This is a Star Trek: Voyager story centering on the characters of Tom Paris 
and B'Elanna Torres and was composed in a round robin forum.  The authors 
would welcome any feedback, whether it be in the form of praise or criticism, 
as long as it's constructive.
DISCLAIMERS:  Paramount owns Star Trek and its universe.  We have merely 
borrowed their wonderful characters to send them on yet another journey. 
However, the story and those parts not used by Paramount belong to The P/T 
Collective.  Please do not separate the author's name or this message from 
this story.

NOTE:  This story is the fourth story in the "Cracks in the Wall" series. It 
is not imperative that the first three stories are read to understand and 
enjoy "Flight of Memory," however, since this is a series, past incidents are 
often referred to and reading the others can give you insight into some 
events.
Other stories in the "Cracks in the Wall" series:
     "Cracks in the Wall"
     "Clear as Mud"
     "Test of Faith"
     "Flight of Memory"
Stand-alone stories written by The P/T Collective:
     "Mind Games"
     "Echo of a Nightmare" 
* * * * * * * *
FLIGHT OF MEMORY 
By The P/T Collective 
Copyright 1996 

Chakotay, Tuvok, and the rest of the rescue team approached the crashed 
shuttle.  Its wreckage was smoldering, the hull blackened from entering the 
planet's atmosphere at too steep a descent.  The cargo door at the back of 
the shuttle was slightly ajar, apparently having jammed in that position and 
refusing to open any further.  Thick black smoke billowed out from the 
shuttle's interior.  Together, Chakotay and Tuvok managed to pry the door 
fully open.  Instructing the others to wait outside, both men stepped into 
the shuttle's smoky interior.
     They found Ensigns Lamont and Simms first.  Both were lying unconscious 
on the deck in the cargo section of the shuttle.  Simms had a nasty-looking 
gash on his forehead and Lamont's left leg was twisted in such a way as to 
leave little doubt that it was broken.  Chakotay hefted Simms up and headed 
back for the shuttle exit with Tuvok, Ensign Lamont in his arms, close 
behind.
     They handed the injured crew out to the remaining rescue party, took 
deep draughts of fresh air and headed back inside.  Three crew members were 
still missing.
     Hearing a moan followed by coughing as they headed forward from the 
shuttle's cargo bay into the main body of the shuttle, Chakotay and Tuvok 
came across Ensign Hudson in the main cabin of the shuttle.  He was on his 
hands and knees, shaking his head in an effort to clear it.  Chakotay, the 
smoke causing his voice to become raspy, instructed Tuvok, "Get him out of 
here.  I'll see if I can find Paris and Garvic.  They should both be up 
front."
     Chakotay looked forward, but was unable to see the cockpit section of 
the shuttle due to the heavy smoke.  Continuing forward, he reached the front 
of the shuttle and found Jack Garvic in the co-pilot's seat, the seat 
restraints holding him in place.  His head lolled raggedly against the back 
of the seat.  The console in front of him had exploded, apparently pushing 
him back into the seat.  He had serious burns covering his face and hands, 
and it was with a great deal of relief that Chakotay found a pulse.  It was 
weak, but it was there.  He turned his attention to Paris, who was half 
draped over the forward console.  His seat restraints weren't in place and 
Chakotay wondered how he had managed to stay in his seat.  Gently pulling 
Paris back against the seat, Chakotay winced at the massive bruise covering 
the left side of the other man's face.  Paris had evidently hit something 
hard; however, his pulse was strong and steady, so Chakotay made the decision 
to get Garvic out first.
     Nearing the shuttle exit, Chakotay, with Lieutenant Garvic draped over 
one shoulder, encountered Tuvok re-entering the shuttle.
     "Paris is up front," Chakotay told him.
     Nodding, Tuvok passed him.
     Chakotay thankfully stepped out into the fresh air and gently lowered 
Jack Garvic to the ground.
     Simms had regained consciousness and sat on the ground next to a now 
more alert Hudson.  Lamont was still unconscious, which was just as well from 
the looks of her leg.  It was a bad break.  After encasing her leg in a 
temporary splint, Kes moved forward to examine Garvic.
     Watching her frown, Chakotay asked, "How bad is it?"
     "He has serious burns on his face, arms and chest, and a fractured 
skull. We need to get him back aboard Voyager."
     Chakotay looked up as Tuvok stepped out of the shuttle with an 
unconscious Paris.
     Kes quickly ran a scanner over Tom.  "He has a serious head injury and 
some minor burns.  I think he'll be okay, but they all need to be back aboard 
the ship for medical attention."
     Chakotay tapped his combadge.  "Chakotay to Voyager."
     "Janeway here, Commander."
     "Captain, we've located the shuttle wreckage, along with our missing 
crew."
     "Casualties?"
     "No deaths, but they've all sustained injuries.  I don't suppose 
B'Elanna has the transporter up and working yet?"
     "I'm afraid not.  You'll have to shuttle them up."
     "Understood.  We should be back aboard shortly."
     "I'll alert the doctor of incoming casualties.  Janeway out."

Janeway entered sickbay.  Chakotay, his face and uniform blackened from the 
smoke, stood off to one side as the doctor and Kes treated their patients.  
Joining him, she asked, "What did you find?"
     "We didn't have much time to examine the site, Captain," replied 
Chakotay.  "The shuttle's a loss.  From the looks of it, I'm amazed they're 
all still alive.  You'll want to get B'Elanna down there to examine the 
shuttle and have them retrieve the shuttle logs."
     "Already done," she said with a slight smile.  "I wish our timing could 
have been a bit better.  B'Elanna got the transporter back on line about the 
same time as your shuttle docked.  She and her Engineering team are on their 
way to the crash site as we speak."
     Janeway and Chakotay both turned their attention to the doctor as he 
approached them.
     "You'll be relieved to know, Captain, Commander," stated the doctor, 
"that they will all recover.  Lieutenant Garvic sustained the most critical 
injuries.  While his burns are serious, they can be treated; however, his 
fractured skull is creating some cranial pressure.  I may have to operate to 
relieve it."
     "And the others?" Janeway asked.
     "Ensigns Hudson and Simms are suffering from assorted bruises and minor 
head wounds and, of course, smoke inhalation, which they all seem to be 
suffering from.  As soon as Kes completes their treatment, they'll be 
released from sickbay.  Ensign Lamont has several cracked ribs and a badly 
broken left leg.  Those injuries have been healed and, barring complications, 
I will release her tomorrow.  Lieutenant Paris, amid numerous abrasions, 
bruises and some minor burns, is suffering from a serious head wound.  That 
he has not yet regained consciousness is cause for some concern."
     "Doctor!" called Kes.  "Tom is waking up."
     Chakotay and Janeway followed the doctor to Tom Paris' bedside.  The 
pilot moaned as his eyes fluttered open to gaze blearily around.
     Tom, becoming immediately aware of a splitting headache, frowned.  If 
this were a hangover, why didn't he remember having any fun getting to this 
point?  Groaning, he opened his eyes and as the room steadied around him, he 
realized he was in Voyager's sickbay.  The doctor, Kes, Captain Janeway, and 
Chakotay were all gathered around his bed.
     "What--" he croaked, coughing as his raw throat refused to let the words 
out.  Kes gave him a sip of water and clearing his throat, he tried again. 
"What happened?"
     "We were hoping you could tell us," Chakotay said.
     At his look of confusion, Captain Janeway elaborated, "You apparently 
experienced some difficulties and your shuttle crashed.  Can you tell us what 
happened, Tom?"
     "Shuttle crash?" repeated Paris.  "I don't remember a shuttle crash."
     Frowning, the doctor asked, "What is the last thing you remember, Mr. 
Paris?"
     Thinking hard made his head throb worse.  Wincing slightly at the tiny 
hammers and picks pounding away inside his head, Tom said,  "We were in the 
shuttle in the shuttle bay and had just been given clearance to launch." He 
looked helplessly at those gathered around his bed.  "That's the last thing I 
remember until waking up here.  How bad was the crash?"
     "I haven't been to the crash site," Janeway told him, "but Chakotay 
tells me the shuttle is totaled."
     Flashes of Caldik Prime suddenly shot through Tom's mind.  His voice 
very quiet, he asked, "Did anybody die?"  He watched their faces, fearful of 
the answer, but needing to know.
     "Nobody died, Lieutenant Paris," said the doctor brusquely.  "As I just 
finished telling the captain and commander, Ensigns Hudson and Simms will 
recover, as will Ensign Lamont."
     "What about Garvic?" asked Tom.
     "His injury was more serious and may require surgery, but I do not 
anticipate any difficulties with his recovery."
     Tom tried to remember what had happened.  Why couldn't he remember?  A 
sudden sharp pain behind his eyes made him wince.  The doctor, frowning over 
his scanner, said, "The blow to your head may be impairing your memory, Mr. 
Paris.  If you persist in trying to force it, you will most likely continue 
to suffer head pains such as the one you just experienced."
     Staring at her pilot's strained, white face, Janeway asked, "Will he 
regain his memory, Doctor?"
     "I can't say for sure, Captain.  I'll need to run further tests."
     "Very well," replied Janeway.  "Let me know what you come up with." 
Smiling down at Paris, she said, "Get some rest.  If the doctor permits it, 
we'll hold a debriefing tomorrow.  That should give B'Elanna time to complete 
a preliminary analysis."
     After Janeway and Chakotay left, Kes administered a sedative to Tom, 
making him groggy.  As he drifted off to sleep, the captain's words echoed in 
Tom's thoughts:  'That should give B'Elanna time to complete a preliminary 
analysis.'  Was that why B'Elanna wasn't here in sickbay?  He wished she were 
here.  He could use her presence here now, even if she were to do nothing 
more than yell at him for wrecking another shuttle. Imagining that scene 
brought a smile to his lips as he drifted off to sleep.

B'Elanna sat in the pilot's chair in the wreckage of what had once been a 
shuttle examining the console before her.  It seemed relatively intact. She 
winced as she glanced over at the console Jack Garvic would have been sitting 
behind, seeing the evidence of an explosion there.  Unless he was extremely 
lucky, Garvic would probably have some nasty injuries.  *At least it might 
shut him up for a bit,* she thought.  The man had a worse mouth on him than 
Tom Paris.  Shaking her head at her unkind thoughts toward a possibly 
seriously injured crewmate, B'Elanna redirected her attention to the console 
before her.  For a moment, she could envision a particular pair of hands 
playing over the console's controls.  They stroked the controls much as a 
pianist strokes the keys of a piano, the movements smooth and sure.  Shaking 
her head, and irritated with herself for having such fantasies, B'Elanna 
jabbed at the controls on her tricorder before hooking it up to the pilot's 
console.  Who was she kidding? she thought.  Where she really wanted to be at 
this moment was in Voyager's sickbay checking to see that a certain fair-
haired blue-eyed pilot, who seemed to have a knack for getting under her 
skin, was all right.
     She frowned as the tricorder beeped at her, indicating it was finished 
downloading the shuttle logs.  How could it be finished already?  Scanning 
its contents, her eyes widened in dismay.  "What do you mean there are no 
shuttle logs?" she snarled at the offending tricorder.
     She ran a quick diagnostic on the log systems and found that a short of 
an as yet undetermined cause in the shuttle controls, most likely caused by 
the crash, had completely wiped the shuttle's log memories.  *Strange,* she 
thought.  Although not impossible that this could have happened, it was 
highly unlikely, and it also made her job to determine the cause of the crash 
that much more difficult.  Well, Paris and the others could certainly help 
out there.  After all, they were present and could tell them what had taken 
place.
     Standing, she made her way outside, where Browning and Bristow were 
scanning the crash site, making an official record of it.  "I'm beaming back 
up to the ship to make a preliminary report to the captain," B'Elanna 
informed them.  "When you're done here, call it a day.  We'll finish up with 
the rest of it tomorrow."
     Nodding, the men went back to what they were doing as B'Elanna beamed 
aboard Voyager.

In the captain's ready room, Janeway shared a concerned look with Chakotay as 
B'Elanna finished her report.
     "Hopefully, Paris can shed some light on what took place, because it 
doesn't look like the shuttle logs are retrievable."
     "I'm afraid that may not be possible, Lieutenant," replied Janeway.  
"Not at the moment anyway."
     Sudden fear stabbed through B'Elanna at the captain's tone.  Had 
something happened to Tom?  He wasn't--
     At her stricken expression, Janeway leaned forward, "I'm sorry, 
B'Elanna," she said quickly.  "I didn't mean to give you that impression.  
Tom will be all right.  As will the others.  Garvic's case is a little more 
serious, but I have every confidence in the doctor."
     Relieved, Torres quickly covered her initial reaction.  "Then what's the 
problem?"
     "Paris suffered a head injury in the crash," said Chakotay.  "At this 
time, he's unable to recall the crash at all.  The last thing he remembers is 
getting clearance to launch."
     "What about the others?" questioned B'Elanna.
     "I'm afraid Lieutenant Garvic is in no condition to answer questions 
yet," supplied Janeway.  "He hasn't even regained consciousness.  We're 
planning to question the others at the debriefing tomorrow."  Janeway sighed.  
"It would be much simpler if we had those shuttle logs.  Are you sure they're 
irretrievable?"
     Frowning, B'Elanna said,  "Fairly positive, Captain.  But I still have a 
trick or two up my sleeve.  I'll see if I can come up with something before 
the debriefing tomorrow."
     Nodding, Janeway dismissed both B'Elanna and Chakotay.

