
damnedest thing--that scrawny little mite stubbornly refused to 
die.  Every day I’d go to see her, and she’d just lay in her 
incubator, staring up at me with these huge brown eyes.  And then, 
one day, we were told that we could take her home.  L’Terra and I 
couldn’t believe it--she had been given a zero percent chance for 
survival, but somehow that tiny little baby beat the odds and came 
home with us three months after her birth--on the day she should 
have been born, actually.  She’s always been a fighter, just like 
her mother, and something tells me she’s not going to give up 
quite yet.”
     “You’re right,”  Chakotay said.  “She is a fighter--but is 
she strong enough to fight this?”
     “Yes,”  Tom Paris declared with absolute certainty.  “She is.  
She can beat this thing, I know she can.  And I intend to tell her 
so.”

        Tom approached B’Elanna’s quarters.  He didn’t know what 
to do.
All he felt was...totally helpless.  She had gone back to her 
quarters,
partly because nothing more could be done for her except making 
her
comfortable.
        Or until they found a cure.
        The former was too likely, while the 
latter...was....almost
impossible.  The Doctor had found that B’Elanna’s human/Klingon 
DNA
complicated matters, and that the virus had mutated during all 
that time.
        Paris was with her almost every day, but Marcus was with 
her far
more.  Marcus blamed himself, even though Paris knew that B’Elanna 
had
already forgiven him.
        *Some sort of dying wish.*  A snide voice said inside his 
head.  He
stopped, unsure of what to do.  But he was at the door already.  
*Make a
decision, you idiot*,  His mind jeered.
        He stood there, blind to almost everything, for what 
seemed to be
an eternity, when he finally raised a hand to the door panel and 
rang the
door chime.
        The door opened, and he stepped in.  He didn’t know what 
to find.
What could he find?  He wondered, other than B’Elanna slipping 
away and
looking more wasted away every single day that she’s here?
        He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

        “First time I see you unsure.”  A voice came from beside 
him.  He
looked down quickly to find B’Elanna sitting in a chair in 
civilian
clothes.
        “I won’t make it a habit.”  He tried to joke with her own 
words.
        “I promise to remember that.”  She smiled faintly.  “Sit 
down, Paris.”
        He sat.  He didn’t know what to expect.  Usually when he 
was there,
they sat and talked about current events, or worked on Engineering
problems.  She had insisted.  It made her feel a little bit 
helpful to the
crew.  Who could blame her?  He wondered, After all, she still is 
the best
engineer on this ship.
        He wasn’t looking to find out what would happen when the 
‘is’
became a ‘was’.
        But now, she just sat with a cup of replicated coffee in 
her hand,
looking at him.  It made him feel strange, like he was being 
remembered
forever.
        “Do you remember,”  B’Elanna began, “the first time you 
ever talked
to me after that incident with the Caretaker?  I called you a 
pig.”
        “How can I forget it?”  Paris smiled, trying to push away 
the fears
that she was doing this because it might be the last conversation 
they ever
had together.  He made a puppy dog face, and B’Elanna actually 
laughed.  A slight laugh, but still a laugh.  “My feelings were 
hurt for a week.”
        “As I recall, you got over it,”  she joked.
        They talked for two hours, when B’Elanna suddenly said, 
staring off
into a seemingly faraway distance, “I remember the first time I 
saw you.
It was...where was it?  And I think I bumped into you.  I had a 
scarf on,
because I was trying to evade some people, and you just looked at 
me with
that look on your face, like you were surprised when I apologized.  
And you said with a surprised tone of voice, ‘That’s all right’, 
like it was a real
compliment that someone would actually apologize to you.”
        Paris stiffened as the memory came back to him.  It 
was...when was
it?  And he had been walking around town that day, familiarizing 
himself
with the settlement when he had bumped into a slight girl...
        “That was you?”  he asked quietly.
        He didn’t realize it, but when he was in his memories, 
B’Elanna
was...crying?  She had tears on her face, and she was trying 
profusely to
stop it.
        “Hey, it’s all right.”  He gathered her small...and now 
very slight...
form into his arms.  “I told you if you ever needed a shoulder, I 
was
here.  You’ll be all right.”
        They remained like that for an indeterminable amount of 
time, until
B’Elanna eventually calmed down and regained her composure.
        “Are you all right?”  he asked concernedly.
        She looked away.  “I’m fine.”
