isclaimer:  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.

               *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
                          NOW
               *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

     B’Elanna hummed as she walked along the tree-lined paths at 
Starfleet Academy, on her way to have a drink with a new faculty 
member.
     It still seemed odd to think that she, who hadn’t even finished 
the Academy, was now a Professor of Engineering there.  She still 
preferred being on a starship, specifically Voyager, but the ship was 
undergoing a complete refit that would take over a year, if not longer.  
Traveling for five years straight without docking at a single starbase 
for repairs had taken its toll on the gallant little ship, and she 
deserved a rest.  Best of all, though, after Voyager’s repairs were 
complete, the original crew would be returning to serve together.  
Everyone, even the doctor, whose program was being enhanced.  Running 
constantly for five years had taken its toll on him, too.  But, as 
Captain Janeway had declared proudly after receiving the official 
orders from Starfleet, “No use breaking up a winning team!”
     Of course, not *all* of Voyager’s crew would be staying.  Samantha 
Wildman was going to live on Deep Space Four with her husband so he 
could get acquainted with his daughter, and she with him.  Joe Carey 
had taken a leave of absence to make up for lost time with his wife and 
sons.   A few of the Maquis members had elected not to remain in 
Starfleet, and a few others chose to be reassigned to other ships or 
starbases.  But for the most part, Voyager’s crew would stay together, 
even Seven of Nine -- or rather, Annika Hansen, as she now preferred to 
be called.   Her engineering skills were of high caliber, and she would be 
a valuable asset to Engineering, as she had been the last two years or 
so of their journey.
     There were other changes, too.  Harry Kim was now a full 
Lieutenant.  Starfleet had moved him up two ranks, an honor he highly 
deserved.  Right now he was staying with his parents, who were delirious 
with joy now that their son was back with them.
     Neelix had actually won a place on board as a security ensign.  
Tuvok, surprisingly enough, had actually recommended the action to 
Starfleet.  Although the Vulcan didn’t like to admit it, Neelix really 
wwas a good security officer.  He had passed the examinations Starfleet 
had given him to test his knowledge of the Federation and security 
measures with flying colors, and he was now a full-fledged member of the 
crew.  Everyone was proud of him -- even Tuvok, somewhere deep down in his 
Vulcan heart, although he would never acknowledge it.
     And she, B’Elanna Torres, taught classes at the Academy.  It was only
part-time, until Voyager was ready to go, but it was something to do.  Tom 
worked at the Academy as well, giving advanced piloting classes to senior 
cadets.  They had a small but cozy apartment together a few blocks from 
the Academy, and were as much in love as they had ever been.
     Just that morning, she had found a message on her desk console 
from one of the new professors of medicine.  The short note had struck 
her as odd -- it had been signed only “Doctor Mathews,” and had 
requested that B’Elanna meet her for a drink so they could “get 
reacquainted”.  
     The name had been unfamiliar.  B’Elanna had searched and searched 
her mind, but she couldn’t ever recall meeting a Doctor Mathews.  The 
mystery would soon be solved, though; she was meeting the doctor at a 
small coffee shop called Cosmo’s that was just a few blocks from her 
apartment.  She knew it well; Harry had spoken highly of it and she and 
Tom visited frequently.  
     The coffee shop was almost deserted when B’Elanna entered; there 
was only one customer -- a short, petite blond woman sitting at a back 
table sipping a drink.  She raised her head to look at B’Elanna with a 
pair of very familiar, very striking violet eyes.
     B’Elanna stopped dead in her tracks, bringing her hands to cover 
her gaping mouth.  “Patsy?”  she managed to gasp.  “Patsy Brooker?!”
     Her former Academy roommate smiled.  “Patsy Mathews, actually.  
Surprise!”
     “Oh, my God, Patsy!”  B’Elanna cried as her old friend rose from 
her chair.  The two women hugged warmly, with poor B’Elanna still 
trying to recover from the shock.  She hadn’t seen Patsy since her last 
day of the Academy -- a time that seemed centuries ago.
     “I’m sorry to spring this on you, but I couldn’t believe it when I 
saw the name ‘B’Elanna Paris’ on the Academy faculty roster -- as a 
Professor of Engineering, no less!”  Patsy laughed.  “I inquired 
around, and when I found out that it was no other then my old roommate 
B’Elanna Torres -- I couldn’t resist.”
     “I can’t believe this!”  B’Elanna exclaimed, clasping her hand as 
the two sat down at the table.  “How *are* you?  What have you been up 
to all these years?”
     “I’d ask you the same thing -- but I already know the answer.  The 
Maquis, then the starship Voyager, and now the Academy.  Tell me, 
B’Elanna, is there anything you can’t do?”
     “Well, judging from what my husband says, I probably wouldn’t do 
so well as a nun.”  B’Elanna winked rakishly and grinned.
     Patsy burst into honest laughter.  “And you’ve gotten a fabulous 
sense of humor as well!  I can’t believe you’re married!”
     “I can’t believe *you’re* married,”  B’Elanna returned.  “Who’s 
the lucky guy?”
     “Doctor Jacob Mathews.  I met him at my first posting, when I was 
an ensign on the U.S.S. Yosemite.”
     “The Yosemite?”  B’Elanna repeated, raising her eyebrows.  
“Impressive.”
     “Thank you.  But *you’re* married to Thomas Eugene Paris, who is 
the son of ‘the great’ Admiral Owen Paris, and, from what I hear, the 
best pilot *and* one of the most handsome men in Starfleet.  How, may I 
ask, did you pull that off?”
     B’Elanna paused to order a cup of coffee before she replied, “And 
how, may I ask, do you know so much about me?” 
     Patsy blushed, laughing softly to herself.  “As I said, I did some 
checking.”
     “Well, I’ll tell you how I managed to ‘pull it off’.”  B’Elanna 
leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice to a whisper.  “I 
bit him.”
     “What?!”  Patsy nearly choked on her coffee.
     “It’s a long story, but suffice it to say that being stuck on the 
same -- and very small -- ship for five years helped some.”
     “I’d imagine so.”  Patsy took a sip of her coffee, as B’Elanna 
received hers, absentmindedly fingering the handle of the cup.  “Has 
everything worked out for you?  I mean, you’re happy?”
     “Very happy.”  B’Elanna smiled, squeezing her old friend’s hand 
appreciatively.  “You know, I don’t know how I’m ever going to thank 
you for pointing me in the right direction.”
     “I was so worried about you after you left,”  Patsy confided.  “I 
kept watching the comm channels, hoping I wouldn’t see your name on the 
lists of captured Maquis or -- on a crew list of a Maquis ship that 
had been destroyed.  And then, one day, I did -- but the report said 
that the ship was allegedly missing, not destroyed, and that the 
starship Voyager had been sent out on a search mission.  And when the 
Voyager was reported missing, too -- well, then I really became scared.  
You have no idea how relieved I was when Voyager suddenly turned up 
with you on it.”
     “At least there was one person who noticed I was gone.”  
     Patsy didn’t miss the faint trace of bitterness in her friend’s 
tone.  “Are you kidding?”  she retorted.  “When word got out that you 
had joined the Maquis, there were a lot of people who regretted 
treating you the way they did.  And -- “  She hesitated slightly, then 
pushed on.  “Your mother called me a few weeks after you left.”
     B’Elanna was so stunned that she nearly dropped her coffee cup.  
“My mother -- but how did she know to contact *you* -- ?”
     “I don’t know.   Maybe someone at Headquarters gave her my address 
or something.  But she wanted to know where you were.  She seemed 
really worried about you, B’Elanna.  I told her that you had joined the 
Maquis, and she looked really upset.”
     B’Elanna snorted derisively.  “She was probably mad that I didn’t 
come crawling back to her.”
     Patsy shook her head pensively.  “No, not like that.  She seemed 
genuinely frightened for your safety.  Maybe her feelings have changed, 
B’Elanna.”
     “You don’t know my mother, Patsy.  She is the most stubborn woman 
that has ever lived.  Once she forms an opinion about somebody or 
something, she doesn’t change it, no matter what.”
     “There’s a first time for everything.  I mean, you’re her only 
daughter, aren’t you?  And you two haven’t seen each other in, what, 
almost ten years?  Maybe she wants to reconcile.”
     “Why are you so certain, Patsy?”  B’Elanna asked, suddenly 
suspicious.  “If she wanted to reconcile, she’d have done so.  I’ve 
been back for months now.”
     Patsy stared into her coffee cup for a few moments before 
speaking.  “She called me again.  A few weeks ago.”
     “What?!”
     “She knew you were back, and she wanted to know if I knew where 
you were.  I didn’t, and I told her so.  I swear I did.  She knows 
you’re married, B’Elanna, and that you’re in Starfleet.  I think you 
should call her.”
     “No.  I absolutely refuse to have anything to do with -- “
     “And you’re calling *her* stubborn?”  Patsy interrupted.  “For 
God’s sake, B’Elanna, she’s your mother.  Maybe she said and did things 
that hurt you a long time ago, but that was then.  This is now.  She 
wants to reconcile, maybe even apologize.  Can’t you even give her that 
chance?”
     “You don’t know what she said to me.  There are some things that 
can’t be forgiven.”
     “My God, what did she do?  Murder your father?”  Patsy exclaimed 
in exasperation.  
     B’Elanna’s face went deathly pale, and Patsy was instantly 
remorseful.  She had always assumed that B’Elanna’s father had died, 
because B’Elanna had never spoken of him.  “I’m sorry.  That was 
tactless of me.”
     “She didn’t murder him,”  B’Elanna said, gripping the 
handle of her cup until her knuckles turned white.  “But she did push 
him away, inch by inch, day by day, until he couldn’t stand it anymore 
and he left, and I haven’t heard from him since.  I was only five years 
old, Patsy!  Do you have any idea what it’s like to be abandoned by 
your own *father* when you’re that young?  And it was all her fault!  
If she had been a better wife and mother, he would have stayed.  And 
maybe I wouldn’t have ended up a worthless Academy dropout.”
     “B’Elanna Torres, are you really this stupid or is it just an 
act?”  Patsy surprised her by demanding.  “You are not a 
‘worthless Academy dropout’.  You’re a professor of Engineering, and 
you’re going to be chief engineer on one of the best ships in the 
‘Fleet, not to mention that you’re married to a great guy.”
     “But -- “  B’Elanna tried to interrupt, but Patsy pushed ahead, 
determined to have her say.
      “You can’t blame all of your problems on your mother.  Okay, 
maybe she was a factor in the breakup of your parent’s marriage, but 
your father had something to do with it, too!  If he didn’t even *try* 
to make it work, he was a spineless jellyfish of a person.”
     “I -- “  B’Elanna tried again.
     “Just because your parents divorced doesn’t mean that you 
stopped being his daughter.  He could have kept in touch.  He could 
have called, or sent letters.  But he didn’t, and no matter how much 
you try you can’t blame that on your mother.”
     “She -- “  B’Elanna began to protest, but was once again cut off.
     “No, I don’t know what it’s like to be abandoned by your 
father at five years of age.  But I do know that you have a mother who 
made some mistakes, and now she wants to be forgiven, and if you don’t 
even try to meet her in the middle then you’re as spineless as your 
father was!”
     Inadvertently, Patsy had squarely nailed on the head one of 
B’Elanna’s secret terrors -- that she would someday become like the man 
who had abandoned her.  B’Elanna had loved her father, and still did in 
her own way, but she could not bear to think that she might become as 
weak as he had been.  “I am *nothing* like my father!”  B’Elanna 
shouted, slamming her empty coffee cup down on the table with such 
force that the thin metal crumpled under the pressure of her hand.  
     The two women stared at each other in almost tangible hostility as 
Cosmo, the bald, rotund owner of the coffee shop, rushed over.  “Is 
there a problem, ladies?”  he asked, eyeing the smashed cup with 
trepidation.
     “No.  There isn’t.  I’m sorry about the cup,”  B’Elanna said.  “I 
lost my temper.”
     “That’s all right; no harm done,”  Cosmo said, wiping sweat from 
his broad forehead, evidently relieved that she wasn’t about to 
disembowel him or demolish his shop.  
     “If you’ll excuse me,”  B’Elanna continued frostily, directing her 
gaze to Patsy, “I have a class to teach.  Good-bye, Dr. Mathews.  It 
was a pleasure seeing you again.”  She strode out of the shop before 
Patsy could even say a word.

