This story takes place a short time after Scientific Method and  makes reference to the novel “Pathways” by Jeri Taylor.  However, it is not necessary to have read the novel to understand the story.  I thought the novel had a wealth of potential that has been largely ignored by most fanfic authors.  I only had the chance to read the novel once, so if I drift from canon a little, forgive me.   A couple of naughty words, call it a PG-13 just to be on the safe side.  So, here's my little story, hope you enjoy it!       Disclaimer:  Standard Stuff:  Tom, B'Elanna, et al. do not belong to me, they belong to Paramount Co.  I am not making any money off this, and if you sue me, all you'll get is a Fisher Price Record Player and Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits, vol. I-III.  Speaking of Bob Dylan, the song “Boots of Spanish Leather” belongs to him and is being used without authorization.  Please, please, Mr. Dylan, you wouldn't sue your biggest fan, would ya?                                                 [Prologue]       Tom's eyes fluttered open and he could see the sky.  The bright, crystal blue Earth sky.  The day was warm, breezy and perfect for sun-soaked day dreaming.  He turned his head and he saw Odile's gentle face smiling at him.       "Hey, sleepy head."  She greeted him warmly, her eyes crinkling at the edges.  Tom lifted his head off her stomach and shook his curls ruefully.  Charlie and Bruno were lying next to Odile.         "Boy, I had the weirdest dream."  Tom said, stretching his legs and cracking his neck.       "Umm?"  Charlie prompted lazily.       " I dreamt that . . . I killed you all in a shuttle accident."       "Whoa."  Charlie breathed, Odile touched Tom's arm in concern.       "Yeah," Tom continued "But I covered it up and got kicked out of Starfleet."  Tom smiled a little at what came next. "So I joined the Maquis."  Bruno, Charlie and Odile burst into laughter.       "Oh, jah!"  Bruno chortled.  "I could just see you living the life of the swarthy rebel."  Odile giggled and hugged Tom's arm.        "I may love you, Tommy, but you aren't exactly the dashing, rebellious type."  Tom couldn't help but laugh along.       "Wait, there's more.  So, I got caught and I went to prison.  But then I got recruited to serve on this starship.  But we got stranded in the Delta Quadrant.  And I . . ."  Tom's voice softened. " I fell in love with this beautiful Klingon."         Tom's three friends exploded in hysterical laughter.  Charlie held his stomach and rolled in the kelly grass.  When he could drag in air, he grabbed Tom's arm.       "No offense, Tommy, but you're not exactly the most "experienced" cadet around.  I doubt you could handle a Klingon woman."  Tom's smile was a little slow, awkward.         A friendly silence settled over the four teenagers.  When Tom finally spoke, his voice was hushed and honest.       "I hated myself for the accident.  Everyday.  I never stopped missing you."  His friends didn't quite know how to react to his confessions.  After a moment, Odile hugged him tightly.       "It was just a bad dream, Tommy.  That's all."         Tom closed his eyes and murmured 'I love you' into her hair.  He could smell the safe, loved smell of strawberries and soap.  Summer sun and dandelions.  Youth and innocence.  He wanted to lose himself in her scent, he wanted to blot out the horrible guilt that had plagued him for so long.       But Odile started to pull away and then she was an arms length away, then several feet. Tom was floating, being pulled, they were getting smaller, faded and he couldn't begin to cry out the desperate protest that filled his entire being.       And he was in his bed, sweating and shivering.  Tom's vision swam and he was disoriented, his eyes filled with panic as he scanned the dark room for Charlie, Odile, Bruno. . . instead he only saw the dark walls of his quarters on Voyager.  He dizzily swung his legs over the side of the bed and shoved his hands through his hair.   He had thought the dreams were gone.  He hadn't had one in months.  The nightmares were a different story, they would never be gone and he knew it.  But the dreams . . . those happy, sunny dreams where his friends were so close, so warm.   So very alive that, when he awoke, it was like losing them all over again.         Tom dropped his head between his knees and took several long, steadying breaths.  It was only oh-four hundred hours but he wouldn't risk sleeping again.   As he reached into his bedside table for a PADD, his hand brushed that little tin box he hadn't opened since those first few lonely months on Voyager.  He trailed his fingers over the box, wondering if he should open it, browse through it.  He quickly shook his head and rolled over to read the PADD.   His duty shift started in three hours and then he wouldn't be alone with his thoughts.  He could eat breakfast with B'Elanna and Harry, he could lose himself in the flight of his ship.  He could forget.  Three hours.  He could make it.  He always had before.                ***************************************       Tom flashed a grin at B'Elanna and poked at his lunch.  The longer he looked at her lovely face and listened to her rant about Seven, the farther away the dream seemed.  The easier it was to pretend this was all he had ever known.       ". . . and then, she had the nerve to contradict my recommendation to the Captain.  What the hell does she know about trilithium scouting?!  The Captain listened to me and sent Vorik, but still!"  She choked off in impotent fury.  Tom squeezed her hand absently and smiled again at her.  She narrowed her eyes quizzically at him.       "You're awfully quiet today.  Is something wrong?"  Tom's face closed up with practiced ease and his smile was perfect ice.  B'Elanna knew that was just his way, but she never could help that little flicker of hurt she felt whenever he shut her out.       "I'm fine.  Just didn't sleep well last night.  Must have been Neelix's ‘creative pasta.'" B'Elanna stared hard at him, trying to pick out the truth from his teasing.  Tom got that awkward, wary look he always got when people refused to pass him off.         The tense moment was broken when Janeway and Chakotay arrived with their trays and sat beside the young couple.         "What does. . . this. . . taste like?"  The Captain asked, her nose scrunching up as she dangled some of the purple mess off her fork.       "Oh, its not so bad if you don't look at it."  Tom said easily, his grin boyish and picture-perfect.  He relaxed almost visibly when they fell for it.       "How are things in -" Chakotay began, turning his head to B'Elanna, when he caught Tom wordlessly shake his head in warning.       "-the ready room, Captain?"  Chakotay finished without missing a beat.       "What?"  The Captain asked, cocking her head at him.  Tom swallowed a laugh and kept his gaze from the older man's.  Before Chakotay could begin to work himself out of that comment, the Captain's commbadge chirped.  She slapped it quickly.       "Go ahead."       "Lt. Tuvok, Captain.  The shuttlecraft just docked.  I think you better met me in the shuttlebay."  Even through Tuvok's calm, flat voice the four could hear an ominous confusion.  Janeway raised her brows at her crew.       "Shall we go?"  She asked, rising.              ***************************************       Tuvok was standing before the blue shirted crewman, her small, lithe back to the door.  She spun around as the door swooshed open.       "Captain-" The crewman began, when her bright green eyes focused on a point behind the Captain's shoulder.       "Tom?"  The woman asked.  Janeway and the rest of the officers in the room turned to look at Tom.  His face was white-washed, his eyes wide.  His mouth was open, throat working wordlessly.       "Lieutenant?" The Captain asked worriedly, tossing her gaze back and forth between her pilot and the unknown woman.  Tom began backing  out of the room, shaking his head in desperation.  B'Elanna reached out to touch him but he jerked from her.       "No."  He whispered in horror.  "Not again.  You're dead."         The woman took a step toward him before being halted by the sight of Tuvok's steely aimed phaser.  She settled on extending a hand to him.       "Tommy?  What's the matter?"  The fine-boned hand stretching toward him seemed to push Tom over the edge.  Chakotay caught Tom by the elbows just as he collapsed, swiftly ordering an emergency medical beam out.       