        *That same far-off tone,*  He thought.  But he never got 
to voice
his concern when B’Elanna suddenly swayed and fell out of her 
seat.  Tom
gently caught her and immediately called Sickbay.  *Wherever you 
are,
B’Elanna,*  He thought silently. *Live.  At least know that 
someone here on this side cares for you.*

        She slipped into a coma soon after.  The Doctor could do 
not much
more except making her painless and as comfortable as he could 
when her
organs began failing, one after the other.  The Doctor could fix 
them, but
he could do nothing as long as the virus was inside her body, 
killing her.
       She had been moved back to her own quarters, among her 
engineering
texts and the objects she had acquired over the years.  The 
Doctor, instead
of using his autonomous holo-emitter, used a portable projector 
temporarily installed in her quarters.  Too long to use the 
autonomous one, he had said, so he’d just use the portable one.  
Paris suspected it was because it was saying thanks to B’Elanna in 
his own way.  For she had, before she collapsed, figured out a way 
to let the Doctor travel all over the ship without the autonomous 
transmitter.
       Marcus was there often, just holding his little girl’s 
hand.  The
Doctor had encouraged people talking to her.  Maybe it will 
increase her
fighting chances, he said, if she knew that someone cared about 
her.
Marcus wasn’t so sure, his little girl had been so alone for too 
long.
        But then again, he would try just about anything.
        The other Senior staff members had the same thoughts.  
Harry was
there sometimes, talking to her.  Once, he had brought his 
clarinet and
played for her.  Chakotay performed rituals of his tribe, asking 
B’Elanna’s
spirit guide to guide B’Elanna, wherever she was.  Kes had brought 
flowers
to brighten up her room.  And even Neelix was there at least once 
every day, talking to her about the latest news, what her 
Engineering staff was doing, what his latest cuisine delights (the 
crew had noticed his food getting better, but no one commented on 
it.)  Paris...Tom was there, everyday, just holding her hand or 
just sitting there, watching her.

        It was one day that Marcus found Tom.  Tom’s head snapped 
up, and the two men regarded each other.
        “I... didn’t know anyone was here.”  Marcus stumbled, 
“I’ll leave.”
        “No, it’s all right.”  Tom protested, getting up.  “I’ve 
spent a
long time with her.  Why don’t you talk to her?”
        Marcus regarded the young man.  It seems that when he was 
here,
with his little girl, his fatade was...gone.  There was no 
cockiness, just
concern and...something else he couldn’t get his fingers on,  what 
was it?
        Just then the Doctor shimmered into existence.  “Well, it 
seems
like I’ve found the cure.”  He announced.
        “What is it?”  Captain Janeway asked.
        “You might not like this, but the only cure I have at the 
moment is
to starve the Phage to death.”  The doctor sobered.
        “Which means...”  Janeway’s eyes slowly widened as she 
realized the
implications what he proposed.  Marcus wasn’t so sure.
        “And what does that mean?”  he asked impatiently.
        “Which means that Lieutenant Torres will have to die if 
this is
going to work.”
     Janeway, Marcus, and Paris stared at the doctor, neither 
uttering a word.  “Die?  You’re--you’re going to *kill* her?”  
Marcus finally said, his voice only slightly above a whisper.
     The doctor nodded.  “Unfortunately, it is the only solution I 
can come up with.  The exact procedure will involve putting 
Lieutenant Torres in stasis.  The Phage virus feeds on living 
organs, and since her organs will no longer be alive, the virus 
will starve to death.  Once I’m positive the virus has been 
exterminated, I’ll bring her out of stasis and attempt to revive 
her.”
     Janeway had turned ashen.  “You’re sure it’s the only way?” 
she asked.
     “Yes.  I can’t find any other solution,” the doctor 
confirmed.  “I wish there was, but this is our only option.  But--
”  he looked meaningfully at Marcus, “I can’t do it without the 
consent of her nearest family member.”
     “Wait--wait just a moment!”  Tom Paris objected angrily.  
“You’re talking about *killing* B’Elanna!”
     “There is no other choice, Mr. Paris,” the doctor said 
sharply.  “Either she dies this way or she withers away into 
nothing.  I can’t guarantee that she will survive this, but there 
is a chance; which is more then we have if we do nothing.”
     Paris lowered his eyes, properly chastised by the doctor’s 
retort.  It was the only way; he could see that now.  And he 
couldn’t bear to watch B’Elanna suffer another instant.  “How--how 
will you--?”