*** **** *** 

     After her last class, B’Elanna took herself out of her classroom 
as fast as she could.  It had been all she could do not to take her 
pent-up anger and frustration out on her students, and now that she was 
done teaching for the day she could finally vent some steam.
     After changing into workout clothes, she entered one of the 
Academy’s holosuites.  “Computer, activate program Torres Omega Three.”  
     Immediately a dismal, humid marsh replaced the black and yellow 
grid, and a holographic bat’leth shimmered into place beside her.  
Picking up the Klingon weapon, she slowly circled the surrounding area, 
her body tense and waiting.
     When a Klingon warrior leaped out at her from behind the misty 
foliage, she plunged the bat’leth into his chest without a moment’s 
hesitation.  The image dissolved even as another appeared, and B’Elanna 
finished him with one swipe of her arm.  She kept up even as the 
monsters were coming at her six or seven at a time, battling her 
holographic opponents with an almost feral rage.
     As she fought, she tried not to think about Patsy’s words, but 
deep down in the most secret chamber of her Klingon heart she knew what 
her friend had said was true.  Her father’s abandonment of her wasn’t 
her mother’s fault, but the five-year-old B’Elanna that was still 
inside of her couldn’t understand why her daddy had left, and she 
needed someone to blame.  Having a palpable object to direct her fury 
towards made the hurt easier to bear.  It always had been that way, 
ever since her father had left.  
     What had frightened B’Elanna the most was Patsy’s claim that she 
was just like her father.  All of her life, B’Elanna had tried to be 
human, but at the same time wanting to reject everything about her that 
wasn’t Klingon, for fear that she would turn out to be like her father 
-- spineless, unable to fight to make his own marriage work.  What 
would happen, B’Elanna wondered, if someday she and Tom had a serious 
argument?  Would she walk away like her father had, and lose her 
husband forever?  She didn’t know how she’d survive without Tom.  He 
was everything to her.  
     The hysterical fear that rose in her throat at the hideous thought 
of losing Tom provoked her energy to new heights, and she fought even 
more savagely then before.  As long as she was fighting, she couldn’t 
feel anything, not hurt, not pain.  As long as she could fight, she 
could withstand whatever frightening emotions came her way.
     It was faintly ironic that the Klingon program that she’d been so 
reluctant to try with Tom so many years ago was now one of her favorite 
workouts.  The bat’leth teachings of her mother had slowly come back to 
her as she practiced, and now she was as skilled as most Klingon 
masters were.  *Not bad for someone who’s only half-Klingon,*  she 
thought in satisfaction as her blade slaughtered another bunch of 
warriors.  *Mother would be proud.*
     Bitterness seeped into her soul, and her hands tightened around 
the handle of the bat’leth.  *No, she wouldn’t,*  B’Elanna mentally 
corrected herself.  *Mother has never been proud of me, no matter what 
I did.*
     The anger inside of her boiled up again, and she attacked the 
approaching warriors with ferocious vigor, doing everything she could 
to smother the pain she felt.  
        But she wasn’t prepared when her program paused just as she was 
in mid-strike, or when a hand suddenly touched her shoulder.  B’Elanna 
whirled around, bat’leth in hand, and narrowly missed beheading her 
husband.
     “B’Elanna, thank God!  Do you have any idea what time it is?!”  
Tom Paris shouted, his face belying intense relief.
     His wife stared at him in evident confusion, her chest heaving as 
she attempted to catch her breath.  Wordlessly, she shook her head 
as his blue eyes drilled into hers.
     “It’s 1930.  You were supposed to be home over three hours ago.  
I’ve been worried sick!  I’ve had half the Academy looking for you!  
Why didn’t you call?”
     “Computer, end program,”  was all B’Elanna said as she brushed 
past him and out of the holosuite.  The black and yellow grid 
reappeared as Tom followed her out.
     “B’Elanna, is something the matter?”  he asked.  She 
was toweling off, looking absolutely exhausted, and no wonder.  She’d 
been exercising nonstop for three hours.  He had been amazed when he 
had arrived at the holosuite to find that she was at level nineteen.  
They had never gone farther then fourteen, and even that had been a 
challenge with the two of them fighting together. 
     “I lost track of the time.  But I’m fine,”  B’Elanna mumbled, 
grabbing the small tote bag she had brought with her and leaving the 
holosuite complex.
     “No, you’re not,”  Tom insisted, grabbing her arm and forcibly 
stopping her in her tracks.  “Something’s wrong.  You wouldn’t have 
been fighting so hard if everything was fine.”
     “Look, Tom, I’ve had a rough day.  All I want is a long, hot 
bubble bath, okay?”  Her voice cracked suddenly, and she had to bow her 
head to hide the tears that insisted on swarming in her eyes.
     But however hard she tried, she couldn’t hide her misery from her 
husband.  Tom knew her far to well, and though their discussion was far 
from over, he was willing to postpone it for a while.  “Okay,” he said, 
reaching down to gently clasp her hand.  “Let’s go home.”

