B'ELANNA, B'ELANNA Veronica Jane Williams xkhoi@iafrica.com DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of Paramount. I have borrowed them for a while for the purpose of writing this story. I feel gratified that they are now slightly more three dimensional. That is, to me. This story is not really a 'take ' on the episode 'FACES' , nor is it really a 'filling in the gaps' kind of retelling. The events as they occurred in that episode, however, have a significant bearing on the plot development of my story in which I have explored the duality of B'Elanna's character. Or tried to, at least. Rating: G Music I played ad nauseam during the writing and editing of this story: Beethoven's Symphony No. 9. Naturally B'ELANNA, B'ELANNA : PART ONE B'Elanna Torres drew in her breath sharply and backed against the wall of the cell as the guard approached from the terminal and advanced on them. He appeared ungainly, layers upon layers of skin were grafted on his face, in an orderless sort of way. He had no hair on his head. One eye was white, there was no pupil, and it stood out and away from the other eye. What nose there was consisted of two holes, suggesting a pair of nostrils. The lips were distended and drawn away from and exposing some rotten teeth. His appearance was altogether grotesque, ugly. He looked speculatively at each of them. She experienced such an abnormal distress that her heart started poun- ding; she felt a relentless buzzing in her head, her ears. Her breathing came in sharp gasps, accompanied by a strange wheezing sound. She felt the bile rising in her and tried to compensate by taking in short-short gasps of air to quell the nausea, making her breathing even more painful. The guard fixed his gaze on one of them, saying the prefect wants to discuss his request. Tom rose from where he was sitting with her, to face the guard. No... Tom... please...he'll kill you... came her silent plea. She felt a sharp pain in her chest, the wheezing intense, gasping for air. The room started to turn, and take on a surrealistic appearance, the scene before her blurring like random, hazy strokes on a canvass. Only Tom and the guard stood mockingly clear. The rest were merely ghostly figurants in a bizarre tragedy. "I'm the senior officer here. He should speak with me." B'Elanna's eyes, black with fear, darted like a trapped fawn as she saw Tom's face in the light overhead. His eyes challenged the guard, and he raised his hands to beat him off, causing the guard to draw his phaser. Tom...please, he'll kill you... She tried to scream, but it came out as a hoarse gasp. The guard held his phaser against Tom's throat. She could see the two sharp points denting the skin there. As Tom's hands came up again, the guard lunged and stabbed. There was a sickening crunch of bone, then a horrible gurgling sound from Tom as he sank slowly to the floor. A pool of blood formed instantly around him, a thick trickle moving slowly towards her... B'Elanna looked in shock at the scene before her, her breathing now so erratic and laboured, the horror of what happened to her earlier now evident on her face. From deep inside her a sound rose. Then she screamed. "No -!! Tom...!! No - !!!" * "B'Elanna , B'Elanna...wake up, sweetheart. You're dreaming. It's only a dream." Tom shook her gently awake, lifting her to a sitting position, but he was seriously alarmed at her breathing. She was fighting for air, and he could hear a wheezing in her chest. He held her against him, his hand on her hair. "Shhh... it's all right... take it easy now," he whispered to her. But she was clearly in acute stress. "Come on...breathe slowly...slowly.. Feel my breathing, sweetheart," he coaxed her as he pressed her against his chest. "Breathe with me, B'Elanna. Easy now...shhh..." He slowed his own breathing down, heaving his chest rhythmically as he did so, so that her breathing became synchronised with his own. Very slowly, painfully, she started breathing normally again. My God, Tom thought with shock. She looked like she passed out. Her head fell back limply against his arm, her mouth slightly open. Her eyes were closed, but he could see the tears seeping through. He stroked her cheek, then slapped her gently. "Wake up, B'Elanna... please." Very slowly she opened her eyes. She looked around her, slightly dis- oriented, with a look of such abject fear on her already very pale face, Tom cringed when he saw it. She felt the strong and comforting arms around her. Long moments she looked at Tom. Then, in a strangely reassuring and appealing gesture, she touched the ridges on her fore- head with trembling fingers. She raised her hands to touch him, her fingers going over every contour of his face. With a deep sob she buried her face against him, his arms going fiercely around her. He stroked her hair, closing his eyes as he felt the sting of unshed tears. Tom Paris rocked his wife gently as she sobbed quietly. It stopped at long last, a deep shudder overtaking her slender frame from time to time. It was the same nightmare. B'Elanna would hyperventilate when his life is threatened. He would wake the instant he would hear her wheezing and gasping for air. Only this time she fainted. Like she did when the guard stuck that damned phaser almost into his jugular. He had seen her terrified out of her mind, cowering against the wall. His own fear at the way he was manhandled suppressed because he was worried about her. That was when he backed down, his concern for her so great that he rushed to her and grabbed her hands which she had balled so tightly, it was impossible to prise them open. So he just held her like that for what seemed like eternity, until she reached a modicum of calmness. Even now he could feel that anger at the way B'Elanna had been tor- tured by the Vidians. There was no other way to express their treat- ment of her, however noble the motivation. In appearance she looked human, her Klingon DNA extracted. He had seen B'Elanna stripped of every defense she had ever built around her. In a literal sense, the entire scientific procedure - theft, he was more inclined to think - robbed her of her confidence, her courage, her fighting spirit. She was depleted of her strength, was unsure of herself, tearful. He had been witness to this. If they were merely colleagues before trapped on a starship in alien space, that experience in the Vidian facility entrenched their friendship. She had opened up to him, told him of her fears, her angers, her disappointments, her childhood, her mother, her father. Things she told him not open to viewing by anyone, not even Chakotay, her mentor. He had been privy - with hindsight he was glad it was him - to the most traumatic experience any person could endure. At the time he wondered why she entrusted him with such personal aspects from her life. He eased her gently back against the pillows. Her apathy worried him. He had questioned her only once, the first time, soon after they were married. Even then she had been disinclined to talk. Sighing, he got up and walked to the replicator. A few minutes later he returned, glass in hand. He slipped his arm under her and lifted her to rest against him. "Drink." "What is it?" she asked as she pulled her nose slightly. He smiled grimly. She asked the same question every time. "Milk. I laced it with some brandy. You'll feel better soon." He placed the glass on the nightstand when she finished. She had calmed down sufficiently now, but he was still a little shaken. He held her shoulders, so that she had to look at him. His piercing blue eyes were clouded with deep concern. "B'Elanna, I'm here. I'm alive, remember? We've been through this before, sweetheart. Here, feel my heart." Placing his hand over hers, pressed it against his heart so that she could feel the thudding. She looked at him and nodded. He held her close