Unable to hold back her concern any longer, B'Elanna headed directly for 
sickbay.  Upon entering, she didn't see the doctor or Kes anywhere, but Tom 
Paris lay sleeping on a biobed.  Janine Lamont was awake a couple of beds 
away, Ethan at her side.  Acknowledging them, B'Elanna approached Paris' bed.  
Her back to the other occupants of the room, she stared down at the sleeping 
man for a long moment.  *He looks so peaceful,* she thought, reaching out a 
hand toward his brow to brush back his hair.
     Ethan, grateful Janine was going to be all right, had been pleasantly 
surprised when she had regained consciousness and her first question had 
been, "Is Ensign Simms all right?"  *Maybe she has noticed him after all,* he 
thought joyfully.  Mikel had been trying to tell him all along she wasn't 
impervious to his charms, but Ethan, being rather shy, had found that hard to 
believe.  Janine was popular with everybody.  Why in the world would she be 
attracted to someone like him?  Especially someone with bright red hair that 
made him look like a clown.  He'd always hated his hair. While it had looked 
good on his mother, it just didn't do a thing for him, thought Ethan 
mournfully.
     After Ethan had made his presence at her bedside known to reassure 
Janine he was fine and in one piece, he had proceeded to excuse himself.  
Janine, however, had grabbed his hand in her own soft one and asked him to 
stay. Looking in those gorgeous blue eyes of hers he, of course, had been 
lost.
     When B'Elanna Torres entered sickbay he and Janine were still talking 
quietly, just getting to know each other.  Janine had made it clear that she 
remembered Ethan struggling to dig her out from the shuttle debris before the 
smoke had gotten the better of both of them.
     Watching as she approached Paris' bed, Ethan and Janine shared a knowing 
look.  Janine put a finger to her lips and they both turned to watch 
Voyager's chief engineer.
     B'Elanna, having forgotten the other occupants of the room, brushed 
Tom's hair back from his forehead.  As she watched him sleep, she thought 
back to a week ago, when he had lain in sickbay near death.  The Kyrrosian 
myth of the sun god Palis having sacrificed himself for his people very 
nearly had come true.  She remembered her anger at him for putting her 
through that, as if it had been something he could control.  She remembered 
other feelings too.  Feelings she hadn't wanted to acknowledge.  Was she in 
love with him, as Harry suggested?  A part of her wanted to open herself to 
those feelings, but a larger part, a part that couldn't forget past hurts, 
refused to acknowledge that her feelings for Tom Paris were anything other 
than a deep friendship.
     *Is that why you dream of him?* she argued with herself.  *Dream of him 
kissing you, of him touching you the way one lover touches another?*
     Angry at her thoughts, she murmured softly, "Why won't you leave me 
alone, Tom Paris?  I don't care what you do!  I don't care if you kill 
yourself! And stay out of my dreams!"
     He murmured softly in his sleep, interrupting B'Elanna's diatribe. 
B'Elanna leaned in closer, listening intently.
     "B'Elanna . . . "  Her name fell from his lips in a feathery whisper 
that caused a shudder to run through her body as if he had physically 
caressed her.
     Shocked at her reaction, B'Elanna immediately straightened and was about 
to exit sickbay, when the doctor and Kes entered from the doctor's private 
office.  Both were in surgical garb.
     B'Elanna glanced around and her face flushed as she realized Ensigns 
Lamont and Simms had been watching her the whole time.  Their faces were both 
neutral, revealing nothing.  *Hah!* she thought irritably, *they've been 
taking lessons from Tuvok.*
     Turning her attention to the doctor and Kes, B'Elanna suddenly became 
aware that she hadn't seen Jack Garvic in sickbay.  Eyeing their surgical 
garb, she now knew why.  "How's Lieutenant Garvic?" she asked, not sure she 
really cared given the man's obvious animosity toward Paris, but at this 
point she was grasping at straws for anything to distract those present from 
seeing that her true concern was for Tom Paris.
     "We've relieved the cranial pressure," replied the doctor.  "Mr. Garvic 
should be awake by morning with nothing more than a slight headache."
     Intensely aware of Lamont's and Simms' eyes on her, B'Elanna asked, 
"What about Paris?  Is he going to be all right?"
     "Other than the short-term memory problems, he will recover.  I'll be 
releasing him tomorrow morning, along with Ensign Lamont."
     "Thank you, Doctor," replied B'Elanna briskly.  "I'd better get back to 
work if I'm going to have anything to report to the captain tomorrow." After 
one final look in Paris' direction, B'Elanna quickly left sickbay.
     Noting the smiles on the faces of Kes, Janine Lamont, and Ethan Simms, 
the doctor asked, "Did I miss something?"

Tom, emerging from his shower, felt much better and was thankful the doctor 
had released him earlier than planned so he had time for himself before the 
debriefing.  Smiling, he remembered how he had kept at the doctor until the 
EMH could no longer stand it and had told Paris to get out of his sickbay.  
*Worked like a charm,* thought Paris with satisfaction. His smile quickly 
turned to a frown, however, as he remembered Harry stopping by before 
breakfast that morning to see how Paris was doing.  When Tom's eyes had kept 
straying to the door, Harry had waved a hand in his face and said, "If you're 
looking for B'Elanna, don't.  She's already back down at the crash site 
trying to pull things together for the briefing."
     Still frowning, Tom flung the wet towel back into the bathroom and 
proceeded to pull on fresh underwear and uniform.  He was disappointed 
B'Elanna hadn't shown up in sickbay to see him, especially after the dream 
he'd had last night.
     Seemed like the two of them hadn't had a moment alone since the whole 
Palis incident.  Tom was fairly certain she had spent the night in his 
quarters when he, still suffering from the sunburn received on Kyrros, had 
been released from sickbay.  He remembered falling asleep with her at his 
side, but when he had awakened the next morning, she had been gone.  He'd 
attempted to quiz her on it later, but she had brushed him off, and in the 
intervening week, both had been busy.  B'Elanna with Engineering problems and 
Tom with, well, he really hadn't been all that busy, but he had sensed that 
B'Elanna needed some space and having a healthy respect for her temper, he 
wasn't about to push her.  One would think that she would have at least come 
to sickbay yesterday and checked up on him though.  He just didn't understand 
her sometimes.
     Checking the chronometer, he saw that it was nearly time for the 
debriefing.  He quickly pulled on his boots, ran a comb through his hair, and 
headed for the conference room.

B'Elanna was the last to arrive at the debriefing.  As she seated herself in 
the only available seat, which just happened to be next to Paris, Janeway 
spoke.
     "Let's get started.  Let me give you an overview of what we know so far 
to bring all of you up to date.  B'Elanna examined the shuttle yesterday. 
Unfortunately, the shuttle's logs seem to have disappeared.  As Lieutenant 
Paris is suffering from a short-term memory loss and has no memory of the 
crash, he is unable at this time to provide us with any answers. Lieutenant 
Garvic is unable to answer any questions at the moment but will hopefully be 
able to enlighten us later today.  You'll all be happy to hear that the 
doctor advised me just prior to this briefing that Mr. Garvic has regained 
consciousness; however, he's still understandably a bit groggy. What I need 
to know is if any of you," she looked at Hudson, Simms, and Lamont, "remember 
anything that may be of assistance to us."
     Lamont was the first to speak.  "Captain, Ethan -- Ensign Simms, Ensign 
Hudson and I were in the back of the shuttle, in the cargo hold.  Simms and 
Hudson were assisting me in setting up the equipment, so we'd be ready to 
begin mining for the minerals when we set down.  One minute we were 
peacefully flying along, the next . . . well, I'm not sure what happened. We 
may have been hit by something or encountered something.  I just don't know.  
All I know is one minute I was working on the equipment and the next I was 
thrown across the cargo hold with most of the mining equipment ending up on 
top of me."
     Simms nodded in agreement.  "I was bashed in the head by the equipment 
and lost my bearings for a moment.  When I came to my senses, I could hear 
Lieutenants Paris and Garvic up front but couldn't make out what they were 
saying.  While I was busy trying to untangle Ensign Lamont from the mining 
equipment, Hudson went forward to see if he could help.  The entire time the 
shuttle was really being buffeted around.  It was difficult for me to stay on 
my feet."
     Hudson picked up the tale from there.  "I never made it all the way 
forward," he said.  "The shuttle went into a sudden steep descent, and I lost 
my balance.  I think I must have hit my head.  I didn't come to 'til after we 
had crashed.  There was smoke everywhere, and I couldn't see much.  Commander 
Chakotay and Lieutenant Tuvok found me shortly after that."
     Janeway looked at Paris, who was shaking his head.  "I'm sorry, Captain. 
I just can't remember anything past launching from Voyager."  He rubbed at 
his temples, his head once again throbbing.
     "B'Elanna?" quizzed Janeway.  "Anything new?"
     B'Elanna pulled her gaze away from Tom's troubled face, having to resist 
a strong urge to reach out a comforting hand toward him.  Looking unhappy, 
she said, "I was able to retrieve a partial log from the shuttle, but it 
doesn't provide us with much more information."
     Janeway had the definite impression that B'Elanna was trying her best 
not to say something.  "You have it there?" she asked, nodding toward the 
tricorder in B'Elanna's hands.
     B'Elanna nodded.  "Yes."  Then, as if making up her mind, she slid the 
tricorder up the table to Janeway.  All watched as the captain reviewed its 
contents.  After a moment Janeway looked up, her eyes meeting B'Elanna's 
before moving on to Tom Paris'.
     "Mr. Paris, this indicates that you failed to activate the impulse 
buffer relays at a crucial moment."
     Faces around the table registered surprise.  This was the kind of 
mistake a novice pilot might make, but not an experienced pilot of Tom Paris' 
caliber.
     Tom felt all the attention shift from Captain Janeway to himself, but 
his shocked gaze remained locked on the captain.  *You screwed up again, 
Paris,* taunted a little voice inside him that had been silent for so long he 
had hoped it was finally gone for good.  *You can't do anything right. When 
will you learn?*
     Janeway watched the stricken expression take over Tom's face.  His blue 
eyes stood out vividly in a suddenly pale face.
     Chakotay could almost feel sorry for the other man.  Almost.  Paris had 
obviously been putting some effort forth these past several months to improve 
himself and his status on Voyager.  Doubting the other man had purposefully 
made such a grievous piloting error, Chakotay still could not help but place 
blame on him.  Failing to activate impulse buffer relays was a hot-dogging 
stunt Chakotay had seen other pilots pull.  It was an inexcusable error for 
someone of Paris' abilities and experience.  The commander spoke up, being 
careful to keep his voice neutral as he addressed the captain.  "Captain, I 
suggest, since Paris is experiencing difficulty recalling the incident, that 
we adjourn this discussion until we have a chance to hear Lieutenant Garvic's 
view of what took place.  He may be able to shed some light on what 
happened."
     B'Elanna, taking offense at what she perceived to be an intended slur 
directed at Paris and his memory loss, leaned forward as if to speak.
     Janeway, sensing B'Elanna was about to cut loose at the commander, 
quickly spoke, effectively cutting her off.  That Paris had showed no 
reaction at all to the commander's words disturbed her.  He sat stone faced, 
watching her.  "The commander is right.  Let's table this discussion until 
we've heard Lieutenant Garvic's story.  Dismissed."
     Janeway watched as Tom strode by Harry and B'Elanna, ignoring their 
attempts to talk to him.  Heaving a heavy mental sigh, Kathryn Janeway 
wondered if anything on this ship would ever run smoothly.  She shook her 
head at Chakotay's inquiring look.  "Gentlemen," she addressed Chakotay and 
Tuvok, "let's adjourn to sickbay and see if Lieutenant Garvic can tell us 
anything more."

Tom sat alone in the mess hall, lost in thought as he listlessly picked at 
his lunch -- a grayish-green stew with bright yellow somethings floating in 
it.  The pungent odor eventually registered in his brain and he disgustedly 
pushed it aside with a sigh.  He wasn't really hungry, anyway.  He had spent 
his morning shift sitting at conn, trying to remember what had happened after 
the shuttle had launched from Voyager.  And all he had to show for his 
efforts was another pounding headache.
     Janeway, Chakotay and Tuvok had returned to the bridge after an 
unsuccessful trip to sickbay.  Garvic was asleep and the doctor refused to 
wake him.  Any answers Garvic might provide would have to wait until that 
afternoon.  Once Janeway had made this announcement to the bridge crew 
nothing further had been said about the accident, but Tom had felt the eyes 
on his back all morning.  For the first time, he wished his station wasn't at 
the front of the bridge.  It had been a very long morning.
     As Tom made his way towards the mess hall door he noticed the not-so-
discreet glances and the sudden silence as he walked past.  *Here we go 
again,* he thought tiredly.
     He still had a half hour before he had to return to his post and he 
planned to spend it in his quarters.  It was quiet there so maybe, just 
maybe, he would be able to concentrate and remember something.  He briefly 
considered stopping by sickbay first to get something for his headache, but 
decided he wasn't up to another lecture from the holodoc.  Just as Tom 
reached his quarters his combadge chirped.
     "Kim to Paris."
     "Go ahead, Harry," Tom replied.  "I hope you have some good news."  
Harry had spent most of the morning helping B'Elanna try to recover the 
shuttle's logs.
     "Sorry. Nothing yet.  But we're still working on it.  How about you?  
Have you remembered anything?" Harry asked hopefully.
     "Nada.  Just a big, black, empty hole."
     "Hm.  Well, don't give up yet. B'Elanna still has a couple of ideas to 
try out after lunch."  As he finished speaking, Tom's door chimed.
     "Anybody home?"  Harry asked through his combadge.
     Tom let him in, shaking his head in exasperation.  "Shouldn't you be at 
lunch?"
     "Are you kidding?  Did you see what Neelix has concocted this time?  I 
took one whiff and high-tailed it out of there."  He sat down on Tom's couch 
and looked up at his friend, concern etched across his features. "So, how are 
you doing?  Really?"
     "How am I doing?" Tom repeated sarcastically.  "Well, let's see.  I have 
somehow managed to," he began to pace as he ticked off on his fingers, 
"nearly kill four people, completely destroy a shuttle, and pretty much 
annihilate any progress I might have made in repairing my sterling image." He 
turned to face Harry.  "And all this without remembering how I did it! So I 
guess I'd have to say I'm doing just swell, thank you very much," he finished 
caustically, frustrated at himself for not being able to remember.  He looked 
at his friend and felt a stab of guilt.
     "Sorry," he apologized, and sat down, rubbing his temples.  The headache 
wasn't getting any better.  "I'm just venting.  It's so damn frustrating, 
Harry!  I can't believe that I wouldn't have activated the impulse buffers.  
It's so automatic, I could do it in my sleep.  And, contrary to popular 
opinion, I don't take stupid chances like that anymore."
     Harry looked at him in surprise.  "I know that.  So does B'Elanna and, 
I'd bet, most of the crew.  Don't go blaming yourself.  Something may have 
happened that prevented you from activating the impulse buffers or maybe the 
log is wrong.  With so much missing, we can't be sure of the integrity of 
what we DO have.  We still have to find out what Garvic knows and you could 
still get your memory back. Meanwhile, we'll continue to examine the shuttle 
and the logs."  He stood up and squeezed Tom's shoulder.  "Tom, just 
remember, this isn't Caldik Prime.  We'll get to the bottom of this." 
Grinning, he continued, "You know B'Elanna won't give up until she finds the 
answer."  He paused and his smile disappeared.  "She probably won't say 
anything, but she's worried about you.  I ran into her last night after she 
left sickbay and she looked pretty upset."
     Tom stared at his friend.  "She was in sickbay?  I don't remember her 
being there. But, then, what else is new?" he finished dryly.
     Harry began to say something but Tom cut him off, somehow knowing that 
it would be a question about his relationship with B'Elanna.  And that was 
something he did not want to get into at the moment.  "Are you heading back 
to the bridge now?"
     Disappointed, Harry simply nodded and Tom stood up to go with him.  But 
when he stood up he suddenly felt like a dozen sledgehammers were laying 
siege to his head.  He groaned as he swayed dizzily.  Harry grabbed his arm 
and gingerly sat the semi-conscious man back down on the couch.  He slapped 
his combadge, "Kim to sickbay.  Medical emergency.  Beam Lieutenant Paris 
directly to sickbay."  Once he saw Tom shimmer away he ran out the door, 
notifying the bridge while he headed towards sickbay.