*** **** *** 

     B’Elanna didn’t feel any better after her bath.  As she sat on the 
bed, toweling her hair dry, she wondered how her life could have gone 
from wonderful to miserable in so short a time.
     A large pair of hands suddenly began to massage her tense 
shoulders, patiently kneading out all of the kinks that had formed due 
to anxiety and her long workout.  As much as she hated to admit it, 
that lengthy holosuite session had drained her strength both physically 
and emotionally.  She wanted nothing more then to close her eyes and 
let her husband’s hands work their magic.
     And, as always, Tom managed to relax her strained muscles until 
she was limp against him, comfortably half-asleep.  Once he sensed her 
drowsiness, his hands slipped from her shoulders to encircle her waist 
and squeeze her soft body to his.  He lovingly nuzzled her neck, and 
she sighed in contentment.  It was so easy to forget her troubles when 
he held her like this.
     “So, do you want to tell me what made you so upset today?”  he 
whispered into her ear, and B’Elanna wondered with an inward groan why 
she had deluded herself into thinking that he’d forgotten about today’s 
events.
     She was weary of hiding the truth from him, though, and she couldn’t 
have concocted a good story even if she had wanted to, which she 
didn’t.  For once she just wanted to pour out her troubles to a 
sympathetic ear, and that’s exactly what she did.  
     Tom listened patiently as B’Elanna explained about her mother and 
their argument nine years ago, and about Patsy and the things they had 
argued about during lunch.  And as he listened he gained a new 
understanding of his wife.  She had never told him about her mother in 
detail before, only saying that they didn’t get along and refusing to 
say anything more then that.  But now, as she told him about their 
fight so many years ago, he realized that, in a way, B’Elanna’s mother 
was no different then *his* father.  
     Owen Paris had the same stubborn disposition, and he too had 
fought with his son a very long time ago.  Tom could still remember 
with faint bitterness the insults his father had hurled at him when he 
had been sentenced to prison.  It had taken him a long time to forgive 
those remarks.  The difference was, he had been willing to and had 
reconciled with father, while B’Elanna was refusing to even speak to 
her mother.
     “B’Elanna, honey,” he said gently, “I think Patsy was right.  I 
think you should call your mother.”
     He could feel her stiffen against him and try to pull away, but he 
held her tightly.  “Just listen to me,” he pleaded.  “Your situation is 
no different then mine was with my father.  And look what happened to 
us.  We’ve reconciled, and we’ve never been closer as we are now.”
     “Maybe so, but your father didn’t call you a dishonorable half-
breed,” she muttered.  
     “No, he didn’t, but he did call me a worthless idiot without a 
brain in my head.  I admit that it took me a long time to get over 
that.  But I realized that he said what he did in the heat of anger and 
he probably regretted it the second it came flying out of his mouth.  
And I was right.”
     “My mother meant what she said, Tom.  She said I had no honor and 
told me to get out of her house.  She said -- “  B’Elanna’s voice 
dwindled down to barely a whisper.  “She said I was a coward like my 
father.  I don’t want to *be* like my father, Tom!”
     “And you’re not,” he soothed.  “But have you ever considered that 
maybe the reason your father never came back was because he was too 
stubborn to apologize to your mother, and vice versa?  At least your 
mom is trying.  If you don’t at least attempt to talk with her, you’ll 
be no better then your father was.”
     Apparently B’Elanna hadn’t considered this.  She was quiet for a 
long while, and Tom knew she was thinking about what he had said.  He 
didn’t offer any more advice, but merely hugged her tightly.  What she 
needed most right now was for someone to hold her, to give her silent 
support.  In a way, it was flattering that she was so comfortable with 
him.  B’Elanna rarely opened up to someone unless she was absolutely 
certain she could trust them.  It was a surefire way of not getting 
hurt, and the gods knew she had enough people hurt her in her life.  
     “I just don’t know, Tom,”  B’Elanna said softly, breaking the 
silence.  “It’s been so long.  I don’t know if I can forgive her.”
     “You won’t know until you try.”
     “I don’t know if I can do that, either.”
     “Why don’t you wait few days,”  he urged.  “Give the matter some 
serious thought.  But I want you to know that whatever you decide, I’ll 
stand by you one hundred and forty-seven percent.”
     She twisted her body so she could look into his eyes.  He saw the 
faintest glimmer of a smile on her face.  “One hundred and forty-
seven?”
     Tom shrugged, his finger softly stroking her cheek.  “Hey, it’s a 
good number.”
     Her smile grew wider.  She slid her hand to the back of his neck 
and pulled his face down to meet hers.  “I love you,” she drowsily 
murmured against his lips.  “And I’m never going to stop.”
     “I love you, too,”  Tom replied tenderly.  “Look, why don’t you 
get some sleep.  We can talk about this in the morning, okay?”
     “Okay,” she whispered, her eyes already beginning to close.  
     Tom waited until he was certain that she was asleep, then gently 
laid her sleeping body against the soft mattress of their bed, covered 
her with a light blanket, and tiptoed out of the room, dimming the 
lights as he went.  B’Elanna was more tired then she had realized.  
Emotional strain tended to exhaust a person, half-Klingon or otherwise, 
and a strenuous three-hour workout on the holodeck hadn’t helped 
matters any. 
     Tom slowly sat down in front of his computer terminal, wondering 
if he should act on the nagging impulse that was lingering in the back 
of his mind.  B’Elanna would be furious with him if she knew, but...it 
was ultimately for the best.  From what B’Elanna had told him, Maiah 
Torres was honestly trying to reach her daughter in hopes of a 
reconciliation.  But did he have the right to intervene?
     *Yes,* he decided.  *I do.*  
     After all, B’Elanna had been the one who had encouraged him to 
reconcile with his own father.  He hadn’t wanted to have anything to do 
with him when Voyager had returned to the Alpha Quadrant, even when he 
learned that Owen Paris was at DS9, where Voyager had docked after its 
return.
     B’Elanna had convinced him otherwise, however.  She’d told him 
that life was too short to keep on hating his father for things that 
happened years ago.  As a result, he had decided to at least meet with 
his father.  And, miracle of miracles, Owen Paris had actually *wept* 
with joy upon their meeting.  Tom had never seen his father cry before, 
and it had impressed him deeply.
     And now B’Elanna was faced with the same exact situation.  But 
why, Tom puzzled, couldn’t she follow her own advice?  Perhaps she saw 
things differently now that it was *her* family.  If so, then it was 
his responsibility to help her the same way she had helped him.
     His decision made, Tom entered a few commands into the terminal 
and wrote a short, courteous message to the woman who was his mother-
in-law, inviting her to their home.  Luckily, he remembered the House 
B’Elanna had said her mother -- and she herself -- belonged to on the 
Klingon Homeworld, the House of Jonta’oS.  And that’s where he sent it, 
in care of Maiah Torres.  He was fairly confident that it would reach 
her.
     *There,* he thought.  *It’s done.  Now to wait and see what 
happens.*

                 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
                 NOW:  TWO WEEKS LATER
                 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