for a few more minutes, then drew the cover over her. Sliding under the covers, he held her close against him, her face in his neck where she could feel a pulsing. He stroked her hair until he could hear her breathing deepening into sleep. Only then Tom Paris closed his eyes. ***** B'Elanna was still sleeping when Tom prepared to leave for his duty shift at 0600. She would only be going on duty at 0830 and he set their chronometer to wake her at 0730. He looked at her sleeping form, her slumber now so normal as if nothing happened last night. But it was to him a cause for very great concern. This was the first time she actually passed out. What if he weren't there to help her through her bouts of breathlessness? The EMH had drilled enough anatomy into him during his shifts in sick bay, and he knew enough about respiratory care to know that B'Elanna could quite possibly have died. B'Elanna's problem - and consequently theirs - was rapidly reaching the stage where even his own limited expertise was not enough. It was at times like these that he almost cursed the fact that Voyager had no trained counsellor on board. They needed help, he acknowledged to himself at last. Expert help. And where would they find it? It was perhaps fortuitous that he was with her last night, one of the few nights that they spent together, something which in the nature of their journey through hazardous and alien space was a luxury. He has to find a solution soon, albeit a short term one, he admits grimly. Something that would at least help them when he's not with her at night. Sighing, he bent down to kiss her. Straightening up again, he knew that the away mission, a two day excursion in which he, Harry and Seven had gone planetside via shuttle, had gotten to her. Their return yesterday, a routine trip was hampered by a severe plasma storm which seemed to have surrounded the planet,and they had a few terror-filled moments before returning to Voyager. B'Elanna had been the first to greet them: "Tom," she exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're back." She rushed towards them, hastily acknowledging Harry and Seven's presence. She tried to mask her distress, but he had seen it, although the other two didn't. He put his arm around her, and held her hand against his heart, his own covering hers. The other two missed this interplay, and probably dismissed it as just a wife coming to welcome her husband back. She would be embarrassed afterwards. Think it silly and childish to worry when her husband goes on an away mission. Before this day is out, however, he will have to come up with something which could help her. Tom Paris left his quarters a deeply worried man. ***** B'Elanna Paris woke from a deep slumber. She sat up slowly, feeling a slight pain in her chest. Tom had already left for his duty shift. She looked at the nightstand and saw the glass with milk residue. She fell back against the pillows, her hand covering her eyes. God. The nightmare. Again. Tom. Tom! He was here, with her, last night. She finds it difficult to recall the events. For a fleeting moment she experiences that panic again. But he was here. Dear, dear Tom, on whose strength and comfor- ting presence she has come to rely so much. As a sane and rational being she knew that he couldn't have died; but her terror was so acute, it extended beyond her dream, blocking out all logic and rationale. All she can see, - and oh, how she has tried - all she can see, is the guard sticking the phaser in Tom's throat, his horrible gurgling and the blood. The blood, trickling towards her. She becomes hysterical with fear. Yet in that swirling mass of bizarre images, where she cannot move and is petrified with fear, she heard Tom's voice, coaxing her back to the brink of reality. All because of what the Vidians had done to her. I need to get past that point in the dream, she thought as she hit her palms in desperation against her head. "Come on... dammit! I must remember and not be afraid. Then I can remember the other things, the other things..." she told herself. Feeling the tears of frustration burning in her eyes, she recalled the day they had gone to that planet. What should have been a routine mission to investigate dilithium on the planet before the geological teams were sent down, turned into a mission of hell. To think she didn't want Tom along on that mission. He was too cocky, too self-assured and smart-mouthed. Hell, she didn't even like him to begin with. She remembers their conversation on the transporter pad just before she, Tom and Durst beamed down. "Paris, I don't know why the Captain sent you along on this mission. Durst and I could have completed the survey by ourselves. Right, Durst?" she barked at him. She gave him a fierce look as if challenging him to say otherwise. "The good Captain thought me to be indispensible to this mission. Besides, I'm here to look after you," Tom said, completely deadpan. She bristled. "Why, you're such an overbearing pig!" she sneered at him. "Don;t forget 'arrogant'," Durst whispered in her hear. "An arrogant, overbearing..." Before she could say anything, they felt the familiar shimmer of the transporter beam, and the next moment they were in the tunnels. "...pig!" Durst thought it prudent to be on B'Elanna's good side, although he sensed the underlying humour in her comments. So he played along. Perhaps if they stopped their childish bickering and concentrated on their work, the ambush could have been avoided. But those were 'ifs'. There was no point in analysing the 'ifs'. It happened and that was that. They rounded the next corner into the next tunnel and before they could draw their weapons, they were phasered into oblivion. The next thing she knew she was bundled unceremoniously into a cell, feeling so excessively weak and groggy, with nausea threatening to overcome her. And scared. She saw Tom lying on a bunk, in an exhausted sleep. She woke him. He looked at her, intently. "B'Elanna?" "Yeah, it's me." "B'Elanna, what have they *done* to you?" Those words of Tom she would always hold dear. Because she felt another person would have told her she should be glad she's human now. That she looks better. Why should she complain. But not Tom. Tom, rebel, mercernary, traitor, drunk. Even she didn't have a good opinion of him. Tom looked outraged at the Vidian's treatment of her. He sensed, even before she did, that she was incomplete. That the Klingon half of her formed an integral part of her character. If she sifted through all Tom's jibes and digs at her, he had never, ever even vaguely alluded to her as strange, the fact that she was sometimes referred to as a half-breed. It was one of Toms rarest compliments he ever gave her, saying one day that he found her unique. That the two parts of her made for a damned great personality. She looked at Tom. She imagined she saw behind his eyes, as it were, the compassion, but mostly, the understanding. As if he acknowledged that she was tortured first. Before noticing other things. That day she had a peek into the real Tom. His heart. The hidden strengths that no one, not even the Captain, knew was there. This was not merely a man who had screwed up and did heroic things to redeem himself. The crew saw that Tom, and to them, that was enough. This was no silly, puerile man who was funny and sardonic all the time. No. For a few seconds an aperture in Tom's heart opened and she saw the kindness there. The generosity. The willingness to share. The Tom he hid so successfully from everyone. This was a Tom who could never knowingly hurt anyone, who had regrets and showed remorse. In a blinding flash of insight she knew that in the same way he would conceal his past transgressions behind a mask of shallow wise-cracks shrugged off carelessly, he would protect her confidence, and keep it close to his heart. He