As if one, all eyes swung to the slender young woman.       "Who are you?" Janeway demanded, crossing her arms.         "You don't know me."  The woman said slowly, not really asking.  Janeway shook her head, eyes blazing.       "I know you.  My name is Lt. Odile Launcy.  Service number 34J-89712 alpha.  I am head of Stellar Cartography aboard the USS Voyager, currently stranded in the Delta Quadrant.  You are Kathryn Janeway.  My captain."  Janeway, Tuvok, and Chakotay raised their brows in almost comical unison.       "An alternate reality, Captain?" Tuvok asked smoothly.  Janeway just nodded at Odile to continue.         "I was on a scouting mission when I got caught in a wicked subspace eddy.  I detected mass amounts of chromatin particles masked as chromateen particles.  The shuttle was battered about pretty well, but I rode it out.  I hailed Voyager and asked for permission to dock."         Her voice was calm and honest.  It lilted and ebbed with an elegant, faint French accent.  The long, strawberry blond curls that had fallen free from her braid gave testament to her story.       The Captain sighed and rubbed her forehead.  Crossed realities were certainly not unheard of in space exploration.  They were just a pain in the ass.         "Can you explain Lt. Paris' reaction to you?"  She asked.  Odile shook her head.       "No.  In my reality, Tom is my husband."  B'Elanna stopped glaring at the woman long enough to give a short gasp and snap "What?!" Chakotay rested a restraining hand on her arm.  Janeway ignored her.       "And, if we can trust Tom's statement, you seem to be dead in ours."  Janeway softened the chilling comment with a sympathetic look.  Suddenly an even more chilling realization hit her.       "Did you say your name was Launcy?"  The woman nodded.       "Were you and Tom classmates at the Academy?"  The woman nodded again.       "My God.  Poor Tom."                     *****************************       Harry walked Odile to her temporary quarters.       "B'Elanna thinks its just a matter of finding another eddy.  There seems to be one about three days from here.  If we emit a tetryon burst at the specific frequency the chromatin particles were fluctuating, we should be able to send you back through.  Hopefully, your B'Elanna has come to the same conclusion and will be sending Vorik back.  If not, you can just tell them this. . . "  Odile listened patiently to Harry's tirade, waiting until he was finished before pressing him.       "What do you know about the accident that killed me--her? The one that Tom and Charlie and Bruno were involved in."  Harry shifted awkwardly.  Odile quickly touched his arm.       "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean for you to break any confidences.  I understand if-"        Harry interrupted her with a brittle smile.       "Tom hasn't shared any ‘confidences' with me.  To tell you the truth, I don't know much about it.  Tom only told me a piloting error of his caused the accident and killed three people.  That was it and that was over four years ago.  Tom never talks about it.  I mean, he doesn't like to talk about his past in general, but especially the accident."  Odile smile in thanks and patted his arm.       She stood alone in her quarters for a long time before finally asking the computer the location of Lt. Paris.  Swallowing her unease, she walked confidently from the room.  To her Tom.               **************************************       Tom stared out at the diamond small stars, streaking by at warp.  Like all good pilots, he could feel B'Elanna's engines humming.  Not exactly a sound or a sensation, but something he just knew in his bones.  The stars had always helped him order his thoughts, but now all he could see were the stars above Caldik Prime.  The sparkle of debris, the slight rocking of his shuttle as it coasted through anti-matter waves, the terrified gasp he heard over the comm, the last sound he would ever hear her make.  Made in that pristine moment when she realized she was going to die; really, truly and honestly die and that it was all Tom's fault. . .        He heard the door sweep open and he could see her reflection in the view port.  His heart lurched and he felt faint, unreal.  The visions he had of her, Charlie and Bruno in those nightmarish months before he confessed came rushing back to him.  Those months when he would see their bloody, frightened faces in every reflective surface, every time he closed his eyes.  He had to fight the instinct to be sick, to run and scream and cover his ears.  Her voice, the beautiful one he never could forget, reached him.       "Tommy?"  She asked, approaching him.  He twisted around, holding his hands up.       "Please don't . . . come any closer.  Please."  He begged, a sob climbing up his throat.  "I just dreamt about you last night.  You looked just like you do now.  I can't do this, please."  He bit his lip, tears hovering in his eyes.       "Oh, Tommy."  She whispered, sliding up close to him.  "It's all right, Tom.  I'm right here.  I'm here now."         He let himself be pulled against her, against the familiar shape of her body.  The smell of her hair.  He clutched at the dream of her, the ghost of her.  With his chin resting on her shoulder, he allowed himself to be dragged under the waves of sorrow.  Of relief and regret and loneliness.  Of joy and guilt.  And under those waves he almost touched a place he never thought he'd be again.  The place of his summertime dreams.              *************************************        An hour later they were sitting side by side in the Observation Lounge.       "Four years before we were posted on Voyager, Charlie's wife had a baby girl, Meredith.  She's so beautiful.  That was the hardest part about being stranded in the Delta Quadrant, being separated from Charlie, Bruno and their families.  Not being able to see Mere grow up."  Tom flinched a little at her revelation and she instinctively placed her hand on his arm.       "I'm sorry, Tom.  Does it upset you to hear about this?"  Tom's ice mask quickly eased into place.       "No, its fine, 'Del."  He responded, relishing every second he heard her voice even if her words did hurt.  Because unlike every other time he had heard her lovely voice from beyond the grave, she was here to comfort, not to torture.  She touched his face lightly, causing him to gasp involuntarily.       "Why did you just lie to me?" She asked bluntly. "You have never, ever lied to me."       Tom smirked a little, casting off his momentary unease at her intimate touch.         "Telling the truth didn't have any consequences before. . ."  He couldn't finish, he just dipped his head and stared at the glossy table top.  She rose and knelt down beside him, lifting his face between her hands.  She searched his eyes with hers until he couldn't bear it any longer.  She refused to release him.       "I'm not going to pretend to know what your life has been like.  What that accident did to you.  But I'm here now and I don't ever want you to hide from me."  He gingerly touched her face.       "I've missed you so much, Odile.  There were times, in the Maquis, in prison, when I first came aboard here. . .  I've been the most hated person. . . everywhere.  Sometimes it seemed like all the times with you and Charlie and Bruno were just dreams.  Something that miserable, pathetic person all by himself made up to get through the day.  And other times, it seemed like my life was just a terrible nightmare I was having, safe in my bunk at the Academy.  I'd look at my life and wonder 'How the hell did all this happen?  I used to have so much. . .' " Tears began slipping down his face and he forced himself not to be embarrassed, not to duck his head.  He gave a short laugh and sniffed.       "I think that's the longest speech I've made to another person in about ten years."  Odile just smiled and brushed her cheek against his.  Her gentle face turned serious and she nudged closer to him.       "Tell me about it, Tom."  He didn't have to ask to what she was referring.  He had never told the whole story and he didn't want to.  But, maybe more than anyone else, she had a right to know.       "I guess it started when Charlie's dad came to visit us at the Academy."                     **************************       Tom jerked up from his biochemistry text when the balled up sock whacked him on the head.  Irritated, he glanced up to see Charlie's boyish smile.       "Are you still studying?  