The BLTS Archive - The Choice
Free Exchange
by J.A. Toner (jamelia116@aol.com)

---

Archiving: Okay to ASC, PTCollective, BLTS.  All others, please ask.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns them all, except for the name Alicia. And
if they want to use the name for Tom's mom, they have my permission.

Thanks to Monica, Mary, Christina, D'Alaire, and PTFever.

Constructive feedback is the path to improvement. I'd love to hear
from you.

---

The corridor was remarkably empty. The two women, neither of them clad
in Starfleet uniforms, could see only each other as they strode
briskly down the hall, covering a considerable distance in a short
time. Initially, they did not speak. The silence was understandable,
however, when the extremes of emotion both had experienced just before
entering the corridor were recalled. That did not mean no
communication was exchanged between the two, however. One or the other
would look over at her counterpart and take in a detail of her
profile, her carriage, or expression; then the other would do the
same. What thoughts or conclusions either might have entertained,
however, were not shared with her companion.

When they reached the turbolift door, the two women paused to wait for
the lift to arrive. Both started to speak at the same time, stopped,
and then expressed their amusement simultaneously, the human woman
with a giggle and the Klingon with hearty laughter.

"I wonder how long we should wait in the transporter room for them?"
Miral asked. "I think they had much they wished to 'talk about.' "

"I don't think it'll be too long. Tom usually cuts his arrival time at
affairs like this fairly close, but he always manages to get there
before he's actually late."

"You are accustomed to attending affairs like this? Grand receptions?"

"I've had to go to my share over the years. But certainly, one who is
of the House of Martok has had to go to such 'grand receptions,'
also?"

"In the last year or so I have attended two. Before that, never."

"How can that be?"

"It is as my daughter said. Martok is a great warrior, a general; but
he earned his position himself, rising from the lowest of ranks.
Becoming Chancellor of the Klingon Empire was a fluke, a consequence
of the vagaries of war. Our family was not born to this station, as
yours was."

Alicia Paris trilled a laugh at that comment, catching her breath just
as the turbolift door slid open to permit the two to enter. After
announcing, "Transporter Room 2," she confided, "Oh, I wasn't born to
this life either. Owen comes from a long line of distinguished
Starfleet officers--he's not the first admiral in that bunch. I, on
the other hand, didn't come from a Starfleet family. I had a couple of
relatives who enlisted before my dad did, but both of them were long
gone before I was born. They were in the 'Fleet over a hundred years
ago. My father was the first in the family to enter the Academy. He
never rose above the rank of commander. He retired shortly before I
married Owen. I had to get used to all of this 'pomp and circumstance.
I'm afraid I never have been able to take it all quite as seriously as
Owen does. Tom takes after me that way."

"I see. Thomas does not take his responsibilities seriously?" A
slight, potentially dangerous edge crept into the Klingon woman's
voice.

"Oh, I didn't mean to leave you with that impression. He always takes
his responsibilities seriously. Sometimes *too* seriously for my
taste. Well, perhaps I should say, he always *did* take them seriously
. . . it's been a while, after all."

"True."

"Anyway, while he always came to these affairs and behaved with
perfect manners, even when he was quite young, he always had a twinkle
in his eye. And he always had something funny to say during the
goings-on, as well as afterwards. I missed that when he was . . . gone
. . . . I couldn't bear to go to anything like this. It hurt too
much."

"Once you learned Thomas was alive--when the Voyager's holographic
physician came to the experimental vessel--Prometheus, was it?--you
were able to enjoy yourself at them once again?" The Klingon woman
cocked her head as she waited for the answer.

"This is the first one I've attended since we received word that
Tom--and your daughter B'Elanna--were safe."

"Ah. I see. I am not surprised." Miral paced to the opposite side of
the turbolift. She turned and looked down at the human woman's hands.

When Alicia realized where Miral's eyes had traveled, she reflexively
clasped them together. A second later, she spread her fingers out
fully and said, "You are a very perceptive woman, Miral of the House
of Martok."

Miral shrugged. "I saw the picture of your family in Thomas' quarters.
You wore a plain ring on your hand when the image was taken. I
followed the custom of wearing a marriage ring when B'Elanna's father
and I lived together, too. After he abandoned us, I wore it for a few
months more, hoping he would return. Once it was clear he would not, I
set it aside. I still have it, laid in a box next to the betrothal
necklace he gave me. I do not know if I should give them to B'Elanna
or not. Perhaps they are unlucky."

It was not until after the turbolift reached its destination and they
had exited to begin the short walk to the transporter room, that
Alicia responded, "I removed my ring when I left Owen. He still wears
his. Mine is set aside, too, in a drawer. I hope to be able to put it
on again one day, but I don't know if, or when, that may be. There are
certain . . . conditions that must be met first."

"He did not abandon you, then."

"Not in the usual sense of that word, no. I could not accept . . .
certain positions he had taken . . ." Alicia halted and sighed deeply.
"By beating around the bush, I'm going to give you the wrong
impression, I know. The truth is, we had a falling out over what some
people would say was 'only politics.' You can laugh--or be
scandalized, if you wish--but we separated when the Klingons attacked
the Cardassians over the situation in the Demilitarized Zone."