was a good listener, a rare trait. She found she could tell him about her life, her parents, everything. It became so easy to talk to him... to confide in him. That was why she experienced such extreme traumatic stress in her nightmare. The fear that they killed him, just as she was beginning to like him, to value him as a friend and confidant. Even then, perhaps in her subconscious, she was afraid of losing him... At 0815 when she left for duty, she was still feeling a little tired from the night's trauma. Tonight she would apologise to Tom. For keeping him awake. EINDE; PART ONE. B'ELANNA, B'ELANNA : PART TWO At 1400 the following day B'Elanna Paris traced her steps to sickbay. Tom had arranged they both see the doctor, to discuss their particular problem. They were having dinner last night in their quarters, a rare event, when he brought it up. She had been angry at Tom, thinking he was insensitive in letting others suspect their travails. "B'Elanna," Tom said as he took a sip of his favourite Chardonnay, "I have arranged for us to see the Doctor tomorrow at 1400. You have a few hours off. I've checked. I have a four hour shift in sickbay anyway." B'Elanna almost choked on her food. "You've done what?" "We're seeing the Doctor tomorrow," he said resolutely. "Tom, that doctor didn't spare my feelings when he wanted me to help Denara Pel. He wanted a piece of my brain as if I had no say in the matter." She was resentful, could feel the anger rising in her. Tom could be so intractible at times. "B'Elanna, if I remember correctly, you did acquiesce after Denara spoke so nicely to you. See? I know you have a kind heart." "Okay. Fine. What does he want to see us about?" As if she didn't have an idea. "B'Elanna," Tom continued, "do you have any recollection of your nightmare last night?" "Nothing much," she admitted. "Sweetheart, for a few seconds you were unconscious. It scared me. I'm afraid what could happen if you have the nightmare again, and I'm not there to help you through it. There, I've said it." He looked at her, his blue eyes serious, imploring her to understand his concern. She was immediately contrite. Tom and the Doctor, she knew, were trying their best to help. She wasn't being fair to the medic. He really was the best doctor, albeit a surly one with an appalling lack of bedside manners. They continued their meal in silence, the ambience of their evening ruined. For Tom, she could see, was unhappy. She wondered though, what they had come up with. She did feel comforted however, in the knowledge that she did not have to bear this burden alone. That Tom and the Doctor were there to share it with her. **** As she entered sickbay, she was greeted with: "Ah, Lieutenant, you're here. Can it be because your other half is standing over there," and he nodded to where Tom was busy at the console in his office, "or can it be you are here to be helped?" She decided to ignore the Doctor's attempt at humour. Tom walked to her and kissed her soundly. "Thanks for coming, B'Elanna." The Doctor cleared his holographic throat and began his discourse. "Lieutenant Torres, your husband came to me yesterday and explained your dilemma. Believe me when I say I'm sympathetic - and he smiled, lifting an eyebrow saying this - to the particular problem you have." "We have come up with a solution - a short term one, I might add - that would help set your husband's mind at rest when he's on duty and you're not." The Doctor smirked. "Your husband is a very worried man, you know." He was rewarded with a dirty look from B'Elanna, who was growing impatient by the minute. "We have devised a small transmitter," and only now Tom opened his palm and showed her the tiny device, "which will record your breathing. Please don't think he means to track your every move with it. It's a twentieth centure concept to our twenty fourth centure dilemma. I believe parents placed a similar device in the babies' bedrooms to monitor their breathing." Then Tom continued. "You attach the device - it has magmetic impul- ses - behind your ear when you go to bed. Good old Harry tweaked my commbadge so that I alone can have an open communication to you, and I can hear your breathing all the time you sleep. Should you hyperventilate again, I will be able to hear you from wherever I am on duty. I already have the Captain's permission to beam directly to our quarters, or we beam directly to sickbay." During this time B'Elanna's agitation grew. She also appeared scepti- cal, and felt treated like a child. She was none too happy. "Okay Tom. Doctor. If that is all." "B'Elanna," Tom pleaded, "this thing could save your life. Humour me, please." She saw Tom's concern, the entreaty in his blue eyes, and felt a little guilty. "I'm sorry, Tom." She had the grace to look ashamed. She made to leave, when the Doctor touched her shoulder and cleared his throat. "Er... Lieutenant," he said, "there's something else you need to tell your husband, don't you think?" Tom was immediately alerted at the way B'Elanna's body stiffened at the Doctor's words. He felt he was being left in the dark about some- thing of critical importance. Placing his finger under her chin: "B'Elanna?" B'Elanna shrugged. "It's - it's nothing important Tom," she whispered as her eyelashes fluttered nervously. "B'Elanna, two nights ago you had a nightmare that scared the hell out of me. If it has any bearing on that, I'd damned well say it is important." His hold on her was not aggressive, but it was firm, knowing how B'Elanna could bolt if she chose to avoid confrontation. She looked first at the Doctor, who nodded reassuringly, then at Tom. "You know when we transported from that planet to Voyager, that the - the other B'Elanna died on the transporter pad." Tom nodded. "You also know that her body was transported to sickbay and that her Klingon genetic material was reintegrated with mine." Tom nodded again, wondering where this was leading to. "What you don't know, was that there was still some brain activity. I don't know how that was possible, but it was. Doctor transferred her memory engrams into my brain." She was talking softly, almost absently. "At my request." She paused a long time, then added: "however, I have no recollection of those memories, unless...unless..." She looked away from him, not wanting to see his expression. Tom looked at her intently, almost sensing what her next words were going to be. "Unless what, B'Elanna?" "Unless I can be certain you didn't die, Tom." The Doctor looked askew at her and Tom rasped in exasperation. He held her shoulders and had the sudden inclination to shake her hard. "B'Elanna, how many times must I convince you it didn't happen?" It was as though his question was the catalyst to the floodgates opening as B'Elanna went into a tirade: "Fine! Then tell that to the B'Elanna of my nighmares! The one that had her Klingon DNA - and therefore half her personality removed. The one who was human, who was weak and so... so puny!" B'Elanna's hysteria was rising, she was starting to gasp for air, they could hear the wheezing. Tom had already seen the Doctor preparing a hypospray. "Yes, tell that to her! To her! She's the one who was a coward, who couldn't even help you!" She beat her fists against Tom's chest. "She couldn't even help you," her words punctuated as she beat against him. She was hyperventilating again. Tom nodded to the Doctor, who pressed the hypospray against her neck. She went limp in his arms. He placed her on the bed. "I'm sorry sweetheart. I know how you hate to be sedated." He looked at the Doctor, the anguish clear in his eyes. "Lieutenant Paris, no doubt you are aware of doctor/patient confidentiality. I honestly thought that she had informed you about this, especially after you were married. If I had perhaps known of her nightmares and breathlessness sooner, it would have