     It was a blithe, laughing B’Elanna Torres who ran light-footedly 
through the small apartment to answer the chiming of the doorbell.  Her 
good mood was due to the fact that she and Tom had just received word 
that Voyager would be fully operational and ready to go in just over 
four months -- exactly four days before their second wedding 
anniversary.  
     The two were ecstatic that they’d be able to celebrate it on 
Voyager among all of their friends.  Their first wedding anniversary 
had come about a month after Voyager’s return home.  They’d had a quiet 
dinner together, then had met a few friends for a drink, but the 
joyousness of the occasion had been marred by the fact that all of 
their friends were scattered around the galaxy and were unable to be 
there to celebrate with them.
     B’Elanna could hardly believe her good fortune.  Life had become 
bearable again these last two weeks.  Tom had seemed to forget all 
about her promise to think about contacting her mother, and she was 
thankful.  She *had* given the matter a lot of thought, but her two 
sides were still warring with themselves.  She simply could not decide.  
     She missed her mother.  She always had.  B’Elanna had not stopped 
loving her mother just because of their argument, but Maiah Torres’s 
words of long ago had hurt her deeply.  Insults like that were not easy 
to forgive, especially when they had come from the mouth of your own 
mother.
     A long, long time ago, shortly after her father had left, Maiah 
had come into her small daughter’s bedroom late one night, supposing 
she was asleep.  B’Elanna had been awake, however, and had listened in 
quiet amazement as her mother had stroked her hair and murmured words 
of pity and love.  Such an act of tenderness was unheard of in her 
mother, yet it had happened.  She was certain it had not been a dream.  
It was for that reason and that reason alone that B’Elanna yearned to 
see her mother again, to discover if the love her mother had shown that 
night was still there.
     But the stubborn half of her soul was hell-bent on holding the 
long grudge.  After all, her mother had called her a dishonorable half-
breed, among other words.  Those cruel words had plunged into her 
sensitive soul just as if her mother had used a knife, and the wound 
refused to heal, even after all this time. She hadn’t seen or talked to 
her mother in almost ten years, not since she was a young, naive 
eighteen-year-old girl.
     She was older now, and a great deal less naive, but the old hurts 
still rankled in her heart.  B’Elanna didn’t know if she could forgive 
her mother for causing them.
     It wasn’t time to think about that now, however.  It was a time 
for celebration.  But first, she had to answer the chiming of the 
doorbell.
     She was smiling when she keyed open the door, but the moment after 
she opened the door her smile immediately faded as she realized just 
who was there.
     Standing in the doorway was a tall Klingon woman with graying 
locks of flame-red hair rippling over her shoulders.  The expression on 
her finely etched, aristocratic features was of nervousness -- and even 
a little bit of fear.  B’Elanna knew that face as well as she knew her 
own.
     “B’Elanna?  Who’s here?”  Tom Paris asked, coming up behind her.  
His blue eyes widened as he caught sight of their visitor.   Tom was 
fully able to put two and two together, and he immediately grasped the 
identity of the Klingon woman.  “Oh.”  
     The Klingon woman’s eyes moved from B’Elanna’s face to his Tom’s.  
“You’re -- Tom Paris?”  she said.  Her voice, not unlike B’Elanna’s 
own, was smooth and rich but held the tiniest hint of apprehension.
     “Yeah, that’s me,”  Tom said, trying to smile reassuringly.  It 
was difficult with B’Elanna looking like she was about to faint at any 
moment.  He placed a supporting hand on her shoulder as he said,  “And 
you’re Maiah?”
     The women he had guessed to be Maiah Torres nodded, her ebony eyes 
moving back to B’Elanna, scrutinizing every detail of her daughter’s 
still ashen face.  She spoke again, still gazing at B’Elanna, but 
directing her comment to Tom.  “I received your message.”
     B’Elanna came to life, whirling around on her heel to face her 
husband.  “Message?” she cried.  “What message?”
     “I sent your mother a communiqué a couple of weeks ago, after our 
discussion,”  Tom replied.   “I invited her to come for a visit.”
     She looked stricken, as though he had just slapped her across the 
face.  “You what?”  she whispered, her mouth dropping open in shock.  
“How -- oh, Tom, how *could* you?”  
     “Your mother has been trying to find you, and I helped her,”  Tom 
said, barely even flinching at her accusatory tone.  “I thought it was 
about time you two reconciled.”
     “You thought!  What gives *you* the right to -- to interfere?”
     Tom’s cerulean blue eyes looked squarely into her dark brown ones.  
“I’m only trying to help, B’Elanna.”
     “I can’t believe you betrayed me like this -- and to *her*,”  she 
whispered.  With a choked sob of anguish, she fled from the entryway.
     “B’Elanna!  Wait!”  Tom called after her, but it was no use.  She 
had ran into the bedroom, violently slamming the door behind her.
     He turned to Maiah, an apology on his lips, but she held up her 
hand, stopping the words from leaving his mouth.  “I see she still has 
a temper.”
     “Yeah,” he agreed ruefully.  “She certainly does.”
     “One of her inheritances from me, I’m afraid.”  Maiah actually 
looked guilty, as though she were completely to blame for her 
daughter’s explosive temperament.
     “I have a bit of a temper myself,”  Tom told her with a half-
hearted smile.  “I have to, living with B’Elanna.  Um, do you need a 
place to stay?  We don’t have a spare bedroom, but -- “
     “I have a room at the San Francisco Hilton,”  Maiah assured him.  
“I didn’t think B’Elanna would...appreciate...my presence here.”
     “I should have told her you were coming,”  Tom confided guiltily, 
“but I thought it would be a nice surprise.  I didn’t think she’d act 
quite like this.”
     Maiah began a reply, but before she could say a word, a blood-
curdling scream sounded from the bedroom.  Tom’s heart skipped a beat 
and he dashed to the bedroom, nearly tearing the door down in his haste 
to get to B’Elanna.  Maiah was right at his heels as he entered the 
sleeping area.
     B’Elanna was kneeling on the floor of the bedroom, clutching her 
stomach with her face twisted into a horrible grimace of pain.  “Tom,” 
she whimpered as he all but threw himself down next to her, and nearly 
screamed himself as he realized she was crouching in a pool of crimson 
blood.  “It hurts...oh, God...it started...suddenly...I can’t...”  She 
screamed again as another wave of pain crashed over her.
     “You’ll be okay, B’Elanna,”  Tom soothed with a terrified glance 
to Maiah, who was already starting for the console to call for help.  
“Don’t worry...everything will be all right.”


