Family Ghostsby Maryann HopsonMEHopson@aol.comRated: PG-13Synopsis:  This is a sequel to Tom Takes A Lickin', but is basically understandable on its own.  It takes place about a month later, and is set prior to Scientific Method, and after Revulsion.  Basically, Tom and B'Elanna spend the evening together, and Tom tells B'Elanna another story from his childhood.Author's Note:  I've assumed that Tom has already told B'Elanna he loves her.  Plenty of other people have written great fanfiction all about it, so I certainly didn't need to.  Instead, I've written a story which deals with Tom and B'Elanna getting to know each other better.  In doing so, I've given Tom some more back story.  Pretty presumptous of me, but you've been warned.  Also, this is a more serious story than Tom Takes A Lickin'.  I've given it a PG-13 rating because of some of the things Tom talks about.  I don't know how objectionable it all is, but again, you've been warned.  It's all the sort of stuff I heard on the bus and in the bathroom in junior and senior high.  Anyway, I hope you like it, and feel free to let me know what you think!* * * * *           B'Elanna Torres walked into the mess hall, instantly spotting Tom Paris across the room, sitting at a table with Harry Kim, Neelix, Samantha Wildman, and Samantha's two year old daughter.  She was surprised to find him here, despite that fact that the computer had assured her that this was his location.  They'd spent every evening for a week together, in one or the other's quarters, venturing out to Sandrine's twice. She'd assumed that tonight they'd again be having dinner and "hanging out" as Tom had termed it.  Maybe she'd been wrong.  B'Elanna squared her shoulders and headed for Tom's table.     Everyone was chuckling as B'Elanna approached.  "Tom, that is awful, just awful," groaned Samantha.  Seeing B'Elanna standing behind Tom, she invited, "Join us B'Elanna.  But I'm warning you, he's on a roll."     Tom whipped around to look at her, and motioned her into the empty seat next to him.  "There you are!" he exclaimed cheerfully.  "I ran into Harry, and he said things were pretty busy down in Engineering, so I didn't know if you were going to make it."     "I'm not that late," countered B'Elanna, accepting the seat.  "I would have contacted you if I were going to be really late."          "I know," replied Tom, unwilling to be baited into an argument.  "I haven't had dinner.  I was waiting for you.  I've just been keeping everyone company while they ate," he explained.     "He's actually been torturing us with his 'Tour of the Federation through Bad Jokes'," clarified Harry.  "It's been interesting."     "I'm only half done," Tom warned ominously.  "And, you've gotta admit that joke from Deep Space Four, about the Vulcan and the Nausican with the bum knee is pretty good," he exhorted.     "Okay, maybe that one doesn't stink,"  conceded Samantha.  "But the rest."  Sam gave a mock shudder.     "You seem to have an endless supply of jokes and stories, Tom.  Where do you get them all?" asked Neelix.     "Well, I shamelessly pirated my 'Joke Tour' from my sister Peggy.  She spent a summer on tour of every starbase, and most of the starships in the Federation.  She used to send me subspace letters with all the bad jokes she heard from all of the ensigns, fresh out of the Academy, who were trying to pick up an Admiral's daughter," explained Tom.     "I thought your sisters stayed as far away from Star Fleet as they could," said B'Elanna.  "Why would she go on a tour of starbases over her summer vacation?"     "Troupe to the Troops Tour," answered Tom.  "You know, the annual entertainment tour Star Fleet Command sends out to the troops in the trenches, so to speak.  Peggy was in an acting company invited to go along one year."     Samantha was giving Tom a weird look and when she finally caught his eye, she couldn't contain herself.  "Your sister's name is Peggy Paris?  And she survived grammar school with that monogram on her book bag?"     "Peggy did get into a few fights over the years because of the, shall we say, bathroom humor," agreed Tom, chuckling.  "But her monogram is M.S.P., which is worse, actually.  Her given name is Margaret Susanne Paris," explained Tom.     Sam cringed visibly.  "Ugh.  Did your parents do that on purpose?  If they did, I definitely think it constitutes child abuse."     "Tell me about it," replied Tom.  "But in my father's defense - and you're not likely to hear me defending him again - he didn't make the connection.  Mom is solely to blame in this case."      B'Elanna looked from Samantha to Tom, perplexed.  "What's abusive about a name?" she finally asked.     "It's the song," said Sam.     "Oh," whistled Harry, getting the reference.  "The song."     "The song?" questioned B'Elanna and Neelix, in unison.     "The song," echoed Tom.  "Believe me, I could tell you stories . . ."      "I'm sure you could," smiled Sam indulgently.  "But, I don't think I can take much more tonight.  Besides, I know someone who needs a B-A-T-H.  You two go have your dinner.  Then, Tom, tell B'Elanna the whole story."  Samantha stood up from the table, gathering her things.     "Is anyone going to explain the joke to me?" asked Neelix.     "Sure," agreed Sam brightly.  "Harry can stay and tell you all about the song."     Tom was grinning.  "Good idea, Sam.  Harry, you tell Neelix all about it.  We're going to go have our dinner date."  With that, Tom grabbed B'Elanna's hand, and proceeded to lead the rather stunned lieutenant from the mess hall.* * * * *     Three minutes later, B'Elanna stood in Tom's living room, glaring, as he coaxed their dinner out of the replicator.  "I can't believe you went and told everyone we had a dinner date," she fumed.  "I thought we agreed to keep this low profile for a while."     "It's not like I made a ship-wide announcement," countered Tom, making a few final changes to the menu.     "Close enough.  You told Neelix," she accused.     Tom sighed.  Turning, he said, "I understand that you want privacy B'Elanna.  Honestly, I share that desire.  I agree that it isn't much fun to be the subject of the ship's rumor mill.  But, you won't even let me tell Harry that we're," Tom paused for a moment, gazing at B'Elanna trying to determine her probable reaction.  "Involved," he declared.  "I love you, and I want to spend time with you, but you don't even want Harry to know.  That's not fair.  I mean, he would have probably tried to tag along, not knowing any better, if Samantha hadn't intervened.  I'll apologize for announcing we had a dinner date, if you want me to.  But, I am not sorry we were able to get away and have our date."  Tom stood defensively, arms crossed, waiting for B'Elanna's reply.     B'Elanna gazed at the floor for a moment, chagrined that Tom had taken her to task.  While they were well-known for their arguments, it had been quite some time since Tom had contradicted her on anything of import.  He'd actually been bending over backwards to avoid arguing with her, she realized.  She looked up at him, and taking a big breath said, "I guess it would make sense to tell Harry when we have a date, so he doesn't think we're avoiding him.  