The first face Jack Garvic saw when he regained his senses was the holodoc's.  
Passive and unreadable, it told him nothing.  Jack shifted his gaze to the 
figure beside the doctor -- Kes.  She stood watching him with her huge 
expressive eyes, and he became aware she was holding his hand. But Kes was 
just the same with everybody.  Even if she knew everything, her concern would 
still be the same.  Gently she laid his hand back down on the biobed and 
picked up her tricorder.  Garvic tried to speak, but Kes interrupted.
     "You've just come through surgery.  You need to rest now.  No talking," 
she chided.  "Time for questions later."
     "But -- "
     "Later.  Rest now.  The captain will be in to see you in a few minutes," 
she insisted. 
     "No, you don't understand, was anyone -- ?"  The hiss of a hypospray cut 
him off and he immediately closed his eyes again and relaxed into near 
unconsciousness.
     "There, that should do it," said the doctor.  "In cases like these, Kes, 
you must not allow the patient to become agitated.  It could lead to 
complications.  Because of my -- our -- excellent care we did not lose any 
crewmembers.  I don't want Mr. Garvic here to alter my average."
     *Not lose any . . . ?  Oh, thank you God,* prayed Garvic, then he let 
the sedative take him.

"Kim to sickbay.  Medical emergency.  Beam Lieutenant Paris directly to 
sickbay."
     Tom materialized in sickbay in a more or less sitting position. As the 
last tone of the transporter chime faded his eyes rolled up and he slowly, 
and for a tall man rather gracefully, collapsed the remainder of the way onto 
the floor.  The med team was by his side in an instant.  Kes, tricorder still 
in hand, ran the device over Tom's head. 
     "There is a recurrence of the cranial pressure, Doctor," she said. 
     "Of course there is," snapped the doctor.  "I knew Mr. Paris would 
regret it if he failed to listen to me.  He never listens.  No one does."
     "Janeway to the doctor. I heard the emergency request for medical beam-
out.  Doctor, report."
     "Mr. Paris has suffered a relapse, Captain.  It's not critical.  I'll 
give you a full report in a few moments.  Doctor out." 
     He grabbed Tom under his arms.  "Help me get him up on this biobed, 
Kes." With that the doctor hoisted Tom's top half into the air.   Kes grabbed 
Tom's feet and attempted to do the same, but he bent in the middle like a 
broken straw.
     "Here, let me do it," came an unexpected voice.
     Kes jerked a quick look over her shoulder.  Lieutenant Torres stood 
there, looking ready for anything.  "I'll grab his middle.  Ready?  Now!"
     Together the three hauled him up and lowered him down.  Both Kes and the 
doctor returned immediately to their instruments.  B'Elanna tried to wiggle 
her pinned arm from under his back.
     Tom's eyes fluttered open.  "Hi there, Darlin'," he said groggily.  "I 
knew you . . . could . . n't stay away from . . . me."
     "Doctor, he's delirious," said B'Elanna, but she was gentle as she 
rolled him off her arm, and stepped back out of their way.
     "Here.  This will help," replied the doctor, closing the bioscanner over 
Tom's body and attaching a small device to his forehead.  "With the pressure, 
that is, not the delirium.  Mr. Paris, be absolutely still."
     Tom closed his eyes and held his breath as the pain slowly edged away.  
He caught a flash of memory -- *angry words . . . Garvic? . . . shouting . . 
. control indicators?  No!*   Then it was gone. He sighed and opened his eyes 
again.
     "Lieutenant, I know better than to try to keep you here," stated the 
doctor.  "Your allergy to sickbay is well documented in the crew manifest. 
But this could well happen again.  So I am removing you from duty for 24 
hours.  Return to your quarters and REST."
     The doors slid open and Harry Kim shot through them and slid to a stop. 
The doctor was on him in a second.
     "What has this man been doing?  Aerobics?  Get him in bed and keep him 
there, Ensign!"
     "Yes, sir, Doc.  I'll see he gets in, but then I have to report to the 
bridge," said Harry apologetically.  "But I'll -- "
     "I'll do it," said B'Elanna simply.  "I can attach my tricorder and 
access the computer from the terminal in his quarters, and run the programs 
I'm investigating from there."
     "Good, Lieutenant," said the doctor, satisfied.  "Sit on him if 
necessary."
     Kes smiled and turned to Lieutenant Paris who had slid off the bed and 
was standing rubbing his temples.  She pulled off the doctor's device.  "Tom, 
what is it?"
     "It's nothing.  I thought  . . . for a minute, I had a picture in my 
head of . . ."  His blue eyes came to rest on Garvic's inert form.  "It's 
nothing," he repeated.  "I still don't remember anything about the crash."
     "It is a distinct possibility that you may never remember, Lieutenant 
Paris.  A probability, actually.  If your memory were going to return it most 
likely would have by now.  Memories are chemical and your chemistry is 
certainly quite scrambled at the moment."  The doctor caught the slightest 
noise from Garvic's direction.  "Now, if you will excuse me, I believe my 
other patient is coming around again.  Report back here in 12 hours. 
Dismissed."
     Jack Garvic was indeed waking up again, and he had heard this last 
exchange between the doctor, Kes, and Lieutenant Tom Paris.

Kathryn Janeway was relieved to see a much more alert looking Lieutenant 
Garvic this time when she entered sickbay.  He was sitting up in bed, looking 
much healthier than the last time she had seen him.  Chakotay and Tuvok 
followed her to his bedside.
     Jack's heart started racing when he caught sight of the three senior 
officers headed his way.  *They know!  They know what I did!*
     Smiling, Janeway said, "It's good to see you looking better, Mr. Garvic. 
We'd like to ask you a few questions about the shuttle accident."
     Jack stared inquisitively at the three of them.  As usual, he could tell 
nothing from Tuvok's gaze, but Chakotay's and Janeway's held no condemnation 
and his heart stopped its mad pounding as the fear receded. *They don't 
know,* thought Garvic with relief.  *Maybe I can salvage this yet.*  "Of 
course, Captain.  What would you like to know?"
     "We'd like to hear your version of what took place on the shuttle prior 
to the crash, Lieutenant," the captain informed him.  "And if you know, or 
have any ideas, as to what caused the crash."
     Luck was with Garvic.  Through some careful questioning of Kes, Jack had 
determined that Tom Paris could remember nothing of the flight or crash and 
that Ensigns Lamont, Simms and Hudson knew nothing of any import.  He'd even 
gotten Kes to tell him about the moment when it had been revealed at the 
briefing that the partial shuttle log Torres had recovered showed Paris had 
failed to activate the impulse buffer relays.  An unnatural calm settled over 
him as he prepared to answer the captain's questions.  Putting a surprised 
look on his face, Garvic said, "But don't you already know? The shuttle logs 
-- "
     "The shuttle logs were damaged in the crash and Lieutenant Paris is 
experiencing memory problems," explained Chakotay.  "We need for you to be 
very specific, Lieutenant.  Did Lieutenant Paris do anything to directly 
endanger the shuttle and its occupants?"
     Garvic hesitated, looking down at his hands, before looking back up at 
them.  "Paris decided to put the shuttle through some maneuvers on the way 
down.  He said a flight straight down was too boring.  I cautioned him that 
we were approaching the planet's atmosphere and that the impulse buffer 
relays should be engaged."
     "And what was Lieutenant Paris' response?" asked Tuvok.
     "Paris said we had plenty of time for that.  I disagreed.  I tried to 
engage the relays; in fact, they were on for a split second before Paris 
disengaged them.  Shortly after that we hit some turbulence and things really 
got out of control.  The engines went off line and we couldn't get them back 
up again.  We didn't have much time for anything else before we hit.  I don't 
remember much after that."
     To Janeway, Chakotay and Tuvok it appeared that the lieutenant was 
agitated over the shuttle accident; however, the thoughts running through 
Jack Garvic's mind at that moment were much darker as he recalled what had 
actually happened.

The time he had recently spent in the company of Tom Paris while on the away 
team on Kyrros had resurrected memories Jack thought he had put behind him.  
Memories of someone special, now dead because of Tom Paris.  His childhood 
friend, Ramos Benton, closer than a brother to him, dead because of Paris' 
carelessness at Caldik Prime.
     After the Kyrros mission, Garvic's anger had grown daily, and thoughts 
of Paris and Caldik Prime monopolized his thoughts.  Then the captain had 
placed them on another mission together, and Jack found that the hatred, so 
long buried, was no longer so easy to control.
     He had begun badgering Paris almost from the moment the shuttle had left 
Voyager.  Once they had been alone in the front of the shuttle, Garvic had 
started in on Paris, making several snide comments.  Paris had, for the most 
part, refused to rise to the bait, and that demeanor had infuriated Garvic 
even further.
     Angered beyond reason, especially when Paris had turned his attention 
back to the shuttle's controls and proceeded to ignore him, Jack had reached 
out to the co-pilot's controls in front of him and taken the impulse buffer 
relays off line.  *Paris thinks he's such a hotshot pilot,* thought Garvic 
savagely.  *Let's see how he handles that.*
     The shuttle had gone into a sudden tailspin.  Paris had managed to 
straighten its flight for a brief moment, but just as he had reached out to 
re-engage the relays, they had hit the edge of the planet's atmosphere and 
the engines had gone off line.
     It was at that moment that Jack had become aware of what he had done.  
How he had endangered all their lives.  The shuttle had leveled out and for a 
brief moment Garvic thought perhaps he had misjudged Paris' flying abilities, 
but no.  The shuttle had dipped again, buffeted by the turbulence, and they 
had begun a long tumble toward the planet below. Picking up speed, they had 
rushed toward the planet's surface in an uncontrolled descent.
     "Lieutenant?"
     Jack was brought back to the present by a hand on his shoulder.  He 
looked up into the captain's concerned eyes.  "I'm sorry, Captain," he said.  
"I know that probably isn't what you wanted to hear, but if Paris had 
followed procedure, I honestly don't think this accident would have ever 
happened."

"Come," called Paris distractedly.
     The door to his quarters slid open and B'Elanna strode in, tricorder in 
hand.  She had dropped him off at his quarters after the doctor had released 
him from sickbay with strict instructions that he was to rest before she 
proceeded on to Engineering to retrieve her tricorder.  Now back at his 
quarters she noted with exasperation that he was still pacing the floor and 
was not in bed, where she had ordered him.
     "Tom -- "
     "I know, I know," he waved a hand in dismissal.  "I'm supposed to be 
resting."
     "Then why aren't you?"
     Still pacing, Tom complained, "Do you have any idea how frustrating this 
is?  Not being able to remember anything?  At least last time I knew -- " He 
stopped speaking abruptly as he realized what he had been about to say.
     B'Elanna set her tricorder on his desk and caught up to him as he paced 
the floor.  Stepping into his path, she forced him to stop and look at her.  
"Go to bed," she firmly ordered.
     He sighed.  Even though he refused to admit it, he was tired.  More than 
tired.  He was exhausted, not only physically but mentally as well.
     B'Elanna watched as he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck in an 
attempt to ease the tension there.  That he didn't offer one of his usual 
quick-witted quips in regards to her sending him to bed was cause for concern 
in itself.  Taking him by the arm, she led him to the bed and pushed him down 
upon it.  Without protest, he sat but didn't lie down.
     B'Elanna knelt in front of him and slipped his boots off.  "Lie down," 
she commanded.  When he looked ready to protest, she snapped out in her best 
Chief Engineer's voice: "Now, Lieutenant."  Grumbling, he lay down.
     "Roll over," she encouraged.
     Tom glared at her.  "I'm not a dog, you know," he snapped.
     "That's not what some of the females on this ship say," she shot back.
     Tom rolled over on his stomach, pillowing his head in his arms.  "You'll 
be wanting me to fetch next," he claimed, his voice muffled.  "So what's the 
purpose in having me on my stomach -- ouch!"
     "Relax," B'Elanna commanded as she sat on the bed next to him and began 
kneading at the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders, slowly working her 
way down his back.
     Tom lay with his face turned away from B'Elanna, wishing he could get 
lost in the feel of her touch, but other thoughts kept intruding.  Another 
shuttle crash.  He had thought Caldik Prime had been bad, but this one was 
worse.  This time he couldn't even remember what he had done to cause the 
accident.  Thank the Gods nobody had died.  Still, he couldn't fathom why he 
wouldn't have engaged the impulse buffer relays.  What could he have been 
thinking?  B'Elanna hit an especially sensitive spot, bringing his thoughts 
back to the here and now.
     "Go back to work, Torres.  You don't have to stay here."
     "Tom Paris, here you've got me in your quarters," she said lightly, "in 
your bed, and you're sending me away?"
     His voice gruff, he said, "Go away, B'Elanna.  I don't want company, and 
I definitely don't want to talk about it."
     "Did I ask you to talk?  Try to get some sleep.  I'll be over at your 
computer terminal if you need anything."
     "I won't."  Tom was startled when she slapped him on the rump before she 
left his side and went to sit at his desk.
     Turning over and sitting up, he looked over to where she sat at his 
terminal apparently already deeply engrossed in examining her files.  She 
obviously wasn't going to leave.  Frowning, he laid back down.  His head was 
starting to pound again and against his will, he felt his eyes close and he 
soon drifted off into a troubled sleep.
     B'Elanna's gaze strayed to the inert form on the bed.  He was laying on 
his back, face turned away from her, but he was asleep at last.  Her worried 
eyes returned to her tricorder, wishing something would magically appear to 
show he wasn't at fault for the accident.

Hudson strolled into the mess hall, wondering what gourmet dish Neelix had 
conjured up for dinner tonight.  Trying not to look at it too closely, he 
dished up a dinner tray.  Turning, he searched the room and found Ethan. 
Mikel grinned.  Janine Lamont was having dinner with him.  *About time,* 
Hudson thought.  He hesitated to join them, but Simms, spotting him, waved 
him over.
     "We were just talking about you," said Simms by way of greeting.
     Mikel gave Ethan an exasperated look.  *He finally gets the girl of his 
dreams to himself and what does the man do?  Talks about his best friend.*
     "I was just telling Ethan we should try a double date sometime," added 
Janine.
     "She was quizzing me on your romantic conquests," said Ethan, winking.
     "I was not!" protested a laughing Janine.
     Ethan grinned at her before turning back to Hudson.  "Speaking of 
which," he said, "You never did get around to telling me how things are 
proceeding with Ensign Cavelle."
     Mikel shrugged.  "Not bad.  We have a date tonight.  Drinks at 
Sandrine's then I've got Holodeck 2 reserved for a moonlit walk on Calemos 
II."
     "Mm.  Sounds nice," commented Janine.
     "I take it you and the ensign are hitting it off then?" quizzed Simms.
     "You could say that," replied Hudson, a twinkle in his eye.
     Harry Kim's arrival in the mess hall reminded Hudson of Lieutenant Paris 
and his current troubles.  "Either of you heard any more about the shuttle 
accident?"
     Janine shook her head, but Ethan said, "The captain, the commander and 
Lieutenant Tuvok talked to Lieutenant Garvic earlier today.  I hear he 
verified that Paris didn't engage the relays."
     "I heard a rumor that the captain relieved Lieutenant Paris of duty," 
offered Janine.
     "It's just a rumor," refuted Hudson.  "Guess he had a relapse of some 
sort today and ended up back in sickbay for a while.  As far as I know, he's 
expected back on duty tomorrow morning."
     "I feel sorry for him," said Janine softly.
     Ethan reached out and placed his hand over hers, squeezing it slightly. 
"I know what you mean.  I just can't see him being that careless.  I keep 
hoping Lieutenant Torres or someone will find something that will explain the 
accident."
     "Let's hope so," agreed Hudson, sounding distracted.
     Looking to where his gaze had wandered, Ethan had to grin.  Ensign 
Cavelle had just entered the mess hall.  Simms didn't know much about Cavelle 
other than the fact that he was one of the Maquis crewmembers and was known 
to have quite a temper on occasion.  He looked forward to seeing how this one 
played out for Mikel.  Ethan was hard put to keep up with Mikel's social 
life.  The guy seemed to flit from one romance to another.

