AUTHOR'S NOTES:First off. . .great and humble thanks to my beta-readers Jam, Lesa, and Cheile. . .all Goddesses Of Fic in their own right.  Also, I had originally intended for this to be much longer, including B'Elanna's life up to and through her eventual death at the ripe old age of one-hundred-twenty-three.  But writer's block and the need for revisions made me realize that if I waited for all of it, you would never see any of it.  So I looked at her life and saw that it was in three very distinct sections.  Her life before Tom, (Memoirs) with Tom, (To Recall A Dream) and after Tom (the final part of this trilogy, "On The Wings Of The Phoenix").  I'll get the third installment out ASAP, I promise.  In the meantime, buy yourself an industrial-size bath towel (trust me, hankies aren't gonna work with this baby) and enjoy! DISCLAIMERS: Viacom owns all.  Sue not. . it ain't worth the legal fees. TITLE: "To Recall A Dream"AUTHOR:Strwriter The MagnificentRATING:PG-13CODES:P/T, K/7A Sequel To "Memoirs". . . * 	 * 	***His voice was hushed, his blue eyes dark with sorrow as he approached her. His hand reached out, caressing her cheek gently, the touch like ice.  "How could you do this to me, B'Elanna", he asked mournfully, "How could you forget what we had together?" She took his cold hand in both of her own, trying desperately to hang on to him, even though she knew that it was only a dream.  "I'm sorry!"  She sobbed, "I didn't know what else to do!"  A faint smile tugged at his mouth, "I didn't mind dying young, B'Elanna.  I thought I would live on in memory. . .but you put away my pictures. . .my logs . . .even our daughter only heard about me from Harry."  For a moment, he seemed about to cry, but then his eyes changed, becoming cold and hard.  A summer sky locked in ice.  "Maybe I was wrong all those years.  Maybe you didn't love me."  "No!  Of course I love you, Tom!  You were the only one I ever loved."   He began to fade away, as though being very slowly transported out of her arms, and it was in that moment that she noticed that her imagination had not re-created him as last seen; but as he had appeared when they had first fallen in love, almost sixty-five years ago.  He was a boyish twenty-nine, and with a start, she realized that that was the only way she could remember him.  She had not a single image of him from any other time in their lives together.  That realization hit her like a physical blow, and in combination with the plea Tom extended to her, pushed her over the edge.  "Prove your love.  Remember me. . . remember. . . remember. . . ." **					*	*	***B'Elanna awakened screaming.  The blankets were twisted around her body, her nightgown soaked through with sweat, her pillow dampened with tears.  Her eyes darted wildly about the room, searching for the man who had vanished into the arms of sleep.  Of course, he was not there, but his voice was still clear in her mind, begging her to remember him.  Untangling herself from the sheets, she slipped into a robe, tying the sash around her slim waist as she headed into the living room.  It took only a few moments of searching to find what she was looking for, and her hand trembled as it closed over the tiny device.  She could do this.  She could bring Tom back to life through memory.  The thought of doing it without Annika's steadying presence was daunting to say the least, but these memories were too intimate.  B'Elanna could share the stories with the world, but not the experiences.  Those thoughts, those sensations, those emotions were secrets between she and Tom.  Thinking of him, she smiled as she activated the receiver.   She didn't have to do this alone.  Just as it had been so many years ago, she would have her husband by her side.**				*	*	* B'Elanna Paris smiled as she saw her husband coming around the corner, running a finger under the stiff collar of his tuxedo.  He returned the grin sheepishly as he realized he'd been caught.  "Sorry," he admitted "but these things are worse than dress uniforms.  I think Harry's hidden evil streak must have been asserting itself when he asked me to wear a tux."At the mention of their friend, B'Elanna's tone softened from amusement to concern.  "How's he doing?  Nervous?"Tom laughed, "That's putting it mildly.  The poor guy's thrown up three times already.  What about the bride?" "Not much better." "Funny, I didn't think she'd be the nervous type." Now it was B'Elanna's turn to laugh, remembering what she had been doing down in the cargo bay while her husband was busy consoling the groom.  "She's not. . .but it took the Captain and I over an hour and a half to convince her that a long dress and lacy veil weren't the absolute height of irrelevance."      "Harry asked her to wear *lace*?  He's braver than I thought."  B'Elanna shrugged.  "Brave.  Or stupid.""Well, he got you to wear lace too-something I've been trying for years-and you didn't kill him."  She frowned, self-consciously smoothing down her skirt.  Truth be told, the first time she had seen this gown, she had nearly refused to wear it.  But the look on Harry's face as he glowingly explained things to her had overwhelmed her petty dislike of the feminine dress.  The young man was doing his best to piece together the kind of wedding the Kim family traditionally held, despite being out in the Delta Quadrant, and if making him happy meant wearing something she didn't like (all right, hated), she could pay that price.And besides, Tom liked it.  It was a deep rose satin, with a long, full ballroom skirt, and fitted bodice, with the neckline of the bodice and the sleeves filled out with creme colored lace.  A bunch of real roses were pinned into her hair, which had been gathered up in a loose twist, and tiny pearls ringed her throat and wrists. "I was sure Seven would take care of killing him for me.  But I guess she's more in love than I thought." Tom shook his head in amazement, "Seven of Nine.  In love.  Will wonders never cease."  "Oh, I don't know,"  B'Elanna teased, "I think that my falling for a pig like youwas pretty miraculous.  A Borg going romantic isn't such a big thing. . .although you should have heard her down in the cargo bay.  She actually used one of my Klingon expletives when she saw the gown.""That bad?" "That bad." Tom laughed and offered her his arm, which she happily took.  She loved his little chivalrous gestures, the way he managed to make her feel perfectly ladylike without being at all condescending.  Snuggling in close to him, she inhaled the faint scent of his cologne, feeling the warmth of his body as she rested her cheek against his upper arm.  Her hand crept around his trim waist, and she was surprised to feel him wince as it passed over his back.  "Are you okay?""I'll be fine.  But I think I pulled a muscle last night.  Maybe I'm just getting old and infirm, but there are some ways the human body cannot bend.""'Old and infirm?  For goodness sakes, Tom. . .you're not yet thirty-five!"  A wicked smile lit her eyes as she ran a hand over his stomach, feeling the faint ripples of his abdominal muscles through the fabric of the tuxedo.  Though she had heard about couples quickly going to seed after being married, she and Tom were actually in better shape than they had been three years ago, finding a far better workout in each other than the ship's gym had ever provided.  "And I guarantee,"  she assured him,  "you're still quite firm."          Their lips were mere centimeters apart, and it took no further urging to cause them to meet in a kiss.  Not the hungry, passionate kiss of young lovers,  but the slow, intense kiss of a couple who knows precisely what brings the most pleasure to one another.  Hands went to faces in a gentle caress, but before it could go any further, the moment was broken by an amused voice.   Harry's voice."If the Best Man and Maid of Honor could manage to pull themselves apart, my wedding is about to begin."Fifteen minutes later, the doors to the Mess Hall opened, admitting Seven of Nine, escorted by Commander Tuvok, pride evident even on his stony Vulcan features. B'Elanna had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the look on her friend's face as Seven moved slowly down the aisle.  She had no idea that Harry's almond-shaped eyes could become so round, but they were nearly perfect circles at the sight of his bride.And B'Elanna had to admit. . .she was lovely.  Her ballroom-style gown was white silk, trimmed with delicate lace and tiny pearls at the hem and waistline.  The lace-encrusted bodice was formfitting, the neckline peeled back to show off Seven's ample cleavage.  Transparent sleeves puffed out to just above her elbows, and her long veil melded with the train of her gown on the aisle behind her.  Pink Earth roses and alien orchids formed her bouquet, as well as making up the wreath that sat like a crown on her golden hair.  There was an almost pained look on her face at first, but then she saw Harry's delighted expression. . .and she actually blushed, her cheeks glowing pink as her full lips curved up in a slight smile.  As she reached the alter, she handed B'Elanna her bouquet, releasing Tuvok's arm and taking Harry's hand.  Together, they knelt in front of the dais where the Captain stood, looking up at her in expectation.B'Elanna felt a familiar gaze upon her, and looked up.  Tom's azure eyes met hers, and his lips moved, silently mouthing something.  For a moment, B'Elanna was puzzled, then she recognized what he was saying.  *B'Elanna Torres, will you be mine again?* He wanted to silently reaffirm their vows with one another, taking advantage of the ceremony that they had not allowed themselves in their haste to be man and wife.  She felt her own cheeks color at this romantic gesture, but ever-so-slightly, she nodded.  Janeway looked from Harry's dark eyes to Seven's blue ones, and B'Elanna could see that the Captain's hands trembled as they rested on the sides of the podium.Perhaps more so even than she and Tom, Harry and Seven had grown up on Voyagerunder the Captain's guidance.  