I just don't know that I'm ready to tell everyone else about us.  Not that it matters, since Sam seemed to know, and Neelix definitely knows now."     "That's all I'm asking," said Tom, giving her a weak smile.  "As for Sam, I didn't tell her.  I guess her mother-sense is just really well honed.  I doubt she'll tell anyone.  As for Neelix, well, I'll go find him, and threaten to beat him up if he tells anyone," he offered.     "No, leave Neelix to me," responded B'Elanna.  Catching Tom's wary look, she added, "I'm just going to send him a note.  I'm going to point out that it behooves him, as my pressure valve, to keep this all to himself for the time being."     "Pressure valve?" asked Tom, obviously confused.     "Neelix offered to be my pressure valve," she explained.  "But that doesn't really matter.  Mind if I use your terminal quickly?" she asked, motioning to his desk.     "All yours.  I'll just finish dinner," answered Tom.  He was still a little confused, but decided to let it go.  They had made it past another stumbling block, and he was grateful.  Their evening appeared to be back on track, and he for one had no desire to knock it off course again.     They worked in companionable silence.  Tom set the table, and finished replicating their dinner.  B'Elanna thoughtfully composed her message, and after checking it over one last time, sent it off.  Standing up from Tom's desk, she walked over to the table to join him.  "That's all taken care of," she remarked.  "Now where were we?"     "First, dinner.  Then, hang out here?  Or we could go to the Resort or Sandrine's, whichever is running tonight," offered Tom.     "We went to Sandrine's last night.  Let's just stay here," answered B'Elanna.  She sat down, and picked up her fork.  The dinner smelled wonderful, and she asked, "So, what are we having?"     "Oh, chicken fettucini alfredo with broccoli.  My mother's recipe, sort of.  I know you like lasagna, so I thought you'd go for this as well.  Pasta, cheese," he explained quickly.     B'Elanna took a bite, and smiled.  "It's delicious, thank you."  B'Elanna ate a few more bites of her dinner, waiting for Tom to begin a topic of conversation.  When it became apparent he wasn't going to, she said, "So, are you going to tell me about this song?  Sam told you to tell me the story."     "Do you really want to hear it?" asked Tom.     "I enjoyed the last story you told me about your sisters," she reminded him.  Tom remembered.  He'd certainly enjoyed the kiss she'd given him later that evening, and every kiss since then.  It's been a wonderful month, he thought to himself, smiling.     "Okay," agreed Tom.  "First, the song.  Computer please play 'Peggy Sue' by Buddy Holly."  The computer complied, and the two sat listening to the ballad in all its warbled glory.  When it concluded, Tom stated simply,  "That's the song."     "I see," said B'Elanna, somewhat taken aback.     "I'm sure you do.  Peggy Sue is a nickname for Margaret Susanne.  Mom named Peggy on purpose.  I guess she really loved that song.  Peggy, though, hated it.  As would anyone who was seranaded with it ten times a day."     "People sang it to her?" B'Elanna asked, choking slightly on her dinner.     "Oh, yeah," agreed Tom.  "Everyone, even people who didn't know her middle name.  Family, friends, kids at school.  Her teachers, even.  Perfect strangers on the street.  It was pretty brutal."     "And you have a story about this," remarked B'Elanna.     "Do I ever," he agreed.  Tom looked at her intently before asking, obviously surprised, "You really want to hear silly stories from my childhood, don't you?"  He concentrated on B'Elanna's steady gaze for a few more seconds, and then started.       "Well, let's see."  Tom focused upon a spot over and behind B'Elanna's head.  It surprised B'Elanna to see what an effort it was for Tom to think about what she assumed to be the better memories of his past.  "Well, this happened the summer I was seventeen.  I hadn't seen Peggy in four and a half months.  This was the summer she'd been on the Troupe for the Troops Tour, and I was picking her up at the spaceport.  Peggy was touring with a theater company performing 'Much Ado About Nothing'.  There were a lot of acts participating that year.  Relations with the Cardassians were strained, and the Romulans were acting up, so it was popular to be patriotic.  Anyway, I was picking Peggy up at the spaceport . . ."* * * * *     Tom Paris, engrossed in the novel he was reading, barely registered the squeal of "Tommy!" before his sister Peggy tackled him.  "What are you doing here?" she demanded.     "I thought I'd be nice, and pick you up.  I didn't expect the attempt on my life," he grumbled, working to fix the PADD Peggy had scrambled.  "You made me lose my place," he complained.     "Yeah, like I could take you out," grumbled Peggy back.  "I never should have gone to college.  You got too big."     "I'm fairly certain I would have grown whether or not you went away to school," Tom assured her.     Peggy looked Tom up and down, taking in his baseball cap, surfing t-shirt, baggy shorts, and sandals.  "Well, I'm really glad you're here, even if you are doing your best impression of a twentieth century 'surfer dude'," she added, giving him an amused look.     Peggy made a grab at Tom's hat, but he dodged her.  "Leave it alone, Peg.  I'm still shorn for the summer."  Tom made a face, and concentrated on adjusting the cap to his satisfaction without removing it from his head.     Peggy socked him in the arm, and said, "Don't worry about that right now.  You've got to protect me."     "From what?" asked Tom, glancing around the rather empty spaceport terminal.     "My co-star," she whispered.  "My Star Fleet Dependent's ID helped me clear Customs faster than everyone else, but Darius will be out any moment now.  We had, ah, a small fling, and he hasn't quite figured out it's over," explained Peggy, giving Tom a bashful look.     "Have you told him it's over?  Does he know about the Professor?" quizzed Tom.     "I can't tell him it's over yet, and don't call Steven that," admonished Peggy.     "Why can't you tell him?" asked Tom exasperated.     "Because, Darius is Benedick to my Beatrice, and we still have the final performance for the Star Fleet brass next weekend.  I can't do anything about it until this week is over."     "Peggy, Peggy, Peggy," chided Tom.  "I can't believe you'd -"     Tom's words were cut off when Peggy hit him in the stomach, motioning to the approach of a young man in his twenties, a teenage girl, and an older couple, obviously someone's parents.  "Shush," she ordered.     "Hey, everybody," called Peggy brightly.  "Come meet my little brother."     "Who are you calling little?" snorted Tom, falling easily into their routine.  Peggy and Tom had spent a lot of time in meet-and-greet situations, and so knew exactly how to carry on a superficial, crowd-pleasing introduction.     "Pay him no mind," advised Peggy.  "Everybody, this is Tom.  Tom, please meet Darius Cray, Benedick to my Beatrice, and Sheridan Richards, our Hero."     "And these are my parents, Jonah and Chloe Richards," supplied Sheridan.     "It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Richards," smiled Peggy warmly.  "Sheridan has been like a little sister to me."     "It's lovely to meet you, as well, my dear," said Mrs. Richards breezily.     "I understand your father is Admiral Owen Paris," boomed Mr. Richards.  "Great man, your father.  I'm the Assistant Undersecretary to the Federation President, and so I'm often called upon to deal with Star Fleet Command.  I've always found your father to be extremely helpful."     "That's nice to know," commented Tom, unsure of what he was expected to say.     Mr. Richards didn't appear to have even heard Tom's response.  "So, Tom," he continued.  "Will you be following in your father's footsteps?"     "Well, I'm about to begin my senior year at Academy Prep, and I have a conditional early acceptance at Star Fleet Academy.  I also just returned from my fifth year at BRAT camp," replied Tom, spouting off all the usual garbage people expected when they asked him about his future.     "BRAT camp?" snickered Darius, obviously amused.     Tom was used to civilians finding this funny.  "Yes," he smiled falsely at Darius.  "Basic Reconnaissance Activities Training Camp.  I just spent ten weeks in the Arctic, living in an igloo I built myself, eating ration bars and fried seal blubber, while planning and executing a successful spy mission against my enemy.  BRAT Camp."     "So, are you hoping to join the Rangers?" asked Mr. Richards, referring to Star Fleet's cracker-jack reconnaissance unit.     "Actually, I'm hoping to go to flight school," replied Tom, easily.     "Followed by command school, I'm sure," responded Mr. Richards.  "With your family legacy, you'll be climbing the chain-of-command quickly, no doubt."     "Right," conceded Tom.  "Can't get very far as just a pilot."     "So," said Darius, attempting to steer the conversation back to something he could actually participate in, "How about we all go get some coffee, and talk?"     "Yes, let's," chimed Sheridan.     "Well, actually we need to get going," countered Tom.  Peggy thankfully squeezed his arm.  "Mom's got a small welcome home dinner planned.  She wants us back no later than 1700."     "But, that gives you almost three and a half hours," argued Darius.  "Now, how long can it take to transport home?"     "Actually, Darius, it gives us an hour and a half," corrected Peggy softly.  "You've got to subtract twelve, not ten," she reminded him.     "Oh, right," Darius said blushing.  He was truly getting tired of all these superior Star Fleet types with their military time and their 'I'm the perfect teenage spy' attitudes.     Tom was now certain that he couldn't stand Darius.  As far as he was concerned, Peggy couldn't dump him soon enough.  Neutrally, he added, "And, I drove up here.  It's about an hour's drive back to Half Moon Bay, so we do need to get going."     Peggy turned around to look at her brother.  "You drove?  What did you drive?"     "My new car," he said, grinning at her.  Tom fished a set of old-fashioned keys out of his pocket, and dangled them in front of his sister.  "Actually, it's a Detroit Classics convertible manufactured at the turn of the century.  Papa apparently owned it all these years, and when they finally found his will, the car was left to me.  It's a sweet ride, Peg," finished Tom.      "Highway One?" asked Peggy expectantly.     "Of course," smiled Tom.     Peggy turned back to her co-stars.  "Well, Tom's right.  We really need to go.  But I'll see you all on Wednesday, bright and early for rehearsal."  Peggy gave Sheridan a quick hug, and turned back to Tom.  "I had my bags sent to the Transporter facility, so we need to go get them."     They all said good-bye to Peggy and Tom.  Darius made an initial movement after Peggy, but stopped when he thought better of it.  He didn't want to try and carry on a serious conversation with Peggy in front of her brother.     Peggy breathed a thankful sigh of relief as she and Tom rounded the corner.  Tom began to say something, but she cut him off.  "Save it for later, Tom.  Let's just get out of here."     Ten minutes later they were at Tom's car in the small spaceport parking garage.  These days, except for extremely local travel, most people didn't bother with hover-cars, let alone the truly old-fashioned ground cars.  Still, there were enough devotees around that garages and highways were maintained.  Peggy dutifully fussed over the car, and then they both climbed in.     "I can't believe you!" declared Tom and Peggy simultaneously.     They glared at each other for a few seconds before Tom waved his hand distractedly at Peggy, and grumbled "You first."     "I can't believe you actually went to BRAT Camp again.  You hate BRAT Camp."     "Everyone hates BRAT Camp," returned Tom.  "It's not exactly fun, but that doesn't mean it's not a valuable experience."     "Thank you, Admiral Paris," snorted Peggy derisively.  "You vowed last year that you weren't going again.  But, of course, you gave into him," said Peggy shaking her head.      "Oh, and what were you doing on the Troops tour?  You were invited to the New England Playwright's Association Summer Workshop, for the gods' sake.  But, that wouldn't please Dad nearly as much as a nice Star Fleet sanctioned activity would it?  Don't jump all over me for doing the things I should be doing as a future Star Fleet cadet, Peggy.  You're the one killing your career in a ridiculous attempt to appease Dad, and keep the peace."  Tom started the car angrily, but waited a few moments while he calmed down before driving out of the parking lot.     "The first year at the Workshop, all you do is act in other people's plays anyway," defended Peggy lamely.     "But you could have gotten that out of the way this year, Peggy," sighed Tom.  "Why don't we just both admit we're cowards.  Sarah's still the only one who'll stand up to him, and she doesn't do it that often."     "Well, she doesn't have to live with him," groused Peggy.          "You don't have to live with him anymore, either," reminded Tom.  "Sure you come home for a weekend here and there. The holidays.  But for the most part, you really don't have to deal with it."  Although Tom tried to keep the censure out of his voice, Peggy still detected it.     "Is he any better?  I saw him on Starbase Fourteen two months ago for about half an hour. It was a public reception, so I couldn't tell anything . . ." Peggy's voice trailed off, and she looked expectantly at Tom.     Tom was concentrating on the road.  They had turned onto Highway One, and with the wind blasting by them, they were forced to shout.  "How would we be able to tell if he was better?"     "I don't know.  He'd just be better," yelled Peggy in return.     "Well, he's not.  He's still completely closed off.  It hurts my teeth to talk to him," said Tom shaking his head.     "They tortured him, Tom," defended Peggy.     "Yeah, and he's torturing us.  It's been two years, Peggy.  He doesn't want to talk about it.  He'd rather drive us insane with his presence.  