Alarms blared at him.  Lights flashed.  People yelled.  There were screams of 
pain and fright.  Paris tried to ignore them all as he struggled with the 
shuttle's controls, trying to regain some altitude to give him more 
maneuvering room, but it was too late.  They were going to crash.  He had 
messed up and they were all going to die because of him.  Caldik Prime hurled 
toward them at incredible speed, then . . .
     Tom sat up with a strangled gasp, tears in his eyes.  Breathing heavily, 
he was startled to feel a pair of warm arms come around him and pull him 
tightly against another body.  He bit back a strangled sob.
     "Shhh," soothed B'Elanna as she cradled him in her arms.
     Tom sank down into her warm embrace, fighting the tears, as he 
remembered the dream.  Caldik Prime again.  Would it haunt him for the rest 
of his life?  Only this time it was different.  There had never been anyone 
there to catch him when he woke from the nightmare before.  No one who cared. 
Not so this time.  B'Elanna was here.  She seemed to do that a lot -- catch 
him when he was falling.  He had vague memories of her arms around him after 
the Sun God incident.
     Tom turned his head to look at her, but misjudged the distance and their 
lips lightly brushed together.  He started to pull back, but B'Elanna's lips 
moved softly against his and before either of them knew what was happening, 
it had turned into a full-fledged kiss.
     Tom's arms went around B'Elanna and he pulled her down on top of him as 
he laid back on the bed.
     B'Elanna knew she should stop this.  Tom was upset and it was his need 
for comfort more than anything else that had started this, but he felt so 
good.  She didn't protest when she felt him unfasten the front of her uniform 
and reach a hand underneath against the thin fabric of her turtleneck.  She 
reached up, running her hands through his hair.  Without conscious thought, 
her hand moved to unfasten the front of his uniform -- 
     <Beep>
     Both Tom and B'Elanna shot apart at the sound of the door chime.  Eyes 
wide, breathing hard, they stared at each other.
     "Tom?"  Harry Kim's concerned voice came over the comm link.
     B'Elanna jumped off the bed, straightening her uniform as Tom called, 
"Come in."
     Harry entered Tom's quarters, balancing an overloaded dinner tray.  He 
stopped in his tracks and stared when he caught sight of them, both out of 
breath, Tom still on the bed, both flushed and looking rumpled.
     It looked like he had interrupted -- but no, that couldn't be, could it? 
Harry didn't think their relationship had progressed that far yet.  Or had 
it?  "Uh," he began awkwardly, "I, uh, got Neelix to fix us a dinner tray so 
we could eat in your quarters.  There should be enough for the three of us."
     B'Elanna picked her tricorder up from Tom's desk.  "Thanks, Harry, but I 
really should check in on Engineering.  You both go ahead with dinner. I'll 
get something later."
     She was out the door and gone before either man could utter a word.
     Tom wasn't quite sure what had just transpired or what had almost 
happened.  He had awakened from the nightmare, in need of solace.  B'Elanna 
had been there.  Things had just gotten a little out of hand.  Tom took a 
deep steadying breath, grateful that Harry had interrupted them.  He wanted 
to be with B'Elanna, had even dreamed of it, but not in that way.  Not 
because she pitied him.
     Harry stood just in front of the door, tray in hand.  He still wasn't 
sure what he had just walked into.  For some reason, the thought of his two 
best friends indulging themselves at a time like this was slightly 
irritating. Some other time, maybe, but not when there had just been a 
serious accident and it looked like Tom was at fault.  They should be trying 
to figure out what had happened.  And besides, Tom was supposed to be 
resting.
     *Okay, Harry.  That's enough.  You don't know what transpired just now. 
Nor should you care,* he thought to himself as he set the tray down on the 
table.  He turned around and looked at Tom who had reached a sitting position 
on the side of the bed.
     A small smile crept over Tom's face.  *Harry looks like he's waiting for 
a tip.*  Standing up, he walked over to the tray and lifted one of the 
covers.  He sniffed and made a face.
     "What is it exactly?" he asked, plopping into the chair.
     Harry sighed and sat down across from him.  "Well, I think this is 
seffata, this is resgg, and this is wequ.  Now what all that is, I couldn't 
say.  Just that it's dinner."
     "Edible?"  Tom began dishing some of the resgg on to a plate.
     "Somewhat.  Tasted worse, tasted better," he said, following suit. 
Stopping, he looked up at Tom, who seemed preoccupied with rolling a dark 
blue colored vegetable around his plate. *I think I've made a nuisance of 
myself,* he thought with wry humor.  Harry began to search his mind for the 
best way to find out.  "Did B'Elanna have any luck while she was here?"
     "It didn't look like it," he answered, shaking his head.  "I doubt she 
will."
     *We'll talk about something else then,* he thought when Tom took his 
inquiry at face value.  "Why?  There has to be something in those logs that 
will show you're not responsible."  The two sat quietly for a few minutes.
     "Look, I spoke to Kes.  She said that Garvic had regained full 
consciousness and the captain had questioned him.  Maybe this will be over 
soon."
     "Don't count on it.  Knowing my luck lately, he's probably suffering 
from amnesia, too." Tom set his fork down hard.  "It's just so damned 
irritating not remembering if I did or didn't do it.  Why wouldn't I?  I'm 
not daring or stupid enough to try and pull something like that.  Not any 
more, at least.  I don't take chances in a shuttle when there are others at 
stake."
     "Then you didn't."
     "But what about the logs?  According to them I didn't activate the 
relays."
     "Maybe something happened and you couldn't activate them.  Or maybe the 
logs got screwed up in the crash."
     "Those are all perfectly good maybes.  But they're just that, maybes," 
Tom said, helping himself to more seffata.  He stopped and looked up.  "If 
the captain has talked to Garvic and he's cleared me, why hasn't she said 
anything about it yet?"
     "Well, maybe she figured you'd be asleep and she didn't want to disturb 
you."
     Tom laughed.  "I'm sure she knows I wouldn't be too unhappy if she were 
coming to tell me I could stop worrying about it."
     "I'm sure well find out soon enough."
     "Yeah.  But I'm not so sure I want to."
     They ate the rest of their meal in silence, Tom's choice.  Harry wished 
to continue, hoping that talking about it would somehow jog his memory, but 
it was obvious Tom wanted the subject dropped.  After about five minutes, the 
lack of communication began to bother Harry.  He wanted to try a second 
attempt at finding out how far Tom and B'Elanna had come, but the opportunity 
refused to present itself.  *Well, there's the direct approach,* he thought.  
"Did I interrupt something when I came in?" he asked matter-of-factly.
     Tom wasn't taken by his tone which hinted at the simplicity of the 
question.  He really didn't feel like getting into a conversation about his 
love life.  "No damage done."
     Not the answer Harry was looking for.  He tried again, "B'Elanna seemed 
annoyed."
     "Probably not.  Probably grateful."
     "Grateful?" Harry was confused.  "I don't understand."
     "Don't try to, Harry, I'm not," he answered cryptically.  He stood up 
and placed his plate on the tray.  Dinner was over.  "Tell Neelix the seffata 
or whatever you said it was, was very good, will you?  I'm going to try to 
get some sleep now."
     "Sure," Harry said as he picked up the tray.  "I'll see you in the 
morning."
     Tom was more than a little thankful when Harry walked out the door.  He 
was tired, tired of everything.  He knew that it was bugging the hell out 
Harry that he wouldn't say anything about himself and B'Elanna, but Harry 
always picked the wrong time to ask.  *'Better luck with B'Elanna '. . . 
doubtful,* he thought.
     Tom lay in bed, very tired but unwilling to sleep.  He remembered the 
dream when B'Elanna had been in his quarters.  That alone was reason enough 
not to sleep.  He didn't want to see replays of Caldik Prime; he wanted it to 
go away.  He had hated the panicky feeling he would get when he woke up; it 
would follow him around for hours and now it was back.  This time, though, it 
had died quickly.  He'd woken up and hadn't been alone; she had been there.  
His thoughts drifted away from Caldik Prime to B'Elanna.  What would have 
happened had Harry not come?  It was obvious what would have happened.  But 
did he want that to happen?  *Yes,* he decided, *but not under these 
circumstances.*
     He rolled over and glanced at the chronometer.  0131.  *Have to sleep. 
Have to get up in the morning.  Have to be back on duty.*  He relented 
without further fight and fell asleep.

Ethan looked up in surprise as a breakfast tray slammed down on the table 
across from him.  He watched as an obviously angry Mikel sat down. "Problem?" 
inquired Ethan.  "I thought you'd be on cloud nine after your hot date last 
night."
     "What hot date?" snapped Hudson.  "Do you know what Marcos had the 
audacity to say to me?"
     "No.  But I suspect you're going to tell me."
     "We got into a discussion about the shuttle crash which invariably led 
to the subject of Lieutenant Paris.  Marcos said it was about time Paris got 
what was coming to him."
     "And that surprises you?" asked Simms.  "Come on, Mik, we both know 
there are still people on this ship who have it in for Paris and would just 
as soon see him spaced as anything else."
     Mikel sighed.  "I know.  I guess I'm just disappointed.  I didn't know 
Marcos felt that way."
     "Is it going to cause problems between the two of you?"
     "It already has.  We nearly came to blows last night."
     "Then let it go, Mikel," advised Ethan.  "Maybe he's not worth it.  Or 
is that the problem?  You think he is?"
     Mikel's eyes acknowledged that but he didn't say a word, and Ethan began 
to wonder just how involved Mikel had become with Marcos Cavelle.  He had 
thought it was just another of Mikel's quick flings, but from the way Mikel 
was reacting, it would seem not.  "Mikel?"
     Hudson shook his head.  "Let's just drop it for now, Ethe.  So," he 
grinned, "how are things between you and Janine?"  As he expected, Ethan's 
face turned a bright red to match his hair, but his eyes lit up at the 
mention of Janine Lamont and Mikel was delighted to see his friend so happy.

Tom, unsure what to expect, showed up on time to assume his bridge station 
the next morning.  Janeway wasn't on the bridge yet, but everyone else acted 
as if it were just another routine day on duty.
     Assuming his station, Tom sat there for a moment, staring at the helm 
controls as if they were of some alien design he didn't comprehend. Reaching 
out to double-check readings and familiarize himself with the ship's current 
status, he was alarmed to find his hands shaking.  *Oh God, oh God, oh God, I 
can't do this,* he inwardly groaned.  He closed his eyes briefly as he tried 
to regain some control.  Never in his life, not even after Caldik Prime, had 
he lost faith in his abilities as a pilot, but right now he was experiencing 
a mild panic attack at the thought of Voyager being under his control.  What 
if he messed up yet again?
     "Is there a problem, Lieutenant?"
     Chakotay's voice stirred him out of his dark thoughts.  Taking a deep 
breath, he reached out resolutely and began checking the helm controls. "No, 
sir," replied Lieutenant Paris, completely in Starfleet mode now, no sign of 
Tom Paris and the light-hearted mood he often brought to the bridge in 
evidence.
     Chakotay stared at the back of Paris' head.  He hadn't missed the 
lieutenant's slight hesitation in assuming the helm.  He would have to keep 
an eye on him.
     Paris' combadge chirped.  "Janeway to Lieutenant Paris."
     "Paris here."
     "Lieutenant, I'd like to see you in my ready room."
     With a sinking feeling of dread, Paris responded, "Yes, ma'am."  As he 
stood, Chakotay indicated for an ensign who was assisting Ensign Kim at 
Operations to assume Paris' station.
     Janeway looked up from her desk as Paris entered.  "Sit down, Mr. 
Paris." As Tom sat, she continued.  "Tom, I thought it only fair that you be 
apprised of what Lieutenant Garvic told us yesterday.  Mr. Garvic indicated 
you did indeed fail to activate the impulse buffer relays at a crucial point.  
In fact, Mr. Garvic said he attempted to activate the buffer relays himself 
but you deactivated them.  Lieutenant Garvic also said the shuttle was 
nearing the planet's atmosphere at the time.  Why would you deactivate the 
relays at that point?"
     Tom only shook his head, his confusion plainly evident.
     "I am aware there have been some personality conflicts between yourself 
and Lieutenant Garvic," said the captain.  "Is it possible you let that 
influence your decision?"
     Tom jumped up from his seat to pace agitatedly back and forth.  "I don't 
know!  I can't remember!  What Garvic says makes absolutely no sense, but if 
he says that's what happened and the shuttle log supports it, then . . . ."
     He stopped his frenetic pacing and took a deep calming breath.  When he 
turned back to face the captain, all signs of emotional turmoil had been 
wiped away, but Janeway could see a fear lurking deep in his eyes that he was 
unable to hide.  "Captain, will you be removing me from my post?"
     "Tom -- "
     "Maybe you should."
     "Why would you say that, Lieutenant?" asked Janeway curiously.  He 
seemed to be encouraging her to remove him, yet if she were reading him 
correctly, it was the last thing he wanted.
     "I -- I froze at my post this morning, Captain.  Just for a brief 
moment, I couldn't touch the controls.  If I do that during a crucial moment 
-- "
     "Lieutenant," Janeway unintentionally spoke sharply.  Softening her 
tone, she said, "Lieutenant, I'll not be removing you from your post at this 
time.  I'm hopeful you may yet regain your memory or perhaps B'Elanna will be 
able to turn over more information to explain your actions aboard the 
shuttle.  Until that time, however, you should consider yourself on 
probation."
     "Yes, ma'am."
     Janeway winced.  She had grown rather fond of hearing Tom Paris mouth 
the particular brand of "Yes, ma'am" only he could utter, but this one jabbed 
through her painfully.  He had gone rigid and unyielding, no glint of the Tom 
Paris she had come to know sparking through.  "You're dismissed, Lieutenant."
     Paris turned and headed for the door.
     "Tom?"
     *Damn, she's speaking in that soft 'let me help you' voice of hers 
again,* he thought.  He stopped but didn't turn.
     "Tom, have you talked to anyone about this?  Harry, perhaps?  Or 
B'Elanna?  Don't keep it to yourself.  You've got friends.  Let them help 
you."
     "Is that all, Captain?"
     Barely repressing a frustrated sigh, Janeway responded, "Yes," and 
watched as he slipped out the door.