At least she and Tom had lives-no matter how screwed up they were-prior to Voyager.  Harry and Seven were both just entering life when they came aboard...Harry, a young, green Ensign, and Seven only tasting humanityfor the very first time.  But despite her traitorous hands that betrayed her emotion, Janeway's voice did notwaiver as she began.  "For as long as ships have sailed the seas and later the stars,Captains have had this special priviledge.  The honor of officiating a union that hasalready forged between two hearts, of creating couples and families within the community of their crew.  It is for this that we come here today, to join togetherthis man and this woman in matrimony.  Today, as is often the case, these two young people have written their own vows to express their love and devotion."Harry took Seven's hands in his, lifting them almost to his lips as he spoke, his face filled with passionate sincerity.  "Seven of Nine, from the first moment I saw you, I knew there was more to you than what others could see.  Without you, I am incomplete, and I ask only that you be my wife, that we experience the joys and sorrows of life together.  As one heart."Tom's face was soft with love as he looked into B'Elanna's eyes, quietly speaking his own vows of two years ago as Harry proclaimed his love for Seven.  No one else knew what was happening between them, and that was the way B'Elanna felt it should be. . .a declaration of love between the only two people who mattered.  *All my life, I have been a man alone, never truly knowing what love meant.  What it meant to have someone love me despite my past, despite my faults. . .until I met you.*  Fighting the urge to wrap Tom in her arms and kiss him, she mouthed, *All my life, I have been the outcast.  I had never know true, unconditional love. . .until I met you.*Even as they were speaking, Seven of Nine was affirming her love for her new husband.  Five years ago, when she had joined the crew, B'Elanna would have wagered anything that the ex-Borg was incapable of any true emotion. . .much less something as deep as love.  But there it was, written clearly on her face as she recited the words that she had written, refusing to tell anyone what they were until now."Harry Kim.  As a Borg, I was a part of a vast collective, one mind, one voice.  I am no longer Borg.  As I have become more human, I have learned that individuals still form collectives.  I wish to form one such collective with you.  I wish to abandon my former designation of Seven of Nine to become One of Two. . .Annika Kim."Murmurs rippled through the audience, shock evident from Seven's declaration.  She had clung to her Borg designation for years, and everyone knew what it meant to her.  It was a security of sorts, one of the few familiar vestiges remaining from her life as a Borg, and to give it up was an enormous symbolic step.  She was truly embracing her new life as Harry's bride.But there were two people who didn't notice, lost in their own separate world.  *B'Elanna Marie Torres, you have shown me what it truly means to be happy, to be fulfilled, to be loved.  You are my one true desire, that which makes me whole.*  *Thomas Eugene Paris, you love me for what I am, never trying to change me, never making me feel anything less than perfect contentment and love.  You are the only thing I need, now and forever.*  "Do you, Harrison Samuel Lawrence Kim, take this woman, Annika Charlotte Hansen, to be your lawfully wedded wife?  To honor and cherish her, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?" Tom mouthed the words along with Harry, not even noticing the younger man as he gazed at his own beautiful wife.  *"I do."*"And do you, Annika Charlotte Hansen, take this man, Harrison Samuel Lawrence Kim, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To honor and cherish him, for better or worse,in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"Two brides regarded the men that would sculpt the rest of their lives, and as one, they smiled at the prospect of sharing forever with the men they loved.  *"I do." *The Captain's deep blue eyes were moist with tears as she almost whispered the next words.  "With the power vested in me as Captain of this ship, I now proclaim you man and wife.  You may kiss the bride."  In one swift motion, Harry lifted the veil from his new wife's face and entwined his fingers in her silky golden hair, pulling her towards him until their lips met.  Annika Kim may have been new to her role as a bride, but she apparently had enough assimilated or instinctual knowledge to know exactly what to do.  The applause rippled and then swelled into full-fledged cheers and catcalls while they kissed as though starved, the embrace lasting over a full minute. . .by which time Harry was thoroughly winded, but very, very happy.  Annika looked at him for a long moment, her head cocked slightly as she regarded her new husband.  "That was. . ." she paused, then a tiny sparkle lit her gray eyes, ". . .quite relevant."  By the time the new couple finished, B'Elanna felt her temperature rising.  The blood was pounding in her ears as she looked at Tom's mouth, her eyes sweeping over the line of his lips, the smooth whiteness of his teeth revealed by his smile.  She was well aware of how exquisitely talented that mouth could be when applied topically, and it took all her self-control not to kiss him at that very moment.  Merely thinking of it, she licked her lips ever so subtly, as if she could taste him.But as much as she wanted to, B'Elanna knew that this moment belonged to Harry and Annika.  It would be wrong to steal the stage by having the Best Man and Maid of Honor falling into a passionate embrace.  It would be wrong. . .she =had to remember that. . .but, oh, God, why did he have to look at her now?!  Did he knowthe effect those blue, blue eyes had on her?  Yet the eyes that were turning her insides to jelly were not asking for a kiss.  Instead, they seemed to be saying *"This is not the time for us. . .but tonight. . . ."*Turning to follow the Kim's back down the aisle, she smiled.  *Yes. . .today, I'll be happy for Harry and Annika.  But tonight. . .I'll be very happy for Tom and I.*				*	*	***It was as though an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders.  She hadn't felt so completely free and happy in years!  For she remembered everything.She remembered the slight ways Tom had changed over the years. . .how the crinkles that appeared by his eyes when he smiled had began to stay. . .how although he had always been fit, he had become almost achingly so in the determination not to lose his edge.  But time had never made much of a mark on him, for he had been barely forty when he died.  The thought of his loss was a deep and painful emptiness in her heart.  But it was bearable, for she now had a balm to pour over the wound.  The balm of memories.  Eight years as husband and wife, and the four and a half years of friendship before that.  Almost thirteen years of Tom Paris.  Of his smiles, his laughter, of the joys and tears they had shared.  Now that she was experiencing the memories again, B'Elanna couldn't believe she had worked so hard to suppress them.  She and Tom had been so happy in the few short years fate had given them.  A slight smile tugged at B'Elanna's lips as she amended that thought.  Most of the time they had been happy.  Tom and B'Elanna Paris were an emotional couple, given to experiencing any one feeling-and sometimes three or four simultaneously-to it's fullest extent.  Add to that their notorious individual stubbornness and differently colored, though equally intense, tempers. . .and there had been a few times. . .one in particular. . . . **				*	*	*"I hate him, Harry!  I hate him, and you have got to let me in before I rip him limb from goddamn limb!"  B'Elanna pounded her fists against Harry Kim's impassive door, having given up six rings ago on the chime.  Finally, the doors hissed open, and she barely managed to stay her fist a centimeter away from Harry's chest.  His naked chest.  Looking up, she saw through the blur of tears that he was apparently wearing nothing more than boxer shorts and a hastily-tied terrycloth bathrobe.  He was breathing hard, and his face was ruddy, his boyish features gleaming with sweat as he brushed a strand of disheveled jet-black hair from his eyes.  "Yes, B'Elanna?," He asked, and she almost smiled as she heard a decided note of annoyance in his voice.  She couldn't resist."Did I interrupt anything, Harry?"A rumpled blonde head appeared at his shoulder, and B'Elanna was surprised to see that sweat glistened on Annika's skin and implants as well.  "Yes, you did," she answered bluntly. "We were preparing to copulate."Harry's eyes rolled as a mortified blush deepened the hue of his cheeks, and Annika's brow creased as she noticed.  "Was this one of those times I was supposed to lie for the purposes of courtesy?"This time, B'Elanna couldn't subdue the smile.  "Yes, Annika, I think it was."  After a moment's reflection, the other woman smiled, then nodded, planting a small kiss on her husband's cheek.  "I am sorry.  I will attempt to do better."  They had been married over four years now, and were acting more like giddy young lovers than ever as Annika warmed under Harry's love.  The sight of them so happy made B'Elanna remember why she had come in the first place, and her mood abruptly darkened.  The sudden, fierce cloud that descended over her features did not escape her friend's notice, and his brow knitted in concern.  "B'Elanna. . .what is it?" All the rage and hurt boiled to the surface again, bursting loose in a low growl, "I hate him!  I hate him with all my heart and soul, Harry!! I knew he could be a pig, but I never thought. . .I can't believe he would. . .that he would. . .he would. . . ."  She was hyperventilating, her chest heaving as she fought not to cry or scream.  