You know, I used to hate him for never being around.  I always wanted to know what was so much more important than his family.  Now, I don't care.  I just wish he'd go back to gallivanting around the galaxy, dropping by every once in awhile to make sure we were  all alive, and keeping up the vaunted Paris reputation.  Sometimes, I just wish he had died."      "Tom, you don't mean that."  Peggy looked at him intently, no longer sure she knew him.  "You do love him, don't you Tom?"     "Of course I do, Peggy.  He's our father.  But, I also hate him.  You can't understand what it is like to have him around all the time.  When we were kids I just wanted him to pay attention to me, get to know me.  I wanted his approval, and I wanted him to show that he cared about me.  But, I've finally figured out that he doesn't want to know me, that he really doesn't care, and that he's never going to approve of me."  Tom exhaled deeply before continuing.  "You know, every night at dinner he says, 'How was school today?'  So I'll say something like, 'Good.  I got an A on my Biology paper regarding the affects of prolonged weightlessness on reaction time.'  Then, he'll say that I didn't deserve the A, it's an overdone topic, and he's going to speak with the Headmaster about how the instructor isn't demanding enough.  Keep in mind, he's never read the paper.  Still, no thought given to the possibility that I did something right.  Everyday it's like that."     "Oh." Peggy was at a loss for words.     Tom shot his sister a sideways glance, and snorted.  "You wanted to know why I went to BRAT Camp this summer, Peggy?  Well, there's your reason.  Freezing my butt off at the North Pole, no hair on my head, playing a glorified version of Capture the Flag was infinitely preferable to spending the summer at home."     They rode along in awkward silence, Tom's eyes fixed steadily on the road ahead of him, and Peggy staring, unseeing, of to the side, as the rugged beauty of the coast sped by.* * * * *     Tom had stopped speaking.  They had both long since finished their meals, and B'Elanna sat toying with her silverware, waiting for him to continue.  Surprisingly, she wasn't uncomfortable.  With the recent, drastic changes in their relationship it had become all right to simply wait for Tom to collect his thoughts.     Tom cleared his throat, and spoke.  "I'm sorry.  I'd forgotten about a lot of this stuff.  He continued, chuckling humorlessly.  "When I started this story I really thought it was a straight shot from the spaceport to the song."     He stood up from the table.  When B'Elanna moved to clear her dishes, he waved her off.  "Leave them.  I'll take care of it later.  It's probably my night to do the dishes anyway."     "Do the dishes?" questioned B'Elanna.     "Yeah," he said, giving her a half-hearted grin.  "Didn't you have chores growing up, B'Elanna?  We did.  Dishes every third night, except Sundays.  My nights were Monday and Thursday.  Is it  my night?  What night is it anyway?"     "Tom, we couldn't figure out if it was August or September," reminded B'Elanna lightly.     "I, uh, was concentrating on other things," admitted Tom.  He walked the few steps to his couch and flopped down in one corner.  "Come join me, and I'll tell you the rest of the story," he offered, patting the spot next to him.     "No way," smiled B'Elanna.  "I know better than that.  If I sit there, you'll never finish the story."     "Fine," he said. "You take the other end.  We'll put a pillow down the middle.  Demarcation.  Death to whoever crosses the line," he declared dramatically.     "That's a little extreme," commented B'Elanna sarcastically.  However, she didn't object when Tom carefully measured and then placed a throw pillow in the middle of the couch.  Having spent all of her free time for a week with Tom, B'Elanna knew how easily distracted they could be.     "So, let's see," he began.  "Peggy and I didn't talk for most of the drive home.  But, there was something I had to tell her. . ."* * * * *     As they entered more familiar territory, Tom's body began to lose some of the rigidity it had held for most of the past hour.  It had frightened Peggy to see her brother's reaction.  While he had yelled at her, he'd also quickly shut down, hiding all of his feelings behind an unreadable mask of indifference.  It was the first time she'd seen Tom use this particular tactic, and it was amusing in a macabre sort of way.  Tom Paris was beginning to master one of the traits he most despised in his father.     Tom began to slow the car, and Peggy was amused to see him check both his mirrors, look over his shoulder, and signal, all despite the fact that they were the only ones on the road.  He pulled off to the side, perhaps ten feet from the edge of the cliff which rose high above the Pacific.  As he turned to look at his sister, Tom caught her lips twitching into a smile.  "What's so funny?" he asked mildly.     "You," she grinned.  "You're such a cautious driver, Tom.  I didn't expect it."     "Driving's a solace.  I'm not giving them a reason to take it away," he said simply.     Peggy nodded, understanding.  "So why did we stop?" she asked.     "There's something I have to tell you."  Tom paused for a moment, sighing.  "Back at the spaceport, when I got mad at you, it wasn't about the Troupe Tour."     "You have another reason to berate me?" asked Peggy tiredly.     "No lecture," promised Tom.  "I'll never understand why you'd want to have a 'fling' with that Darius guy, but. . ."  Tom's voice trailed off for a moment.  "Peggy, I'm just going to warn you.  I think Steven is much more serious about you, than you are about him."     "I'm serious about Steven," protested Peggy.     "Really?  Well, while you've been off cheating on him, Steven's been shopping for an engagement ring."     "You're kidding."  Peggy's voice was no-nonsense, daring Tom to contradict her.     "I'm not," said Tom gently.     "Oh gods.  Tonight?"     "I don't think so," replied Tom.  "There are going to be a lot of people there.  Mom, Dad, Sarah, Sarah's date, if you can believe that.  Jenna and Mimi are staying with us.  Aunt Taryn and Uncle Gil are still on Betazed.  Oh, and Ali Chandler and her new boyfriend are coming."     "Good," said Peggy, breathing a sigh of relief.  "I don't think I could handle that tonight.  I mean, explaining about Darius and everything."     "What?" asked Tom, a little loudly.  "Peggy, you're not serious.  You cannot tell Steven about Darius," he ordered.     "I have to tell him.  I can't agree to marry him without telling him," argued Peggy.     "No, Peggy, no," countered Tom.  "I know you women want complete honesty about everything, But believe me, guys don't.  Steven will be much happier not knowing."     Peggy gazed at Tom intently.  "You're serious.  You think I should lie."     "Very serious," nodded Tom emphatically.  "Think of it a not volunteering the truth.  Like when we don't tell Mom and Dad about some of the things we do because they don't ask."     "I'll think about it," she said as Tom restarted the car, signaled, and pulled out on the empty highway.     