Harry had been dispatched to Engineering to consult with B'Elanna on an 
Engineering/Operations glitch which had been popping up lately.  As they 
examined the readouts, Harry broached the subject of Tom Paris.
     "How do you think he's doing?"
     "I'm worried about him," B'Elanna admitted.  "Has he talked to you about 
it at all?"
     Harry shook his head.  "Nothing, except to vent some frustration over 
not being able to remember anything."
     "Same here.  He's having nightmares about Caldik Prime."
     "I guess that's to be expected.  This has to be like reliving that 
again."
     "Harry, I need to ask you something, but you have to promise to keep it 
between the two of us."
     "Sure," agreed Harry.
     "Do you know much about Jack Garvic?"
     "Hardly anything," admitted Kim.  "He graduated from Starfleet Academy.  
I don't think Voyager's his first starship posting, but I'm not sure about 
that.  He was a great deal of help when we were trying to get the transporter 
back up to get you and Tom back from Kyrros' past.  Without his help, we 
might not have gotten Tom back in time."
     "Really?  So he was instrumental in saving Tom?"
     "I guess you could say that," replied Harry.  Looking at her curiously, 
he asked, "Why all the questions about Garvic?"
     "I don't know," shrugged B'Elanna evasively.
     "Come on, B'Elanna.  Something's up.  What do you know about Garvic that 
you're not saying?"
     "There's just something about the guy that strikes me wrong, Harry.  He 
has a deep-seated hatred for Paris.  I have no idea where it stems from, but 
it worries me.  I can't help but think it's convenient Garvic is the only one 
who can tell us what actually happened on the shuttle and that the story he's 
telling implicates Tom in some wrongdoing."
     Harry frowned.  "You think he'd lie to the captain?"
     "I don't know.  Let's just say I'm highly suspicious of him, but right 
now it's nothing more than instinct.  It would certainly help matters if Tom 
could remember what happened."
     "He can't force it, B'Elanna.  Look what happened yesterday."
     "I know.  There must be something we can do to get him to relax a 
little. If we could get his mind off things, maybe he'll start remembering."
     Harry grinned.  "I've got just the thing.  Let's drag him to Sandrine's 
tonight.  We'll play some pool, get a couple of drinks in him, the real 
stuff, not the synthehol, and loosen him up a bit.  He needs to put this 
behind him, at least for an hour or two."
     Grinning back at Kim, B'Elanna said, "Why, Harry, I didn't know you 
could be so devious."
     "I learned from an expert."
     They both laughed as they remembered some of Tom's devious efforts in 
the past as he attempted to get both of them to lighten up.

The doctor had released Jack Garvic from sickbay with strict instructions for 
him to go to his quarters and rest.  Now, alone in his quarters, Garvic began 
worrying.  What if Paris began remembering what had actually happened?  What 
if Torres managed to come up with something which would clear Paris?  He had 
to make sure these charges would stick in such a way that even if Paris 
remembered, the records would refute what he was saying.  Paris had lied 
before.  He had lied at Caldik Prime.  It shouldn't be difficult to make 
others believe he would lie about this incident either. He called up the 
crashed shuttle's records and the files B'Elanna had been working on, hoping 
he could set things up without anybody being the wiser and without leaving a 
trace he had ever been in the files.  He experienced a brief pang of guilt as 
he wondered if he were doing the right thing, but then he remembered Ramey.  
Ramey was dead because of Tom Paris.  Paris deserved payback.  Jack only 
hoped the other man still had enough conscience to experience guilt over this 
or it would all be for naught.

"So you're going to stay in your quarters all night and mope," concluded 
Harry, after trying unsuccessfully to convince Tom to come with him to 
Sandrine's.
     Tom looked at him and with a touch of exasperation in his voice 
retorted, "I am not moping, Harry.  I just want to spend some quiet time 
alone, all right?"
     "Sure, Paris."  Harry stood as if to leave, although he had no intention 
of leaving without his friend.  He didn't care what it took at this point -- 
he was getting Paris to Sandrine's.  "I can see all the quiet time you spent 
in here alone yesterday really did you a lot of good."  He shook his head 
sadly.  "You know, I never thought I'd see the day when Tom Paris would take 
to hiding away in his quarters."
     "Harry -- "
     "Come on, Tom.  Who do you think you're fooling?  What are you going to 
do in here all night?  And don't tell me you're going to try to remember what 
happened, because the harder you try, the less likely it will happen. You'll 
just end up with another headache.  But you know that already, don't you?"  
Harry confronted his friend and was startled to see the tortured look that 
suddenly appeared in his blue eyes.
     Tom didn't say anything.  Instead, he went into the bathroom and began 
splashing his face with water.  Disconcerted, Harry stood outside the 
bathroom door and waited.  Following Tom back into the living room, a very 
concerned Harry demanded, "What's going on, Tom?  Did someone say something 
to you?  Did you remember something?  What?"
     Tom turned to face the window.  Concentrating on the starry view he 
softly, slowly announced, "Harry, for the first time in my life I'm not sure 
I can be a pilot.  And if I can't be a pilot, what the hell am I going to 
do?"
     Stunned, Harry exclaimed, "What are you talking about?!"
     Tom couldn't look at Harry.  Still staring out the window, he took a 
deep breath and told him about the panic attack that had seized him that 
morning.  When he had finished, he remained at the window, watching his 
friend's reflection in the glass.  Harry shook his head, puzzled.
     "So you froze for a second.  That's not so surprising.  Besides, you 
were fine the rest of the shift, right?"
     Angrily, Tom spun around.  "Don't you get it, Harry?  That's never 
happened to me before.  NEVER.  Not even after Caldik Prime."  Agitated, he 
began pacing.  "How do I know it won't happen again?  I can't remember what 
caused the shuttle to crash and now I'm freezing at the controls.  Do you 
really want someone like that piloting this ship?" he demanded.
     "Tom, I would pick you over any pilot, any day of the week.  Why are you 
so quick to condemn yourself?  We've been through this already, remember? We 
don't know for sure yet what caused the crash."
     With a disparaging look Tom countered, "Don't we?  The shuttle log says 
I didn't activate the impulse buffer relays and Garvic has already confirmed 
it.  What else do you need?"
     "B'Elanna isn't so sure Garvic is telling the truth."
     Tom shook his head and scoffed, "She's grasping at straws."
     "I wouldn't be so sure of that.  You said yourself you would never have 
taken the relays off line."  He paused.  Tom's silence spurred him to 
continue, "You really need to forget about all this for a while."  Before Tom 
could protest, he added, "Paris, it's only for a couple of hours.  Give 
yourself a break.  Who knows?  You might even remember something.  Do I need 
to get the doctor to order you to the holodeck?" he asked, half-joking, half-
serious, arms crossed over his chest.
     Tom sighed.  "You're not going to drop this, are you?" he asked, 
resigned.  He knew a lost battle when he saw one.
     Harry smiled triumphantly.  "Nope.  So come on.  B'Elanna's waiting for 
us."

Upon entering Sandrine's, Tom was relieved to see the bar was nearly empty.  
It was dinner time and most of the crew were still in the mess hall.  He 
relaxed slightly and then realized just how tense he had been. He mentally 
shook himself.  *Get a grip, Paris,* he ordered.  Harry had been right.  He 
HAD been hiding out in his quarters.  What exactly was he afraid of?  What 
others might say?  Hell, he'd been there before.  *Don't think about it.  
You're supposed to be having fun, remember?* he chided himself as he walked 
over to the bar.  Sandrine, attentive as always, cornered him immediately.
     While Tom was occupied with Sandrine, Harry joined B'Elanna at the pool 
table and quickly described what had taken place in Tom's quarters. Frowning, 
she glanced furtively over at the pilot and then said quietly to Harry, 
"Sounds like we have our job cut out for us, then.  I gave Sandrine some real 
beer to give to Tom.  There's only enough for a couple of drinks, though.  I 
didn't want to make a bad situation worse -- after what you told me about the 
other Tom in the alternative timeline you got stuck in, I didn't want to take 
any chances.  But it should be enough to help him relax."
     Harry flashed her a brief smile of approval as Tom joined them with his 
beer.  "So, Paris, ready to lose some replicator rations?" challenged 
B'Elanna with a gleam in her eye.
     Picking up his pool cue he snorted, "In your dreams, Torres!"
     It was the wrong thing to say -- it reminded him of what had taken place 
in his quarters the day before.  He stole a glance at her and knew she was 
thinking the same thing.  Fortunately, Harry was concentrating on his shot 
and didn't notice the look the two exchanged.  B'Elanna looked away and 
pretended to focus on Harry's shot.  Tom closed his eyes briefly, berating 
himself for the Freudian slip.
     It wasn't long before Tom got caught up in the friendly competition and 
banter.  As he began to relax and enjoy himself, the shuttle crash seemed 
like a distant memory.  He was so caught up in their game he didn't even 
notice as Sandrine's filled with people.
     Ethan and Janine watched the trio from their table.  "It's good to see 
Lieutenant Paris smiling again," commented Janine.  "I don't think he even 
said a word on the bridge today.  And you know how unusual THAT is," she 
laughed.
     Ethan chuckled.  "He does come up with some interesting, umm, 
observations, doesn't he?"
     She nodded.  "Sometimes those observations are the only bright spots 
during a slow shift.  The bridge wouldn't be the same without him.  Isn't it 
amazing how one person can make such a difference?" she remarked, glancing 
over at the lieutenant.
     Gazing at her in adoration, Ethan sighed expressively, "It certainly 
is." A slow blush effused Janine's face as she turned back to meet his gaze. 
With a shy smile she reached out and took his hand in hers.
     A short time later Ethan found his attention drawn to the bar's 
entrance. He frowned as he watched Marcos Cavelle walk in with Ensigns Terren 
Crenshaw and Charlie Wallace.  The former Maquis were both good friends with 
Garvic.
     Noting Ethan's sudden change in expression, Janine glanced over her 
shoulder to see what had distracted him.  "What is it, Ethan?" she asked.
     He tipped his head in the direction of the new arrivals and answered, 
"Nothing, I hope."  Keeping in mind what Mikel had told him earlier, he 
continued to surreptitiously watch Marcos and the others.  He was in security 
mode now.
     Janine glanced back again and watched as they seated themselves not far 
from the pool table -- and Tom, B'Elanna, and Harry.  Tom's back was to them 
as he played his shot, but B'Elanna noticed them and watched them warily.  
She knew they were friends of Garvic's and her suspicions about him spilled 
over to his friends.  Maybe it was a Klingon thing.  Maybe not.  Harry 
noticed them, too, and recalled what B'Elanna had told him earlier. He hoped 
she wasn't going to do anything rash.
     "You don't really think they'd start anything, do you? Janine questioned 
Ethan.
     He shrugged and said lightly, "Probably not.  But I'd feel better if 
Mikel were here, just in case."
     While Tom waited for Harry to rack the balls for the next game, his eyes 
swept the room.  He felt the tension return as he noticed the number of 
people in the bar.  Drinking his beer -- his third -- he saw a few look at 
him and then quickly look away.  B'Elanna also noticed the looks and cast a 
worried glance at Tom, but he had already turned back to the pool table, his 
face a mask of unconcern.
     Harry looked up from the table and caught B'Elanna's eye as she subtly 
indicated Tom had noticed the reactions of some of the crew.  He nodded 
imperceptibly and stole a glance at his friend who, as usual, was giving 
nothing away.  Usually Harry admired the cool, controlled exterior the older 
man presented under stressful situations, but lately he was finding it more 
and more frustrating that Tom kept so much inside.  Sometimes it took 
incessant badgering to get him to open up and Harry wondered what demons made 
it so difficult for the man to confide in his closest friends.
     As the evening wore on, the decibel level in the bar rose.  A steady din 
permeated the room, with bursts of laughter and the crack of pool balls 
intermittently drowning out the numerous conversations, but it wasn't long 
before one conversation could be heard above the rest.
     "Of course, if you're the teacher's pet you can usually get away with 
anything.  Or should I say CAPTAIN'S pet?" snickered Marcos, loud enough to 
be heard by those sitting nearby, including the senior officers.
     Crenshaw nodded and added, "Who would have thought the captain could be 
fooled so easily?"
     Tom, his back to their table, stiffened but said nothing as he played 
his shot, sinking three balls in the process.  Harry looked at him in 
amazement.  *Doesn't anything faze him?* he wondered.
     Meanwhile, B'Elanna was reacting enough for the both of them.  She 
glared at Marcos and, with clenched jaw and fists, reminded herself she was a 
senior officer on this ship.  She slowly counted to ten and forced herself to 
relax.  She caught the warning look Harry gave her and acknowledged it with a 
grim smile.
     "Some people were just born to live a charmed life.  Everything handed 
to them on a silver platter, no repercussions if they screw up.  SOME can 
even get away with murder!" Cavelle continued caustically, knowing full well 
he now had the undivided attention of most of Sandrine's occupants.
     He most certainly had the attention of Tom Paris.  With a loud clatter, 
Tom tossed his cue onto the pool table and turned to face his antagonists.
     His blue eyes darkened, reflecting his emotions, but his voice remained 
controlled as he said dryly with a tight smile, "Is there something you 
fellas would like to say to me?  Or are you just going to run off at the 
mouth all night?"
     Marcos and his friends slowly stood and faced Tom.  Harry and B'Elanna 
instinctively moved forward to stand next to Tom, although he didn't even 
notice they were there.
     Ethan decided this would be a good time to intervene, before things got 
out of hand.  With an apologetic look to Janine, he got up and made his way 
over to the group, but before he could get there, Sandrine suddenly pushed 
herself between Marcos and Tom.
     "You are a troublemaker!" she glared at Marcos.  "You are not welcome 
here, monsieur.  You must leave now," she demanded.
     Marcos hooted and, pushing Sandrine away, taunted, "Jeez, Paris, how 
many other friends have you had to program?"
     Before Tom could say anything, Harry stepped forward and said firmly, 
'You're way out of line, Cavelle.  I suggest you do as the lady says and 
leave now, before you regret it."
     "Or what?" Marcos threatened.  He looked at Tom.  "Maybe we should take 
this outside, flyboy," he taunted.
     "In case you've forgotten, Cavelle, this isn't a Maquis ship," B'Elanna 
reminded him coldly.  "You're wearing a Starfleet uniform now and you are 
speaking to a senior officer."
     Marcos snorted.  "Yeah, an officer, and a SENIOR officer at that -- now 
that's a joke if I ever heard one."  He turned to face the others in the bar 
and stated, "You realize, of course, every day our lives are in his hands.  
His hot-dogging stunts have already killed three people and he nearly killed 
everyone on board that shuttle the other day."  He turned back to B'Elanna 
and spat, "He shouldn't be let anywhere near the helm, as far as I'm 
concerned."
     Ethan had heard enough.  He confronted Cavelle.  "You conveniently seem 
to have forgotten all of the times Paris has saved this ship and our lives, 
yours included."  Ethan looked around the room.  "He's a damn good pilot and 
I think everyone here knows it."  Most nodded in agreement but there were 
still quite a few who looked dubious.
     "Not according to Jack Garvic.  He was THERE and he told the captain 
what happened.  But," Marcos pointed accusingly at Tom, "has he been relieved 
of duty?  Hell, no!  So what's it going to take?  Does he have to kill all of 
us before she sees the light?"
     Harry angrily interjected, "The shuttle crash is still under 
investigation.  Until we have all the facts we won't know for certain what 
caused it."
     "Garvic TOLD them what happened," Marcos practically shouted.  "Paris 
screwed up!"
     Her Klingon temper getting the better of her, B'Elanna blurted, 
"Assuming Garvic is telling the truth!"
     Harry winced.  Marcos turned on her.
     "You're calling him a liar?!" he cried incredulously.
     B'Elanna had realized her mistake as the words tumbled out of her mouth. 
*Well, it's too late to go back now,* she thought.  "I'm not saying he is and 
I'm not saying he isn't," she answered hotly.  "But Harry's right, we're 
still investigating and so far the only evidence we have is a partial shuttle 
log and the word of someone who makes no secret of his dislike for Paris.  
The captain will need more than that before she makes a decision."
     Just as Marcos was about to respond, a familiar voice behind him quietly 
warned, "I think this would be a good time to call it a night, Marcos."
     Marcos swung around to face Mikel.  Everyone had been so engrossed in 
the scene playing out before them they hadn't seen Hudson enter.  Ethan, for 
one, was very relieved to see him.  Maybe Mikel would be able to talk some 
sense into Marcos.
     "This has nothing to do with you, Mik," Marcos said crossly.
     "Actually, as security, it does.  Even if I weren't on duty, I would 
still make it my business.  You're not accomplishing anything here, Marcos, 
so let's call it a night, all right?"  Mikel reached for his arm, but Marcos 
roughly pushed him away.
     "I'll leave when I'm good and ready!" he snapped. 
     Mikel shook his head sadly.  "You're leaving now, Marcos.  The only 
question is whether you spend the night in your quarters or in the brig. 
What's it going to be?"
     "You wouldn't dare!"
     Mikel stared at him silently.  Ethan had moved to stand beside him.  If 
they had to, they would remove him by force.  Marcos glared at Mikel for a 
few long seconds before he turned on his heels and stormed out the door, 
followed closely by Crenshaw and Wallace.  The tension level in the bar 
dropped considerably after they left.
     Ethan turned to Mikel.  "That was pretty ugly.  Are you OK?" he asked 
worriedly.
     Mikel shrugged his shoulders resignedly and turned to Tom.  "Lieutenant, 
will you be pressing charges for insubordination?" he inquired formally.
     Tom shook his head mutely and Mikel nodded his acknowledgment before he 
and Ethan walked away.  Tom seemed to be stunned by what had just occurred.  
B'Elanna and Harry realized he hadn't said anything during the entire 
exchange.  Troubled, B'Elanna touched his arm and he looked down at her, 
startled by the contact.
     "Tom, don't let him get to you.  He doesn't know what he's talking 
about."
     Tom looked at her, grateful for her concern and unwavering support.  
"It's not that, B'Elanna.  Well, not just that," he amended wryly.  "When 
Marcos was saying all those things I got flashes of . . . something.  I don't 
know what.  But it almost felt like deja vu."
     "From Caldik Prime?" asked Harry.  
     "No.  I mean, you would think it was, but this felt different.  I 
remember what happened at Caldik Prime.  This wasn't the same.  I don't know.  
It's gone now," he rubbed his eyes tiredly.   He shook his head and repeated 
softly, "I don't know."
     "Then maybe you were remembering something from the shuttle crash," 
B'Elanna offered.
     He shrugged silently and looked around the bar.  It was empty now except 
for the three of them and Sandrine.  "I think I'm going to call it a night," 
he told them.  He smiled wanly.  "Thanks for sticking up for me. And thanks 
for getting me out of my quarters."
     Harry snorted and B'Elanna rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, THAT was a great 
idea!"  Harry grinned broadly.
     Tom laughed.  "No, really, I WAS having fun until this fiasco started.  
I even forgot about the accident for awhile.  So, you see, you accomplished 
your mission."  He looked into the air and called out, "Computer, end 
program."
     Sandrine's disappeared and the trio walked out of the holodeck.  Tom 
paused outside the door.  "By the way, just what exactly was in those drinks 
Sandrine gave me?" he inquired innocently.
     Harry and B'Elanna laughed.  "We'll never tell!" Harry exclaimed.
     Tom chuckled as they entered the turbolift.  He announced his deck 
number and looked at the others expectantly when they didn't tell the 
computer which decks to deliver them to.  "What?  You're my bodyguards now, 
too?" he asked them.
     Harry and B'Elanna looked at each other and smiled.
     "I appreciate the effort," he said with a tight smile, "but I can take 
care of myself."
     "No one's saying you can't," Harry replied. "But there is safety in 
numbers."
     "What?" Tom asked.  "You think Marcos and his friends are going to try 
something?"
     "They might," B'Elanna said as the lift stopped and the three friends 
exited.  "It seemed to me Marcos was almost spoiling for a fight earlier." 
And B'Elanna knew Marcos wasn't the kind to back down easily.
     "Look," Tom said as they stopped in front his quarters, "all I'm going 
to do is take a hot shower, read for a while, and go to bed."  He smiled. 
"How much trouble can I get into?"
     "Talk about a loaded question," B'Elanna muttered under her breath.
     Tom smiled.  "I'll ignore that," he said as he stepped into his 
quarters. "Oh, and thanks again.  It was fun until Marcos and his friends 
came." With that the door closed.
     Harry glanced over to B'Elanna as they walked down the corridor and 
said, "Well, that went well."  He still couldn't believe what had happened on 
the holodeck.  How had Tom been able to keep it together so easily?  And what 
was it he remembered during  Marcos Cavelle's tirade?
     "Well, except for the end it did go well," B'Elanna said.  "I just wish 
I hadn't publicly stated I don't trust Garvic."  She shook her head.  "I 
can't believe I let that . . .  that . . .  " but she couldn't find a word to 
properly describe her feeling for the man.
     "So what's next?" Harry asked as the pair arrived at his door.
     "I don't know about you," B'Elanna replied, "but tomorrow morning, I'm 
going to go over those log fragments a few more times."  She sighed.  "You 
might try talking to him again."  She shrugged.  "After tonight he might be 
more willing to talk."
     "I hope so," Harry said.  "Good night."