You were in the library for six hours already."  Tom shrugged.       "I want to do well on this exam."  He snapped, his voice hoarse from little use.  Charlie stepped into their room and clapped Tom on the arm.       "You do well on all your bio exams, Tom.  You should be a doctor."  Tom placed the PADD down, rubbing his tired eyes.        "I thought about it, but you know Dad. . ."  He didn't need to finish the sentence, Charlie knew his father full well.  He squeezed Tom's arm sympathetically.       "Speaking of dads, I came to tell you my father is coming down on the next shuttle.  Wanna see him?"  Tom jumped up, forgetting his bio text.       "Of course!"  Charlie moved his arm around Tom's shoulders.        "Then let's go, compadre."  He said merrily.                            ***********       There were times when Tom felt like Nico Day had been more of a father to him than his own.  He also knew Charlie felt the same way about Tom's mother.  Farrah Day was every bit as ambitious and distant a Starfleet officer as Owen Paris.  When Tom was a little boy, he would secretly hope that Owen Paris and Farrah Day would disappear and then Tom and Charlie could live with Beth Paris and Nico Day, just like real  brothers.         Even now, when Mr. Day hugged him tightly, Tom felt a rush of warmth he never felt with his real father.       "How has school been treating you boys?"  He asked, walking between the young men, his smile paternal and proud.  When he would take the boys out as children, people would often compliment him on his handsome young sons and he would simply smile and thank them.         "Fine, sir."  Tom answered.         "Fine, sir." Charlie answered.       Mr. Day's laugh was mildly disturbed.  He had left Starfleet years ago to stay home and raise Charlie and hadn't missed the oft eerie conformity and military discipline.       "No need to 'sir' me.  Do I look like an admiral?"  The trio sat down at one of the many wooden benches scattered about Academy Park.         "So, tell me.  What piloting assignment did you get?"  He asked with the kind of sincere interest Tom's father could never manage. Charlie blanched a little and looked at Tom for guidance.  He had been dreading this question.  They both knew Nico would flip out when he heard.       "Well, uh, actually, we were assigned the Vega run.  In the Caldik system."  Tom added, a little lamely.  Nico jumped to his feet.       "What?!"  He exploded.  "Tell me you're kidding, Tommy."  Tom stood up smoothly, pulling out all of his father's easy charm.       "The Academy feels the challenge-"       "I don't give a good goddamn what the Academy feels.  I was a pilot for twenty years and I could barely cut through the Vega system with a ship in tact.  Why the hell are they having four children train in there?"  Charlie sighed and rose.  He put a placating hand on his father's shoulder.       "Dad, the Maquis frequently hide in dense asteroid belts like Vega.  Pilots need to train in areas that are going to be of strategic importance to the Federation."       "Did you get that speech from your mother or from Tom's father?  Speaking of Owen, does your father know about this, Tom?"         "Yes.  He was the one who told me about the assignment in the first place."Tom replied cautiously.  Mr. Day's face hardened in pure, bitter rage.  There was something harshly resolute in his normally warm brown eyes that reminded Tom of his father.        "Then I suggest we pay him a visit."                     ******************       "Oww, Tom!  You're stepping on my wrist!"        "Shhhh, goddamnit!  I can't hear a thing."  Tom hissed back, coming the gradual realization that sneaking under the porch to listen to secret adult conversations was much easier at ten than twenty.         "--can't believe this, Farrah!  You knew about this and didn't tell me."  Farrah slapped her thighs in irritation as she glared up at her ex-husband.       "I didn't tell you because I knew you would just blow the whole thing out of proportion.  Not to mention that Charlie is an adult and if he wanted you to know he can tell you himself."       "He's twenty years old!  Owen, surely you don't approve of this!  Tommy may be gifted pilot but he's just a cadet."         Owen Paris heaved a silent sigh.  He and Farrah had been having this argument, in one form or another, with Nico Day for almost twenty years.         "Nico, try to understand.  The boys need to show their abilities at a young age.  The Academy has deemed the risks of the Vega system acceptable for training.  It's an honor for our sons to be chosen to train in the most difficult of systems.  How would it look on their records if they were to beg out?"  Nico's face turned a deep, steamy red.         "Their records?!  Their records?!"  Nico spun around to face Beth, who, as usual, had remained silent thus far.  When he spoke he addressed her solely.       "Am I the only person in this room who thinks our children are worth more than a uniform?  Beth?  This is ludicrous, Beth.  They could be killed."  Beth shot her watery gaze back and forth between Nico and Owen.  Her voice was nervous.       "I think you may be overreacting, Nico.  If Tommy and Charlie think they are ready-"        "Yes," Owen interrupted with practiced ease.  "They are, after all, adults.  I think we should let them make their own decision."       "Their own decisions?  Those boys have never made their own decisions.  They've made your decisions, Owen.  And yours, Farrah.  I don't even think they know how to make their own decisions without you two forcing their hands."  The room sharply dropped several degrees.       "I'm sorry this upsets you so much, Nico.  But the fact remains that Charlie and Thomas are competing against some of the brightest young people in the Federation and they need to make their mark as soon as possible.  Out of respect for your concerns, I will discuss this matter with Thomas and Charlie.  Other than that, there is not much you can do about this."                       *************************       Charlie and Tom crept out from under the porch and ran down the lush hills to the tiny, spring fed creek they so loved as children.  They sat in the moist grass, Tom absently snapping sticks and tossing them into the creek.       "Maybe he's right.  Maybe we can't do it.  The Vega cluster is known for its unpredictability.  I'm not the best at quick dive rolls.  My father always says-"       "Oh, forget your father, Tom!" Charlie interrupted sharply, his usual, affable round face shifted to hard lines of irritation.       "Listen to me good, Tommy, because I've been trying to tell you this your entire life.  Look at me.  I'm an intelligent person and I'm a damn fine pilot.  But I'm no Tommy Paris."  Charlie turned to face Tom, placing his hands on  Tom's shoulders.       "You're going to do extraordinary things someday, no matter what your father tells you.  You've always been one step ahead of the rest of us.  You're going to do and see things I've only dreamed of.  You don't want to do this because your father doesn't believe in you.   And you don't want to do it because my father doesn't believe in you.  Well, how about this, Tommy.  I believe in you.  Is that enough to make you do it?  Huh?"  Tom flushed, blinked back the sting in his eyes and felt a shiver run all the way up his back as he suddenly realized why he had loved Charlie since he was six months old.         "We have to ask Odile and Bruno if they think we should do it.  It's their choice too."  Charlie gave his little wise smile.       "This may surprise you, Tom.  But I think they'll agree with me."                     *************************       Tom's sisters kept hugging and touching him throughout the funerals.  Odile's little sisters who had always loved him like an older brother, sat on his lap and cried into his dress uniform.  And he felt nothing.  There was something he couldn't quite figure out.  There was something strange about all of this, something he couldn't place.  He had never known a single day, for as long as he could remember, where Charlie hadn't been there.  What was life without Charlie?  Without even the possibility that Charlie would eventually be there?  And Odile and Bruno.  Where were they?  Here he was, at the funeral of the three people he was closest to in the entire world, so where were his best friends to help him through it?  He had never needed them so much as at this point, when grief hung just above him, like a wave about to crash into shore.  