     “Cordrozine.  It’s the kindest way.”  The doctor’s tone had 
turned gentler.  “I promise you, Mr. Paris, I will do everything 
in my power to revive her once she’s out of stasis.”
     “How long will that be?”  Janeway asked quietly.
     “Two weeks; maybe more, maybe less.  I don’t know,” the 
doctor answered honestly.
     Throughout all of this, Marcus had retreated to B’Elanna’s 
bedside.  He knelt down next to her, taking her limp, white, 
unresponsive hand in his.  He squeezed it and began talking 
softly, whispering so only she could hear.  “B’Elanna, honey, I’m 
so sorry.  For everything.  I should have left your mother some 
sort of note explaining why I was gone...I knew there was a chance 
I might not return...but I wanted her to be able to be absolutely 
honest in her convictions that she didn’t know about my mission if 
the Cardassians ever went to Kessik.  That’s no excuse, but it was 
my reason.”  He paused slightly to wipe a tear of his face, then 
continued.
     “I love you, B’Elanna.  I always have and I always will.  
During my years on Illidia, you and your mother were all I thought 
about.  I so regret that I couldn’t see you grow up into the 
beautiful woman that you are.  If I could just have those years 
back...but I can’t.  No one can.”  He paused again, looking at the 
hand in his.  The hand that had been so strong and healthy just a 
few weeks ago was now feeble and thin.  It nearly broke his heart 
to see it.
     “I’m going to give the doctor permission to starve the virus, 
B’Elanna.  It’s your only chance.  And I hope...I hope that, if it 
doesn’t work, you know that I love you dearly.”
     He stood up, his face calm.  “Do it,” he said to the doctor.  
“I’d like to be there when...when you...”
     “Of course,” the doctor said hastily.  “You may be present.”
     “And I’d like Mr. Paris to be there also,”  Marcus added.  
     Tom shot him a look of pure gratitude, one which the doctor 
intercepted.  “Fine,” he said after an initial hesitancy.  “You 
both may be there.  Captain, will you--?”
     Janeway nodded.  “Me too.”  Her voice was rough, as though 
she was on the verge of tears.  “I at least owe her that.”
     “All right.  I’d best start the procedure right away.  I 
don’t know how long she has left.  Computer, beam everyone in 
Lieutenant Torres’s quarters, including Lieutenant Torres, to 
sickbay.”
     The four disappeared in a shimmering glimmer of light, 
reappearing moments later in sickbay.  The doctor instantly set to 
work, Kes aiding him.
     Marcus and Tom stood on both sides of B’Elanna, each holding 
her hand.  Janeway stood at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed 
and her face troubled.  A scant few minutes later, the doctor 
stood at the foot of the bed, a hypospray of cordrozine in his 
hand.
     “Let’s begin,” he said quietly, and injected the hypo into 
B’Elanna’s neck.  Moments later the monitor beside her bed emitted 
one long, shrill, piercing beep.  Her heart had stopped.
     B’Elanna Torres was dead.

        Tom Paris sat in a corner by himself in the mess hall, 
staring
at his drink with a mixture of disbelief and shock.  Two weeks!  
He
had declined the captain’s offer of a duty leave; she knew he was
troubled but he had assured her he would be fine and it wouldn’t 
affect his duty. He hoped that she wouldn’t remember Chakotay’s 
sending him to his
quarters after B’Elanna had first taken ill.  No, he needed to 
work.  He needed to keep busy.
        But for now, for just a few moments, he could grieve.  For 
a
young friendship, just in its fledgling stages, that could very 
well be
cut short before either had a chance to enjoy it.
        So he would wait.  She would come out of it.  She *had* to 
come out
of it.
        “Mister Paris.  May I sit down?”
        Startled, Tom looked up.  Marcus Torres had entered so 
quietly Paris
hadn’t heard him.  Or maybe he was just too preoccupied to notice.
Paris was too tired and upset and try and figure out which.
        “Please,” he gestured to the chair across from him.  He 
glanced at
Marcus’ plate and commented wryly,
        “I don’t know how well you’ve been eating out here, but 
believe me,
you are in for a....” he hesitated gracefully. “Surprise” was the 
word
he chose. “....surprise with some of Neelix’s attempts at Earth 
foods.”
        Marcus chuckled despite his own tension.  He sat across 
from the pilot and studied him carefully.  Sandy-haired and blue-
eyed, tall and lean.