been possible to have worked through this problem earlier." The Doctor looked thoughtfully at Tom. "As it is, I thought her request at the time made sense to me. There are things that the Klingon B'Elanna experienced in that organ processing facility that your B'Elanna had no awareness of. And she wanted to have those events - however traumatic they were - become part of her own memories, experiences and consciousness. She did tell you that the two of them have met down there, in those tunnels, didn't she?" Tom nodded. B'Elanna - his B'Elanna, that is - has always spoken so nonchalantly, in an off-hand manner of that meeting, as if it didn't deserve a discourse in dualities or alter egos or whatever. As if she felt ashamed of that human B'Elanna. Yet he felt intrinsically that that Klingon B'Elanna held the key to his B'Elanna becoming complete again. When she thought he didn't notice, she would get a vacant look some- times. Or she would be in their greatroom on the holodeck. He never bothered her when she was there, respecting her need to be alone sometimes. He wondered what she would be doing there. Probably to ponder over the fiery Klingon. Or the human. "Doc, just tell me what to do. I'll do anything." "Well, for one, she must get to see that nightmare in its proper perspective. When you told me the point in the dream she starts to hyperventilate, I thought she should be made to relive that part of the event in the sequence in which it happened. It might be extremely traumatic, but it is our best option. If she can get past that point in the dream in which she sees you killed, the other memories will be triggered. You must remember Mr Paris, her feelings for you now, are far more intense than it had been then, therefore it is almost logical to assume that these nightmares intensified when your relationship developed into love." "When the other memories surface, the problem will be how to reconcile three different B'Elannas. Or not so different," he added reflectively. Tom thought how he had tried to get B'Elanna to remember, to get past that point in her dream. Everytime she became so agitated, he gave up, not wanting to see her fighting for air again. He had not met that other B'Elanna, but he felt she lay at the heart of the matter. "And if it doesn't work, Doc? What then?" Tom queried. "Well, I can induce a mild state of hypnosis and perform an adapted autonomic response analysis, much in the same way as I deal with other ARA's. Although here it may or may not work. I'm not sure which of the methods will be the lesser of the two evils, although I think keeping her sedated could be less painful. I'm not a psychologist or counsellor but I have studied the database for such information in case I had reason to apply it in any of my cases." He had been scanning B'Elanna while he talked to Tom. Then he added: "Lieutenant, her fear of you dying is fast becomnig an obsession. No doubt a counsellor would have been able to help there. She should really take a step back and see your life and your work in particular in perspective. You are after all, Starfleet officers, who have been trained to understand the risks involved in your work." B'Elanna meanwhile woke up. "You two been talking over the patient's head?" she quipped. Tom gave a sigh of relief. She sounded calm now. He helped her off the bed and hugged her tightly, the Doctor piping in to break up the tender little interlude: "Lieutenant, you have a few hours left. I suggest you use it to rest up." Back in their quarters B'Elanna turned into Tom's embrace, burying her face in the reassuring hardness of his chest. "I love you, Tom. Too much." "B'Elanna, honey. Remember what I told you that day down there in those tunnels? That fear can be a good thing. It keeps us from taking unnecessary chances? I know you are worried when I take out a shuttle or go on away missions. But so am I. I am just as concerned when you go on away missions. It works both ways, you know. But we have to place it in its proper perpective. You should have told me about those memory engrams, you know." "I thought since I couldn't remember anyway, there wasn't anything that necessitated my telling you. I'm sorry, Tom." "No need." He held her away from him, cupping the sides of her head with his hands, "it's now very clear how important it is, sweetheart, because," and he shook her head gently as he said so, "there are two persons in there you have to make your peace with." "Yeah, I know, Tom," she sighed, "I know..." EINDE: PART TWO B'ELANNA, B'ELANNA : PART THREE The first night B'Elanna Paris used the transmitter, Tom was on duty at the conn. He was able to work his station while listening to her breathing. He found it immensely reassuring to hear her breathing so deeply and even. They were still trying for another baby after B'Elanna miscarried the first time, and he thought the transmitter an ideal device to use in such an eventuality. Thinking of her objections earlier this evening, he had to smile. "Tom," she complained, "do I really have to wear this thing? I feel like such a baby." She was still trying to maneuver her way out of using it, although not with the severity of that day in the sickbay. She batted her eyelids, smiled sweetly in mock innocence and advanced on him. "Please, do I have to?" "Now there's mendacity for you. How un-B'Elanna like. Shame on you. Come here, you witch." "Witch," he murmured again as he drew her close and kissed her softly first, then deepening as she opened her mouth to him. He felt desire stirring instantly as she pressed into him, her thin satin nightie the only barrier between him and heaven. He marvelled again how his body can go up in flames at the touch of her. "My baby," he muttered again as he very reluctantly broke off the kiss. "Don't worry, as soon as I get back, I'll remove the transmitter," he promised. He was as good as his word when he returned at 0400. She was sleeping soundly. After all her demurring, the device didn't prove the physical irritation he thought it might be. He removed it gently and placed it on the nightstand. She stirred slightly when he joined her a few minutes later, curling behind her and cupping her breast with his hand. "Tom?" she mumbled sleepily. "Hmmm...?" "When all this is over, remind me to kill you." "Yes, ma'am," he muttered against her hair, before he drifted off to sleep. ***** The transmitter was a godsend, Tom thought weeks later. It pleased him no end to listen to his wife's breathing while she slept. His peace of mind greatly restored, he could work and rest, assured that she was okay. On only two occasions so far he could hear her starting to wheeze and gasp. He was able to wake her, talk to her quietly, from where he was at the conn, and managed to get her breathing under control again. It afforded her especially a sense of security, knowing he would be on hand instantly if she became troubled again. During this time Voyager was flying through what the crew came to call dead space. No stars. Just a vast expanse of black - a nothingness; all almost eerie. The crew suffered, so to speak. They broke out in a bad rash of cabin fever, and frayed tempers. The Captain thought this a good a time as any to effect some long overdue all over maintainance and repairs, and run diagnostics on every single system of Voyager. Nothing like work, work and work, to keep their minds off their boredom, she crowed to Chakotay, her first officer. So it became a normal sight to see Tom, Hamilton and Baytart take out the shuttles for test runs and complete shuttle maneuvers, cavorting against the dark skies like kids and engaging in intricate patterns. Pilots! The captain thought. They are real exhibitionists. The holodecks were the preferred source of entertainment and physical activity. Tom, Harry and B'Elanna - sometimes Seven would join them - utilised every opportunity to be in the holodecks. They would engage in Tom's often madcap, risky stunts, mostly watersports. B'Elanna sometimes thought that Tom's affinity and dexterity for piloting extended to all other physical activity. Like so many natural sports- persons who could excel at any sport if they just attempted it. He seemed for instance a natural climber, abseiling as if it were the most normal thing to do, with the highest degree of difficulty. She often joked about it and asked if he had his own mountain back home. So, with the "why-do-you-climb-the-mountain?