So where were they?       Tom was no closer to solving this little puzzle when he sat by his mother's side, back in his home in Portollo Valley.  His mother kept petting him, kept talking to him, but he was much to busy to respond.  He had this problem to figure out and he just didn't have the energy to devote to functioning.         His father kept one big hand on Farrah's shoulder.  She kept running her hands over the flag they had given her.  She clutched it to her chest and cried into its fabric.  She even pushed it over her face when Nico came into the room.  He stood there, red-eyed and wild haired.  He hadn't even attended Charlie's funeral.  His damp eyes swept the room as if looking for a target.  Owen quickly stepped forward.       "Nico-"  He whispered, smooth empathy and grief written on his face.         "Just. Don't."  Nico enunciated clearly. "This is your fault.  All of yours."  Beth lifted her hand from Tom's hair and shook her head.       "That isn't fair, Nico."  She said flatly.        Nico laughed bitterly.       "You're damn right this isn't fair.  It isn't fair that my twenty year old son is dead because you didn't want his record to suffer.  It isn't fair that Tommy lost his best friends.   And it certainly isn't fair that they ended up with parents like you!"       "Goddamnit, Nico.  This isn't any easier on us than it is on you!"  Owen nearly shouted.  "Charlie was Farrah's son, too."       "Farrah sold her son for an insignia.  For a flag." Nico accused, pointing furiously at the bundle in his ex-wife's arms.  Farrah shook her head blindly, brushing her eyes against the cloth.       "I didn't . . . Nico.  Charlie . . . I just wanted him. . . to . . ."  Her voice shattered into broken sobs.  Beth rushed up to take her into her arms.  Nico's mouth twisted in rage.       "You soulless bitch."  He spat at her.        "That's enough!" Owen roared.  "Just get out, Nico.   No one wanted this.  We all hurt here.  We don't need to hear this from you. Thomas doesn't need to hear this."  Nico stalked over to Tom's inert form.  Tom's brows were knit in confusion, as if picking through a tricky calculus equation.       "Tommy doesn't hear a damn thing, Owen.  Look at your son *for once in your life.*  Look at what your dream cost him.  At least I got to bury my son when he died."         Beth gasped in horror and Owen turned a very dangerous white.  But for once in his life he was stared down by another man.  Nico touched Tom's shoulder briefly before leaving.         Tom hadn't really noticed much of the argument, he just heard and  filed the information away for later.  For at that moment, he was gazing out at the bright summer grass outside the window.  At the big back yard where he used to play tag with a little boy named Charlie.  A boy who would chase him, singing 'Tom-Tom, the piper's son.  Kissed the girls and made them run.'  A boy who would grow to the ripe old age of twenty and believe in a boy named Tommy Paris.  Just then, Tom-Tom, the piper's son, figured out the answer to the paradox he had been puzzling over.  And with a silent scream deep inside his soul, Tommy Paris died and was buried, right beside his best friends.              ***************************************       Tom stepped off the shuttle and on the artificial gravity of the moon's domed surface.  He had graduated four days ago and in three hours he would step onto the bridge of his first starship.  He had sat woodenly through the ceremony, never once looking at his father's beaming face or his mother's sad, knowing smile.  He just stared straight ahead and didn't once let himself think.         But he had one more thing to do before he left orbit.  One more visit to make.  Nico Day met him with a tight embrace that Tom had to bite his inner cheek to get through without screaming.   Tom sat stiffly on his couch and glanced about, studying all the pictures of himself and Charlie scattered around the small, empty home.  Charlie and him fishing at Arrow Lake.  Charlie and him with Pariesses Squares mallets slung over their shoulders.  Charlie and him, nineteen years old, arm-in-arm in front of Academy Pond.  Tom's family had much the same pictures, but his mother had taken them down.  In the few times Tom had come home since the accident, he had found them unbearable.  Tom fought down the tears he had yet to cry as he whispered the last few words he would ever say to Nico Day.       "I'm so sorry, Mr. Day."  Nico walked around and sat beside Tom, not touching him again because he knew better now.       "I don't blame you, Tommy.  It was an accident waiting to happen."  Tom just mutely shook his head.  Guilt had become a dark cancer eating away at his thoughts, waking or otherwise.  Nico's eyes were mournful and wise.       "The accident wasn't Bruno's fault, was it, Tom."  He stated in a gentle voice with no trace of accusation.  Tom whimpered on his tears and covered his face with his hands.  He began to rock back and forth lightly, keening.  Nico waited until Tom had control again.         "I have to tell them, Mr. Day.  I have to tell."  Nico ran his fingers lightly across Tom's head, just as he had when Tom was a child.       "If you tell them, you lose everything, Tommy."   Tom dropped his hands and uttered the unnecessary.       "I already have."                            *********************       "And that's all that needs to be told, Odile.  I confessed a few weeks later and got kicked out of the Fleet.  I spent most of my time in Sandrine's, living above the bar with the gigolo.  Chakotay heard about my piloting skills and recruited me.  On my very first mission I was caught and sent to prison.  And here I am."  Odile wiped the tears from her eyes and held him close for a long time.       "How can you do that, Odile?  How can you know all that I've told you and still bear to be around me?  Harry and B'Elanna can never know . . . "       "Because I love you, Tommy."  She said firmly.  His face was uncomprehending so she elaborated.       "You made a mistake, Tom.  More than one, but they were mistakes.  Accidents.  None of that means anything.  Look at it this way.  How big of a mistake would Harry or B'Elanna have to make before it would be unforgivable to you?"        "Wouldn't happen."  He answered flatly.       "Then don't insult us by pretending we loved you any less than that.  Besides, I don't think I'm the one who needs to do the forgiving around here."  Her look was pointed, but he was no where near ready for that step.  And she knew it and didn't push him.       "I'm going to be here for three more days.  Will you be okay?"       "I don't know.  I never imagined I'd ever get the chance to see you.  To speak to you.  Touch you.  Say goodbye."       Odile sat back on her chair, crossing her legs and looking out the window.       "I know how you feel.  This is pretty bizarre.  I  mean,  you're Tom.  My Tom.  And you're not.  And I'm Odile.  And I'm not."       "I just keep waiting to wake up."       "This is no dream, Tommy.  She said gently, taking his hand.  He just sat for a long time, staring at the long fingers on top of his own.                *********************************************       B'Elanna firmly pressed Tom's door chime for the third time.  She wanted to see him, to make sure that he was okay.  Not that he'd tell her if he weren't, but if she could just be with him for a while she could usually tell.  Just when she was about to use her engineering override she heard his familiar footfall rounding the corner.  So involved in his own thoughts, he almost knocked into her.        "B'Elanna."  He greeted, startled.  She took advantage of their close proximity and studied his face carefully.  His eyes were slightly pink, his hair tousled, his cheeks a little pale and splotched.  He looked exhausted.  She placed her hands on his chest to steady him.  Surprisingly, he pulled away from her touch.  Touching Tom usually seemed to reassure and soothe him.  He was always touching her and Harry and his eyes would light up despite himself when they returned the gesture.         "How are you doing?"  She asked him, suddenly feeling formal and clumsy.   Tom just shook his head and stepped into his quarters.   Without waiting for an invitation she followed him in, half afraid she wouldn't get it if she asked.  Tom sank his long body on to the couch and held his head in his hands.  B'Elanna sat next to him, running her hand lightly up his back.  