Marcus smiled.  Someone who could keep up with his daughter.  His 
name was familiar somehow, but he couldn’t quite place it.  Tom 
Paris....
        Tom frowned under Marcus’ stare, and tried not to feel 
like a bug
under a microscope.  He was used to it, after all.  Oh, yes, 
people had
wanted to see the great Thomas Eugene Paris, son of renowned 
admiral Owen Paris. He shifted uncomfortably and turned his glass 
gently so the amber liquid spiraled downward.  He watched it, and 
it reminded him of his life before Voyager.
        “You’re Owen Paris’ son, aren’t you?” Marcus’ voice 
shattered his
thoughts.
        Paris’ eyes narrowed dangerously. “Yeah, that’s me.” 
Suddenly he
realized Marcus Torres would have no way of knowing about the
lieutenant’s somewhat checkered past.  He gave a small sigh of 
relief, and his features lightened.
        Marcus Torres nodded. “Yes, I remember Owen.  He and Kat, 
er, Captain Janeway and I used to get together every now and then.  
Your father was a good man, Lieutenant.”
        Tom swallowed. *You’re a failure, Thomas.*  “Yes, he was, 
sir.”
        Marcus laughed shortly.  “None of this `sir’ stuff, young 
man.  Call
me Marcus.”
        “Marcus,” Tom repeated dutifully.  “Um, Marcus, you knew 
my father well?” Not that he really wanted to hear the answer, but 
for B’Elanna, he would ask.  She would want him to watch over her 
father.
        Tom laughed to himself.  What a ludicrous idea.  *This is 
for you,
B’Elanna,* he thought ruefully.
        “Yes, I did, Lieutenant Paris -- “
        “Tom,” the pilot interjected.
        “Tom.  He thought the world of his family, Owen did.  
Always had a
picture of his kids on his desk.  You would have been how 
old?....four.
Same age as B’Elanna, right?  Well, he never stopped talking about 
his kids. Thomas this, Victoria that, Tonya something else.  Near 
drove Kat crazy, she told me once.  And here you are, serving on 
Kat’s ship.  I always knew she’d get her own ship --  but that’s 
another story.  Anyway, yes, I knew your dad pretty well.  But 
you, you look like your mother.  The prettiest thing, she was. 
Owen always got the best because he demanded the best.  Sweet, 
gentle Elyse, she was everything you could ask for.  Intelligent, 
too, and beautiful as the day is long.  But, about your 
father....”
        Marcus’ voice trailed off and long-forgotten memories came 
crowding
back.  Tom blinked against the swell of pain and heartache.  His
mother.  He missed her; in some ways she reminded him of Captain 
Janeway. Assertive, and drawing on inner strength to get through 
difficult times.  But that was all he could remember -- why 
couldn’t he remember his mother?  All he remembered from his 
childhood was his father; flashes of his mother, yes, but always 
his father, towering over him, surged to his mind.
        “ --don’t you, Tom?”
        Tom started.  “What?” He’d noticed Marcus had a habit of 
changing
subjects rapidly, so B’Elanna’s father could be talking about 
anything
from Tom’s relationship with his father to piloting Voyager.
        Marcus smiled slightly.  “Get bored listening to an old 
man’s
ramblings, Lieutenant?”
        “No, it’s just....I just,” Tom stumbled.  He took a 
breath.  “I’m
sorry. It’s just when you mentioned my mother I -- “
        “Ah,” Marcus nodded sagely.  “I understand.  But what I 
said was, you really care about my little girl, don’t you?”
        Tom smiled at hearing B’Elanna called `little girl’, but 
he bit his
lip at Marcus’ question.  “I, um, yes, I do.  We’ve been through a 
lot
together.”
        “Yes -- and she likes you, too.  I can tell by the way she 
looks at
you. I’m glad she’s finally found someone.”
        “Er, Marcus....” Tom said weakly.
        “That’s how I met my wife, L’Terra.  We served on the same 
ship
together and eventually we became friends.  Oh, we clawed at each 
other throats for the first few months of the journey, but over 
time and hardships we realized we had everything we wanted right 
in front of us.  We’d been idiots not to see it before, I can tell 
you that.”
        “Sir,” Tom tried again, but was again interrupted.
        “When’s the wedding, Tom?  I’m not getting any younger, 
you know.  I’d like to see my grandchildren before I die.”