-Because-it's-there" approach to life came the injuries. The good Doctor threw many a crew- man out of sickbay, saying they should suffer a little longer with their sprained wrists and ankles and appreciate the pain for a change. He was getting mightily fed up, because all he did was regenerate, regenerate. He longed for more challenging cases, instead of removing bunions. He was getting jaded, as medical interfaces can be said to become. After all, didn't old Zimmerman on Jupiter Station program him with such an impressive array of medical knowledge? He almost wished in a diabolical way that some crewmember would give him a reason to test his medical expertise. That opportunity presented itself a few nights later. An unconscious B'Elanna Paris, in the arms of her distraught husband, was beamed into sickbay. "I'm sorry, Doc. I tried," Tom said, a stricken look on his face as he looked on the limp form of his wife on the biobed. He could kick himself. He had taken a dive earlier on the holodeck, climbing the Eiger of all things, with the safety protocols off. He was out cold for a few seconds, but B'Elanna had screamed her head off, thinking the worst. He looked again at her lying there. Her eyes were closed, but he could see the tears seeping through her lids and coursing warmly down her cheeks. "Tom?" she whimpered, softly. "I'm right here, sweetheart," he said, rubbing her hand gently. "I'm scared, Tom. Don't leave me." "I'm not going, B'Elanna," he said as he looked at the Doctor and nodded. "Doctor is going to sedate you..." "No...no...please..." she sobbed. "Shhh....it's going to be okay, my love. Just relax. You'll be fine soon," he comforted her, as the Doctor applied the hypospray, and she sagged back again. Tom felt his eyes misting over, looking at the Doctor, a silent entreaty clear in his eyes. "Lieutenant," the Doctor started, "now is the opportunity to put our second option in action. I will induce a mild hypnotic state. She'll be comfortable. I'll question her, you can help by monitoring her responses there. That way we can monitor her as the Klingon B'Elanna, the human B'Elanna and as your B'Elanna. Remember, if she stops breathing altogether, I'll have to resuscitate her; then we'll have to repeat the procedure at another time." My God, Tom thought despairingly. What are we doing to her? She was already so seriously traumatised when he tried to get her to remember. If she can get successfully past that point in her nightmare, and relive it in its proper sequence, it could trigger and open, like Pandora's box, a host of other traumas too terrible to conceive. Memories she has religiously guarded and repressed for years, which could surface. Already just the idea that he was killed in her night- mare, so distressed her, it invaded her sleep and made her life miserable. If we succeed, she will have another mountain - he smiled grimly at the metaphor - to climb. He already had his thoughts about that. But right now, even though he felt like crying, as Doctor's relief medic, he could not afford himself that luxury. For her sake he had to be strong. For her sake he wanted her to come through this. When B'Elanna was prepped - the Doctor induced a mild hypnotic state, and had set up the ARA-scan. A cortical stimulator was secured on her. Tom looked at her and almost told the Doctor to stop everything. That what they were doing, was as much an experiment as the Vidians' treatment of her. But the Doctor looked at Tom. "Ready?" Tom nodded numbly. The Doctor paused, seeing Tom's concern, then added: "And Lieutenant, I'll do my best." ***** "Very well. Lieutenant Torres, when you beamed down to the planet's tunnels, what were the first things you did or said?" B'Elanna spoke. "I called Tom an arrogant pig. He wouldn't leave me alone. We kept arguing. He's such a pain. I didn't even like him. Too cocky and smart-mouthed. He said he was there to look after me." Tom smiled at the 'arrogant pig' B'Elanna called him. He and B'Elanna never did start off on a good footing. "What did you do next, Lieutenant Torres?' "We kept bickering. I - we...didn't concentrate. Then the Vidians attacked us. I - I don't remember what happened after that." "What was the next thing you were aware of, B'Elanna? B'Elanna, do you know who you are?" "Yes. B'Elanna Torres. I am human. My Klingon DNA was extracted. The guard, he - he pushed me into a cell. He was vey rough with me. I felt weak and sick in my stomach." Her voice was soft, thready, the way Tom remembered her in the cell. B'Elanna focused in the darkness and saw Tom lying on one of the bunks. She wanted to wake him. She felt a little afraid. She was scared he might not recognise her. "B'Elanna?" Tom looked at her. "Yeah, it's me," she said, afraid of what he might say. "B'Elanna, what have they done to you?" She saw Tom look and sound angry at what the Vidians had done to her. She thought he would be angry with her. He didn't sneer, like she expected, or laugh at her. She was glad of that. And relieved. She saw only kindness in his eyes when he listened to her. There was an understanding there. In that moment he wasn't funny or smirking; she felt she could talk to him; so she told him everything. About her childhood. How she felt she didn't look human enough. How she was used to being called a half-breed. And when she cried, she just let the tears run down her face. Tom blanched at this designation B'Elanna was giving to herself. It had taken him long to encourage her, to build her self-esteem. It made him angry, a silent fury simmering, that even now, the Vidians tortured her. The Doctor spoke again. "What was the next thing you were aware of, B'Elanna?" The guard had returned some time later and was looking at Tom. She was afraid. She began gasping for air. "Tom..." Tom could see she was becoming agitated. Beads of sweat formed on her brow. "Doc, I don't think we should continue," he said. "Don't worry, Mr Paris. We'll get her through this. Now, B'Elanna, what did Tom say? What did you see?" She was quiet a long time. B'Elanna looked at Tom where he was standing under the light. No...PLease...don't, Tom...he'll kill you... She started gasping for air, feeling the nausea, her hands shaking. "Tom, he said - he said he's the senior officer. Then the guard took his phaser and stuck it in Tom's..." B'Elanna let out a heartrending scream. "Tom - !!" Tom cringed, closed his eyes at her terrible agony. "Who spoke next, B'Elanna?" the Doctor persisted. "Doc, for God's sake. Please stop. She's suffering. Can't you see that?" Tom was stricken, his eyes dark with pain. B'Elanna was beginning to hyperventilate. Doctor administered another sedative. "Who spoke or moved next, B'Elanna?" the Doctor continued relentlessly. "Doc, it's enough. It's enough. Please stop. Stop!" Tom was almost beside himself now, willing her to wake up. "Wake up, B'Elanna... please..." he whispered, unable to bear her distress. "Mr Paris, calm down. You're not helping her," the Doctor barked at him. "Who spoke or moved next, B'Elanna?" the Doctor prodded again. "Tom...Tom..." "No, B'Elanna, I didn't speak," Tom whispered, his blue eyes swimming in tears. "I didn't speak." He was sitting now on a stool next to the bed, his head resting on his arms, overwrought. "Look