                 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
                  NOW:  SIX HOURS LATER
                 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

     But everything wasn’t all right.
     Tom had gotten B’Elanna to Starfleet Medical as quickly as he 
could, and had waited anxiously with Maiah for hours before a doctor, 
grave and serious, had come to give them the sad news.
     B’Elanna had suffered a miscarriage.
     Tom was completely shocked.  He hadn’t even known B’Elanna was 
pregnant -- and, the doctor believed, neither had she.
     “The baby was only a month old,”  Doctor Kherson, the doctor in 
charge of B’Elanna’s case, said solemnly.  He was a kind, elderly 
Betazoid man, and it troubled him to have to give such devastating news 
to such a devoted young husband.  It was the worst part of being both a 
telepath and a doctor -- having to deal with the palpable emotional 
pain of your patients and their families when a tragedy occurred.  And 
this tall young man and the older Klingon woman were projecting 
sadness, shock, and grief so tangible that it was all the doctor could 
do to shield his mind from it.  
     “Your wife had no idea what was happening,”  he continued.  “I 
doubt she knew or even suspected she was pregnant.  I can’t say I’m 
surprised -- many Klingon women don’t show symptoms until after the 
second month.”
     Maiah Torres, who was as pale as a Klingon could be, nodded in 
agreement.  “When I was carrying B’Elanna, I didn’t have symptoms until 
my third month.”  She was strangely calm under the circumstances but, 
the doctor realized, being Klingon it was easier for her to hide her 
true emotions.  He could sense the real heartache she was feeling.
     “But, Doctor, what caused this?”  Tom asked, a terrible wave of 
guilt washing over him.  Had *he* brought this about with his meddling?  
B’Elanna had been so upset when Maiah had arrived that morning, and he 
had been the one to invite her.  Was this whole thing his fault?  
Maiah’s expression indicated that she was thinking much the same thing.  
“She was -- very upset -- this morning.  Could that be why...?”
     Doctor Kherson shook his head.  “The most common cause of 
miscarriages -- in sixty percent of all cases, in fact -- is 
abnormality in development of the fetus, usually as a result of extra 
chromosomes.  That was most likely the case with your wife.  We’re 
still running tests, however.”  He managed a reassuring smile.  “Don’t 
worry, Mr. Paris.  No one was to blame for this.  It was just one of 
those things.”
     “Can I see her?”  Tom said. He was slightly relieved that he 
hadn’t caused B’Elanna to lose the baby, but that relief was quickly 
replaced by an almost overwhelming wave of sorrow.  He hadn’t even 
known he was going to become a father -- but the grief he felt was as 
acute as if he had known.
     “Yes, but she’s sedated.  She’s lost a lot of blood and I want her 
to lie still for a while.  She’s on the second floor, room two twenty-
seven.”
     Tom nodded his thanks and started down the corridor towards the 
turbolift, with Maiah following him.  Doctor Kherson watched them go, 
shaking his head sadly.  He felt dreadfully sorry for them, but there 
was nothing anyone could have done.  Besides, Mrs. Paris was young and 
strong, and in time she’d fully recover and be able to have dozens of 
children.  
     But that didn’t make the sorrow of now any easier to bear -- for 
any of them.