        “Marcus,” Tom finally managed, “B’Elanna and I aren’t 
engaged.  We’re just friends.”
        Marcus looked disappointed.  “Oh.”
        “But I can tell you,” Tom said honestly, “I care for 
B’Elanna more than anyone onboard this ship.”  *That was a 
revelation,* he thought wryly. *And you said it to the person 
who’d be the first to tell B’Elanna.  I am dead.*
        
     Paris sat in his quarters staring at the stars.  A cup of 
coffee was beside him on the table, cooling unnoticed.  He stared 
at the stars, wondering about B’Elanna’s possible reaction when 
Marcus told his daughter about his feelings for her.  *She’d 
probably deck me.*  he thought.  *Well, I’d probably deserve it.  
Why did I have to tell Marcus anyway?*
     As he sat there, wondering, he realized that the conversation 
was almost choreographed, like it was meant to happen.  *...Yes -- 
and she likes you, too.  I can tell by the way she looks at you.  
I’m glad she’s finally found someone...*  As he remembered his 
strangely aborted conversation, he began to smile at Marcus’ 
words.  Maybe, just maybe, there was hope after all. Do fathers 
ever lie?
     He hoped not.

     Three weeks passed, though it was more like three decades.  
Time flies when you’re having fun, but crawls when you don’t want 
it to.  *Isn’t that ironic,* Tom thought.  *Ah, Such are the 
ironies of life.*
     Harry came in and sat down beside him.  Raking a tired hand 
through his  hair, Harry heavily commented, “Three weeks. Who 
would have thought that the Phage would last at least THREE 
weeks.”
     “Relax, Harry.”  Tom replied, staring not at Harry, but 
inwards, at
memories, of him, of Harry, of...B’Elanna.  They’d been through so 
much
together, it was no wonder that the crew called them the “Outer 
Trio.”  “We don’t know much about the mutated Phage, so it was 
bound to happen.”  Inwardly he was shaking; shaking at the 
possibility that she might never wake up from her sleep, that 
she’d never wake up and look at him one more time, even that she 
would never call him a pig again.
     Harry looked strangely at Tom, but then continued, “We’d been 
through so much together, and yet, I feel like we should have done 
more.”
     “No argument here.”  Tom agreed, taking a sip of his coffee, 
he continued. “I really don’t want it to end.”  *Not like this,*  
He thought.  “What will happen if she dies?  Will we go on like 
always?  Will we just stay at the moment and crawl through life?”  
He was really getting worked up.
     Harry put a comforting hand on Tom’s shoulder, “Think 
positively.  You know, she’s always been a fighter.  She didn’t 
quit when she was infected by the Caretaker.  She even cheered me 
up when she was in pain.  And do you know how many times she’s 
covered for me?”
     “Ditto.”  Tom sighed.  His frustration was really showing, 
and Harry saw all that.  *Hmm, guess Tom cared much more than I 
thought for her.* 
     Harry decided to broach the subject.  He didn’t know what Tom 
was going to do, but he had to know, “You know, you’re acting like 
you care for B’Elanna a lot.  Maybe even LOVE her.”
     Tom sat back, stunned.  He knew that he cared a great deal 
for B’Elanna, but did he love her?
     He did a self-examination, something that he hated.  In a 
flash, he thought he had it, but it was beginning to fade.  IT 
remained.
“Yeah, I guess I do.”  He admitted, breaking the silence and in 
the process
surprising the ensign.  “And if B’Elanna ever finds out, she’ll 
probably
break my jaw.”
     “Keep hoping.  If she does break your jaw, it’ll be one more 
thing she’s doing at this point.”  Harry smiled.
     The two men fell silent.  Harry with his friend’s answer and 
Tom with his thoughts.  Tom was in turmoil, so now he had a self-
revelation.  What was he supposed to do with it?
     And Harry sat there, the impact of Tom’s answer finally 
hitting him.
*LOVE?!*  He thought distractedly.  *Well, it certainly makes 
sense.
But Tom and B’Elanna?!  Stranger things have happened.  I wonder
what their kids are going to look like...Harry Kim, you have got 
to stop
getting ahead of yourself once in a while.*

A few hours later...
     Tom and Harry were in Sandrine’s, shooting pool, when the 
call came.
     “Sickbay to Paris.” 
     Paris swallowed, suddenly unable to speak. “Go ahead.”
“As per Mr. Torres’ request, I am informing you that the Phage has 
been
eliminated.  Please come to Sickbay.”