Tom stepped into the shower letting the hot water and the steam envelop him.  
He felt better then he had in a long time.  Harry and B'Elanna had been 
right; an evening out had done wonders for him.  Marcos Cavelle and his 
friends aside, Tom had had fun tonight.  For a few hours he'd forgotten about 
the crash, his fears and worries, and the panic attack, simply enjoying a few 
hours of fun with his friends.  Even the scene with Cavelle and the others 
had not been as bad as he feared it would be.  It seemed that most of the 
crew were on his side.  He didn't know if they thought he was to blame for 
the accident, but they were willing to look at everything he had done for the 
ship and take that into account.  Cavelle, Wallace, Crenshaw and the others 
saying he should be removed from the helm were in the minority.  There were 
far more here willing to support him.
     Strange.  The last time most of his friends had disappeared as soon as 
they knew the truth.  That he could deal with, sort of, but support from his 
shipmates and friends . . . he had no idea how to handle that.  It was nice 
to know there were those who cared for him.
     He let his thoughts wander to the weird sudden sensation he'd had during 
Cavelle's tirade.  Angry shouts echoing in his head . . . what was that all 
about?  Tom stood perfectly still, letting the hot water pour over his head.  
Something had been close, pushing on his mind from the inside, but now it was 
gone again.  *This is so damn frustrating!  Better not to force it, though,* 
he thought.  *Just relax and let it come to you when it will.*
     He stepped from the shower, began drying himself, and slipped on a pair 
of shorts.  He crossed to the sitting area and picked up a padd from the 
desk; he wanted to review the flight path for the next few days.  He closed 
his eyes as he remembered the panic attack.  *Stop it!* he told himself 
sternly.  *That's not going to happen again.*  However, until he knew why he 
had taken the buffers off line, he knew it very well could.  *God, this is 
worse then Caldik Prime.  I knew what I did wrong, and I knew why.  But now?*
     *Breep*
     "Come," he said.  *Who is it this time?* he wondered.  *Harry?  B'Elanna 
maybe?*  The door didn't open.
     *Breep*
     "Enter!" he said, trying a different tack, but the door remained closed. 
"What in the name of God?" he said as he crossed to it.  As he neared it, it 
opened, so mechanical failure wasn't the problem.  Maybe whoever was there 
hadn't heard him.  He stepped into the hall to see if he could catch whoever 
it was.  He had taken only two steps into the hallway when his head exploded 
in pain and he felt himself falling.  He never remembered hitting the floor.

"Where did I put that damn padd?" B'Elanna muttered as she searched her 
quarters for the fifth time.  "I know I had it when I came in here, so where 
did I put it?"  She stopped, trying to remember what she had done after she 
had come into the room.  Nothing very exciting.  A shower, then she had 
gotten a cup of coffee, and then she had begun looking for the padd.  She 
closed her eyes, trying to think in more detail.  What had she done when she 
had first come in?
     She walked over to the door and retraced her steps.  She had come in, 
padd in hand, and walked over to the couch.  She had sat for a few minutes 
and realized she could very well be up all night because once she got 
started, she might not want to stop.  So she had decided to take her shower 
and change before starting to work.
     *I walked over to the closest, took off my uniform, grabbed a towel and 
my sleeping outfit, and headed to the bathroom . . . .*
     The closet.  That was it.  She walked over to her closet and opened it. 
There on the little ledge, almost mocking her, was the padd.  Shaking her 
head, she grabbed it and walked back to the couch.  *Oldest trick in the 
book, but it works every time,* she mused as she dropped to the couch.
     She began reading, then it hit her.  *That's it!* she said to herself. 
*That's how we get Tom to remember what happened.*  It was so simple she was 
surprised no one had thought of it already.  They could re-create the 
accident on the holodeck.  She felt fairly sure that Ethan Simms, Mikel 
Hudson, and Janine Lamont would be willing to help.  The question was, would 
Garvic?  If Garvic were lying would he want to re-create the crash? For that 
matter, would Tom?  She knew he wanted to learn the truth about what had 
happened, but would Tom be willing to relive what had to be his worst 
nightmare?  Especially if they had to re-create it more than once? She 
thought about the nightmare she had witnessed only the night before and 
shivered.  He was still living with the horror of that day even now.  Maybe 
his memory block was the best thing that could have happened.  At least he 
wouldn't be haunted by this crash for years to come.
     Or would he?  From what Harry had told her about his talk with Tom, he 
was questioning his skill and his ability as a pilot, something he had never 
done before.  If Tom didn't know what he had done wrong, he would always 
wonder.  Not knowing what had happened might destroy him.
     B'Elanna decided she needed to talk this over with someone else.  
Someone who knew Tom even better then she did.  She tapped her combadge.  
"Torres to Kim."
     "Kim here," came Harry's sleepy voice a few seconds later.  "Did you 
find anything?"
     B'Elanna smiled at the matter-of-fact reply.  "Not really.  I have an 
idea as to how we might help Tom's memory, but I'm not sure he'll go for it." 
She explained her re-creation idea and voiced her concerns.
     "I'm not sure either," Harry said, "but I think we should ask him.  The 
worst he could say is no."
     "All right," she said.  "Do you want to ask him?  Or should I?"
     "What?  Right now?" Harry asked.
     Of course right now, she was on the verge of saying.  Then she 
remembered the time. "Well," she said, "WE could ask him, then set it up in 
the morning."  For some reason she doubted Tom was sleeping.
     "Okay," Harry said.  "I'll be there in a few minutes."
     Once she was sure the channel was closed she tapped the badge again. 
"Torres to Paris."
     No response.
     She tried again.  "Torres to Paris."
     Again no response.
     "Computer," she said, "location of Lieutenant Paris?"
     "Lieutenant Paris is in his quarters," the computer replied.
     "Then why isn't he answering the hail?" she asked. 
     "Insufficient data to reply," the computer said.  "Please restate the 
question." 
     "Never mind," she said.  She'd go to his quarters, then.
     B'Elanna found Harry coming down the corridor toward her quarters.  
"Come on, I can't reach Tom.  The computer says he's in his quarters, but 
he's not responding."
     "Maybe he's asleep," Harry said as he hurried to catch up.  "Or he could 
be in the bathroom or something -- " 
     "Or maybe something happened to him," she said.  Harry didn't reply.
     They reached Tom's quarters and rang the bell.  B'Elanna wasn't too 
surprised when there was no response.  Harry tried again then looked at her.
     "Computer," he said, "confirm Lieutenant Paris' location by scanning his 
quarters.  List all humanoid life forms there."
     "There are no life forms that fit the specified parameters," the 
computer replied.
     "But you said Lieutenant Paris was in his quarters," B'Elanna said.  
"When did he leave?"
     "Lieutenant Paris' location has not changed," the computer replied.
     "How is that possible?" B'Elanna asked.  "There are no -- "
     "Wait a second," Harry said.  "Computer, are you saying that Lieutenant 
Paris hasn't moved at all?"
     "Affirmative," the computer replied. 
     "For how long?"  
     "One point eight hours," the computer replied. 
     "He's not in there," Harry said.  "Tom's not the type to sit still for 
any length of time.  I bet he's taken off his combadge."
     "So how do we find him?" she asked.
     Harry paused, then a slow smile came over his face.  "Computer," he 
said, "list all places where the number of life forms is different from the 
number of combadges."  He paused then added, "Exclude crew quarters."
     "Clever," B'Elanna said, "and discreet.  So you don't think he went 
alone," *either,* but she didn't voice that part.
     Harry shook his head.  "Tom wouldn't go without his communicator," he 
said.
     B'Elanna knew he was right.  She was about to tell him that when the 
computer announced the single location where the number of people did not 
match the number of combadge signals.
     "What are they doing there?" asked Harry, confusion clearly showing 
through in his voice.
     B'Elanna held up a hand to silence him.  "Computer, who is present at 
this location?"
     "Ensign Marcos Cavelle and one unidentified human male."
     "Cavelle," B'Elanna muttered.  "I should have known.  Come on, Harry."