Seeing her obvious distress, Harry pulled her into his quarters, settling her on the couch before going to fetch a mug of soothing tea.When he returned from the replicator, she had calmed slightly, but it was all still there, simmering just beneath the surface.  Placing a brotherly arm around her, he patted her on the shoulder as he handed her the tea.  "C'mon, B'Elanna, calm down and tell me what the problem is." "Men!" She ground out, the word sounding barely human between her gritted teeth,  "I hate them!! I hate love, I hate men, and most of all. . . I *hate* Tom Paris!!"  As each of her tirades against the masculine sex increased in volume and ferocity, Harry drew back a bit, finally releasing her entirely and exchanging a long *now-what-are-we-going-to-do* look with his wife at the final declaration.   Annika slid closer to B'Elanna on the couch, nodding her head to indicate that Harry should leave.  Reluctantly, he did so, but not without a worried look toward the two powerful and volatile women he was leaving.  As soon as Harry was out of the room, Annika regarded B'Elanna, finally noting, "There has apparently been a drastic change in your relationship with Lieutenant Commander Paris.""You could say that," she agreed bitterly, "He's a pig!" "I am curious as to that continued reference to Mr. Paris. He bears no discernible porcine features that I am aware of, his personal hygiene is well within Starfleet standards of cleanliness, and his weight is within the ideal parameters for a male of his height.  Yet you continually compare your husband to that particular barnyard animal.  Might I ask why?""It's not his looks, Annika!"  B'Elanna spat, "In fact, sometimes I think he's too goddamn handsome for his own good!  It's his behavior!  He wants me to be some kind of goddamn brood mare!"  Seeing the curious tilt to Annika's head, she quickly amended her words, not wanting to answer the former Borg's query as to why she was comparing herself to a female horse.  "He helped deliver Vorik and Nicholetti's twins this morning, and now he comes home with the idea that it's about time for *me* to start having kids!""You and Mr. Paris have been married seven years now.  No other married couple on this ship who is able to bear children have waited more than five.  Perhaps he is correct.""That's not the point, Annika!  Children aren't about statistics, they're a choice, and they're a choice I told Tom I wasn't going to make before we even got married!  I am not going to have any part in creating a baby!  If Tom wants one, let him have it himself!" "That is biologically impossible, B'Elanna."But the half-Klingon didn't hear her.  She was in full cry, not listening to any voice but that of her own righteous indignation.  "He said I was being unreasonable, that I wasn't the only one in this marriage, and that he shouldn't be denied fatherhood because of my selfishness. . .can you imagine that, Annika?  He called me selfish!  Me!  The one he expects to go through nine months of hell being pregnant and eighteen years after that to raise the damn thing just because he wants an heir to carry the grand Paris name!  Some squealing, smelly little bundle to bounce on his knee and take to the holodeck!  I told him that if he wanted a child so badly, he should have married someone else!" "What was his response?""He said that he didn't love anyone else, but that if I really loved him, I would at least consider it!  That I would 'think about how it feels to want something with all your heart and soul but be denied it by the person you love.'  Then he grabbed a uniform out of the closet and said he was going to go somewhere else for the night!  The pig!  Trying to make me think about having a baby for him!"The brunt of her anger spent, B'Elanna buried her head in her hands, too hurt to cry.  All those years, she had thought Tom's motives in marrying her were purely love.  But it turned out that all he wanted her for was to produce children for him.  And because she wouldn't do that for him, she might lose him forever.  She couldn't decide who she was angrier at.  Tom for refusing to just accept what she had laid down, or herself for loving him so much.After several moments, Annika spoke, her tone puzzled.  "I must admit, I am curious as to why you do not wish to honor Mr. Paris' request.  Harry and I would do almost anything if we could have a child of our own."At this revelation, B'Elanna raised her head to look at the other woman.  "You two can't have kids?"  Until know, she had always assumed that the Kim's were childless by choice, like she and Tom.  Well, like her, anyway."No, we cannot.  Borg do not have time for single-cell fertilization, =nor is it efficient to have pregnant drones.  Therefor, when I became Borg, my reproductive organs were seen as irrelevant, and the Borg took no care that they remain functional when they added implants to my abdominal cavity."  There was a deep sadness in her eyes that B'Elanna had never seen there before, and it surprised the engineer.  Annika Kim desperately wanted to be able to have a baby.  Annika!  Formerly Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero-One!  She could understand why Harry would want to--his own childhood and youth had been disgustingly perfect--but his wife?  A woman who knew better than anyone how dangerous space travel could be for innocent children? The only woman whose own rotten childhood could rival B'Elanna's?   That thought made B'Elanna stop.  Why did she not want children?   Oh, she could spout off the superficial reasons quickly enough-she certainly had given Tom quite a list--the discomfort and inconvenience of pregnancy, the amount of time her duties as Chief Engineer required of her, the limited space in their officer's suite. . . .  But were those truly the reasons?  Did she really want to refuse a child life for reasons that when seen in the light of the Kim's, and even her own husband's, longing for a child, seemed dreadfully petty.  Even a bit selfish.No.  If she was honest with herself, she knew it was more than that.  Deep down, she knew that her real reasons were closer to those that she had attempted to ascribe to Annika.  And that pure, primal fear ruled above all.  Fear that fate would cause her or Tom to leave their child as her own father had left her.  Fear that a baby would tear their marriage apart, as she had her parent's.  Fear that Tom would leave them both if the baby looked too Klingon.   Fear that history would repeat itself, and that she would be just as unforgiving and abusive as her own mother had been.And what if something happened to the baby itself during Voyager's journey?  They hadn't won many popularity contests in the Delta Quadrant, and too many had already died through no fault of their own.  Would having a baby be unfairly putting another life in harm's way?  A life that had no choice in the matter?  Did she have the right to do that?But then she thought of the look in Tom's eyes as he had begged her to have his baby.  The desperate longing as he had told her how he had wanted to be a Dad someday for as far back as he could remember, and all the things he had wanted to do for their son or daughter.  He had hoped  to marry-B'Elanna-and-have-children-together.  A single concept.  A dream that he had been willing to put aside when she told him 'no' seven years ago, but which he had never been able to abandon entirely.She thought of how much Tom loved the other children on board, always showering them with gifts and playing ridiculous, endearing games with them.  How faithful he had already proven himself to be.  How much she had already broken from her mother's mold.  And she began to question her own resolve to remain childless.But looming above all the philosophy was the question that had killed the Kim's dreams of family.  *Could* she and Tom have a baby?  After all, though he was a healthy full Human, she was half Klingon, and she knew what a stroke of luck it was that she had been born healthy. "B'Elanna?"  Startled out of her reverie by Harry's voice, she looked towards the door to the bedroom, where he was standing, now fully dressed in comfortable khaki pants and a loose, dark green sweater.  "I didn't hear any screaming, or anything being thrown, so I wondered if it was safe to come back in." She smiled and patted the couch beside her.  "Sure, Harry, I think I can tolerate your presence now."  He grinned and came over, but just before he sat down, he pulled something out from behind his back and gave it to her.  It was a bedraggled stuffed animal that might have once resembled a stylized dog, but now looked like nothing so much as a casualty of war.  One button eye hung on by a few threads, while the other was missing entirely, and stuffing poked through the threadbare weave of the cloth in a few places.  "Meet George." Harry said simply."Who?""George."  The man stroked the toy dog almost affectionately.  "My Mother made him for me when I was born.  I slept with him when I was little, and took him everywhere with me."B'Elanna smiled.  "Even to the Delta Quadrant?  Harry, you were almost twenty-one when you boarded Voyager.  Isn't that a little old for things like this?" Harry laughed, "Yeah.  When I went to the Academy, I left George at home on purpose, so my Mother slipped him into my suitcase when I went off to Voyager.  I didn't even know she'd done it until I got aboard.  Tom was absolutely merciless when he found out about him." Taking the stuffed animal carefully, B'Elanna felt the almost irresistible urge to snuggle it close, but was hesitant to do so given it's fragile condition.  Harry watched her, and seemed to sense what she was thinking.  "Go ahead and hug him," he urged, "that's what he's for.  Hugging, crying into, telling secrets to, or occasionally beating to a bloody pulp. . . though I can't say there's enough of him left for that after more than thirty years" "That's sweet of you, Harry." She hugged the soft toy, burying her face in it's worn fabric.  