He didn't pull away this time, but he didn't lean into her touch either.  Unsure of how to broach the subject, B'Elanna decided on her old standby: forceful directness.       "Why didn't you ever tell me about them. *Her*. ?"  She asked, not unkindly.  Tom sighed and stood up.       "I don't want to talk about this now, B'Elanna.  I'm tired.  I just want to go to bed."        "Oh, then I'm to assume we'll talk about it at some other time?" She snapped sarcastically.  She knew it wasn't the time to hash out this old argument, but she couldn't help herself.         "B'Elanna," He said firmly, his voice laced with uncharacteristic irritation.  "I am not going to discuss this now.  You have no idea what this is like."         "No, I don't.  Do you know why I don't  have any idea?  Because you won't tell me.  You never tell me anything.  My God, Tom.  They were your *friends* and you never even mentioned them.  What goes on in that head of yours?  Why do you always do this?" He didn't respond for a long time, and when he turned to look at her his face was cold and closed.       "Good night, B'Elanna. You know the way out."          She tried not to be hurt by his stand-offishness, but lacking his skill for masking every emotion, she just nodded and walked out.  When she was alone in the hallway, she slammed her fist into the wall to keep from crying.  She wasn't entirely successful.                  *********************************                            [Day Two]        It wasn't hard for the crew to see why Tom had once loved Odile Launcy.  She was friendly, open and when she was with Tom he seemed to adopt her ease.  His smile was sincere and his laugh was spontaneous.   The two of them had spend the last day talking and joking, the good mood only broken by the sad, lost look that would occasionally take over his face.  Harry and B'Elanna couldn't help but notice and be hurt by this dramatic contrast to his typical behavior.        Odile and the rest of the command crew had been eating in Neelix's when Tom excused himself to go work on "something."  His eyes held a bright, childlike sparkle for Odile alone.   She remained in the mess hall surrounded by the senior officers, with only the conspicuous absence of Tom.         "Did Tom ever tell you about the time the four of us went skinny dipping in Academy pond?"  She said with that seemingly perpetual merry lilt in her voice.  B'Elanna flushed and looked a little angry, the rest just grinned encouragingly at her.       "Well, it was actually Bruno's idea.  A dare. I readily accepted.  It was the kind of thing my friends and I did often in high school.  Tom was a little harder to convince and Charlie was like granite.  Tom finally won him over with that puppy dog look, swearing up and down that nothing would happen and nobody would know.  Charlie was so shy and proper.  Probably why he adored Tommy so much.  Tom could convince Charlie to drink hemlock.”  She smiled and tossed her head.         “Anyway, we were all swimming around in the pond, joking and splashing.   Except for Charlie, he was hiding behind one of the dock pilings.  All of a sudden, we could hear people approaching.  We all swam under the dock as quickly as possible.  Soon we could hear  the people walking on to the dock, just above our heads.  And guess who it was?  Our astrotheory professor, Commander Nurybach, this tiny bald shy guy who was madly in love with his Vulcan co-lecturer, Commander Selia.  He used to drop his PADDs every time she walked across the stage.  Of all the nights for us to be clinging naked to a dock, we chose the night he decided to woo Cmdr. Selia with the most God-awful Bolian poetry that side of the Delta Quadrant. "  The command crew, including B'Elanna, gave a unanimous bark of laughter and leaned in closer to the storyteller.        "Now, Charlie has a most ‘distinctive' laugh, so I jumped on his back and covered his mouth with my hand, which only made him more embarrassed.  If that weren't bad enough, Tommy started pantomiming the Commander and Bruno started imitating what we could only imagine Cmdr. Selia's reaction to be.  Suddenly, we heard the sound of someone slamming onto the dock, followed by these muffled moans.  Even Tom and Bruno were too shocked to react.  I thought Charlie was going to drown under me.  He probably wanted to.  It turns out, Nurybach twisted his ankle doing the traditional Fertility Hop at the end of the poem."                The entire mess group was in tears of laughter at that point.  Even Odile was struggling to choke out the well-loved story.  She waved her hands at the group.       "No, wait.  There's more.  So, Selia helped Cmdr. Nurybach to the infirmary.  Charlie was furious at Tom but we were all laughing so hard, even Charlie, that he couldn't yell, which just made him madder.   The next day, as we were sitting down in Astrotheory, Nurybach comes limping onto the stage and I thought we were going to pass out trying not to laugh.  It got to be where we couldn't sit together anymore.          About a week later, the Cmdr. announced the students whose junior theses he had been chosen to advise.  Of course, Charlie was one of them.  He stood up in the middle of lecture, turned to Tom, screamed 'I'm gonna kill you, Tommy Paris!' and stormed out.  Then Cmdr. Selia stands up and snaps 'Humans are such slaves to their . . . *passions*!' and stalks off the stage.  Poor Cmdr. Nurybach just stood there, arms dangling, wondering what the hell just happened."       When the laughter finally died down, Janeway wiped tears from her eyes and said "Well, that Bolian poetry must have worked.  I attended their wedding shorty before this mission."         "Did Charlie ever forgive Tom?"  Chakotay asked with a wicked twinkle in his eyes.       "Oh, of course."  Odile answered. " Charlie would forgive Tom anything."  Chakotay's voice turned serious.       "Maybe you should tell Tom that."  He said softly.  It took Odile only a moment to understand his meaning.  She shook her head sadly.       "I can't imagine. . . If I lost Tom and Charlie and Bruno, in one fell swoop.  I don't know how I could have gone on. . .  Especially over something as *trivial* as holding a roll.  The kind of thing a pilot does a dozen times in one shift without ever noticing.  It must have just. . . destroyed him."  Her voice trailed off and she shook her head again, looking mournfully out the view port.  When she looked back, the crews' heads were down, thinking.  She instantly felt awkward and a little guilty.       "I better go.  I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to . . . overspeak."  She rose gracefully from her seat and walked quickly from the room.  The senior officers just looked at each other with quiet sorrow.              **********************************       Tom shuffled his feet in front of Odile's quarters and waited for her to get ready.  B'Elanna was leaning against the wall next to Tom, her face chilly.  Tom ignored her, refusing to let her ruin the giddy excitement he felt whenever he remember that she was here.  He could talk to her, he could touch her fair skin, he could forget, really, really forget that she was dead.  That he had killed her.  It had been painful for him to leave her in the mess hall, when he had so little time with her left.  But he hadn't run the program in a while and he wanted everything to be perfect for her.         Odile walked gracefully out of her quarters, her long hair down around her shoulders, her smile inviting and elegant.  B'Elanna had never felt so ugly, dark and Klingon in her life. Tom's wistful joy at the sight of her didn't help.       "So what is this secret program, Tommy?"  She asked, smiling politely at B'Elanna and walking a discrete distance from Tom.       "You'll see when you get there."  Tom could barely contain his anticipation when he keyed open the door of the holodeck.  As Odile stepped into the misty Marsellies night, she grabbed Tom's forearm in surprise.       "Oh, my God, Tom.  It isn't!"  She quickly jumped forward, through the old wooden doors and into the tavern.        "It's Sandrine's!"  She cried, hugging him quickly.  Tom laughed happily, not noticing the looks the senior officers cut each other from inside the bar.    "Where is that lecherous slut, Ricki?"       Tom grinned sheepishly at B'Elanna  "After *someone* decked her, I deleted the character."  Odile laughed and smiled at B'Elanna.        "Good for you.  I always thought she was a little too good for his ego."       