Within five minutes they were again pulling off the road, into the driveway of the Paris home.  Peggy bounded from the car, her apprehension forgotten for the moment.  At heart, Peggy was a homebody, and in spite of all her ambivalent feelings, she was truly glad to be home.     Tom followed his sister into the house, carrying her bags.  He found Peggy in the foyer, hugging their mother, and talking animatedly.  "It's just so good to be home.  I could go the rest of my life without seeing another shuttlecraft, and be perfectly happy."     "Completely understandable, the way you've been hopping around the Federation," agreed Abby Paris warmly.  "It's wonderful to have you home, Peggy Sue."     "Ugh.  Mom, please don't call me that," directed Peggy.     "Now, I have a right to call you Peggy Sue if I want to.  I'm you're mother, I gave birth to you, and I chose your name," Abby reminded her daughter.  She turned to Tom, and instructed, "Leave the bags, Tom.  They can go upstairs later.  We should get outside to the party.  There is a certain young man who is especially excited to see you, my dear," she told Peggy, who blushed.     The three headed through the house, and out onto the back deck.  The grill was tended by two young men Peggy didn't know, and a cold buffet sat on a table along the wall.  A twentieth century "surfer" song played in the background.  "I see Tom chose the music," remarked Peggy.     "Yes.  We're having a beach party," answered Tom.  "Of course, I'm the only one dressed for it."     "The beach is almost half a kilometer back across the highway," reminded Peggy.     "We're having a bonfire down on the beach after dinner," said Mimi Paris, Tom and Peggy's twelve year old cousin, joining the conversation.     "Yeah.  Bonfire, s'mores, maybe even a sing-a-long if we're really lucky," added Jenna, Mimi's fifteen year-old sister sarcastically.     "Sounds fun," remarked Peggy absently.  She'd finally caught Steven's eye, across the deck.  The look he shot her left no doubt that he was feeling trapped in his conversation with Admiral Paris.  "I think I'll go rescue Steven from Dad."     As Peggy moved toward Steven, it seemed to embolden him enough to break away from the conversation with her father.  Steven took two steps toward Peggy, then stopped.  He called to her to do the same.     "Okay," answered Peggy, obviously confused.  She stopped where she was, wondering why Steven was leaving half the deck between them.     "Give me a moment," Steven said, pulling a small comm PADD out of his pocket.  He hit one button, and Tom's music program immediately ceased.  He hit another button, and a new, extremely familiar song began.  Steven began to sing the words, altering them slightly.     If you knew Peggy Sue     Then you'd know why I've been blue     'Bout Peggy, Peggy Sue     Well, I love you gal     And I want you Peggy Sue     Peggy Sue, Peggy Sue     Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty Peggy Sue     Oh, Peggy, my Peggy Sue     Well, I love you gal     And I want you Peggy Sue     As he sang, Steven moved slowly toward Peggy.  Even as he got closer, he didn't notice the stricken look on her face.  When he ended the song, he dropped before her on one knee, and said passionately, "Peggy, I don't ever want us to be apart like we've been, again.  Will you marry me?"       Steven looked up into Peggy's eyes, hoping to see love and joy, and finding instead unbelieving horror.  With a strangled cry, Peggy turned and fled.* * * * *     "So, can I get you something to drink?  Coffee?  Tea?  Cocoa?" asked Tom, getting up from the sofa.     "What?" asked B'Elanna, confused by Tom's abrupt change of subject.  "What about Peggy and Steven?  What happened?"     "Lots of things happened.  It was a crazy evening," replied Tom.  "Cocoa, extra marshmallows," he said, addressing the replicator.  He glanced over his shoulder at B'Elanna.  "Would you like anything?"     "The same is fine," she answered distractedly.  "Did they get engaged?  Did they not get engaged?"     "Oh, yeah.  They got engaged.  Had a big wedding," said Tom bringing B'Elanna her cocoa.  He seemed agitated.     "What happened Tom?  You're acting really weird."     Tom sat back down on the sofa, and took a sip of his cocoa.  Finally, sighing, he began, "You know, I never realized before how strange memories are.  I mean, I would have sworn that I fully remembered the whole day, everything that happened.  But there were large chunks I'd forgotten until I was in the middle of the story."     Tom looked up at B'Elanna, and their eyes locked.  She was shocked to see a hint of tears.  Instinctively she closed the distance between them, knocking the demarcation pillow out of her way, taking Tom's hand in her own.  "What happened Tom?"  This time the question was gentle, full of concern.     "Nothing happened, really.  Peggy and I talked.  It was what we talked about.  You see, my sisters and I have a talent for making  bad choices.  You've heard all the rumors about me. I know-"     "And I know that most of them are rumors," reassured B'Elanna.  "The rest were mistakes, and I can't judge you for making mistakes.  I've made them, too.  You've owned up to your mistakes.  That's what counts."     "Well, these were mistakes you haven't heard about, and I never really owned up to them.  Peggy and Sarah knew, but they don't count.  We all sort of kept each other's secrets.  Sex, drinking, cheating, lying, whatever.  We always covered for one another."     "I see," said B'Elanna, taken aback.  "Well, you don't have to tell me the rest of the story if you don't want to."     "I know," he sighed.  "But I want to, that's the problem.  It's unfair, for one thing.  I told Peggy that total honesty wasn't always the best choice, and I still believe that.  What right do I have to burden you with my childhood demons?  But they're all swimming around in my head, trying to get out.  Maybe you should leave, and I'll put it all in a Personal Log.  Of course, I'd really rather have a drink, but that'd be a pretty stupid move."     "Stick to cocoa tonight, Paris," ordered B'Elanna, squeezing Tom's hand.  "Now, if you want me to go, I will.  If you want to tell me about it, then I'll listen.  If you want to try and get some Holodeck time, and work this off in your climbing program, or - and I can't believe I'm saying this - in that Klingon martial arts program, we'll do that."  With her free hand, she forced him to turn his head back toward her, and look into her eyes.  "Whatever choice you make, I trust it will be the right one."     "The right choice, huh?  Interesting concept."  Tom bit his lip.  "Well, at least you'll know what you're getting yourself into," he sighed.  Taking a deep breath, he plunged ahead.  "Everyone was in an uproar, and Steven wanted to go after Peggy.  Ali - she's a quick thinker - took charge.  She told Steven that it would be a bad idea for him to go after Peggy, and she sent me instead . . ."    * * * * *     When Tom found Peggy, she was huddled up into herself, knees drawn to her chest, sitting on the sand about  twenty meters from where the sea, now at low tide, lapped at the shore.  