Marcos Cavelle looked at the unconscious form at his feet.  What had he just 
done?  Even on Chakotay's Maquis ship he wouldn't have dared pull the stunt 
he had just pulled aboard Voyager.  He hadn't meant to hit Paris, especially 
so hard.  Still angry over the incident in Sandrine's, he had signaled his 
presence at the door to Paris' quarters with the intent of having his say, 
something Mikel had denied him in Sandrine's.
     Mikel . . . oh Gods, what would he think of this?  Marcos knew what he 
would think; he would be disappointed.  Marcos didn't even understand what he 
and Mikel were doing together.  One Maquis.  One Starfleet Security.  An odd 
combination.  Yet, he sensed despite all that, even despite this latest 
stunt, Mikel would be there for him if only Marcos would give him a chance.  
Marcos knew he had a chip on his shoulder that made it somewhat difficult for 
others to get close to him.
     The figure at his feet stirred slightly, moaned, then fell still again. 
Marcos' thoughts turned back to Paris.  He'd had second thoughts about 
confronting Paris and had already turned to go when the door had slid open 
and Paris had come out.  Just the sight of him had angered Marcos, who was 
always quick to fly off the handle anyway.  Without giving it much thought, 
he had slammed a fist into the side of Paris' head and watched as the pilot 
fell to the deck unconscious.
     Now Marcos was alone with Paris, only he wasn't the one who really 
should be setting him straight.  That honor belonged to Jack.  Jack had lost 
a lot because of Tom Paris.  He tapped his combadge.  "Cavelle to Garvic."
     Garvic's tired voice came over the comlink and it occurred to Marcos 
that it was rather late.  "Marcos?  What's up?"
     "Jack, I'm in the hydroponics bay.  If you want to have it out with 
Paris, now's your chance."
     Cavelle's statement brought Jack Garvic to full wakefulness.  Pulling on 
his uniform, he asked, "What are you talking about?"
     "I'm in hydroponics with Paris," Cavelle repeated.  "He should be coming 
around soon.  Now's your chance to tell him what you've been telling me. If 
the man's got a conscience at all, maybe you can convince him that Voyager is 
not the place for the likes of him."
     "When he comes around?" said Jack slowly.  What had Cavelle done?  This 
was HIS fight.  He had no wish to drag his friends into it, nor did he wish 
to see any of them receive any black marks on their records because of him.  
"Marcos, what have you done?"
     In hydroponics, Cavelle shrugged.  "Nothing he didn't deserve.  You'd 
better hurry.  He's starting to come around."
     "I'll be right there," Garvic assured him.
     Paris regained consciousness in stages.  First he became aware of a 
voice, but he couldn't quite make out what it was saying.  Then the pain hit 
-- his head throbbed.  Smell came to him next.  Flowers?  He smelled flowers? 
Despite an overwhelming urge to keep his eyes shut, the scent piqued his 
curiosity and he opened them.  What was that?  Gray, rather drab looking. He 
realized he seemed to be lying on the deck.  He shifted slightly, rolled over 
onto his back, and winced slightly as the room spun around him.  He found the 
spinning came to a stop as long as he didn't try to move too quickly.
     Carefully sitting up, he realized he was in the hydroponics bay.  As a 
shiver ran through him, he also realized he was rather underdressed to be 
traipsing around the ship.  How had he ended up here anyway?  He rubbed at a 
tender spot on the side of his head.  The last thing he remembered was 
stepping out of his quarters.
     "'Bout time you woke up."
     It wasn't until that moment Paris realized he wasn't alone.  Looking up, 
he saw the owner of the voice was Marcos Cavelle.  Keeping an eye on him, Tom 
slowly got to his feet.  His stance was a bit wobbly, but his voice was firm 
when he spoke.  "You hit me."
     "Seemed like a good idea at the time," was Cavelle's only comment, but 
Tom detected a small amount of fear lurking in his eyes behind the bravado. 
Just possibly, Cavelle realized he had gone too far.
     His voice showing his tiredness of dealing with this, Paris asked, "What 
do you want, Cavelle?"
     "Me?  Nothing.  Garvic is the one you should be talking to.  He should 
be here shortly."
     "Garvic?  Is that what this is all about?  The shuttle crash?"
     "Shuttle crashes," corrected Cavelle.  "You seem to have a tendency to 
crash them and then avoid taking responsibility.  You owe Garvic."
     "I OWE Garvic?  I don't even know him."
     "Oh, you know him all right.  All the way back to Caldik Prime.  You -- 
"
     "Marcos, that's enough," said a voice from the doorway.  Both men looked 
to see Lieutenant Garvic standing there.  Tom was startled by the pure hatred 
he saw in Garvic's eyes for a moment.  Hatred directed at him, but then 
Garvic covered it.
     Marcos spun around to look at his friend, his back to Paris.  "Jack, 
tell him!  It's time he knew the whole truth.  Time he knows how he destroyed 
your life -- "
     "Stop it, Marcos."  Jack's tone was firm.  His gaze traveled past 
Cavelle to Tom, who had been slowly moving toward a nearby wall comlink.  
Paris stopped when Garvic's gaze pinned him.  Garvic appeared about to 
address him directly when a new voice spoke from behind him.
     "Gee, Paris, I had no idea you were throwing a party in hydroponics 
tonight," said the voice dryly.  "I'm hurt you didn't invite me."
     B'Elanna Torres stepped around Garvic to enter the room.  Her eyes 
widened slightly at Paris' state of near undress, but she had other more 
pressing concerns to address at the moment.  Turning to face Garvic, she 
said,  "I was expecting Cavelle.  What are you doing here, Garvic?"
     "I was about to try to convince Marcos that this is not the best way to 
handle the situation," he said smoothly.
     B'Elanna quirked an eyebrow in disbelief.  "Really?"  Turning back to 
Cavelle, she said, "What do you think about that, Ensign?"  But Cavelle's 
face had gone blank with surprise, his gaze focused past her shoulder. 
B'Elanna thought he was looking at Garvic but when she turned toward the door 
once again, she saw Mikel Hudson standing next to Harry.  It was he at whom 
Cavelle had been staring.
     Mikel entered the room and approached Cavelle until they were face to 
face, their bodies mere inches apart.  Disappointment shone clearly in 
Mikel's face.  "I'm afraid you're going to the brig this time, Marco," he 
said softly, using the name that only he addressed Cavelle by.
     "Hold on a minute, Hudson," said Paris.  All eyes turned to Paris.  "I'd 
like to keep this quiet if we can.  Take Cavelle somewhere and talk to him.  
If you're not satisfied after your talk, then you can haul him off to the 
brig."
     Mikel and Tom shared a long look.  "This should be reported, sir," 
Hudson finally said.
     "I know that," replied Tom softly.  "Talk to him, Hudson.  If you're not 
happy with what you hear, I'll press charges.  Otherwise, what happened here 
tonight will stay here."
     Hudson looked at the other occupants of the room, all of whom seemed to 
be in agreement to go along with what Paris was suggesting.  Finally, he 
looked back at Lieutenant Paris.  "Thank you, sir."  Paris nodded and watched 
as the two men exited the room.
     "What are you still doing here?"
     B'Elanna's irritated tone drew his attention.  She was glaring at 
Garvic.
     "I was just leaving."  Jack Garvic turned and pushed past Harry.
     Both Harry's and B'Elanna's gazes were locked on Garvic's receding back 
and they nearly missed catching Tom as he wavered on his feet.  B'Elanna was 
there in an instant, offering a shoulder to lean on.  Her hand came in 
contact with his bare torso, and Harry was quick to note that she didn't 
snatch her hand away, but let it remain where it was.
     "New uniform, Tom?" Harry couldn't resist asking.
     "You can beam me to me quarters, can't you?" Paris asked hopefully.
     B'Elanna shook her head.  "That would have to go in a report."  Turning 
serious, she asked, "Are you sure this is the way you want to handle this? 
Cavelle may try something again."
     "I trust Hudson to handle things, besides . . . ."  He shrugged.
     "You're just a big soft-hearted romantic and don't want to see Mikel 
moping around with a broken heart," accused Harry, but he was smiling.
     "Are you sure you're okay?" asked B'Elanna.  "How did Cavelle get you 
here?"
     "Hit me over the head," Paris admitted.  At their alarmed looks, he 
added, "Don't worry.  I've got a hard head.  Nothing a night's sleep won't 
cure."
     "Stubborn, too," commented B'Elanna.  "I can't believe you let Cavelle 
off so easily."
     "I doubt Hudson will let him off easily."  Tom sighed.  "I'm more 
concerned with getting back to my quarters without being seen."
     "We'll give you an escort back," grinned Harry.  "Besides, we have an 
idea we want to pass by you.  Something that may help you regain your 
memory."
     *No!  Don't touch that!*
     His own voice, sounding frazzled, shouted inside his head.  Where had 
that come from?  And at whom was he yelling?  Was it a memory surfacing?  It 
left him with his heart leaping into his throat.
     "Tom?"
     He looked down into B'Elanna Torres' concerned eyes.  Shrugging the 
memory or whatever it was aside, he said, "Did I mention how glad I was to 
see you a few minutes ago?"  They held each other's gazes for a long moment.
     "Hey, weren't you glad to see me too?"
     Both Tom and B'Elanna turned to look at Harry.  "Yeah, you too, Harry," 
said a grinning Paris, but the grin faded when he moved his head too quickly.  
He didn't cover the involuntary wince quickly enough to go unnoticed.  
B'Elanna led him to a nearby bench and pushed him down to a sitting position.  
Tom started to protest when he felt her fingers sifting through his hair, 
checking for injury, but B'Elanna spoke before he had a chance to utter his 
protest.
     "Tom, are you sure you don't want to go to sickbay?  It looks like 
you're developing a nasty bump where Cavelle hit you."
     "No!"  Tom shook his head emphatically, which made his ears ring.  "Like 
I said, it's nothing that a good night's sleep won't cure.  Besides, I have 
absolutely no desire to see the inside of sickbay any time soon!  Let's just 
get out of here."
     Harry led the way to the door, "Okay.  On the way, B'Elanna and I can 
fill you in on our idea."  Harry took two steps out the door.  Then, he 
promptly did an about-face, blocking Tom and B'Elanna's exit.  "Tom, you'd 
attract a lot less attention if you were wearing some clothes." 
     "No kidding, Sherlock!" retorted Tom.  "Let me guess, the corridor is 
filled with hundreds of screaming women demanding to see me in all my glory."
     B'Elanna snorted.  "Glory?  Likely."
     "Something like that," Harry replied.  "Why don't I run to your quarters 
and get you some clothes?"  Before Tom or B'Elanna could say anything, Harry 
exited hydroponics.
     Tom began to pace the length of the bay, trying to recall the memory 
that had bubbled to the surface of his consciousness.  *And then there's 
Cavelle's cryptic remark.*  "You know Cavelle mentioned something about 
Garvic and Caldik Prime."
     "Was he there?"
     "I don't think so."
     "If Garvic weren't physically at Caldik Prime, I wonder what the 
connection is?"  This only served to make B'Elanna more suspicious of Garvic.  
She wanted to question Tom some more, but she noticed him wincing and rubbing 
his temples.
     "That's it!  I'm going to scan you," B'Elanna said as she walked 
purposefully towards a panel marked with a red cross.  "Sit!"
     "I told you I'm okay!  Hard head, remember?"
     "I know you have a hard head, but Cavelle knocked you out cold.  I think 
that warrants at least a medical scan!" she tossed over her shoulder as she 
rummaged through the panel.
     Tom shrugged, but sat down.  She returned and positioned herself behind 
him.  As she began scanning with the medical tricorder, B'Elanna was acutely 
aware of Tom.  Of his body.  Of him.  Her heart pounded. *Concentrate 
Torres!* she admonished herself.  *Time enough for that later!*  She stopped.  
*Later? What am I thinking?*  
     She replaced the tiny scanner so the tricorder could process the data. 
Looking down at his profile, she was overcome with a desperate desire to take 
away his pain.
     Tom closed his eyes.  B'Elanna stood close enough that he could feel her 
body heat and smell her perfume.  He inhaled deeply, savoring her closeness.  
Her scent, mixing with the flowers growing in the hydroponics bay, 
intoxicated him.  He swiveled his body about and wrapped his arms around her 
waist.  Slowly opening his eyes, he looked up at her.
     She did not say anything.  She laid the hand holding the tricorder on 
his shoulder and gazed into his eyes. Her free hand went to Tom's face, her 
thumb tracing the line of his brow while her fingers tangled gently in his 
hair.  Tom leaned his head into the palm of her hand.  His hands rubbed the 
small of her back in soft circles.  Azure eyes and chocolate eyes held each 
other.
     At that moment Harry returned making a commotion.  On the way back Harry 
had debated whether or not to return to the hydroponics bay at all; he had no 
desire to interrupt again.  He then looked down at the clothes he carried.  
If he didn't go back and someone saw Tom's undressed state, rumors would fly 
more than they already were.  *I'll just give them a little warning that I'm 
coming,* he thought to himself.  When he stood in front of the door to 
hydroponics, Harry punched a random assortment of commands on the control 
panel.
     The computer beeped in protest, "Unknown command.  Please restate the 
command." 
     "Ah.  Advance warning of Mr. Kim's arrival," Tom drawled dryly.  "Come 
in, Harry!  It's not locked!"  B'Elanna had already moved a safe distance 
away from Tom.  The spell was broken.
     "Well, it's official.  You have the hardest head in the Delta Quadrant," 
B'Elanna said, as Harry entered the hydroponics bay.
     "I hope these meet with your approval, Mr. Paris."  Harry handed Tom the 
bundle.  Tom went behind a stand teeming with flowering plants and quickly 
pulled on the clothes.
     "B'Elanna, have you told Tom about our idea?"
     "No, Harry, I wanted to wait for you."
     "Well, what is this brilliant idea?" Tom asked as he returned to the 
bench and sat down facing Harry and B'Elanna.
     They quickly explained the idea of recreating the accident on the 
holodeck.  Tom, while looking a bit apprehensive, nodded his assent to the 
experiment to jog his memory.
     "One thing,"  B'Elanna said, "I'd like to put off telling Garvic until 
right before the simulation."
     "You still don't trust him?" Harry quizzed her.  "Are you trying trap 
him?"
     "Not exactly 'trap,'" she responded slowly, "I just don't want him to 
have too much time to prepare."
     Tom watched silently as Harry and B'Elanna worked out some more details 
of the simulation.  He thought of the pair's continuous efforts to help him. 
First the excursion to Sandrine's to help him relax a little, then their 
appearance in hydroponics, now the holodeck simulation to attempt to prove 
his innocence in the accident.  Tom felt tears sting his eyes so he turned 
his face away.  *So different from Caldik Prime.*  At that moment, Thomas 
Eugene Paris felt very fortunate indeed.
     "Tom?"  
     Tom turned to face his friends and stood up.  He placed a hand on 
Harry's shoulder and took B'Elanna's hand.  He gave each a squeeze.
     "Thanks for believing in me."