The short blond woman behind the counter looked up to the excitement. and almost dropped the drink she was pouring.        "Odile!  My love!"  Sandrine exclaimed, bustling over to the young woman.  "Oh, Odile.  We have missed you so much."         The women hugged closely and began talking animatedly in French.  To the surprise of the other officers in the bar, Tom joined in fluently.  In all the times they had spent in the recreation of the cozy French bar, Tom had never once spoken in the native language.         "When did you learn how to speak French?"  Chakotay asked Tom curiously.       "Tommy's mother was French.  Didn't you know that?  Sometimes I think he speaks better than me, no?" Odile asked, sliding an arm around the friendly hostess.       "No," Harry answered flatly. "We didn't know."  The awkward moment was broken when Odile began eagerly exploring the program.       "It's perfect, Tom.  But where are the Ktarian djori tables?"       "We don't have any Ktarians on board old enough to play.  I cut out a lot of stuff I didn't think would be used."  She continued to examine the tavern until she came to a dusty piano in the corner.       "Oh, Tom.  Play a song for us."  She pleaded, dragging him over to the piano.  B'Elanna wasn't surprised that she didn't know Tom played the piano, there seemed to be an awful lot he chose not to show them.   She could feel her anger toward the smiling woman climb dangerously.       "Oh, I don't think so, 'Del.  I haven't played since. . . "  As usual, Tom trailed off rather than finish the thought.  Odile paused for a moment, studying his face closely.         "Well, I think its time you started again."  Her voice was firm, edged with a meaning not lost on Tom.  "Come.  You can play something we can sing together.  Just like old times."  Tom looked to his friends and then back to Odile.         "All right.  What do you want to play?"  He asked, sitting down on the stool, cracking his knuckles and dancing out a few practice riffs.  Odile thought for a minute.       "How about 'Boots of Spanish Leather.'  It has both a male and female part."  Tom cut a shy little grin at the crew and began playing a few soft, sad keys.  Odile sang the first verse in a light, clear alto.                            I'm sailing away, my own true love                     I'm sailing away in the morning                     Is there something I can send from across the sea?                     From the place that I'll be landing?              Tom took up the next part in a slow, pleasant tenor.                     No, there's nothing you can send me, my own true love                     Theres nothing I"m wishing to be ownin'                     Just to carry yourself back to me unspoiled                     From across that lonesome ocean                     Odile smiled in encouragement, tossed her hair over her shoulder and sang her verse.                     Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine                     Made of silver or of golden                     Either from the mountains of Madrid                      Or from the coasts of Barcelona       They traded the next two verses, Odile sounding flighty and distant, Tom pleading and mournful.                      Oh , if I had the stars from the darkest night                     And the diamonds of the deepest ocean                     I'd forsake them all for your sweet kiss                     For that's all I'm wishing to be ownin'                     But I might be gone a long old time                     And it's only that I'm asking                     Is there something I can send you to remember me by?                     To make your time more easy passin?               Tom sang the last four verses, easily conjuring up the lonely, sorrow of the narrator.                     Oh, how can, how can you ask me again?                     It only brings me sorrow                     The same thing I would want today                     I will want again tomorrow                            Oh, I got a letter on a lonesome day                     It was from her ship a sailin'                     Saying 'I don't know when I'll be comin' back again                     It depends on how I'm feeling'                     If you, my love, must think that way                     I'm sure your mind is roamin'                     I'm sure your thoughts are not with me                      But with the country to where your going                     So take heed, take heed of the western winds                     Take heed of the stormy weather                     And yes, there is something you can send back to me                     Spanish boots of Spanish leather.       The last sad notes faded into the dark room and Tom just looked at Odile, understanding with brutal clarity why she had chosen that particular song.  He stood up gracelessly, knocking over the piano stool.  Odile dropped her eyes and picked at the fabric of her pants.  Tom's crewmates looked back and forth between the two, sensing the meaningful weight that hung in the air.       "Tom. . ."  Odile began, lifting her wet green eyes to met his.  She could see him so clearly, just then.  An unwilling Orpheus, playing the piano in his own little version of Hades.  And she could see herself, an Eurydice who didn't want to follow him back.  Who couldn't follow him.         " I don't want you to send anything back to me, Odile."  Tom said carefully.  Odile took a deep breath and looked pointedly at his crewmates, sitting only a few feet away.       "We don't get choices like that, Tommy."  She said gently.       "That's what I always thought.  But here you are.  Maybe we do get those choices, 'Del."         B'Elanna jumped to her feet, slamming her glass against the table.  Her eyes were torches of pure rage.  However, Tom seemed to be oblivious to the rest of the room, all he could see was her.  A chance to have her back, not as a lover, not as a colleague, not even necessarily as a friend.  Just as a living, breathing human being.  Just as a chance to remove one third of his nightmares.  Just as a redemption, because he deserved that.  Because he had suffered and hated himself and missed and mourned and hurt for long enough.       "I don't want you to leave."  He said slowly, pleading.  Odile glanced over at B'Elanna and then back at Tom.  Tears dampened her eyes and her mouth quivered.  But when she spoke, her voice was firm as a slap.       "I don't want to stay here, Tom.  I miss my life.  I miss my husband."         Tom recoiled as if physically struck.  He sucked in a breath that sounded like a whimper.         "Tommy. . . I'm so, so sorry.  I . . .  This never should have happened.  It wasn't fair, to either of us.  I'm dead here, Tom.  You need to accept that.  I'm sorry, Tom."         She moved to touch him, but he skirted away.  He still couldn't seem to talk.  Unconsciously mimicking his movements earlier, he backed out of the room, away from the specter of her.  Forgetting about his Captain, his B'Elanna, his crewmates and his friends he ran from the room.         He didn't know where he could run, he wanted to throw himself right out of view port and into the icy vacuum of space, because maybe in that silent tomb he could forget what he had just heard.   The day he lost her, and Charlie and Bruno, he himself had died.  For all practical purposes, that is.  He knew the kind of person he had been, the kind of person Tommy Paris had been.  He knew the way he used to relate to people, how he used to love and be loved, how he used to joke around out of happiness and humor and not out of fear and defensiveness.         He lost all of that the day he lost her.  And now he was losing her again.  *And now it was her choice*.  This was the way she wanted it.   He couldn't really blame her, he knew that as he pressed his face against his pillows and began to sob.  However similar her husband may be to himself, there was one fundamental difference.  Her Tom had never fucked up.  Her Tom had never killed everyone he loved in a moment of utter, unforgivable carelessness.  Her Tom was open and affectionate and successful and there was no reason in the world that she would want him instead.  No reason, expect for the fact that he needed her.  Tom Paris needed her more than Tommy Paris did.  Tom needed a world where Charlie had a little girl, where Bruno was a pilot on the Excelsior.  Where Odile still woke up in the morning and hummed bawdy drinking songs while she braided her hair.         