It smelled of time and tears, and she understood it's appeal, though not why her friend had brought him out.  She said as much, and he looked at her compassionately."You looked like you needed an extra friend.""I guess so," she acknowledged sadly.  There was a long pause as she cuddled George, then she spoke, her voice little more than a whisper.  "Harry. . .do you think Tom and I should have a baby?""It's up to you two of course, but I think so.  I think you would make great parents."  A shadow passed over his face as he realized something, "B'Elanna, is that what this was all about?  Are you pregnant?"  She laughed at the strange mix of hope and worry on his face, and at the sheer absurdity of his statement.  She had been almost ridiculously conscientious with her birth-control boosters, knowing that as often as she and Tom made love, even a slight lapse might result in an unwanted baby.   "No, I'm not pregnant.  But Tom asked me to have his baby. . .I told him that it was out of the question, but now I'm not so sure. . . ."Harry placed a gentle hand on her knee, and she was grateful for his steady, calming presence.  "Having a child is not a decision that you can make lightly.  But I think you should let Tom know that you're considering it.  It would mean so much to him to know that, even if you decide not to go through with it."B'Elanna shook her head, "No.  I can't tell Tom.  Not until I know for certain.""But isn't that something you'll need to discuss with him?"  At that, she realized the misunderstanding, and smiled, amending it.  "Not whether or not I want to have a child, Harry.  Whether or not I can."***"A half Klingon such as yourself, Commander, is as much a product of luck as anything else.  The vastly disparate organ structures and blood chemistry means that even with the best of medical care, only one in three pregnancies will result in a healthy infant."B'Elanna sniffed wryly from the biobed, where she lay flat on her back as the Doctor ran his tests.  "Oh, believe me, Doc, I know.  My mother never hesitated to remind me."  She paused, and there was a slight quaver to her tone as she asked, "Would it be the same for a one-quarter Klingon child?  I don't think I could accept a two out of three chance of losing the baby."The Doctor didn't answer, only stared at the readouts on the tricorder, running the scanner over her again and again.  She waited for a long moment, then sat up, beginning to become impatient.  "Did you hear me, Doctor?  I asked you whether Tom and I could have a baby." His holographic eyebrows lifted slightly as he looked up at her.  "Absolutely," he answered.  "In fact, it seems you already are." She frowned.  "Are what?"The Doctor rolled his eyes, as if astounded by her stupidity.  "Pregnant.""What?!  That's impossible!""See for yourself." He proffered the tricorder to her, "A healthy female fetus, approximately two weeks gestation, one-quarter Klingon, three-quarters human.  I could do another scan to determine paternity, but I don't see why, considering that it is obviously Mr. Paris' child."    "But," she protested, "I've been so careful with my boosters, and so has Tom!  We should both be infertile.""Hmmm."  The hologram's brow furrowed as he punched in commands on the tricorder.  B'Elanna waited, watching him intently as he used several other instruments to scan her, finally taking a sample of her blood to analyze.  Outwardly, she was calm, her face a mask of composition that would meet with the approval of the strictest Vulcan.  Inside, she was screaming.  She had planned to find out if a child was even possible, then consider it, safe in the knowledge that considering it would please Tom but was in no way a commitment to motherhood.  Discovering that she was already pregnant created an entirely new, terrible situation.  Part of her demanded to know how the boosters could have failed, but she knew that really didn't matter.  They had failed, and now she was pregnant.  A little voice suggested that she could just terminate the fetus now.  She was only two weeks pregnant, and the Doctor was sworn to secrecy by his confidentiality subroutine.  No one would know.  Except her.B'Elanna closed her eyes, images flashing through her imagination as clearly as pictures on a viewscreen.  An infant with bright blue eyes and Klingon ridges. . .She and Tom guiding a toddler through her first, halting steps. . .A girl of ten leaning over her shoulder in Engineering, watching intently as her mother worked. . .Tom's eyes as he pleaded with her in a rare moment of vulnerability, sharing his dreams of fatherhood. . .and the devastation in those eyes when she had refused him. . .Her hands, covered in blood as they had been so many years ago when she had killed that Orion captain.  But this blood was not copper, it was scarlet.  The child's blood.She knew that if she secretly terminated this child's life, she would never be able to look her husband in the eye again.  Never be able to face him without knowing that she had killed their baby. . .a daughter Tom never even knew he had.  No. She couldn't do it.  B'Elanna would tell her love that she was pregnant, and they would discuss the consequences together.  One hand went to the flat plane of her stomach, and she smiled slightly as she realized what "pregnant" really meant.  There was a tiny life growing inside her, a mix of mother and father, an expression of the love they felt for one another.    "Ah, here it is, B'Elanna."  The Doctor's voice startled her, and her eyes flew open to see her approaching him, a triumphant expression on his face as he held up the crimson vial of blood he had drawn.  "It seems that a month ago, when you and Tom-along with a sizable portion of the crew-came down with the Bolian Flu, the antibodies your  bodies created to fight it off also attacked the fertility suppressant you had taken, seeing it only as a foreign substance.  It would have happened gradually, which is probably why I didn't detect it immediately."  He paused, looking thoughtful.  "I suppose I will need to inform everyone who had the flu of this possibly significant side effect" "Probably," she deadpanned."I can, of course, simply re-administer the suppressant," he offered, "the pregnancy is in such an early stage that it would simply abort.  There might be some mild discomfort or cramping, but nothing serious."  His eyes spoke volumes, telling her that despite his medical obligations to inform her of this option since it was an unexpected pregnancy, he desperately hoped she wouldn't take it.  "Or you could choose to carry the child to term."Taking a deep, calming breath, B'Elanna spoke, realizing as she did so that this was the second time that words said in sickbay would change her life forever.  "I think I will, Doctor."Projected features broke into a wide grin.  "Wonderful!  I'll call your husband!"  His hand went to the commbadge interface that would tap him into the comm system, but she reached out, stopping him.  "Don't tell him!"  She received a rather odd look.  "B'Elanna, if you've decided to go through with this, I would seriously urge you to inform the child's father.  Besides, you can't keep it a secret for long. . .your condition will be obvious in a few months."  He paused, and a horrified look came over his face.  "This IS Tom's baby. . . isn't it?"   "Of course it is," she snapped, "And if you even *hint* otherwise to any member of this crew, you had better enjoy life as a three-inch Targ in a tutu!"  There was a long pause, and B'Elanna sighed deeply.  "I'm going to tell him.  Just not over the comm line, and not in sickbay."  She thought of the red silk dress hanging in her closet. . .Tom loved it when she wore that one.  It was short, low-cut and fit her like a second skin.  She decided that she might as well wear it while she still could, after all, the Doctor was right in saying that her current lithe figure would soon be but a memory.  Yes, definitely that dress.  The dress. . .some champagne. . .soft, late-twentieth-century Earth music from Tom's collection. . .candlelight. . .a romantic dinner. . .   She would apologize for her earlier behavior, get Tom in a good mood, maybe indulge in a little romantic horseplay. . .and when she was certain that he had completely forgiven her earlier behavior (some of which she now thought might have been influenced by hormones) she would tell him.Tell him, and be prepared to catch him when he fainted. 			*	*	***B'Elanna laughed as she remembered the look on Tom's face when she had told him.  His fair skin had gone impossibly white, and he had barely managed to stammer out, "You. . . you. . .you're *pregnant*?!"  before his blue eyes rolled up and he had fainted dead away.  He had been so happy, and so sweet through the entire pregnancy.  No mean feat considering how nasty the cross-species hormones had been.  She had gone through mood swings that would take her from kissing him passionately to screaming Klingon curses in less than a minute.  Her internal thermostat was decidedly unusual, raising the temperature in their quarters to the point where Tom had to strip down to his shorts the moment he came home in order to prevent heatstroke.  There had been cravings that repulsed even Neelix. . .B'Elanna shook her head in remembrance.  She had been quite a handful.But through it all, he had never complained, though she knew how hard it had been for him.  They had joked that every pound she had gained had come off of him, and it was almost true. . .even though there wasn't any spare flesh on him to begin with, he had lost almost ten pounds in the first four months, until things finally began to settle down to reasonable insanity.And even then, he had remained by her side, making life easier with the little things he did so well.  