carefully at the scene, B'Elanna. Tell me what you see," the Doctor coaxed. B'Elanna looked at the scene before her. Tom was standing in front of the guard. The guard had his phaser at Tom's throat. She was afraid. It hurt her to breathe. She couldn't move. She must look. She must. Someone, somewhere she heard a voice, maybe the Doctor's, that told her to look. But it was painful to do so. She tried, felt a pain in her chest. She felt her eyes rivited to the two men standing there. Then, mercifully, for a few seconds, the fog lifted, the blurred images of the canvass became clear, and the whole scene became alive with movement. She looked at Tom, then saw something move behind him. Why had she never seen him before in her nightmares? The man got up and she saw him clearly, for the first time. He stood a little away from Tom. "Durst." There was a triumphant gleam in the Doctor's eyes as he and Tom realised they had made a breakthrough. The Doctor was already considering writing a paper on this... Tom felt a tremendous surge of relief as B'Elanna at last reached that point in her dream that she could see the third person who was always there with them. Durst, just before he died... "What happened next, B'Elanna?" Tom now asked, encouraged that she could remember Durst now, and not see him dead. She was sobbing quietly now, but it came in stammering gasps: "Durst, he - he t-told T-Tom ... he told Tom they're t-the ones with t-the guns. Tom, he...he looked at me - he looked at me. He raised his hands. His hands. T-Tom backed down. He - he backed down. He came to me and held my hands. I was afraid. He told me he'll look after me. He - he said that's what he promised me." Tom felt the unreasonable fury again, remembering that scene where he held a trembling B'Elanna in his arms. He was so concerned, seeing how she cowered against the wall, even thinking for a second that he himself meant to do her harm. That was the extent of her terror and suffering. All this time she spoke in the soft, breathy voice he remembered from the tunnels. Now she spoke in the voice he knew so well, his B'Elanna. "Sometimes fear can be a good thing. It keeps us from taking unnecessary chances. Tom, he wanted to protect us - me. He was afraid. For me. I am so sorry about Durst." But before the Doctor and Tom could rejoice that B'Elanna at last could see her dream in perspective, something else happened. B'Elanna tugged her arms and legs as if they were tied to the bed, and she wanted to break free of the restraints. Her ridges became more pronounced, her lips curled away from her teeth. Even under sedation her eyes opened and they saw the black fury in them. Her voice changed to a lower register. That voice. Tom would remember that voice to his dying day. It was uncannily familiar. For how many Klingons hadn't he heard speak in those same strident short barks, the clipped tones, the guttural utterances? "WHO...ARE...YOU...!" Tom and the Doctor looked at each other in shocked surprise, then exclaimed together: "KLINGON!" ***** She was lying on a strange diagnostic bed, her arms and legs held in in restraints. She felt excessively strange, as if she was disembodied. Something was wrong, very wrong, she thought. Something was missing. Sulan appeared, he apologised for keeping her in restraints. P'taQ! she thought. You should be glad I'm tied up here like some animal. I'll kill you! She realised with a start that her memories and consciousness was still intact. Therefore, she remembered something else. Something very important. "Paris. Durst. What have you done with them!" "WHAT ...HAVE...YOU...DONE...WITH...ME...!" "I...LOOK...LIKE...A...KLINGON...!" My name is B'Elanna Torres. I must remind myself of that. I am Chief Engineer of the Federation Starship Voyager. My Captain is Kathryn Janeway and Chakotay is the First Officer. I know who I am. Something is wrong. I must not panic. This is not me. I shouldn't look like this. She raised her head and growled fiercely at him. "You have reconstructed my...genome...?" Sulan smiled through layers of grafted flesh, he sounded proud when he spoke to her. Mad, too. He developed a procedure to stimulate cell division. Called enhanced mitosis. Her Klingon genetic material was extracted. It was converted from matter to energy by their genetron. She, B'Elanna Torres, was now a purified Klingon specimen, like an animal in a laboratory. That was what she was used for. An experiment. Baring her teeth, B'Elanna growled at Sulan in helpless fury, her eyes black as pitch. Tom experienced a blind anger as he realised the extent to which B'Elanna had been tortured. Because what he and the Doctor were witnessing now, is what no one on Voyager knew. This trauma, this torture - how can it be anything else? - she was enduring, and which she had repressed for years so deeply, was surfacing now. Everyone on board Voyager, in particular the senior crew just assumed that when her Klingon DNA was reintegrated, that she was recovered. She was fine, nothing wrong with her. That what happened on that planet, could be put down as just another bad experience. And no one, God help him, no one counselled this woman, his wife, whose hell she endured was so great, she hid it, even from him. Only, it turned her sleeping hours into a nightmare. He felt the tears scalding his cheeks. B'Elanna spoke again. "WHY...HAVE...DONE...THIS...TO...ME...!" "You say I am resistant to the Phage. How...will...you...know...that!" Sulan told her that he had infected her with the disease. She felt like like a laboratory animal, infected with diseases to test their resilience, their resistance. B'Elanna howled her fury then. "P'taQ!" she spewed a string of Klingon invectives at him. She raised her shoulders and head as far as she could from the table, her wild mane of hair flying around her and screamed at him. Sulan told her the first symptoms of the disease was the pain. Many Vidians died of the pain alone. She sank back against the headrest. Already she could feel the blinding pain through her whole body. Her blood felt as though it were on fire. She thought of Neelix, and how he had suffered. And also, unbidden came the thought of those Vidians who had died of the disease, of Denara Pel, and how she suffered. So she grit her teeth, sweat breaking out on her face. She thought that the pain, so intense, would have killed a human. But she endured the pain, not screaming, biting her lips to prevent her from doing so. She told him it would take more than an infection to kill her. She was, after all, a Klingon. The Doctor and Tom, listening to her relating this, each reacted in a different way. The Doctor, knowing they were on the right track with the procedure and treatment, was now almost regretting not having examined the dying Klingon woman in greater detail. He thought of Denara Pel, how he could have been of greater help to her. Tom thought she could not have been more ignobly treated, being infected with a disease deliberately. Even now, as he looked at her, he could see the sweat breaking out on her face, could see her biting on her lips as she tries not to give in to the pain. He felt anew the sting of tears. He heard how she spoke with such pride at being Klingon. In a sense, he was now learning more of that Klingon B'Elanna, through his wife's memories. His wife had always put her Klingon nature down, blaming everything that went wrong with her, on that part of her personality. Now she sounded so proud. Yet, even as the Klingon B'Elanna spoke, he could sense in her the great empathy when she spoke of the Vidians' pain. His heart gave a lurch of joy as he realised all of his B'Elanna was there, in her. B'Elanna spoke, her words flowing now almost unceasingly. At times he felt intense anger, then hurt, so many different emotions. She spoke at last of their first encounter, in