*** **** *** 

     When B’Elanna awoke from her drugged sleep the next morning, the 
first then she saw was sunlight streaming through the windows of her 
hospital room.  For an instant she was disoriented, but then the 
memories of the preceding night washed over her and she closed her 
eyes, wishing she could sleep forever.  She couldn’t feel this mind-
numbing sensation of pain and loss when she was asleep.
     She hadn’t known she was pregnant -- she hadn’t suspected a thing.  
There had been no symptoms whatsoever; she had felt absolutely nothing 
out of the ordinary.  In a way, B’Elanna was grateful that she hadn’t 
known.  The heartache would have been worse if she had. 
     But that still didn’t help alleviate the grief she was feeling 
*now*.  The baby -- *her* baby -- was gone.  The poor little thing had 
barely started to live when its tiny little life had been cruelly 
snuffed out by forces of nature unbeknownst to even the best of the 
best of Starfleet doctors.
     Doctor Kherson had been very kind.  He had explained that the 
miscarriage wasn’t her fault, nor anybody else’s, and that these things 
just  happened sometimes.  His sympathetic rationalizations hadn’t made 
the pain any easier to bear, though, nor would anything else.  B’Elanna 
had never given much thought to parenthood before -- she and Tom had 
never discussed it -- but B’Elanna knew that, at this very moment, she 
would gladly give up anything and everything she had if only her little 
baby could live.
     There was a horrible empty, aching feeling in her abdomen, and she 
felt exhausted and weak despite her long sleep.  Her lips were dry and 
parched, and she wished longingly for a glass of cool water to soothe 
her dry throat.
     “B’Elanna?”  a quiet  voice suddenly asked.
     She nearly jumped out of her skin, for she hadn’t realized there 
was anyone else in the room.  She turned towards the voice and received 
a second shock -- it was her mother.
     “How do you feel?”  Maiah Torres asked, her concern apparently 
sincere.
     B’Elanna spoke before she thought.  “What are *you* doing here?”  
As soon as the words had escaped her lips, she regretted them.  To her, 
the question sounded unbearably rude, and if memory served her, Maiah 
Torres could and would not tolerate rudeness.  The last thing B’Elanna 
wanted to face right now was her mother’s formidable anger.
     To her surprise, however, Maiah barely blinked an eye.  “I sent 
Thomas back to the apartment to get some rest.  He sat up with you all 
night and he was exhausted -- even though he wouldn’t admit it.  He’s a 
stubborn one, I’ll say that for him.”
     “Thomas?”  B’Elanna repeated.  No one but Tom’s parents called him 
by his full name -- and Tom himself disliked it.
     “As you already know, I don’t particularly care for nicknames.  
‘Thomas’ suits him, anyway.”  
     Was it her imagination, B’Elanna wondered, or was there just the 
faintest glimmer of amusement in her mother’s eyes?  She must be seeing 
things -- maybe she was still groggy from the sedative.  “How long have 
you been here?”  was B’Elanna’s next question.
     “Since you were brought in yesterday, of course.  Where do you 
think I’d be?”  Maiah asked indignantly.
     “Oh, I don’t know -- maybe the same place you’ve been for the last 
nine years,”  B’Elanna answered bitterly, turning her head away.  She 
didn’t want any pretend sympathies from her mother -- the same woman 
who had kicked her eighteen-year-old daughter out of her house just for 
trying to realize a dream.  Hopefully, if she made her mother angry 
enough, she’d leave.
     But Maiah didn’t become angry.  “You were over sixty thousand 
light-years away for five of those years, you know,”  she pointed out.  
“I couldn’t have contacted you even if I’d wanted to.”
     The truth of this statement made B’Elanna feel ashamed of herself, 
but the next moment she was furious at her own mortification.  “You 
didn’t want to, I’m sure,” she retorted icily.
     “Your grandfather died.”  
     B’Elanna’s head jerked sharply around and she stared at her 
mother, confused as to what this matter-of-fact mention of her 
grandfather’s death -- the grandfather she had never known, much less 
met -- had to do with the current conversation.
     “He died shortly after you left for the Academy,”  Maiah 
continued.  “As eldest daughter of the House of Jonta’oS, I had to 
travel to the Klingon homeworld and take over supervision of his 
affairs.  I tried contacting you, but red tape and stubborn Klingon 
officials made it almost impossible – you know how touchy relations 
were between Klingons and Earth back then, not to mention that 
complications arose with your grandfather’s estate that took up most of 
my spare time.  When I finally managed to contact the Academy, it was 
almost a year later and you had already joined the Maquis.”  Maiah 
paused, then added in a quiet, almost inaudible voice, “I did miss 
you.”
     B’Elanna tried not to show how much this unexpected admission 
astonished her.  “Yeah, right,” she said skeptically.  “You called me a 
dishonorable half-breed, a coward with no honor, and you told me to get 
out of your house.  I’m sure you were positively miserable once I was 
gone.”
     Maiah looked pained at these words.  “At the time, I was angry.”
     “Angry?  You were furious!”
     “All right, I was furious,”  Maiah conceded.  “And I stayed that 
way for a few days after you left.  But after a little while my anger 
died down and I regretted every single word I had said to you.”  She 
paused, absently toying with a strand of her long red hair.  “I didn’t 
try contacting you because I was afraid you’d refuse to speak with me.”
     “*You* were *afraid*?”  B’Elanna exclaimed before she could catch 
herself.  The entire concept was so ludicrous -- as far as she knew, 
her mother had *never* been afraid of anything.
     “Even more so after I spoke with a young lady who knew you, 
Patricia Brooker -- she’s Patricia Mathews now, I believe -- and she 
told me what had happened to your ship in the Badlands.” 
     “I know.  I saw her a few weeks ago.  We -- had an argument about 
you.”
     “About me?”  
     “She thought I should contact you.  I didn’t agree.”
     “Was that why you were so angry with Thomas yesterday?”
     “Yes!  Mother, he *betrayed* me.  He interfered -- “  
B’Elanna suddenly cut herself off, dismayed at the words she was 
hearing from herself.  “ -- just like I interfered when Tom and 
his father reconciled.  He was trying to help, like he said, and 
I -- I treated him horribly.”  B’Elanna buried her face in her 
hands.  “And now this happened -- he probably hates me.”