Rubbing her shoulders and back. Having a hot bath drawn for her at the end of a long day. Giving up his replicator rations to make sure she always had the food she wanted in addition to all the new uniforms needed to accommodate her expanding figure.  Leaving little romantic notes and gifts in odd places that told her that he loved her and thought her to be beautiful. . .even on the days when she felt like a Andorian whale.Her eyes misted over as she realized that she had never properly thanked him.  She had thought there would be time.  She would tell him another day, when she wasn't feeling so sick.  Another day, when she wasn't so tired.  Another day, when she wasn't so busy.  Another day, after they had finished getting ready for the baby.  Another day. . .that never came.How could she have known that a day that started out like so many others would end in so much pain?  Would end with her entire world being destroyed in one brutal, heart-shattering moment. **     				*	*	* B'Elanna watched her reflection in the mirror as her nimble fingers wove her long brown hair into a simple braided twist with the same skill and precision she used daily in Engineering. As she slipped in the pins that would hold everything in place, another image appeared beside her own.The reflection was of a tall, handsome man with disheveled sandy curls and  brilliant blue eyes that sparkled as they stared into hers. Smiling, she turned in his arms and kissed him tenderly. "Sleep well?", she asked. Tom gave her a wounded look, and for the first time, she noticed the dark circles under her husband's eyes."Someone was kicking me all night!" B'Elanna laughed and patted the baby, who, now that no one was trying to sleep, was behaving herself quite nicely. "Why are you complaining, I had it from the inside!" "I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?" Tom's strong hands moved up to her shoulders, and begin to knead gently, massaging out all the aches and pains. This had been a daily ritual lately, a brief release from the physical stresses of pregnancy, and quite likely, the only thing that had kept her from killing everyone on the ship. B'Elanna felt the tension leech out of her over-stressed back muscles, and she nearly sighed with relief. "Mmm, that feels good...I'll forgive you if you move a little to the left." He did so, and this time, a small sigh of pleasure did escape her lips. She would have liked nothing more than to stand there and let Tom work his magic all day, but unfortunately, reality reared it's ugly head."I've got to get ready for work." Reluctantly, she stepped away from him and moved towards the closet. As she reached for the nearest black and gold uniform, Tom appeared by her side and took hold of the hanger. She looked up at him, a question in her eyes, and saw the genuine concern reflected in his face. "B'Elanna. . . are you sure you want to go in today? I'm certain Captain Janeway wouldn't mind if you took off, considering your condition." At this, she scowled and firmly pulled the uniform from his grasp. "We've been over this before, Tom. I'm pregnant. . . and yes, I'm very pregnant. But I'm not sick, and I'm not broken!" Tom ducked to avoid the pajamas that flew (not completely by accident) in his direction, on their way to the laundry to be relpicleaned. They had had this argument every day for the past month, and each day, Tom grew more persistent, reminding her that she held a dangerous job, and that she was no longer merle gambling with her own life. . . but with that of an innocent baby who didn't really care whether the forward phaser array ever got re-calibrated.   "I never said you were, it's just that I don't want my daughter born in a Jeffries tube somewhere." B'Elanna paused, one leg in her uniform trousers, then straightened so that she could look him in the eyes, the movement less than graceful due to her greatly enlarged belly. Tom involuntarily took a step back as his wife's fiery glare speared him. "I'm not due for three more weeks, and everyone in Engineering is watching me like I'm some kind of time bomb! I'm not allowed near anything more dangerous than a replicator, and there's serious debate as to whether Annika is going to let me carry my own tools! You don't have to worry, everyone else on this damn ship is doing just fine!"She snapped out every word, the air around her crackling with frustration and hostility. B'Elanna had always prided herself on being strong and self-sufficient, and being unable to do many of the things that had been second nature would have been bad enough without everyone worrying over her all the time. In the past eight months, Tom had discovered that his wife could swear quite fluently in no less than eleven languages (an even dozen if you counted two different dialects of Klingon), and he knew that pregnant or not, B'Elanna wouldn't hesitate to deck him if he kept trying to get her to slow down. Therefore, he took the only survivable course of action: absolute and total surrender. Tom held up both hands as if trying to ward of an evil spirit, but there was a smile on his lips. "All right, all right. You win. But you'll call me if anything happens?" "I'll call you if she so much as sneezes." He smiled and stepped up behind her, reaching around to embrace her. Placing both hands on his wife's swollen abdomen, he felt his daughter's movements like butterfly wings under his fingers. "Busy girl," he noted. B'Elanna turned her head to look at him, and the change was startling. . . she seemed to glow with maternal happiness. Tom marveled anew at how motherhood had softened her. Had he not been there to witness the gradual metamorphosis, he would never have believed that the snarling Maquis warrior he had met all those years ago on Ocampa and the loving mother in his arms were the same woman. As he had gotten to know her, he had fallen in love with her take-no-prisoners approach to life and her fierce bravery, enjoying their hot competition as he discovered that she was completely impervious to the charms that had melted dozens before her. It had taken him over a year, but while they were both stranded in space, the first crack had appeared in her hard shell, and he had realized that it was armor protecting a broken heart. . . one that had never known love. Now, B'Elanna loved him, and she loved their baby, and that shell was slowly falling away; piece by piece, day by day. "Very busy. Here, feel this." She took his hand and moved it to the right, and Tom felt a strange jumping sensation, then he himself jumped when a surprisingly forceful movement slammed against his hand. At the same moment, B'Elanna gasped--whatever the baby had just done had knocked the wind out of her. He looked up quickly. A frown added new creases to B'Elanna's already-ridged forehead, and her dark eyes had the odd unfocused look they got when she was concentrating on the baby. Suddenly, she saw him staring at her, and laughed at the child-like confusion on his face. "It's all right, Tom, she's just moving around. Did you think anyone who's one-quarter Klingon could stay in one position for nine months?" He grinned at her.  "Okay, but you promised to call if she sneezes." He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips, bent to give the same attentions to her belly, and then moved off to begin his own morning routine.B'Elanna smiled as she reached for her uniform's outer tunic. Tom would make a good father. She scolded herself for the irrational fears that had kept them from having children for so many years now. The chances of him deserting her and the baby ranged somewhere between extremely unlikely and downright impossible. This baby would grow up in a wonderful, wholesome environment, with none of the problems her mother had faced. She would have both parents always there for her, no one would care that she was part-Klingon, and her hot Klingon blood would be well diluted. Idly, she wondered what the little girl within her would look like. Would she be dark like her mother, with brown hair and an burnished complexion marked by Klingon ridges? Or would she take after Tom, with his fair skin and wheat-blond hair?  Suddenly, her musings were cut short by a more immediate problem. "Tom," she called, "can you replicate me a new uniform?" She heard the low buzz of the shaver over his words as he poked his head out of the bathroom. "Is there something wrong with that one?" She turned to him, letting him see exactly what the problem was, and a smile spread over his face. He paused for a moment, trying not to laugh, but when he spoke, he couldn't entirely contain a chuckle. "She's quite the growing girl." B'Elanna scowled at her bulging midsection, as if she could make the edges of her tunic meet by sheer annoyance. They were not impressed, and stubbornly stayed exactly one centimeter apart.  "Oh, she's growing all right. I look like I swallowed a small moon." The words were mild, but in her tone she conveyed all the difficulties and frustrations of the past eight-and-a-half months.  Sensing that there was a lot more to her complaint than just the disappearance of her trim waistline, Tom came out of the bathroom and caressed her face in his hands."That's ridiculous, B'Elanna.  You look radiantly maternal, and I love you." She leaned close for a kiss, and then saw the chronometer over his shoulder and her eyes widened."I look late!"           B'Elanna made it to Engineering with less than a minute to spare, only to discover that most of her staff was not as concerned with punctuality. Two of her technicians had yet to show up, so she had a moment to collect herself and look over the preparations for the coolant system overhaul scheduled that day. As she scanned the readouts on her console, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she saw it was Lieutenant Commander Carey, her assistant. They had gotten off to a rather rocky start, when there was one position available, and two would-be Chief Engineers. At the time, it had been much more than just their technical skills on the line. It had been Starfleet verses Maquis. Calm, collected everyman Carey verses hotheaded Engineering genius Torres. Things had quickly come to a boil when B'Elanna had shattered Carey's nose during an argument, but Janeway had assigned the top position to her, and over the years the two had become good friends.  