Sulan's lab, when she fainted as she saw her other half, as it were. Neither one of them knew that the other had existed. * Sulan admired her. He was impressed by her Klingon beauty, her strength. He sounded even half in love with her. "Klingons find honour in battle." "That's my girl," the Doctor noted. "Klingon women are known for their voracious sexual appetites." "That's *my* girl," Tom noted. * Sulan was ashamed of his grotesque appearance, saying he wanted to look better, so that she could come to like him. She felt a strange foreboding as he said this. She tried to tug at the restraints again. She was tugging so insistently, just waiting for the right moment to break free. She could feel the clamps starting to give. Then Sulan appeared again. "Look, B'Elanna," Sulan said, almost reverently touching his face. She looked and almost died. For there, grafted in his face, was the face of Durst. Tom and the Doctor looked at each other in shock. "Durst! You have killed him!" She howled this time, long and hard. Through her fury, through the pain of the disease, one thought blocked out everything else. Even momentarily forgetting the horror of the way Durst died. Great Kahless! She thought with anguish. What happened to Paris then? Tom, I must find him. I must find him. I must find him before... "TOM --!!!" It was a wailing sound that came from B'Elanna Paris. Tom noticed her voice was normal again. He nodded to the Doctor, who at last brought her gently out of her hypnotic state. B'Elanna woke, drenched in sweat, to find the Doctor looking at her with a sympathetic regard. Then she turned to Tom, who found it difficult to keep the tears at bay. A single sob escaped her. "Tom, you're here. You're alive." Then the tears came. She raised hrself to a sitting position. Tom folded her protectively in his arms. He stroked her hair, her ridged brow, used his thumb to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. "Tom," she whispered, "I remember. I remember everything." He wanted to take her directly to their quarters, but she looked at him. "Tom, that B'Elanna, the Klingon, she was magnificent. And proud. With great courage. She saved my life. And - and she was worried about you." The Doctor, having scanned B'Elanna one last time, now cleared his throat: "Lieutenant, the procedure has been successful. You should take your wife now to your quarters. She has been through a rough time. She needs rest." The Doctor continued with his work, his studied disregard of Tom and B'Elanna not going unnoticed. Tom thought he looked worried about something. "Doc, is something the matter? You don't look too happy." "Nothing that should worry you now, lieutenant. Your wife is fine now. I - I was thinking of Denara Pel. The Doctor paused. "I wish I could... I wish...Oh never mind." But Tom understood. "Doc, you have done the best you could for her in the circumstances. She left here a happy person. Surely you must know that." The Doctor nodded in affirmation. He just needed someone to tell him he did the right thing at the time for her. Tom meanwhile noticed B'Elanna's head drooping against his shoulder. She was indeed extremely fatigued. "Come, B'Elanna. Let's go home," he whispered close to her ear. In their quarters she turned into his embrace. He could see how tired she was. There were circles under her eyes. He held her a little away from him. He kissed her softly on her lips. "Tom," she whispered, looking at him, "it's over now, isn't it?" He nodded. Then he tucked her into bed. How strange that her ordeal tonight started right here, three hours ago. He fetched a warm cloth and wiped her sweat-drenched face. The look she gave him was one of such trust, he felt his heart contract. He crawled into bed next to her. In a now familiar gesture, he spooned her body to his, his arm going around her, cupping her breast. In the coming days she would no doubt tell him in greater detail. Things he knew would be meant only for him to hear. EINDE; PART THREE B'ELANNA, B'ELANNA : PART FOUR B'Elanna stepped onto the holodeck. She looked around her. It was a recreation of the caverns and tunnels of the planet where the Vidians had captured them. She shivered slightly, her heart giving a sudden lurch; she must remember it's only a recreation. Yet it all looked eerily real to her. To her left, just inside the entrance of the holodeck, was a large, flat rock. There, folded neatly, appeared to be a pile of garments. On top of this pile was a PADD. Picking up the PADD she read: "B'Elanna, this is a full Klingon warrior combat costume. You may wear it, if you want to. Remember what I said. If you want to stop, just end the program. But I know you'll look just great in it. - Tom" How like Tom to throw in a line like that, she mused. How did he know I wouldn't deny such an innocent if not altogether arrogant request? How well he knows me. But the Doctor, however, was right. I must really take a step back sometimes. See things in perspective. She picked up the attire, and remembered seeing her mother dressed like this, and those holovids she had seen of other women warriors - Lursa, B'Etor, Kor'ena.... How magnificent they appeared, she admitted grudgingly, almost larger than life. Tom had briefed her about it a week ago. "B'Elanna, sweetheart, do you remember what I said to you about six weeks ago? About making peace with two persons?" Tom looked expectantly at her, yet she could see his blue eyes held a look of apprehension. They were having dinner again in their quarters, the last time seemed like forever they were together like this. Her appetite had returned to normal, and she was enjoying her meal. At least in this, all her responses, her culinary tastes were human, something she did not regret at all. She'd rather eat Neelix's leola root raw, than eat gagh. "Yes, you did. I've told you everything I remembered about what happened on that planet, Tom." She smiled a little wistfully, looking down on her plate. "Although I...I... would have... liked... to... " She slowed, stopping to look at him, then a thought striking her: "Tom - ! You didn't!" she exclaimed. "Yes, I did," came his answer, a gleam of boyish naughtiness now in his eyes. He expelled a sigh of relief. She sounded ready. "They're on the holodeck, waiting for you, should you want to use the program. "Tom Paris, you really are this ship's most creative inventor of holoprograms and adventures. And that's the last compliment I'll give you in a while. You don't have to look so smug." Leaning over, she kissed him lovingly, the promise of being together the rest of the night, letting the blood rush through her veins. Yet just now, before she came in, she sensed his worry and appre- hension. "B'Elanna," he said as they walked towards holodeck two, "you're sure you want to do this? You don't have to, you know. I understand if you feel you are unable to go through with it." She stopped, then looked at him. She took his hand and held it against her heart, in an all too familiar gesture. He smiled at that. "Tom, it's okay. I'm fine. I'm ready now. I was ready days ago. Actually, I feel excited, a little nervous butterfly flutterings, that's all." She saw he looked a tad sceptical at her assurance. "Don't worry so, sweetheart." Then she held up her face and kissed him, mindless of some very curious glances. Tom broke off the kiss and said: "You've been through a great deal these last few weeks. Okay, okay. I admit, I'm worried. It hasn't been easy for you, sweetheart. It hasn't been easy for me, either." Yes, she thought, it hadn't been easy for him. Only a few nights ago she woke up with a start and sat bolt upright. She dreamed again, but Tom had been alive in her dream. She could see it in the sequence it really happened. She looked at Tom, stirring only slightly in his sleep. "Shhh... it's okay," she had whispered