     “B’Elanna Torres!”  Maiah spoke sharply.  “You are *not* to blame 
for this, do you understand me?  You heard the doctor said.  As for 
Thomas, if he hated you, would he have spent the night by your side, 
refusing to leave until I all but threw him out the door so he wouldn’t 
pass out from sheer exhaustion?  No, he wouldn’t have!  Kahless’ bones, 
child, don’t be a fool!”  
     “What right do you have to tell me how to act and how to feel?  
You have no idea what it feels like to -- to -- “  She choked over her 
words and bowed her head to hide her suddenly tear-filled eyes.
     “Oh, haven’t I?”  her mother said, a forgotten anguish springing 
into her dark Klingon eyes.  “Before you were born, I was pregnant with 
a baby boy.  When I was five months along, I had a miscarriage.  The 
human doctors told me that I’d never be able to carry a half-human 
child to term, but two years later you came along, despite their 
prognosis.  My marriage to your father may have been a mistake, but you 
weren’t and I have never regretted your birth; never!”  Maiah broke off 
suddenly, having revealed more then she had intended to.
     Two pairs of identical dark Klingon eyes stared into each other, 
and both women realized that the pain of losing a child was firmly 
etched into their respective souls.  The shared sorrow only served to 
strengthen the occasionally wavering but permanently intact bond that 
had always joined their hearts together, despite both of their refusals 
to openly acknowledge it.  That bond had always been there and would 
always be there, no matter what happened or how far apart they were 
separated -- and at that very moment, both of them recognized that bond 
as one that would last forever, albeit their attempts to forget it over 
the years.  Now, however, wasn’t a time for forgetting.  It was a time 
for forgiveness.
     “Do you remember,” B’Elanna said in a voice very near to a 
whisper, “when you came into my room, late at night, a few weeks after 
Daddy left?”
     Maiah gazed at her daughter with wide, surprised eyes.  “You were 
awake?”  
     She nodded.  “You stroked my hair -- and you called me your ‘poor, 
sweet little one’.”
     “I thought you were asleep,”  Maiah admitted, something like guilt 
creeping into her voice.  “I didn’t know you could hear me.”
     “I’m glad I did,”  B’Elanna said simply.  “Mother, I’m sorry.  
About  -- about the baby you lost...and everything else.”
     “I should be the one apologizing,”  Maiah said gently.  “I 
shouldn’t have said and acted the way I did when you were accepted to 
the Academy.  Will you forgive me?”
     “Only if you’ll forgive me, too.”
     Mother smiled at daughter, and both reached simultaneously to 
grasp the other’s hand.
     Tom Paris chose to enter the room at this juncture.  He stopped 
dead in his tracks at the sight of Maiah smiling and holding his wife’s 
hand.  For a moment he backed up as though he’d entered the wrong room.  
He had been afraid that if he left the two of them alone for very long, 
conscious or otherwise, one of them would eventually maim or kill the 
other -- hence his early return to the hospital.
     “Thomas,”  Maiah said, releasing B’Elanna’s hand and glaring at 
Tom with her sternest expression, “I thought you were going to get some 
sleep.”
     “I did,” he said, cringing visibly at the look she gave him.
       “Four hours?” 
     Tom said, with a helpless gesture towards his wife, “I -- I didn’t 
want to leave B’Elanna alone.”
     “You were afraid that we’d kill each other, you mean,”  Maiah said 
coolly.  “Well, you shouldn’t have worried, Thomas.  B’Elanna and I are 
two civilized adults and I think we’re capable of acting maturely.”
     Klingon though she was, Maiah had to stifle a wild burst of 
laughter at the bewildered expression on her son-in-law’s face.  
B’Elanna’s face showed no hint of the amusement that her mother was 
having trouble containing, but Maiah knew that it would be a long while 
before B’Elanna laughed or smiled again.
     “It’s okay, Tom,”  B’Elanna said suddenly, lifting her eyes to 
meet her husband’s.  “Really.  It’s okay.”
     Tom swiftly crossed the small room and reached for her hand, 
taking it in his own.  B’Elanna clung to it as though it were a 
lifeline.  His other hand went to her cheek and caressed it tenderly, 
his thumb running lightly over her jawbone.
     “I -- I think I will return to my hotel room and get some sleep,”  
Maiah said quickly, rising from her chair and backing towards the 
doorway.  Her daughter and son-in-law needed to be alone right now, and 
she wasn’t about to stick around and, as humans phrased it, “play 
gooseberry”.  
     “I’ll see you later, Maiah,”  Tom said, keeping his eyes fixed on 
B’Elanna’s face.
     “Good-bye, Mother,”  B’Elanna said absently, resting her face 
against Tom’s strong hand. 
     The minute Maiah was gone, Tom’s arms moved to encircle B’Elanna 
and hold her firmly against his body.  B’Elanna buried her face into 
the comforting warmth of his chest, allowing a few small tears to 
escape the corners of her eyes.  “Oh, Tom,” she choked, grateful that 
what her mother had said was true -- he didn’t blame her for what had 
happened.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”
     “Shhh,” he murmured, gently stroking her red-brown hair.  “It’s 
not your fault, sweetheart.  I’m just glad you’re all right.  When I 
saw all of that blood -- “  He broke off, hugging her tightly as though 
he were afraid that she would slip away from him at any moment.
     They sat and held each other for a long while, neither of them 
breaking the stillness with words, but instead speaking in the silent 
language of lovers -- a language that no one but themselves could hear 
or understand.
     “Tom,”  B’Elanna said suddenly, her voice muffled against the 
fabric of his shirt, “you were right.  About Mother and I.  For once in 
our lives, I think we’re friends.  Just now, she was so sympathetic and 
understanding -- oh, Tom, she was so *motherly*!  You were right about 
everything.  I’m sorry I was angry with you.  I should’ve listened.”
     “Well, now we’re even,”  Tom consoled her.  “You reunited me with 
my father and I reunited you with your mother.”  The sudden irony of 
the entire situation caused him to chuckle slightly.  “We’re not 
exactly storybook families, are we?”
     “No, I guess not,”  B’Elanna admitted, snuggling deeper into his 
arms.  “But everything’s going to be all right now, I think.”
     “I don’t think,”  Tom told her, placing a tender kiss on her cheek 
and resting his chin on the top of her head.  “I know.”