Now more than ever, she was extremely grateful for an assistant she could trust as well as him. She followed his gaze, trying to see what part of the console he was looking at, and realized he wasn't looking at the readout at all. He was looking quite intently at her belly.     "Something wrong, Joe?" He smiled, but a mortified blush was creeping up his cheeks toward his hairline at being caught.  "Nothing"  "Come on," she prodded, "out with it." Carey hesitated a moment, then explained, his face turning a deep crimson as he spoke. "I was wondering how much longer before you had that damn kid. We never realized how much work you do around here until you couldn't do most of it." B'Elanna laughed, and reached out to clap Carey on the back. "Don't worry, the Doctor says just two or three more weeks." .  "Sorry." B'Elanna opened her mouth to tell him that it was all right, that she was looking forward to getting it over with more than anyone, but just then the doors opened and Captain Janeway walked in.  Beside her was a short, round alien ambassador, waddling along as fast as his stubby legs would carry him just to keep up with the Captain's own awkwardly shortened stride. Downy golden fur covered every inch of his body, and he had large brown eyes set in a tiny face that made him look like one of the teddy bears Tom had been replicating for the baby. Yet despite his innocent appearance, B'Elanna got the feeling she wasn't going to like him. Over the years, she had learned to trust her feelings.  They didn't disappoint her. More than once in the next hour, she became sorely tempted to throw diplomacy to the wind and throw the Ambassador to the warp core. He was quite simply a pompous moron who waddled his way around Engineering, looking down his little button nose at everything he saw.  According to him, everything was better, faster, smaller, or more efficient on his homeworld, and he had no hesitation about sharing those opinions in the most belittling terms. B'Elanna reached her boiling point when the he turned on her beloved engines--the ones she had kept running at over ninety-eight percent efficiency despite lack of parts and the fact that they should have been replaced years earlier. She didn't even want to think about her blood pressure when he called them "oversized curiosities." Luckily, Janeway noticed her clenched fists and gritted teeth before she smashed his furry little face in, and hastened him on to pester some other poor department head. The look Janeway gave her on the way out eased B'Elanna's anger somewhat. *I'm sorry I brought him here, but you did well,* it seemed to say. And now that he was gone, she could finally speak her mind as well. "That stupid, arrogant little son of a--oh!" Her eyes went wide with a mixture of shock and pain, as she grabbed onto a nearby console for support. With a speed that was nothing short of miraculous, Engineers seemed to materialize from the bulkheads themselves, by her side in the blink of an eye. Carey was the first, his green eyes intense with concern. "Commander, are you all right? Should I take you to sickbay?" She straightened and waved him off, trying to hide how deeply she was breathing under a calm smile. "Why can't I get that kind of response time on my emergency drills?", she teased, but Carey was not convinced. "What happened?" "Nothing, just false-labor contractions.  The Doctor said I could expect this, but it caught me by surprise, *all right?*" He frowned and shook his head, not taking the less-than-subtle hint."Abby. . . ", he began, but she cut him of with a glare that could have melted deuritium."Your wife wasn't half-Klingon. I'm *fine*. Now, are you going to get back to work on your own, or do I have to order you?" Reluctantly, Carey and the others moved off, and B'Elanna headed towards her workstation. Suddenly, she staggered as the ship rocked under something she had come to know all too well. Phaser Fire."We're under attack!" She shouted, and moments later, her announcement was confirmed as the Captain's voice ordered them all to battle stations and the red alert lights began to flash. B'Elanna turned to confirm that her Engineers were all where they should be, when the ship veered violently to port, throwing her to the floor. She landed hard, but rolled out, distributing the impact. Pain lanced through her entire body, as every alarm bell inside her head screamed out in fear. *The baby! Oh, God, let her be all right!*  But the pain was receding, and she was able to diagnose it as nothing more than bruises as she pulled herself to her feet, breathing a prayer of thanks. Just then, the ship made another desperate maneuver, and she was hurled violently into the very console she had been headed for a few moments ago, crashing into it before hitting the deck again. Frantically, she tried to isolate the pain, assess how badly she'd been injured. Her skull throbbed wickedly as a lump the size of a hen's egg formed on the back of her head, and her left arm was almost certainly broken, but at least. . . . Suddenly, a new kind of pain spasmed through her, and she was left breathless, gasping, by it's intensity. At first, she was terrified, but then she recognized it, and was afraid for a whole new reason. It was a contraction. But not just any contraction, this was a *contraction!*  She was going into labor! *No!* she thought, *This can't be happening! This is a crisis situation. . . it's no time for the Chief Engineer to be having a baby!* As if to remind her exactly who was in charge here, the baby kicked hard, and B'Elanna was forced to accept the helpless reality of her situation. "Engineering to Tom Paris!", she gasped, and Tom's voice replied almost instantly, his tone laced with concern. "Is everything all right, B'Elanna?" She shook her head, then realized he couldn't see it over the comm. "It's time." He invoked a rather colorful term, and then cut the comm line, on his way to her side as fast as humanly possible.      ***Ten minutes later, they were in sickbay, where it took the Doctor all of two seconds to agree with B'Elanna's diagnoses. The baby was on it's way, and this new member of the Paris family was in no mood to wait around. B'Elanna screamed like a wounded tigress as she crushed Tom's hand, her fingernails drawing thin trickles of blood where they dug into the skin of his palm.  As her grip tightened, she could see him wince through the sweat that blurred her vision.  "Honey," he whispered, "I'm a pilot." "So?!" she hissed.  "I need my hand." Their child was determined to make her entry into the world by making completely sure the mother remembered the experience, and wouldn't enjoy the process of forcing the baby out into the cold and bright any more than the infant would.  The condition of Tom's hand was the furthest thing from her mind, and she let him know it with a stream of invective that turned the air blue for several decks.  Still, he leaned close, offering support, doing what he could to see her through this. "All right, B'Elanna, breathe. . . good. Okay, the worst is over, you can relax. . . " He brushed away a tendril of hair that had stuck to her face, and she took advantage of his vulnerable position. Her hand shot up and grabbed onto the gray fabric of Tom's uniform collar, yanking him to within centimeters of her face. "If you ever get within a parsec of me with champagne again," she growled, "I'll make you wish for a quick death." For a moment, a smile played in his eyes, then he realized that she was in deadly earnest. "No champagne. Got it." Satisfied, she released him, and turned her head toward the Holographic Doctor. "I don't get it, Doc," she breathed, "I'm usually okay with pain." The Doctor looked evenly at her, and for a moment, Tom envied him. . . he was the only one in sickbay who wasn't soaked with sweat and bone-tired, and the only one whose nerves weren't completely shot, allowing him to respond as calmly as if he were lecturing in a classroom. "Tolerance for pain is merle one's ability to distance one's self from the physical discomfort. The human body can do amazing things, even when gravely injured, if there is a sufficient cause to allow the person to focus on. In this case, your body is making sure you cannot ignore the situation by secreting chemicals to prevent you from isolating the pain you feel.  It's a mechanism characteristic of your Klingon half." B'Elanna felt the beginnings of another contraction, and clenched her teeth. "Those chemicals. . . " she began, "are doing one hell of a job!" As the contraction peaked, B'Elanna felt as though she was being torn apart from the inside, and she found out that no amount of pre-natal training can prepare you for the moment when you can't remember your own name through the pain.  The decision to forgo drugs due to the high-risk nature of her pregnancy had seemed so reasonable four months ago, but now she was seriously doubting her own sanity in making that decision.  The "discomfort" of the medical texts was, in her opinion, a load of Targ manure.  This hurt like hell, and the Doctor's assurances that Klingon women gave birth very quickly did not help, except to allow her the small fantasy of this being over quickly so she could commit a double murder.  After all. . .Janeway was creative Captain.  She could get along without her pilot and her Doctor.Finally, the contraction subsided, at the cost of one hopelessly shredded sickbay blanket and severe damage to Tom's eardrums. As she lay there, gasping for air, wondering what the hell she had been thinking nine months ago, she felt her husband's reassuring presence at her side, and turned to look at him."Tom. . . ." "Yes?""She's going to be an only child." Tom laughed softly and squeezed her hand.        "All right, as long as. . . ." He never finished the statement, as Janeway's voice sounded over the comm. "Janeway to Paris." Out of habit, both answered, and B'Elanna could hear the smile in Janeway's voice as she corrected  herself. "Tom Paris. I understand B'Elanna's busy right now." Tom frowned,"Frankly, Captain, so am I."  "I understand, Tom. . . and by the way, congratulations. Believe me when I say I wouldn't be calling you unless it was critical. But we have just been met by twelve warships, and if we don't get the Ambassador off of Voyager and onto one of his own ships, we won't last long." "I don't see what that has to do with. . . " suddenly, he realized what the Captain wanted, and B'Elanna saw him dig himself in. She knew from experience that  Tom could be every bit as stubborn as the most determined Klingon, but she couldn't let him do it now. She reached for his hand, trying to appear calm and in control. "Go. I don't want my baby's father to be an Ensign in the Brig. I want him to be the Lieutenant Commander who saved the. . . ." She cut off abruptly as another contraction seized her, but she still managed to shove Tom away when he tried to help. "Go! Just go!" Glancing back over his shoulder with every step, Tom walked quickly towards the door, stopping for only a moment."Don't you dare have that baby without me." Eyes closed tightly, she nodded, and the next thing she heard was the hiss of the sickbay doors as he left. ***"Oh, You're beautiful. . . yes, you are." B'Elanna smiled down at her daughter,only a few minutes old, her tiny figure almost lost within the soft blue-gray folds of the blanket wrapped around her. Everything about her seemed clenched in fury, her little hands balled into fists and her face crumpled as she screamed in futile protest at being born into this world of bright lights and strange sensations. She was just over two kilos of Klingon spunk, but with the bright, inquisitive blue eyes of her human father. The child she had carried for nine months had a face at last. A face that belonged to a perfect living being, with tiny fingers, toes, and all the features of an adult scaled in doll-like miniature. She was the most wonderful thing B'Elanna had ever seen. This was her daughter. Her baby.  The affection came easier than anything she had ever felt before. . . she couldn't imagine feeling anything but love for this child. It was the same sense of delicious abandon as the first time she had fallen in love, the same feeling she felt when she was with. . . .  Tom.She had forgotten all about Tom during the ordeal of labor and the soaring delight of seeing her daughter for the first time. It had been almost two hours since he left to shuttle the Ambassador to his ship, he should be back by now.As if in answer, the transporter sang, and B'Elanna craned her neck to look at the form materializing  on the other bed. As it solidified, she realized it was human, an injured crewman desperately in need of the Doctor's care. B'Elanna gasped in unrestrained horror as she recognized the battered body. Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris. Her husband. The father of the child she now held in her arms. She knew it was him, but the *thing* that had just appeared was not the man who had reluctantly walked out the door only two hours ago. Tom's uniform was charred to a solid black, gone completely in some places, but it was difficult to tell exactly where because the skin beneath was burned to the same shade of ebony, the synthetic leather of his boots melted into the flesh of his feet and ankles. His wheat-blond hair was burned away, the scalp red and blistered with more of the terrible plasma burns. The only part of Tom still recognizable was his face, which had been spared the devastation of whatever had enveloped the rest of him at the cost of his hands. . . he must have used them to cover it. The right one was unsalvageable, even by twenty-fourth century standards, the fingers were burnt down to the bone, and the left hand was only marginally better, in that it did not appear in imminent danger of dissolving to ash. Even if he lived, it was clear that he would never pilot a starship again.  Dimly, she saw the Doctor rush over, working furiously to try and save his life. She watched, unable to breath, heart clenched in total fear. *This can't be happening! We have a baby, your daughter! You said we'd raise her together! You promised me!*"The Doctor's hands were a blur as they flew over the convulsing form of her husband, stabilizing this, injecting that, setting something else. B'Elanna strained to hear the Doctor's mutterings, but they offered no consolation. They were dire concerns about destroyed lung tissue, third degree burns, neural pathway degradation, and fluctuating vital signs. Tom stiffened, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as he fought to get oxygen through lungs that had been seared by super-hot gasses. At that sound, it became painfully clear to B'Elanna that he was dying, and she felt a desperate need  to be there with him when he did. B'Elanna pushed herself up off the bed, cradling the baby in the crook of one arm. Her legs were like gelatin, refusing to support her as her body informed her in no uncertain terms that giving birth was more than enough physical activity for one day. She almost gave into it's pleas for mercy, but just then, Tom's head turned slightly and his eyes locked onto hers. Suddenly, little things like utter exhaustion ceased to matter as she went to his side.  The Doctor made a futile attempt to order her back, but she wasn't going anywhere. She reached for Tom's hand, stopping as she saw how badly it was seared, contenting herself with eye contact alone. His eyes usually sparkled, mischief ever-present in their clear blue depths, but now, they were dull, covered by a hazy film of agony and fear as they tried unsuccessfully to focus on her. Then they began to flutter close, and B'Elanna sensed that he was giving up, surrendering to the overwhelming shock and pain.  "Please, Tom," she begged, "don't do this to me. . . don't leave me alone now." His lips moved, and he tried to answer, but a harsh fit of coughing racked his abused body and brought up a gush of blood instead. Desperately trying to find something to distract him from the pain, and distract her from the horror of his devastating injuries, B'Elanna lifted the infant into his line of vision. Wonder and love filled Tom Paris' eyes as he saw his daughter for the first time. The baby burbled innocently, reaching out to touch her father. Pain was forgotten in the excitement of the moment, and though he was trembling with the effort it cost him, Tom brought his own burned, mangled hand up to touch the baby's smooth, plump fingers ever so gently. Reflexively, she grabbed hold of his fingers, and while Tom's features contorted as she gripped the raw, burnt flesh, the tears flowing down his cheeks were tears of delight.  B'Elanna felt a rush of envy for the baby, who was burbling happily at the contact, oblivious of the fact that her father was within centimeters of death.      "She. . . she looks just like, you. . . don't you think so, Tom?" Something that might have been trying to be a smile ghosted across his face, and cracked, blistered lips opened in a raspy whisper that sounded barely human, a hideous departure from his usual robust tones. "So. . .beautiful. . .so. . .*small*. . .", he forced. Suddenly, his eyes flew wide as the alarms on the biobed shrieked. *"Dying! Dying!"*, they seemed to cry. Intent on saving his patient, The Doctor pushed B'Elanna out of the way as life support machines surged into action, and hypospray after hypospray hissed into Tom's neck. But still the alarms screamed relentlessly. A final seizure ripped through Tom, and he reached out to her, a last burst of strength enabling him to pull himself to a half-sitting position, one hand outstretched toward where she stood, paralyzed with horror, clutching the baby as if she were a life preserver."B'Elanna. . . " It was said with what was to be his final breath. He valiantly tried for another, but his ravaged body was too far gone to concede to the demands of his spirit. Tom fell limply back against the biobed and lay still. Far too still. Her worst fears were verified by the monitors, all showing either flat lines or the last fluttering hints of life draining rapidly from him. The Doctor worked frantically for several minutes, as B'Elanna held her breath, hoping against hope for another of his miraculous saves. But ten minutes later, even the tireless hologram was forced to concede defeat. Pulling a sheet over the still form that had once been a living, breathing human being, he dictated the requisite log entry."Lieutenant Commander Thomas Eugene Paris died on Stardate 68342.9, at twenty-thirteen hours of massive internal hemorrhage and third-degree burns to approximately eighty-five percent of his body. He is survived by his widow, Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Paris, and one daughter." He paused, looked at B'Elanna standing there numbly, and then made a rather unorthodox addition to the death record."Let it be known that Voyager lost a good man today, and many of us lost a friend."A primal shriek of pure agony ripped it's way up from B'Elanna's soul, bursting from her in the deafening cry that Klingons had used to announce death for untold millennium. She allowed the grief and helplessness to pour out through sheer decibels until her voice failed her and she couldn't scream any more. The physical and emotional exhaustion caught up with her, and she sank to her knees at his bedside. Taking Tom's lifeless hand in hers, B'Elanna pressed it tenderly against her face. "I can't," she sobbed, "I can't do it without you, Tom."                      ***It was beautiful. She didn't think it had any right to be beautiful.But it was. The Federation flag was a pure blue, the color Tom's eyes hadbeen before they had closed forever, with the seal's circle of stars and it's twin olive branches picked out in pristine white. It was supposedlydraped to honor an officer that had served it, but she knew better. Tomhadn't served a flag, or an organization. He had served a Captain, a ship,and a crew. Not some vague collection of ideals laid down centuries ago,but the very current ideals of loyalty and friendship.The casket itself was a pure, glossy black, so shiny that she could see herown face reflected in it's surface like a mirror, as if to remind her thatone day, she too would be inside one of these. She almost wished she werein one now. It would be so much easier that way. Many of the crew had toldher that Tom was in a better place now, a place where there would be no painlike that which had dominated his last moments. A happy, peaceful place.But she knew she didn't have that choice. She had a baby to take care of,the daughter of a man who was no longer there to help. It was a staggeringresponsibility, but somehow it seemed easy in the face of what she was aboutto have to do. As she stood there, staring at the cold surface of thecasket, trying to remember the face of the man inside--not charred andbloody, but smooth and pale and handsome-she felt a hand on her shoulder.Turning, she found herself looking into a youthful face that seemed to haveaged a decade in the past three days."You don't have to do this, B'Elanna," Harry offered, and for a moment, she was tempted to take him up on it, do this the easy way. . . but she knew she couldn't. Mustering as much firmness as she could, she shook off her friend's gentle hand. "Yes I do, Harry." The look of pure sympathy and shared grief in Kim's eyes nearly shattered her resolve, but somehow, she managed to get up on the podium and look out over the sea of faces. Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok, Harry Kim, Annika Kim, The Doctor, Neelix. . .all her friends and comrades gathered to mourn the loss of one of their own. As she stood there, the feelings of the past week threatened to overwhelm her.B'Elanna had soon learned what had ripped Tom away from her. . . it had been his own act of heroism that had cost him his life. The Ambassador had been successfully delivered to his ship, and the aliens had called a cease-fire, satisfied with the return of their "criminal."  After some negotiation, they had agreed to allow Tom to return to Voyager, but when he was only a few hundred kilometers from the ship, one of the retreating vessels had broken their word, turned, and fired.  His skill had allowed him to avoid the full brunt of the blast, but the shuttle had still been hit, most of it's systems badly damaged.  Tom had refused to allow Voyager to beam him out, as it would mean lowering her shields and exposing herself to enemy fire, as well as leaving the shuttle an unmanned projectile that would smash into Voyager's hull like a bullet.  Somehow, Tom had guided the shuttle safely in, even as the plasma fire raging in the cockpit broiled him alive. The bridge crew had heard the entire thing over the open comm channel: Tom's attempts to issue commands to the computer, interspersed with the crackle of fire and his screams as the blaze enveloped him. Harry Kim said the sounds were inhuman, the stuff of nightmares. Cadet Naomi Wildman had become hysterical, requiring sedation. Tuvok had called them Koon-et-teil : a term from ancient Vulcan legend that meant Torment of the Damned. It was the only time Captain Kathryn Janeway ever openly wept on the bridge of her ship.They beamed him to sickbay the moment the shuttle landed. . . but it had been too late.  B'Elanna knew that part. She had been there. Since then, she had seesawed through every possible emotion ranging from unrestrained weeping and loneliness to rage at his desertion, leaving her alone with his baby. She would be proud of his self-sacrifice one moment, then the child would do some little thing and she would be overwhelmed with sorrow that Tom would never be there to see it. But all this had happened in the privacy of her quarters. . . she was now in imminent danger of repeating it in front of everyone. Her Klingon pride bristled in revulsion at the thought of such a display, even though it was commonplace at human funerals.Suddenly, B'Elanna felt an odd sense of detachment, as if she was able to stand back and look at herself from a completely objective point of view.  She was not here to talk about what Tom had been like, or share stories about the young rebel who had metamorphosed into a brave officer, loyal enough to die for his ship. She was here to deliver a message for a comrade who was unable to. Something she had done many times before. Something she could handle easily.  Taking a deep breath, she began. "I know it's unusual for the widow to speak at occasions like this, but Tom had a surprise that he wanted to announce to everyone, and since he can't. . . .well, it falls on me." Her eyes had been wandering over the company, but now they locked in on Janeway."Captain, would you please come up here?" For a moment, Janeway looked surprised, as though there might be some other Captain that B'Elanna had been referring to, but she shook it off and came up to stand at her side. "Tom was always very grateful for the chance you gave him. Sometimes, when we were alone, he would talk about what his life would have been like if you hadn't given him that chance. . . and he certainly wouldn't have been at the helm of a Starship, surrounded by people who believed in him. You took a lot of risks back  then. . . not only with a pilot who had a less-than-perfect record, but with a certain Maquis Engineer who has one hell of a temper." She saw tears begin to gather at the corners of Janeway's deep blue eyes, and had to look down at the sleeping baby in her arms to avoid crying herself. Even that was small comfort. . . the child was the very image of her father, with a downy cap of blonde hair, and eyes the exact same shade of vivid blue as Tom's had been. The only legacy of her mother that could be seen in the baby's softly rounded features was the faintest hint of ridging down her tiny forehead. . . and even that was very subtle."For years, we tried to find a way to thank you. . . and a few months ago, we found the perfect way. Captain. . . on behalf of Tom and myself, I would like you to meet someone." She gently handed the baby to the Captain, who managed to take the sleeping infant without waking her. For a long moment, Janeway just looked at the baby girl she held, then her eyes met B'Elanna's, and the question in them was clear.B'Elanna took a deep breath and revealed the secret she and Tom had kept almost five months.  "This is your namesake," she explained, and her voice broke,  "Kathryn Laurel Paris." 			*  	*	*A wrinkled hand gently eased the receiver away, and she was surprised to feel the wetness of tears upon her withered cheeks as the memory receded, leaving only resolve in the place of the pain.Her eyes fell upon a recent hologram that stood on her desk.  Kathryn was an Admiral now, and she looked beautiful in her gold dress uniform as she smiled at the holocam, her arm draped around the waist of her son, Thomas.  They stood on the bridge of his ship, the first of the Janeway-class explorers, *USS Venture.* Her hair had begun to gray with time, but the eyes were the same.  Her father's eyes.Taking a deep breath, B'Elanna stood, quickly moving to the chair by her comm panel.  It took only seconds for her to finger in the code, and then she waited, watching the blue Federation seal for almost three full minutes before it gave way to live communications.  Kathryn stood there in her nightgown, her long hair uncoiled and falling loosely over one shoulder.  Behind her, B'Elanna could see the large form of Kathryn's husband curled up beneath the sheets of their bed, and she felt a sharp pang of loss as she relaized how long it had been since she had shared her own bed with a man.  Not since Tom."Mother?" The younger woman's face was deeply etched with concern when she saw B'Elanna.  "Why are you calling so early?  Is everything all right?" B'Elanna smiled. "I'm fine, Kathy, and so is everyone else."Whisper-faint ridges became more pronounced as Kathryn frowned.  "Then. . .why the call?  You normally aren't the type to chat." "I was just working on my book, and I wanted to. . ."  Her voice drifted off as she realized how ridiculous this must all seem.  Calling her daughter at three in the morning because she wanted to right an old wrong?  A wrong that the girl probably never knew existed?  It was stupid.  Kathryn would probably think her mother had finally begun to go senile.  ". . .Never mind.  It was nothing." But she had inherited more than blue eyes from her father.  She had inherited his stubborness and intuition as well.  "No, Mother, it wasn't.  Now what was it you wanted to tell me?"Damn the girl.  It was annoying enough when Tom did that.  But she didn't have a choice now, really.  "I wanted to tell you. . .about your father."  She paused, then smiled dismissively and shook her head. "You see, baby?  It was silly."Strangely, Kathryn didn't agree.  Instead, she pulled up a chair, straddling it as she leaned closer to the monitor, chin resting in the cup of one hand.  Those beautiful eyes stared at B'Elanna with the intensity of twin search beams, and  that was indeed what they were doing.  Searching.  For a truth that she had known only in pieces, through the official logs of the organization her father had served and the eyes of his closest friend.  In the over half a century she had been alive, her own mother had told her little or nothing about her father, and she was clearly not about to waste this chance.  "Tell me," she whispered.  "Tell me about Daddy."* * *Finis------=_NextPart_000_0045_01BE732E.D1F5F680--