     The two friends looked at each other, abandoned their half-
hearted pool game, and ran to Sickbay.
     The waiting was over.

     Tom dashed into Sickbay, Harry close behind him.  To Tom’s 
surprise, all of the senior officers and Marcus were there, 
clustered around a biobed which contained the lifeless body of 
B’Elanna.
     Tom’s breath caught in his throat when he saw her.  She was 
still beautiful, still lovelier then ever.  She looked like she 
was sleeping except for the stasis mechanism attatched to her 
forehead.  *Like Sleeping Beauty,* he thought wryly, *waiting for 
her Prince to come.  Well, B’Elanna, he’s here...if you’ll have 
him.*
     “Ah, Mr. Paris,” the doctor greeted gravely, “and Mr. Kim.  
Good.”
     “Why--why is everyone here?”  Harry Kim asked uncertainly, 
his eyes darting from Janeway at the head of the bed to Tuvok at 
the foot, and back again.
     “I asked them to be here,”  Marcus explained.  “I thought 
that the faces of all her friends should be the first thing 
B’Elanna sees when she wakes up.”
     *WHEN she wakes up, not IF she wakes up*, Tom reflected.  *I 
wish I had that much faith.*  His blue eyes were solemn as he took 
a place between Janeway and Marcus, a place that had apparently 
been saved for him so he could be positioned right next to 
B’Elanna.  Harry stood next to Neelix near the foot of the bed, 
and looked to the doctor anxiously.
     The doctor caught the look and nodded.  “Let’s begin,” he 
said briskly.  “Kes, the cortical stimulator, please.”
     Kes silently gave him the device, and Tom suddenly had a 
horrible flashback of when the doctor had...when B’Elanna had been 
put into stasis.  *Please,* he thought desperately, praying to 
whatever gods watched over half-Klingon chief engineers, *please 
let her wake up.  Please.*
     The doctor reached out and removed the stasis field.   
Immediately, a long, piercing beep emitted from the moniter beside 
B’Elanna.  The doctor nodded at Kes, who activated the stimulator.  
B’Elanna’s body twitched, and the shrill beep of the heart moniter 
wavered, but it soon returned to the long wail.  Her heart hadn’t 
started.
     “Again,” the doctor commanded.
     Kes quickly complied, but still nothing happened.  Tom felt 
his heart drop to the bottom of his shoes.  *Please,* he prayed.  
*Please.*
     “Again.”  Tuvok was the only officer whose face was a picture 
of composure.  Distressed, fearful looks were exchanged around the 
bed as B’Elanna’s heart refused to beat a third time.
     “Again.”  Now even Kes looked despondent, but she obeyed the 
doctor’s order.  
     The moniter began to emit a series of shrill, short beeps.  
B’Elanna’s heart!  Her lips opened and she drew in a gasping, 
shuddering breath.
     “She’s alive,” the doctor announced, removing the stimulator 
from B’Elanna’s head.  The hologram was smiling broadly.  “There 
is no sign of the Phage virus.”
     Cheers erupted from the officers present.  Exclamations of 
relief echoed throughout Sickbay, and even Tuvok was wearing a 
most un-Vulcan-like expression of satisfaction.  Marcus had tears 
streaming down his face as he repeated, “She’s back.  My little 
girl is back.”
     Tom hadn’t moved since the doctor’s joyful announcement 
except to grasp B’Elanna’s hand and close his eyes, tears of 
happiness threatening to spill down his cheeks.  She was alive, 
and breathing.  She wasn’t dead, nor was she going to die.  He 
felt like jumping around Sickbay and hugging everyone within 
reach, but instead he squeezed B’Elanna’s hand and opened his 
eyes, staring down at her beautiful face.  Already she was 
beginning to look better, a hint of red developing in her once-
sallow cheeks.  
     An irrepressible urge overtook him, and Tom knew that 
although B’Elanna would pound him into tribble food if she ever 
found out what he was about to do, he couldn’t help himself.  
After making sure that no one was watching, for they were all too 
busy celebrating, he quickly bent down and placed a tender kiss on 
her ridged forehead.  He straightened up, again making sure no one 
had seen him.  And, apparently, no one had.  Tom turned his 
attention back to B’Elanna.
     Suddenly, her eyes blinked open and he was staring into a 
pair of very familiar chocolate-brown eyes, eyes that were sleepy 
and disoriented but that appeared to recognize him.