               *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
                       EPILOGUE:  FOUR MONTHS LATER
               *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
          
     “So,”  Maiah Torres asked through the commlink that connected 
herself, on the Klingon homeworld, to her daughter on Earth, “Voyager 
leaves in two weeks?”
     “Right,”  B’Elanna Paris answered, obvious excitement filling her 
voice.  “She’s been completely overhauled and restored to mint 
condition, and she’s ready to go.”
     “‘She’?”  Maiah teased lightly.  “You still speak of that ship as 
if it’s a real  person.  Thomas does it quite often, or so I’ve 
noticed.”
     B’Elanna grinned.  “So does everyone else.  Voyager was our home 
for five years, and I guess we became attached to her.  Mother, if you 
could see her, you’d begin to feel the same way.  She’s not just a 
ship, she’s a -- a presence.  She has a soul.”
     “A ship?  With a soul?  Dap, puqbe’!”
     B’Elanna shook her head and chuckled.  “Oh, Mother.”  While a few 
years ago her mother’s obstinate opinions might have irritated her, now 
she actually found them amusing.
     “Have the rest of your friends arrived on Earth yet?”  Maiah said.
     “Neelix was the last to arrive, and he came yesterday,”  B’Elanna 
said, smiling at the memory.  “We had dinner together last night.  None 
of them have changed except for Seven of -- excuse me, Annika Hansen -- 
and I barely recognized her!   actually learned how to smile, believe 
it or not.  But Captain Janeway, Chakotay, Harry, Neelix, the doctor -- 
all of them are the same as ever -- and I’m glad.  I wouldn’t want any 
of them to change.”
     “Did they know about....what happened?  I mean, about the baby?”  
Maiah said, her tone gentle.
     After a brief pause, B’Elanna answered, “Yes.”  A tiny, almost 
undetectable sliver of pain was hidden in her calm voice.  Although it 
had been four months since her miscarriage, both mother and daughter 
knew that that particular wound would never completely heal.  “Tom saw 
Harry a few weeks after I got out of the hospital, and told him what 
happened.  Harry told the others.”  In truth, B’Elanna was glad her 
friends knew.  It made conversation a lot less awkward.  
     “That’s good.”  Maiah understood how she felt.  “Have you received 
official orders from Starfleet yet?”
     “Yesterday, actually.  I have to admit, it was strange seeing 
‘Lieutenant B’Elanna Paris’ after answering to ‘Professor Paris’ for 
all of these months.”
     “My daughter, the teacher,”  Maiah said, smiling in amusement.  “I 
still wonder how you had the patience for it.”
     “Academy students are surprisingly well-behaved...unless they’re 
like I was,”  B’Elanna said, her eyes dancing.  “Luckily, I know how to 
handle those particular ‘problem children’.”
     “Oh, B’Elanna, you were never a problem child.  A bit 
temperamental, perhaps, but never a problem child.”
     “Tell that to my elementary school principal.”
     The two women shared a moment of laughter.  “Well, I suppose I’d 
better let you go,”  Maiah said, a bit reluctantly.  “I’m sure you have 
much to do before you leave.”
     “Oh, I do -- wait a moment, I almost forgot why I called you in 
the first place!”  B’Elanna exclaimed.  “I have some good news for you.  
Guess what it is.”
     “B’Elanna, I detest guessing games.”
     “Oh, come on, Mother.  Humor me for once.  Please?”
     “Oh, all right.”  Maiah paused and thought for a moment.  “You’re 
coming to visit Qo’noS?”
     “No, guess again.”
     “Thomas was promoted to Commander?”
     “Nope.”
     “*You* were promoted to Commander?”
     “Not that, either.”
     “Well, B’Elanna, tell me!”  Maiah said impatiently.  “I give up.  
What is it?”
     B’Elanna’s eyes sparkled as she gazed at her mother through the 
screen of the console, aware of the distance that separated them but 
suddenly feeling very close to her.  “Maiah Torres...you’re going to be 
a grandmother!”

                         THE END
     ==============================================