Hudson pushed Cavelle into his quarters, glad that Cavelle's roommate had the 
night shift and wasn't about.  Mikel was usually pretty easy-going, but he 
couldn't believe what Marcos had done.
     "What the hell were you thinking?" Mikel paced the quarters, letting his 
anger overflow.  "You've gone too far, Marco.  You can't go around taking 
matters into your own hands.  You know that.  Why didn't you come talk to me 
first?"  He stopped pacing long enough to stand still and glare at Cavelle.
     "Talk to you?" repeated Cavelle in disbelief.  "About Paris?  You know 
you and I don't see eye to eye about him.  The man should still be in prison, 
not serving as a lieutenant aboard a starship."
     "That's not your decision to make, Marco," Mikel replied a little more 
calmly.  "That's Captain Janeway's call.  She's your captain.  You, like the 
rest of us, follow her orders.  Come on, Marco, there's more to this than 
your dislike for Paris.  That I could probably put up with, but something's 
got you riled enough to pull this stunt tonight.  What is it?"
     Now it was Marcos who paced the room.  "I can't talk about it.  
Something Jack Garvic told me in confidence."
     Mikel approached Marcos, stopping close to him.  The two men stared at 
each other, Marcos' eyes apologetic and Mikel's confused.  "Let it drop, 
Marco.  It's not your fight.  If Garvic has an argument with Lieutenant 
Paris, let him fight his own battles.  Can you give me your word that you'll 
stay out of it?"
     Marcos stepped back. "Or else you'll throw me in the brig?" he asked 
sarcastically.
     Hudson nodded solemnly.  "You got it, Marco.  You'd be in the brig right 
now if it weren't for Lieutenant Paris' intervention.  Don't forget that."
     Cavelle turned away, his shoulders tight with tension.  "Why'd he do 
that?  So he could blackmail me later?"
     "Stop thinking like a Maquis, Marco."  Mikel's voice was soft.  "Despite 
what you think of Paris, from everything I've seen he's a good man.  I'd 
easily trust him with my life.  Right now, I'm not sure I could say the same 
of you."
     That stung.  Marcos bowed his head.  "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
     "Sorry that what you did hurt me?  Hurt us?" said Hudson softly.  "Or 
sorry that you decided to take matters into your own hands?"
     These self-revealing conversations didn't come easily to Cavelle, but 
Mikel was important to him.  He saw a lot of things in Marcos that others 
didn't see or weren't willing to put forth the effort to find.  "I won't go 
near Paris again," he promised.  He started when he felt a pair of arms slide 
around him from behind.
     "That's all I wanted to hear," Mikel whispered.  "The rest can come 
later."

After Torres had kicked him out of the hydroponics bay, Jack Garvic had 
calmly walked back to his cabin, pausing briefly in front of Cavelle's 
quarters.  *This is getting out of hand,* he thought to himself.  *I just 
want Paris to pay!*  His pace quickened with every step.  Once inside his 
quarters, Jack had looked down at his hands and saw them shaking.  Soon the 
tremors spread to the rest of his body.  He slid to the floor, feeling the 
blood drain from his face and sweat drip down his back.  Jack Garvic realized 
that he was trapped.
     "Gods, what have I created?"
     His gaze fell on a photograph on his desk.  Ramey, his best friend.  The 
young men were in full dress uniform, proudly displaying their diplomas. They 
had met when they were twelve and had been inseparable until graduation from 
Starfleet Academy.  *Friends until Caldik Prime and Tom Paris.*  Jack felt 
the familiar anger wash over him.  *What about Marcos Cavelle?*  Jack only 
wanted Tom Paris to pay, but now the web grew more tangled.  Cavelle.  
Hudson.  Torres.  Kim.  All snarled by his desire for revenge.
     *This has got to end!* Jack exclaimed to himself.  He began to pace.  
*Get a hold of yourself, Garvic!  If you confess, you'll end up like Suder!  
And Paris will get off AGAIN!  Can I live with the lie?  Remember Ramey. 
Paris' life for Ramey's.*
     "Remember, Ramey," he chanted his mantra, "Paris' life for Ramey's."
     Jack paced until he was exhausted then stripped off his damp clothes and 
sprawled diagonally on his bed.  *I have to rest.  I'll be able to think more 
clearly then.*  He administered the hypospray the doctor had given him to 
help him sleep.  Quickly he succumbed to its effects, but it was not a 
peaceful slumber.

Jack Garvic was in a shuttle.  Klaxons rang.  Smoke billowed from the panel 
in front of him, making it difficult to see the controls.  The shuttle shook 
violently.
     "ACTIVATE THE IMPULSE BUFFER RELAYS!" a familiar voice screamed.
     "Ramey?"  The smoke stung Jack's eyes.
     "DO IT NOW!"
     "Ramey, where are you?" Jack called out.  He stood and placed a hand on 
the pilot's shoulder.
     "Jack, what have you done to me?" asked Ramey.  The accusation in 
Ramey's eyes shocked Jack.  He felt the shuttle slam -- 
     Jack shot up in his bed.  He inhaled a wheezing breath.  Realization 
slammed into him -- "Gods, I'm just like Paris!"
     Garvic got up and put on his uniform, but felt none of his usual pride 
in wearing it.  He did not deserve to wear it.  He left his cabin and walked 
aimlessly through the deserted corridors.  His wanderings led him to the 
hydroponics bay. *You're a real glutton for punishment,* he thought as he 
entered.  "What am I going to do?" he muttered under his breath.
     "Is there anything I can help you with, Lieutenant?" Kes' voice came out 
from behind a rack of potted plants.
     "Kes!" Jack jumped.  "What are you doing here so early?  It can't be 
0500 yet."
     "My shift in sickbay begins at 0600, so I thought I'd check on some of 
the plants before reporting for duty," she replied softly.  She sensed Garvic 
struggling with something.
     "Oh.  I just have a lot on my mind.  I couldn't sleep."
     "I understand, Lieutenant.  I come here too when something is troubling 
me.  Often the answer is right in front of me."
     Garvic nodded.  He knew what he had to do.  He walked towards the door.
     "Lieutenant?"
     "Yes, Kes?"
     "If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me."

Jack left hydroponics and went directly to Tuvok's quarters.  He did not 
hesitate before he rang the chime.  Tuvok responded promptly.
     "Lieutenant Garvic, it is 0500 hours.  Is there something I may assist 
you with?"
     "I apologize for waking you so early, but I want to revise my statement 
regarding the shuttle accident."
     "You did not wake me, Lieutenant," said Tuvok to Garvic.  "I have just 
been accepting the reports of Ensign Hudson and Ensign Cavelle.  In another 
moment, I would have summoned you here as well.  Ensign Cavelle has confessed 
to assault upon Lieutenant Paris.  I understand you are also involved."  
Tuvok stood aside and indicated a chair.  "Please be seated."
     Garvic glanced around shakily, his resolve ebbing away.  "Am I under 
arrest?"
     "For the moment, no.  But you can be sure I will be investigating this 
matter fully.  Such behavior will not be tolerated on this ship.  Ensign 
Hudson, escort Ensign Cavelle to the brig, then return to your quarters, 
where you will remain restricted until further notice.  Do you understand?"
     "Yes, sir."
     Garvic exchanged glances with Cavelle as he passed, but couldn't read 
anything in his eyes.  What had Cavelle said?  How much did Tuvok know or 
guess?  The doors hissed shut behind them.
     "And now, Lieutenant," continued Tuvok, "I should like to know why you 
downloaded the critical files concerning the shuttlecraft accident into your 
personal database yesterday."
     Tuvok saw a flash of panic flare in Garvic's eyes.  *So my suspicions 
are correct,* he thought.  *Lieutenant Garvic is hiding something.*
     *Oh Gods,* thought Garvic, his brain moving ahead at warp speed.  *What 
do I tell him?  Should I confess it all now and get it over with?*  Ramey's 
laughing face came to mind but it was quickly superimposed with Paris' face, 
who seemed to be laughing at Garvic and saying, *You'll never win, Garvic.  
I'll always be one step ahead of you.*
     Jack took a deep breath, pushing the angry thoughts aside and striving 
for a cool head.  Looking steadily at the Vulcan security officer, he said, 
"Sir, I downloaded those files because I was afraid I might have missed 
something in my report to the captain.  I was still a little wobbly from the 
surgery when she questioned me and I wanted to make sure I had gotten my 
facts straight."
     "And did you get your facts straight, Lieutenant?"
     Garvic felt the panic rising again.  What to say?  What to say?  "I, uh, 
sir, that's what I came to talk to you about.  I had something further to add 
to my report."  Jack thought furiously.  What?  What could he say to make 
this believable?
     "I would be most interested to hear what you have to say, Lieutenant."
     Tuvok was looking at him with those unreadable eyes.  *What's he 
thinking?* wondered Garvic.  *Does he believe me?*  "Sir, it's -- it's more 
of a personal observation than anything that would be of help to the 
investigation," said Garvic nervously, as he tried to cover all bases while 
wondering what Marcos Cavelle had told Tuvok.
     "Does this perhaps concern the animosity you have shown toward 
Lieutenant Paris?" asked Tuvok with his usual Vulcan straightforwardness.
     Garvic grasped onto that like a lifeline.  "Yes, sir.  "I'm afraid Paris 
and I exchanged words during the flight."
     "Do you believe that this distracted Mr. Paris enough to cause the grave 
error in his piloting?"
     "I -- I'm not sure, sir.  I think his taking the buffer relays off line 
may have been a direct result of his anger due to our conversation."
     "I shall note your remarks in my updated report to the captain this 
morning," Tuvok advised.  "With regards to the incident in hydroponics last 
night, I must ask, Lieutenant, if you had any prior knowledge of the actions 
that Ensign Cavelle took against Lieutenant Paris?"
     Garvic didn't even have to act this time.  He let his appalled reaction 
shine through.  "No, sir, I didn't.  I appreciate that he's been a good 
friend to me but when he contacted me, I went to hydroponics with the express 
purpose of putting a stop to it."
     "Why did you not report the incident, Lieutenant?"
     Garvic shrugged.  "Lieutenant Paris seemed to have it under control.  I 
felt it was his prerogative on what action he wished to take."
     "As I stated before, Lieutenant, such actions will not be tolerated on 
this ship.  This incident will go on your record.  Please report to duty as 
usual today.  The captain or commander may wish to speak to you later after I 
have made my report to them."
     "Yes, sir."
     Tuvok watched as the lieutenant exited his quarters.  Turning toward his 
desk, he said, "Computer, track Lieutenant Jack Garvic's  motions on this 
ship from this time forward.  Keep me apprised of his activities at all 
times."
     "Acknowledged."
     Tuvok sat at his desk and pulled up a personnel file.  Jack Garvic's 
personnel file.  It wasn't long before he found a past connection between Tom 
Paris and Jack Garvic, one that Tuvok was fairly certain Tom Paris was 
unaware of.  Perhaps Lieutenant Torres had been correct in her belief that 
Lieutenant Paris was not responsible for the accident.  Tuvok would continue 
to compile the evidence; however, at the moment, the other parties involved 
in the previous evening's incident in hydroponics needed to be questioned 
before he met with the captain.

*I finally don't have any nightmares and I wake up at 0530!* Tom thought as 
he walked into the mess hall.  Despite the late night and early hour, Tom 
felt rested.  He entered into Neelix's domain and saw that Neelix was the 
only other occupant.
     "Tom!  My first customer of the day!"  Neelix called from the galley.  
     *More like first victim!* Tom smiled, until he smelled leola root 
burning.  His eyes opened wide in surprise.  He pivoted on his heel and ran 
straight into B'Elanna.
     "Tom," she asked, "what are you doing here so early?  It's only 0530."
     He grinned at her, "I could almost kiss Neelix!"
     "Huh?"
     "It must have been the burning leola root," Tom's smile grew wider, 
making his eyes twinkle.  "B'Elanna, I REMEMBER something!"
     Tom grabbed B'Elanna's arm and was about to pull her over to a nearby 
table when he noticed Harry entering the mess hall right behind her.
     "Did you just say you remembered something?" Harry asked excitedly.  Tom 
nodded and headed over to the table, B'Elanna in tow and Harry right behind 
them.  B'Elanna, momentarily distracted by the impact Tom's expressive blue 
eyes had on her, didn't even realize he had her arm and was pulling her with 
him.
     "So what have you remembered?" she asked impatiently after they sat 
down. She absently pushed a few stray hairs away from her face.  The gesture 
caused Tom to look at her more closely and he noticed with dismay that there 
were dark circles under her eyes.  He looked at Harry and saw that he, too, 
was looking like he hadn't gotten any sleep.  He eyed them both suspiciously.
     "PLEASE tell me you two weren't up all night working on that holodeck 
program for the re-enactment?" he asked.  He was appalled at the thought of 
his two friends spending a sleepless night on his behalf when he had actually 
been able to get some sleep.  But one look at them and he knew that was 
exactly how they had spent the night.
     Harry, a slightly sheepish look on his face, merely shrugged, but 
B'Elanna defiantly answered, "Don't worry about us, Paris.  We've all gone 
without sleep before.  I, for one, just want to get to the bottom of this.  
So TELL US what you remembered!" she practically growled her demand.
     Tom bit back the reply he wanted to make.  He knew it wasn't wise to 
provoke a tired grumpy Klingon -- well, it really wasn't wise to provoke a 
Klingon under any circumstances -- although that knowledge usually hadn't 
stopped him before.  This time he was too excited about the prospect of his 
memory returning to sidetrack any longer.  Before he could begin, however, 
they were distracted by the swoosh of the mess hall doors.  Looking up they 
saw Tuvok enter.
     "We should probably invite Tuvok over to hear this," suggested Harry.
     "Actually, there's quite a bit we should probably tell Tuvok about," 
B'Elanna commented dryly.
     "Looks like we don't need to extend an invitation," Tom noted as they 
watched Tuvok approach them.  "I really don't want to get into what happened 
last night in hydroponics, okay?" he whispered.  His friends nodded silently, 
although Harry didn't look too happy about it.
     "Morning, Tuvok!" Tom greeted the security officer brightly.
     The lieutenant solemnly greeted the young officers.  "Good morning, 
Lieutenants, Ensign.  It is fortuitous that I ran into the three of you. It 
has been brought to my attention that some unsettling events have occurred 
recently, which I believe you are already aware of."  His eyes slowly swept 
over the group.
     Harry fidgeted nervously.  B'Elanna met Tuvok's gaze for a moment before 
looking away.  Tom shook his head and snorted, "If you're talking about 
Sandrine's, Tuvok, nothing happened.  It was just a little . . . 
disagreement.  People were blowing off steam, that's all.  I told Hudson I 
wasn't going to press charges and I haven't changed my mind, if that's why 
you're here."
     The security officer looked steadily at Tom.  "According to Ensign 
Simms' report, Lieutenant, Ensign Cavelle was clearly attempting to provoke 
you and possibly incite a riot in Sandrine's.  This is unacceptable behavior 
for a Starfleet officer and should not be tolerated.  May I ask, Mr. Paris, 
why you chose not to press charges?"
     Tom sighed and answered indifferently, "Look, Tuvok, I didn't think it 
was that big of a deal.  People are always making their opinion of me very 
clear.  Cavelle is just one in a long line."
     "Perhaps if Ensign Cavelle had spent the night in the brig or confined 
to quarters as he should have, you would not have been attacked and rendered 
unconscious later that evening."
     Someone gasped; Tom didn't know who.  For once, Tom Paris did not have a 
quick retort.  He hadn't considered that Tuvok would know about the 
hydroponics fiasco, at least not yet.  He closed his eyes briefly and with a 
mental sigh thought, *Why do I even bother?*  When he opened them again he 
looked directly at Tuvok.  "How did you find out about that?"
     "Ensigns Hudson and Cavelle paid me a visit earlier this morning.  They 
were quite anxious to r