     “B’Elanna!” he yelped, inadvertently loud enough to gain the 
attention of everyone else in the room.  They gathered around the 
bed, staring down at B’Elanna’s now-open eyes.
     “Tom?”  B’Elanna’s voice was faint but coherent.
     “I’m here,” he assured her, his hand tightening around hers.
     “Daddy?”  
     The word caused a silent sensation among the assembled 
officers.  Until now, the only word they had ever heard B’Elanna 
use in reference to Marcus Torres had been ‘Father’, and even then 
it had been the only time she had addressed him as such--as a 
daughter to a parent.
     “I’m here, too,”  Marcus said, his eyes misting over.  He 
hadn’t heard her call him ‘daddy’ for twenty-five years.  “We’re 
all here, B’Elanna.  All your friends.  They’ve--we’ve--come to 
welcome you back.”
     B’Elanna gazed up at the smiling faces above her.  “What 
happened?”  she asked weakly, her question directed at the doctor.
     Hurriedly, the doctor explained all that had happened in the 
last few weeks--the coma she had been in, killing her and putting 
her in stasis, and her current reawakening.  B’Elanna didn’t say a 
word throughout his explanation, but once the hologram was 
finished speaking she turned her gaze to her father.  “Has it 
really been that long?”
     “It has, sweetheart,” Marcus replied quietly.  “We were all 
so worried about you.  But the Phage virus is gone.  You’re 
completely cured.”
     “I--I am?”  B’Elanna looked from Marcus to the doctor and 
back again.  “I’m really cured?”
     “You’re really cured,”  the doctor answered.  “You should be 
back on your feet in a few days.  But no active duty for a month.”
     “A month!”  B’Elanna appeared outraged.  “I am *not* staying 
away from Engineering an entire month--”
     “Yes, you are,”  Marcus and Tom Paris said in unison.  
Sheepishly, the two men smiled at each other, then looked back 
down at B’Elanna.  “Don’t worry, B’Elanna.  It won’t be that bad,”  
Tom consoled.  “You’ll always have me to talk to.”
     “Pig.”  
     Tom felt an enormous feeling of joy mingled with relief swell 
inside of his chest.  B’Elanna was actually grinning up at him--
her grin was tiny, and feeble--but it was a full-fledged grin.  
She was really back.
 
        B’Elanna was resting now, in the darkened Sickbay.  Tom 
watched her
sleep, grateful this time it was only sleep, and not something far 
more
permanent.  His conversation with Harry kept ringing through his 
mind.
Did he love B’Elanna Torres?  He’d said yes, he did, but still he 
wasn’t
quite sure if he’d meant it the way Harry had.  Now that they were 
sure she would
live, he realized it was a question he’d have to answer.  But it 
was so hard, so
hard to open up and allow himself to be loved again.  And he 
suspected she might
have the same problem, considering her background.  What a couple 
they made,
he mused wryly.  Maquis and ex-Starfleet/ex-Maquis/all-around 
unwanted guy.  Wow.
Life was infintely strange.
        *Whoah, Tom,* he stopped himself.  *Too late for 
philosphical musings.*
He yawned and stretched, pulling himself from his chair.  B’Elanna 
would
still be here when he came in to check on her before his shift.  
He turned to
leave.
        “Paris?”
        He froze.  “Yes, sir?”
        “Thanks.”
        “For what?”
        “For watching out for her.”
        Tom slowly sat back down and Chakotay moved a little 
closer to Torres.
        “She really looks peaceful when she’s asleep, doesn’t 
she?”
        “Yes, she does, Commander.”  he answered calmly.  *What 
does he want??
I know what he’s trying to do; why can’t he just leave me alone??  
I could
save this ship a dozen times over -- I could save his *life* a 
dozen times
and he would still see me as a cocky, insufferable traitor, 
nowhere near worthy
of B’Elanna’s affections.*
        “She certainly is a fighter,” Chakotay remarked.
        Paris gave a controlled nod, but inside he was about ready 
to scream.
*Go ahead and say it, Chakotay!  Come right out and say I’m a 
loser.  I
can handle it -- it’s happened before.*  But that was a long time 
ago.  He
blocked out that memory quickly.
        “You know, Tom,”
        *Here it comes,*
        “I think she really cares about you.”
        *That’s right, Paris, you’re a failure.  You mess up 
everything you
touch.  You....*  “What?”