Curling his knees up to his face, he choked on his tears as he realized that in one more day he would be back in this world.  The one where Odile and Charlie and Bruno were nothing more than gravestones fifty thousand light years away and nightly haunts.   The one where Tom Paris had to live, everyday, with the knowledge he could never again be the Tommy Paris who had once upon a time freely loved and been so loved. . .               **************************************       Odile jerked up from her reverie when the door to the Observation Lounge slid open.  The Captain glanced up from her reports in surprise.       "Oh, I'm sorry, Lt.  I didn't know anyone was in here."  Odile shrugged and listlessly flipped through a stack of Tom's holopictures like a deck of cards.  Janeway lifted one from the table.  It was a cheery photo of Tom, Odile, Charlie and Bruno, wet and laughing in Academy Fountain.         Odile nodded at the photo. "Charlie's dad took that picture.  Tom dumped me in the fountain, so I had Charlie and Bruno tackle him and throw him in."  She said in a dreamy, sorrowful voice.         Janeway felt her throat tighten around a lump because she could see them so clearly: four children with fair hair and golden futures, playing in Academy pond, pouring over astrotheory and dreaming of the stars.  Because they deserved so much more than this, they deserved to have futures worth more than two seconds of forward momentum.  But things didn't always work out the way they should and sometimes all you could do was spend the rest of your life missing what was gone forever.         Janeway slowly took the young woman in her arms because she couldn't do that for Tom, whom, of all her officers, she wanted to mother the most.         "You don't need to worry about Tom, Odile.  We can take care of him.  He's going to be fine."  Odile nodded against the older woman's shoulder.       "I know, its only that I love him, too.  As strange as that may sound, I really do love him.  He's the same boy I fell in love with all those years ago."   Janeway took Odile's face in her hands.       "No, he's not.  He's ours now.  Let us have him, Odile.  He can't let go of you until you let go of him."                     ************************         She found him exactly where she expected: sitting alone in an empty Sandrine's.  He looked so small sitting there, so helpless and sad.        At the sound of her footsteps he didn't lift his head from where it was perched on his knees.       "Hello, B'Elanna."  He said listlessly.  She approached him carefully and didn't touch him.         "Are you all right?"  She asked gently.  Tom took a shuddering breath and let it out in a silent whistle.  He laughed a little, then, without mirth and when he turned to look at her his eyes were red.       "This isn't an easy question, B'Elanna. " He said in a wet, strained voice.  "Am I all right."  He repeated, studying his fingertips.         "You know, when I see her, it was such a. . .  a comfort.  To see her, alive, happy.  And to know that Charlie and Bruno were alive with her.  To know that somewhere, Thomas Eugene Paris didn't fuck up and his best friends didn't pay the price.  And yet. . . " He swallowed and a tear slid down his cheek.  "And yet, my Odile and my Charlie and my Bruno deserved all those things too.  Families, careers, futures."  He dropped his head and shivered.  B'Elanna thought this over, picking up on his unspoken sentiment.                "And you, Tom?  When you hear her talk about her husband, his career, his family, do you think you deserved all those things too? "  She hated her accusatory tone, for its needling, almost bitter edge.  Tom's eyes flashed up at her.       "What are you asking, B'Elanna?  If I'm glad my life turned out the way it did?  Would you be?  Should I be grateful that my mistake killed three innocent people?  That I got kicked out of Starfleet and went to prison?"  His voice rose to an angry shout despite the weariness in his eyes.        "The only thing I'm grateful for is you.  And Harry.  And the Captain."         "Oh, so that's it, Tom.  Harry and I are consolation prizes, huh?  If you can't have Charlie and Odile, well, Harry and B'Elanna can tide you over. "  She paused for breath, not once.         "You know what hurts the most, Tom?  Not that you never told me about them. Not that you love her.  What hurts the most is that I'm your second choice.  That no matter what we have between us, no matter how good it is or will be, there will always be a part of you that wants Tommy Paris' life.  That  wants her .  You'll put your arms around me, look out that viewport and always be wondering what might have been. . . "  She walked over to the window, at the dewy, faux Marseilles night.       "I've been thinking a lot since last night.  About why you programmed that piano in Sandrine's.  You told her you didn't add anything that wasn't going to be used.  But you added that piano.  You were always waiting for her to come back, weren't you, Tom?  Not consciously, of course.  Or maybe you were just waiting for me to turn into her.  Or for you to turn back into the boy you were.  And when that didn't happen, you waited for it not to matter anymore.  But that never happened, did it, Tom?  It never stopped mattering. *It still matters.*"  She took a quick, hitching breath.       " I'm sorry, Tom.  I'm sorry for you.  I'm sorry you missed out . . ." Her voice broke ". . . on so much. I think I know how you feel."  With a small, swallowed sob she walked out of the holodeck.  Tom just hung his head.                     ***************************       B'Elanna stood next to Odile's table, asking permission with her eyes. Odile had expected the visit and wasn't disappointed.  She smiled slightly and waved her hand at the seat across the table.   B'Elanna sat stiffly across from her, folding her hands and not speaking.  Deciding it was better to get this thing started, Odile began to speak.       "I'm sorry about the scene in Sandrine's.  We used to sing that song when we were in the Academy.  I thought it might help him."  She gave a mirthless laugh, a little thing she had picked up from this Tom.  "I guess I was wrong."          B'Elanna still said nothing for a long time.  When she finally raised her eyes, they were more sad than angry.       "Why do you have to be so damn nice?  It makes it that much harder to hate you.  And I really, really want to hate you."  Odile smiled.       "And why do you have to be so good for him?  It makes it that much harder for me to hate you."  B'Elanna smiled back at her and thought before speaking.       "I don't hate you.  I hate that my happiness depended on your death.  And I hate myself for being grateful that things turned out the way they did."  The situation was too unreal for anything but utter honesty.       "I don't hate you either.  I hate myself for being petty, for that little part of me that wanted him to be completely lost without me."  When B'Elanna broke the ensuing silence, her voice was hesitant.       "More than anything, I wish this never happened.  I could have lived my entire life with Tom without ever knowing about you.  Without having to wonder. . . if Tom could chose the life he wants, his or your husband's, which one he would chose.  But then, I think I know the answer to that."  She was ashamed of the tears in her eyes.  Odile reached her hand out and almost touched the other woman.       "I've given this a great deal of thought, B'Elanna, these last two days.  About the way lives turn out.  And I think I've come to the conclusion that your question isn't fair."  Odile paused, as if unsure whether or not to continue.       "When I was a sophomore at the Academy, my father got very ill.  My mama asked me to transfer to the campus in Marsellies for my junior year.  Tommy didn't want us to be apart, so he came with me.   And in that year, I grew closer to him than I ever had, or have, to another human being.  That was when I realized that what we had was more than a childhood puppy love.  Does that mean if I had the choice, I would wish my papa to die?  That I wouldn't save his life if that were an option?  Or, if your own Seven of Nine finds happiness and love among this crew that she would wish her family to be murdered by the Borg?"  She wiped a few stray tears from her face before finishing in a hushed, thoughtful tone.        "I think its just that sometimes good things come out of very bad things.  