She looked very alone, and was making a valiant effort not to cry.  She was doing pretty well, although Tom did catch her wiping at the corner of her eye.  "Here," he said gently, hanging a bottle of beer in front of her face.     Peggy accepted the bottle, but when Tom dropped onto the beach next to her, she informed him coldly, "I'm not talking to you."     "Why not?  I'm talking to you," he replied.     "I'm really not in the mood for your flip, pain in the ass attitude right now," she warned, deadly calm.     Tom considered a number of flip, pain in the ass responses, but finally opted to remain silent.  He pulled a beer out of the six-pack at his feet, popped the cap, and took a swig.     Peggy exploded.  "How could you!" she screamed.  "It's one thing for you to let this happen.  That's low enough.  But you made this big display of warning me about Steven's plans to propose.  Only, you conveniently left out the best part."  Peggy's voice dripped with sarcasm.  "You know Tom, I really thought I could trust you.  I guess now I know the truth."  Peggy threw back her head, guzzling a large portion of her beer.  She jammed the bottle into the sand, stood up, and, giving Tom a dirty look, began to walk down the beach.     Tom scrambled after her, his longer strides allowing him to quickly catch up.  He walked along side her for awhile, finally pulling her to a stop when they reached a group of craggy rocks which housed a series of tide pools.  "Peggy, let's not go climbing over the rocks, scaring all the starfish and hermit crabs, okay?"  He tried a smile, but she didn't respond.  He sighed, switching to a serious approach.  "Peggy, I swear I didn't know.  If I had, it wouldn't have happened.  I wouldn't have let Steven embarrass you like that."     Peggy pulled away, walking a few steps toward the cliffs which rose sharply above them,  before stopping to turn around and peer up at Tom, shading her eyes from the glaring sunset.  "You swear you didn't know," she challenged.     "Yes, I swear," he said simply.  "Gods, Peggy.  You're the closest thing to a normal family member I've got.  I'd go insane if you hated me.  I wouldn't intentionally hurt you."     Peggy studied his face for a few seconds before coming back and leaning in to hug him.  They clung to each other for a few moments before Peggy pulled away.  She shot him a weak smile, and murmured, "Mom's normal."     "No, she's not," answered Tom, shaking his head.  "She's married to Dad, of her own free will.  That's hardly normal."     "I'm no more normal than Mom, Tom," warned Peggy.     "Maybe," conceded Tom.  "But you listen to me.  And even if you do defend him too much, I never have to worry that you'll tell him what I've said.  I can't trust her with that.  But, I trust you, and you have to believe that you can trust me."     "Mom wouldn't tell Dad about something that was really important," challenged Peggy.     "She would.  She has," replied Tom, tautly.     Peggy sighed, absently turning in a full circle before heading back in the direction they had come from.  She grasped Tom's hand in both of her own, pulling him along.  "I trust you Tom, I guess.  And I know you wouldn't try to hurt me, but it's not like you'd shy away from a good practical joke at my expense, either."     "There's a big difference between singing 'Peggy Sue' to you as a marriage proposal, and putting green food coloring in your shampoo," he answered.     Peggy wheeled around, hands on her hips, to glare at Tom.  "That was you?  That was real?  I thought I had radiation contamination, or something," she yelled, threatening to punch him.     Tom held his hands up in mock defense.  "That was seven years ago," he argued weakly.  "And where would you have gotten radiation poisoning?" he asked.     "That's not the point.  It was my first week of high school, Tom," retorted Peggy.     "I was ten.  My judgment wasn't nearly as good then as it is now."     "Oh, really," responded Peggy. "But it was your incredibly good judgment which led you to pick up a six-pack of beer in front of Dad, and come after me?  Weren't you the one telling me that driving was your solace, and you wouldn't do anything which would cause them to take away your privileges?"     "Actually, Ali handed it to me as I was leaving.  Dad looked a little perturbed, but he didn't say anything.  I'm hoping he chooses to ignore it, like he does so many other things."     "Leave it to Ali," snorted Peggy, dropping back on the sand.  "And don't hold your breath.  "I agree that Dad would rather ignore what we do, then actually act like a parent, but I'm sure that falls under the classification of 'direct insubordination'."     "Well, you're worth it, and I still have the flight simulator at school," Tom assured her.  "But, shouldn't we go back?" asked Tom, pointing to the beach access stairs.     "No.  I'm still furious at Steven.  Besides, we've got the beer.  You're going to pay the price, I'm sure.  So, I was thinking I'd get drunk instead.  I haven't gotten really good and drunk ever, actually."     "Binge drinking's more Sarah's or my style," reminded Tom, sitting down next to her.  "You always have one beer, and fall asleep.  It's not even like you pass out, you just take a nap."     "Yeah, it's more my style to throw up," chuckled Peggy mirthlessly.  "But I already did that today, so I think I'll drink."     "I thought you didn't do that anymore," remarked Tom.     "And you shouldn't drink, Tom," snapped Peggy.  She sighed and continued tiredly.  "I've only made myself throw up seven times in the past eighteen months.  Of course, three of those times were in the last two days," she admitted with a bitter laugh.     "I don't drink very much anymore, really,"  Tom confided.  "Sarah's not around, and Dad is.  The only time this year that I've really gotten drunk was in May, with Ali, actually.  She was depressed over breaking up with Matteo, so we came down here to talk and drink.  I'm not an alcoholic - I don't drink alone, and I don't need to drink."     "If you say so," mumbled Peggy.  "So, why do you drink?  Spite?"     "Spite?" laughed Tom.  "I guess so, though like I said, I haven't been drinking much since Dad's been home all the time.  That was something I did with Sarah and her friends.  I think it amused them to have a twelve year old drinking with them.  I was stupid.  Like I told you, now, I drive.  You know, I actually drove all the way to Carmel and back one night last semester."  Watching Peggy closely, Tom took a gulp of his beer, and asked,  "So, you throw up to spite Dad?"     "According to my therapist, it's a control issue," returned Peggy snidely, taking another sip of her beer.     "Peggy, I'm really beginning to think this was a bad idea," said Tom, trying to take the bottle from her.  "We should go back.  You need to talk to Steven, and you probably shouldn't be drunk."     "As much fun as this all looks, Tom's probably right."  Tom and Peggy turned to see their older sister Sarah had come up behind them.  Sarah walked around them, and seated herself across from her siblings, laughing.  "The look on Dad's face when Ali handed you the beer was priceless, Tom."  She helped herself to a bottle.     Peggy waited a moment, then asked pointedly, "Sarah, did you know about Steven's plan to serenade me?"      "No," sighed Sarah, shaking her head.  "If I had, I'd have found some way to record the moment for posterity.  That was great."     "I don't believe you," exclaimed Peggy, shock mingling with outrage.     "Why not?  That was one of the more amusing family moment we've had in awhile.  Dad's whole 'I was tortured by the Cardies - look at my stiff upper lip' routine really brings down the mood.  But Steven, he's livening things up."  Sarah took another sip of her drink before continuing.  "What I can't believe is that you're sitting down here, contemplating marrying Steven, but during the whole two and a half years you've been dating, you never mentioned to him that you hated that song.  Do you two ever talk to each other?"     "I try not to think about that song," defended Peggy.     "So," interjected Tom, blatantly changing the subject, "What's going on up at the house?"     "Oh, Dad's retreated to the study, and Mom's making more potato salad - just what we need.  Jenna and Mimi are flirting with Kyle and Declan, which is gross and disturbing.  Now I'll have to dump Declan.  Luckily, I've only invested sex in him."     When Sarah paused, Peggy took the opportunity to get her dig in.  "Sex is all you ever invest in any relationship, Sarah."  "That's mostly true," agreed Sarah.  "But, that means I'm able to avoid situations like the one you're now in.  Besides, just because you've never met someone I have a serious relationship with, doesn't mean I've never had one.  All it means is I don't want to introduce them to the family.  Now where was I?"     "You were telling us what's going on at the house," prompted Tom.     "Right," nodded Sarah.  "Well, Ali's explaining to Steven, in minute detail, why his karoke proposal wasn't a good idea. I was assisting, but Ali's pretty much got it covered.  I just came down here to check how you two were doing, though Ali assured me you'd have the situation well under control."  Sarah smirked at Tom.     Warning bells went of in Tom's head.  "What is that supposed to mean, Sarah?" he asked.  There was an obvious edge in his voice.     "Oh, nothing," Sarah sing-songed.  "I just hope you haven't been 'helping' Peggy the same way you helped Ali.  That'd require years of therapy for all of us."     "I can't believe she told you," exclaimed Tom, his voice cracking.     "Somebody tell me what you're talking about," demanded Peggy, looking back and forth at her siblings.  Sarah looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary, while Tom looked like he might throttle Sarah.     "Our Tommy is such a peach," drawled Sarah.  "Ali came over one night, depressed over Matteo, and Tom made her a sandwich, offered her his shoulder to cry on, drank with her.  So, Ali kissed him."     "You kissed my best friend," said Peggy, shock filling her voice. . .* * * * *     "You kissed your sister's best friend?  While she was depressed and drunk?" demanded B'Elanna.  She had been sitting next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder, trying to offer whatever comfort he might derive from her.  Now, she drew away, looking at him in disbelief     While B'Elanna waited for Tom to respond, she considered everything he'd told her that evening.  She'd known that Tom had grown up in conflict with his father, and that he'd spent a good three years in a permanent alcohol-induced haze.  What she hadn't known was that his mother had also let him down, that she'd betrayed him in favor of her husband.  B'Elanna certainly hadn't known that Tom's use - misuse, actually - of alcohol was a habit from childhood.  It was scary stuff, and Tom had obviously thought she would be scared off.       The fact of the matter was, B'Elanna almost wished she had been scared off.  She had never been very good at dealing with other people's emotional baggage.  Hell, she could hardly handle her own.  Most times, with most people, she absolutely didn't want to know what haunted them.  But Tom was not most people.  She loved him.  He had infuriated her for three years by hiding behind a mask of carefree, shallow charm.  Sometimes, all she'd wanted from him was one honest moment.  Careful what you wish for, B'Elanna, she thought.  You just got it.  B'Elanna slowly began to sit back, willing to wait for Tom to continue the story.     "I didn't kiss her.  She kissed me.  Shocked the hell out of me," said Tom listlessly, startling B'Elanna out of her reverie.  He looked very tired, as he sat massaging the bridge of his nose, eyes closed.  Finally, he turned to look at B'Elanna, who was now sitting, cross-legged, perpendicular to him.  It took a moment, but finally his eyes were able to focus again.  Their eyes locked, and B'Elanna recognized to the pit of her soul the sincerity which poured from him.  "Really, Ali kissed me.  I'm not saying I didn't respond, that I didn't kiss back.  I did.  But she started it, and I'm the one who ended it - pretty quickly, actually."     Tom picked up B'Elanna's hand, holding it in both his own.  He played with it a few moments, turning it over and examining it intently, before continuing.  "It was a nice kiss.  I was seventeen, she was twenty-one, and I was very flattered.  But, I knew that she was kissing me for all the wrong reasons.  She'd had a lot to drink - twice what I'd had, and I outweighed her by sixty pounds.  She was depressed over her boyfriend.  He'd been cheating on her for three or four months before he dumped her.  Then there was the fact that she was Peggy's best friend.  Ali and Sarah were friends, too.  Hell, Ali and I were friends, though more so afterwards.  She needed comfort, and I offered that to her.  I guess she also needed to know that she was still desirable, so she kissed me to find out."  Tom sighed, and slumped further down on the sofa, still clutching B'Elanna's hand.  "You know, she actually sent me a thank-you note a few days later.  Said I was a nice guy, a good friend.  Thanked me for making her feel better about herself."     "So, there's precedence," remarked B'Elanna, giving him a weak grin.  She leaned her head against the sofa.  Tom turned his head slightly, so again they were able to watch each other intently.  They had spent all of their free time together for a week, and by no means had they spent all of that time talking.  Still, this was the most intimate moment they had shared.  Only their last few minutes together out in space, when they had both thought they would soon die, had been more intimate.     "Precedence?" asked Tom, absently stroking her hand with his thumb.     "Yeah.  A woman, a friend, someone you're attracted to, makes a pass at you.  You suspect she's acting due to an exterior influence.  For the sake of your friendship, you refuse her."  B'Elanna smiled, "I didn't even give you a thank you note.  How rude of me."     "The thank-you note was a little weird, actually," chuckled Tom.  "Anyway, you gave me something much more valuable.  You gave me hope for the future."