        Chakotay smiled slightly.  Paris’ jaw dropped.  “I said, I 
think she
really cares about you.  Remember the Warp Ten Experiment?”
        Tom closed his eyes. “Chakotay, *please*....”
        Chakotay actually grinned.  “Sorry.  How about when you 
left for the
Talaxian convoy, even though it was only a ruse?”  A grimace 
passed over
Chakotay’s face then, and Tom frowned.  Apparently the commander 
still
harbored some negative feelings about that.  Maybe he should let 
him talk about
the Warp Ten Experiment.....
        Nah.
        “Yeah, what about it?” Tom asked hesitantly.
        “All she could think about was why you’d left.  I couldn’t 
get her to
concentrate on anything.”
        Tom half-smiled.  “Really?”  Coming from Chakotay, this 
must mean
something. 
        “Really.  But, Paris?”
        “Yeah?”
        “Take good care of her.”  Quickly Chakotay changed 
subjects, but his
words still lingered in the air.  “You’ve got early shift 
tomorrow.  I
suggest you try to get some sleep.  Unless,” he added, “you want 
to be late.”
        Tom caught the gleam in Chakotay’s eye.  It looked like 
the Maquis
wouldn’t mind sending the pilot to the brig -- or worse, to help 
Neelix
in the kitchen -- if the pilot was late for duty.
        He swallowed.  “I won’t be late, *sir*,” he mumbled, with 
a slightly
sarcastic emphasis on the `sir’.
        Chakotay nodded.  “Good.”  He exited, leaving Paris alone 
with Torres
again.  Tom turned once more to leave.  Chakotay would certainly 
follow
through on his threat if Tom failed to show up on time.
        “Tom?”
        Tom paused. “Yes, B’Elanna?” He paled.  What if she’d 
heard Chakotay?
Now he was really dead.
        “I could so concentrate on other things.”
        He grinned. “Of course, Torres,” he tossed over his 
shoulder as he
moved toward the door.
        “Tom.”
        He stopped, half-turning.  “Yeah?”
        Her voice was uncharacteristically hesitant.  “Would you 
stay with me
for awhile?  Just keep me company?”
        Backtracking, reclaiming his chair, he smiled.  
“Absolutely,
B’Elanna.”

        B’Elanna Torres opened her eyes.  Today was a beautiful 
day to be
alive. Tom Paris was sleeping in a chair by her bedside, head 
resting at
an uncomfortable angle.  She winced.  That was going to hurt when 
he woke
up.
        “How’s my little girl today?” Marcus Torres’ voice came 
from the
doorway.
        “Shhh,” B’Elanna warned, smiling, with a nod toward the 
sleeping Paris.
Marcus smiled, too.  Ah, to have someone care about you. Suddenly 
he 
missed L’Terra very much.
        He sat on the edge of her bed.  “B’Elanna,” he said 
slowly, “You know
that Captain Janeway has asked me to join you on your voyage home.  
I
would like nothing more than to do so.  But I wanted to make sure 
it was
all right with you.  I don’t want to cause any problems.”
        She squeezed his hand.  “I’d like that very much.”
        A grin blossomed across Marcus’ face.  “I love you, 
B’Elanna.” He rose
for the door.  “I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?  Take care of  
yourself.  And 
him,” he waved at Paris with a smile.
        B’Elanna considered his words for a moment, then reached 
across to
touch Tom’s hand gently.  “Tom, wake up,”
        Tom started and blinked a few times, looking around 
blearily.  “What?”
        B’Elanna laughed a little.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean for 
you to stay
here all night.”
        His head dropped as he massaged his neck gently, groaning.  
“S’okay,
B’Elanna.  But I have to get going.  Shift starts in fifteen 
minutes.”
        “Tom?” she called.  “Don’t fall asleep on the bridge, 
okay?” she
teased.
        He grinned. “I’ll try.”
        She hesitated. “And, Tom?”
        He paused once more.  “Yeah?”
        “I’d like to take you up on that dinner offer,” she said, 
almost shyly.
        He smiled.  “As soon as the Doc gives you a clean bill of 
health, I’ll
treat you to a dinner so fine, you’ll never want to eat leola root
again!”
        She smiled wryly.  “I never wanted to eat leola root in 
the first
place,” she reminded him.
        Paris pretended not to hear as he exited Sickbay, planning 
their
dinner.
        B’Elanna laughed.
        Today was a beautiful day to be alive.

                    The End