And that doesn't mean you wanted it one way or another.  It just means that you're grateful for the good for the rest of your life.  Grateful and sad.   Your Tom doesn't want me. He looks at me the way I look at pictures of my papa.  And he looks at you the way my husband looks at me.    He loves you, B'Elanna.  I can see that.  And someday, he'll let you see it too."       "Yeah, maybe he will."  She whispered.   "That reminds me of something Harry once told me.   It was before I was friends with Tom and there were rumors flying all over the ship about Caldik Prime, his stint in prison, his life before the accident.   So, I asked Harry about it because he was the only one who ever really talked to Tom."  B'Elanna flushed suddenly, feeling guilty and resisting the absurd urge to apologize to this woman for the way she had treated Tom, in the beginning.        "Anyway, Harry said he had no idea about those things.  I said that was ridiculous.  Tom was his best friend, how could he not know?  Harry got all quiet  and said 'If I made a big deal about it, if I acted like telling me all those things was necessary to keep my friendship, Tom would do one of two things.  He'd either stop spending time with me all together or he'd tell me everything.  And to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I'd want to know everything.'          When Tom and I became friends, I kind of took Harry's words to heart.  I didn't really want to know what he did to get kicked out of the fleet or what prison was like for him.  It wasn't like he'd tell me anyway.  And when we became closer and he still didn't tell me, it was so easy to blame him for that.  To accuse him of being closed off, defensive and unobtainable.  But maybe, just maybe, we both knew I didn't want to hear it.   And maybe there were times when I was just one confession away from walking out the door. . . "  She shook her head.   " I can't believe I'm telling you this.  I've never even told Chakotay about this."          Odile shrugged, as if to say 'Who better?'        "Are you, B'Elanna?  Are you one confession away from walking out on him?"  B'Elanna didn't even waste time considering it, she had known the truth for a while now.       "No.  Not anymore.  There's nothing he could say that would make me love him any less."       "Then maybe all those things you don't want to hear don't have to be said.  Whatever I meant to him, in the past, I don't get his future.  You do.  The people on this ship do.  And he knows that.   I think he's ready to start looking forward.  I just hope you'll be there with him."                     ************************                            [Day Three]       Tom and Odile spent their last night together looking through his tin box of photos, photos of the four of them, young, happy and alive.  She filled his head with stories of Charlie and Bruno and their families.          It was during that last quiet discussion that Odile noticed the small stack of holo cubes on Tom's table.  Tom yeilded to her scrutiny and picked them up.  They were random snapshots of Harry, B'Elanna and himself, mostly taken by the doctor, over the last few years.  Odile studied the largest one carefully.  It had been taken during the senior staff's camping trip in the Holodeck.  Tom, B'Elanna and Harry sat in the foreground, Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok, Neelix, and Kes, stood in the background, apparently in the middle of a heated argument.  As for the trio in the front, Tom was dripping wet, looking cold and miserable, B'Elanna was covered in mud, looking furious and Harry was beaming, triumphantly holding up a trout for the camera.  She could see why it was a favorite of Tom's.       "Tell me about her."  She said, trying to look supportive.  But Tom knew her too well, could always see through her.       "I'm sorry, Odile."  He said softly, not meeting her eyes.       "For what?"  She asked woodenly, knowing the answer.       "For making good friends.  For falling in love with someone else."  He needed her forgiveness, he needed to know that it was okay for him to love B'Elanna.  That he didn't have to lie awake at night, rotting with guilt over the fact that when he dreamed of love, he no longer saw Odile's beach-glass green eyes but ones of obsidian fire.       "Then you do love her."  She said, choosing not to address his apology.        "Yeah.  A lot.   But I loved you too.  And I never got a chance to stop loving you.  You were just ripped away and your death didn't make me any less in love with you.  It just made it something. . . static.  Something that could never be resolved.  I never got a chance to grow apart from you and from what you say about your reality, maybe I never would have."       "And maybe I'll never leave my husband alone with the Chief Engineer."  She replied, fiddling idly with the holocube.       "I don't know what to tell you, Tom.  Except that you're not required to love one of us more.  Maybe its enough that you love someone and are loved in return.   Whatever might have been between us, wasn't.  And what you have, "  She handed the small cube back to him.  "Is enough to be grateful for for the rest of your life."  She kissed him on the cheek and left the room.  Tom rolled the cube around in his hands, a vague little smile starting to play across his face.                     **********************************************************       They met early the next morning in the shuttle bay and did nothing but stare out at the stars together.  She let him bask in her living, breathing form and helped him ease into the goodbye that he never before had a chance to say.  Odile had given the goodbye a lot of thought, and  knew she couldn't leave without making the offer.   And so she  asked him in those few minutes the Captain had given them before her shuttle was to depart.       " You could come with me, Tom."  Odile laid her hand on his arm.  "See the vids of Charlie's kids.  Bruno all grown up."         Tom's smile was wistful.  "I think your husband might have something to say about that."  His tone was lightly teasing, laced with palpable sorrow and an eerie jealousy.       "Oh, I think he'd understand.  He's a pretty good guy."  She responded with that demure curl of her lips that still made Tom's heart constrict.  So many things lost and found . . .        "No.  I have a life here.  I have Harry and B'Elanna.  I'm not Tommy Paris anymore and I can't go back to being him."  He touched her face with his fingertips.       "But I'll never stop missing you.  I've only loved two women in my life and you were the first.  And I'll never forgive myself for killing you."  She returned his touch,  eyes shinning with tears.  But her voice was firm.       "Try.  Because we loved you, Tommy.  And you need to respect that.  You have an obligation to us.  To live our lives as well as yours.  Anything less is an insult to that love."         Tom closed his eyes and when he opened them they were desolate.         " I don't know if I can watch you walk away."  He whispered brokenly.       "Then don't.  But promise me you won't walk away from yourself.  From her.  From all you have here.  Walk away from me and straight to them."  Tom closed his fingers over hers and nodded.       "Tell Charlie and Bruno . . . that I love them.  And I miss them."  Odile nodded, took a deep, quaking breath and pulled away.  Tom bit back his fear, his regret and tried to accept it.  Tried to understand.  Her smile was one of empathy, love and a sort of aching sorrow.       "See you later, alligator."  She breathed.  A tear slid down Tom's face.       "Not for. . . " His voice cracked , he swallowed.  " . . . a while, crocodile."  He drank in one long, last look and accepted it, even if he'd never understand it.  And turned away.       When he turned back, she was gone.  Tom sank slowly to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees.  She came to him when she knew the shuttle had left.  She sat beside him, ran her fingers through his hair, cupped the back of his head.  After a moment, she rested her head against his shoulder.       "It's all right, Tom.  It's all right to love them.  To miss them."  Her statement sparked fresh tears in his eyes.       "Thanks."  He reached over and took her hand, lacing their fingers.  They could fix what had been said and unsaid later.   Now it was time to just sit side by side in silence and to wait for the long goodbye to end.                Finis.