to him as his sleep deepened again. He was so attuned to her, he still woke up if she was distressed. * Before she entered, she turned to look at him again. "Tom," she asked, a faint shadow of fear suddenly playing across her features, "will you wait for me?" "I'll be right outside, B'Elanna," he answered as he kissed her fiercely on her lips. "Good luck." ***** It would be a good idea, she decided, to don the costume. Why disappoint Tom? After removing her uniform, she started with the costume, studying each piece as she went along. It was close fitting, hugging her body. She felt comfortable in it, the bodice section fitting snugly around her breasts, even raising them a little. The high, ornate neck emphasizing the warrior-like quality of the garment, leading to the cutaway heartshaped design that revealed the cleft and rise of her breasts. The jacket was gathered at the waist, held there by a broad belt, the buckle which bore the famed Klingon insignia. For the rest, she was dressed in the way of the male warrior:pants covered by knee-high boots. She smiled as she saw Tom's attention to detail included the boot spikes. He really is a damned good programmer, she thought. Finally she picked up her own d'k tahg, Tom's present to her on her last birthday. He had spent all his replicator rations on that. The spikes at the butt of the handle, however, was replaced by inlaid stones, the colour of jade. "It's still a very lethal weapon, B'Elanna. So do be careful," he had warned her at the time. Only then she went to the console and tapped in the commands. Immediately there appeared against one wall of the tunnel she was in, Klingon traditional weapons: three magnificent bat-telhs, d'k tahgs, and other weapos with strangely shaped blades. She stared as if hypnotised at the wall. The she suddenly sensed some movement, further down. She felt the excitement building in her. Quietly, she was almost unaware of it, two figures appeared from the two side tunnels, and although Tom had prepared her for this, it shocked her nonetheless. From the right, the human B'Elanna, in Starfleet gold and black, walked slowly towards her. Her heart gave a lurch, spreading a warmth through her body. She looked at the figure and felt a tremendous surge of empathy as she saw the weakened state this B'Elanna was in. Is this how Tom saw me down in these caverns? she thought idly. B'Elanna Paris took a step forwrad and looked at her. She noticed the inner strength, the pride lurking there in her eyes. This is me, the human me, she thought in wonderment. B'Elanna saw she may look tired, weakened, she may be down, but she is definitely not out. Then the Klingon B'Elanna appeared. Her mane of deep brown hair fanned magnificently over her shoulders. The ridges on her brow far more pronounced than her own, and in a darker tone. She was the quintessence of the Klingon warrior woman. She noted with pride that Tom had programmed her with the Klingon battle dress, similar to what she herself was wearing. Her stance was erect, proud and daunting. The two of them approached her. B'Elanna felt her heart thudding loudly against her ribcage. We are all connected, she realised. "That's much better," the human B'Elanna whispered. "I did feel rather incomplete without those," and she touched B'Elanna's brow. "You are beautiful," she breathed, in her soft voice, "so beautiful." "Thank you." "So," the Klingon B'Elanna said as she stepped forward, holding B'Elanna by the shoulders, "you are what's left when we two," and she nodded arrogantly to the human B'Elanna, "are integrated." "Ah, but you can see there's definitely more of me in her than of you," the human B'Elanna said with a quiet strength that seemed to brook no argument. "I think she needs me more than she needs you, don't you think?" She appeared to have a victorious gleam in her eye. But her words were like oil on fire as the Klingon responded. "Not a chance, p'taQ!" she spat. "Look at her! She's Klingon through and through. She's a warrior!" She closed in threateningly on the other woman. "I'm the one she needs more!" "Are we two arguing again? Fine. Since you got me kicked out of the Academy anyway..." "And you, p'taQ, you make me soft in the head. AND...I...DON'T...LIKE...IT!" "Hey, I'm glad you got me kicked out. I met and married a really great guy... I'd never have met him if it weren't for you. So you were useful after all." The Klingon growled, bared her teeth: "You need me, and don't you forget it, p'taQ!" B'Elanna Paris looked at these two bickering, and felt like she'd come home. It would always be like this, she realised, though not with the resentment she always harboured about the duality of her character. It dawned on her with such clarity, she wondered why she she ever missed such an important facet of her life. While the human part of her would always be predisposed towards reasoning and logic, the ability to empathise, the Klingon part of her would always be predisposed towards doing battle, fighting a cause, regardless of the consequences. The human in her would always temper with love, with compassion the fiery Klingon part of her nature. Would add that softness, the ability to cry and not be ashamed if she felt sad, or unhappy or even happy. The human in her would always mmake the other see reason. Her human part had a quiet strength all her own, she suddenly realised. The kind of strength that allowed her to be the kind of engineer who could with doggedness sit at a console for hours and do configurations. And the Klingon part - she would always be strong, abrasive sometimes, her courage the one outstanding feature. And she would encourage the human part of her to have that same strength, courage, indomitible spirit, even let her draw on those strengths. They were perfect. Not two parts thrown together and each acting independently, but fused beautifully, foil and complement at once, inextricably linked in heart. mind, body and soul. Of that she was immensely proud now, watching these two. But, before they came to blows, she thought it wise to intervene at this point. B'Elanna walked to the panel and tapped in the next few commands. Then she turned to them: "I say, you two seemed to forgotten about me. Now why don't we..." ***** Tom Paris paced the floor in front of holodeck two restlessly. Why is she taking so long? How is she taking it? He sensed she had been slightly scared just before she went in. How will I get her back? he agonised. Will she revert to her old incomplete, dream-ridden angst again? He must remember: she wanted to do this. She was certain of it. Dammit, B'Elanna, come out, please! I am mentally chewing my nails here. Why don't... The doors of holodeck two slid open and B'Elanna Paris stepped out into the corridor. The image of this woman, magnificently attired in Klingon battle dress will stay with him forever. He had never seen B'Elanna look so beautiful, or so proud. He felt, almost unbidden, his eyes filling with tears. Then she spoke, with eyes shining, a smile hovering on her lips: "Tom, I'm whole again." He leapt forward, held her shoulders for a second before drawing her into his embrace. Unmindful of the tears scalding his cheeks. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her all the way to their quarters, completely oblivious of curious stares as he slowed down from time to time to kiss her. She clung to him, her arms around him, her face buried in his neck. Those crew members who saw the spectacle, related it to others, of how Tom Paris walked through the corridors of Voyager, proudly carrying his wife who was dressed like a Klingon warrior. DIE EINDE Please, Ronnie would love some feedback. AUTHOR'S NOTE: The idea for this story came when I was watching LIFESIGNS, and B'Elanna said to the Doctor: "I have nightmares of what those people did to me!" - B'Elanna Torres