* * * * *     B'Elanna awoke to find her head pillowed on Tom's chest.  They were both half-sitting, half-lying on the sofa.  Tom still grasped her hand tightly in his.  There was a crick in her neck, and she groaned as she sat up, massaging it with her free hand.  B'Elanna poked Tom in the arm, saying softly, "Wake up Tom.  You need to get up so we can both get to bed."     "Hmm.  That's definitely the best offer I've had today," he murmured, his eyes still closed.  He tugged on her hand, trying to pull her back against him.     "That wasn't what I meant," grumbled B'Elanna good-naturedly.          "I know," answered Tom, sitting up to stretch.  He finally opened his eyes and looked at her.  "Hey, you're still here."  His voice held a hint of amazement.     "Of course I'm still here.  We've been having a conversation for the past three minutes.  Where do you think I would have gone?" she asked, giving him a strange look.     "There's no 'of course' about it," replied Tom.  "I dumped a lot on you.  That tends to scare people off in my experience."     "Tom, I love you.  I'm not going anywhere," she assured him.     "I love you, too, B'Elanna," he said, kissing her hand before finally releasing it.     "You've mentioned that a few times," she smiled, shaking her hand which asleep while in Tom's possession.     "But not as many times as you have."     "You're keeping score?  Gee, that makes every 'I love you' just that more special."     "Uh, I was only counting in case you were," answered Tom sheepishly.     "Well, I'm not, so knock it off," she ordered.  "I know we're both competitive people, but this isn't a competition.  I was only saying that it is nice to hear you say that you love me."     "Yes, ma'am.  Knocking it off, ma'am," responded Tom, grinning at B'Elanna.  He paused for a moment, and then returned to his earlier topic.  "I love you B'Elanna, and I know you love me.  But loving someone, and having them love you, isn't a guarantee of anything, really.  And that's nobody's fault.  It's just a fact of the universe."     The night before, B'Elanna knew she would have misinterpreted his statement, and would have been upset by it.  However, tonight she knew he wasn't hedging his bets with her.  Rather, he was letting her know, again, that he'd been disappointed in the past.  She realized he wasn't threatening to let her down, or even apologizing in advance, in case he did.  He was giving her permission to fail him.  But B'Elanna didn't want it.     She cut to the chase.  "Tom, I'm not going anywhere.  My big scary, Klingon side doesn't scare you?  Good.  Guess what?  Your past, your crappy childhood, Caldik Prime, your mercenary days, none of it scares me.  Not anymore, anyway.  People may have hurt you, or deserted you in the past because they didn't like what they saw.  I don't know why.  But, I'm not them.  I like what I see, and I can take the bad with the good."  She exhaled deeply, concluding, "Let's just try for more good than bad."     Tom looked pleasantly stunned.  "Wow.  Okay.  Thank you.  I love you, too."     "Back to that again, are we," growled B'Elanna, giving him a warning look, which dissolved into a smile.  "What, no thank-you note?" she joked.     "Tomorrow, maybe," he promised, yawning.     "Tomorrow, exactly," agreed B'Elanna, standing up from the sofa.  She caught a glimpse of the chronometer above Tom's replicator.  "Ugh," she groaned.  "What is it about us and midnight, anyway, Paris?"     Tom glanced up from the sofa, and sighed.  "The witching hour.  Bewitched, bothered and bewildered."  He paused a moment, then added, "By B'Elanna.  Alliteration.  Peggy would be so proud."     "You're calling me a witch?" asked B'Elanna staring down at him in disbelief.     Tom nodded his head no.  "Just another obscure song reference," he clarified.  "I'm commenting on how amazing you are to me."     "Oh.  Well, that's much better," replied B'Elanna.  She was finally becoming comfortable with Tom's compliments.  "Now stand up," she ordered, grasping his hand to help him.  "And walk me to the door.  We both need sleep."     "Yeah, I'm on duty in sickbay in seven hours," remembered Tom.  "You could still stay, though.  I bet you I'd sleep much better if you were here," he cajoled.     "I could stay," agreed B'Elanna.  "But, I don't think you'd stop talking, and then we wouldn't ever get to sleep."     "Good point.  I never did finish the story did I?"     "No," groaned B'Elanna.  "But I don't want to hear it right now.  You've had about all of the bad memories I can take in one night.  You can finish it later," promised B'Elanna.     "Oh, the rest of the night was fine, actually," said Tom, beginning to perk up.     "I can't believe you," yawned B'Elanna.  "Fine.  Fifty words or less. I'm counting."     Tom nodded, then started in.  "Explained Ali to Peggy.  Went back to the house.  Peggy and Steven made up.  Kyle and Declan gone.  Had dinner.  Then, sans parents, we went to the beach for bonfire and s'mores.  No sing-along.  No alcohol.  Everyone happy.  Home by midnight.  Tucked snug in bed.  How'd I do?"     "With that, forty-nine words.  Very good."  They were standing at the door.  B'Elanna reached up, and pulled Tom's head down for a quick kiss.  "I love you, Tom.  However, I'm now going to bed.  Good night."  She stepped away from Tom, and the door began to open.     "Wait!" cried Tom.  "I have one question still."     "What is it?" came B'Elanna's strangled reply.     "Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?"     "You really have to ask?" interjected B'Elanna.     "I'm not finished," answered Tom.  "Will you have dinner with me?  In the mess hall?  And if Harry tries to join us, can I tell him we're on a date?"     "Yes, you may tell Harry we're on a date," agreed B'Elanna, shaking her head.     "And can I tell him we are going steady?" Tom teased.     "Steady?" she asked, an amused grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.     "Yeah, steady.  It's an old Earth term meaning to date seriously and exclusively," explained Tom.     "I know what it means, Tom.  I grew up on a remote colony, not under a rock.  It just didn't occur to me that we were going steady."  B'Elanna wrinkled her nose at the term.     "I know we've had an unconventional relationship so far.  We've done a lot of things out of order.  But I thought we could go steady now.  It would be kind of sweet. . ."  Tom's voice trailed off, and he blushed to the tips of his ears.  "Never mind.  It's a stupid idea."     B'Elanna was looking down at her feet, shaking her head.  "No, Tom.  It's a very nice idea," she contradicted, looking up and smiling.  "No one has ever wanted to go steady with me.  Other things, sure, but not that."  She waited a moment before adding, "You may tell Harry we're going steady, if you must."      "And if Chakotay tries to join us at dinner-"     B'Elanna cut him off.  "If Chakotay tries to join us I'll tell him we're on a date, and that we're going steady," she said forcefully.     "Okay.  That's all I need."  Tom cupped B'Elanna's face in his hands, whispering "I love you," as his lips descended upon hers.Fini