Miral stared openly at her companion. "That was the 'other thing' you
blamed him for?"

"Other thing? Oh, yes . . . I did mention that before, didn't I? Yes,
that was it." Alicia coolly returned Miral's stare.

"Why would the Klingons attacking Cardassia bother you?"

"It didn't bother me. I was all in favor of it."

Miral lowered her head so that her expression was grimmer than before.
"Explain."

Alicia sighed, "It's a long story. I may not get a chance to finish it
before our children arrive, and if they do, I'll stop. I don't want
Tom to know about my separation from his father until we both can tell
him, down on the surface. I know Owen would prefer I do it up
here--that's why he elected to stay at the reception and let me come
up to get Tom. We agreed a long time ago not to tell him until we were
all together, though, so I won't."

"I understand. Shall we stay here, out in the corridor, away from the
one who mans the transporter console? Not many of the crew have passed
us. We are only steps away from the transport room door. We can see
easily from both directions. "

Alicia smiled. "You have an eye for tactics, I see."

"Hah!" Miral replied heartily. "Not like my cousin Martok, I assure
you!"

"Yes, this is fine. Most of the crew are at the reception by now.
Those who are on duty tonight were borrowed from other ships, so that
all of the Voyager crew could attend their welcome home party. It
should be safe enough." Alicia bit her lower lip, however, and looked
down the corridor in each direction before beginning to speak.

"Owen and I have had difficult times before. In Starfleet families,
that's the rule rather than the exception. Years ago, he and Captain
Janeway were captured by the Cardassians and tortured. That affected
him greatly." Miral bobbed her head in acknowledgment. "And then, of
course, when Tom had his accident, and later recanted his testimony to
admit that the pilot error was his doing, Owen was crushed. He tried
to support Tom, in his own way, but Tom couldn't bear to see his
father's disappointment.

"Tom left home and traveled around the Earth--and sometimes off it, I
think, for the next several years. He was out of touch for months at a
time, calling home only when he needed more credits. When Tom did
contact us, he almost never asked to speak with his father. I really
believe his estrangement from Tom was even more difficult for Owen
than what he'd gone through when he'd been captured by the
Cardassians.

"And then Tom joined the Maquis, and was captured, and put in prison
and . . . well, what can I say? It was a terrible time for all of us,
but Owen . . . it dashed any hope he still had that Tom might work
things out on his own. His 'crown prince' had turned into a frog--oh,
sorry--that's from an old Earth folk tale I'm sure you wouldn't know.
It means that Tom turned into an ordinary person, not the one who
would be the 'greatest of all the Paris admirals,' the way Owen always
thought he would. It's the opposite of what happened to your cousin,
the Chancellor, isn't it?"

"It is," Miral agreed.

"After Tom was lost with everyone else on Voyager, Owen seemed to lose
his perspective on virtually everything. He didn't want to hear about
my charity work, but we couldn't talk about what was going on in the
Admiralty, either. Owen didn't say much, and what little he did talk
about, I didn't like to hear. That whole Cardassian situation . . ."

Alicia paused and looked to the far wall, her eyes unseeing. "I'd had
a lot of reservations about that treaty with the Cardassians from the
beginning. A lot of people did. Owen, too. But it was 'expedient' to
sign the treaty, he said. We had to recover from all the fighting.
Maybe it would work out, he said To me, it seemed like we were taking
refuge next to a building that's about to be demolished, just waiting
for it to collapse on us. I knew no good would come of it. I wasn't
alone in my opinion. The mass media on Earth were overwhelmingly
skeptical that the accord would bring lasting peace. Once we started
to hear rumors of atrocities in the DMZ, there was an even greater
outcry against the treaty.

"So, when the Maquis first began to fight the Cardassians, I fully
expected Owen attempt to get the Federation to support their cause.
After all, Owen, of all people, knew what it was like to be held
prisoner by the Cardassians. But he said the Maquis began the conflict
and didn't deserve our help! Many times I wanted to ask him, 'Who are
you and what have you done with my husband!"

"Did you think he was a Changeling, the way our Martok was taken
over?"

"No, this was before they came here, except for that Changeling
constable on Deep Space Nine. It would be easier if I could blame it
all on that, wouldn't it? But this Owen really was my husband. He had
taken Tom's being thrown out of Starfleet so hard, even before Tom got
involved with the Maquis, that he became unbelievably . . . rigid. He
began to obsess about the Maquis getting us involved in another war
'before we were ready.' And after Tom was sent to prison for being a
Maquis, we could barely talk about it. Owen . . ."

Alicia's eyes dropped, no longer able to meet Miral's. A strain came
into her voice. "After Voyager was lost in the Badlands, Owen came out
in support of the plan to let the Maquis fight the Cardassians as a
'delaying tactic.' The Federation had to prepare for a war with the
Cardassians that was inevitable, he said. So the Maquis could just
hold them off while we got ready. After all, they started it, right?
He was so callous! He denied being the one who came up with the idea;
I hope he's telling the truth. It's just about the only time he's ever
agreed with Alynna Nechayev on anything!

"It bothered me so much, I can't tell you. I know how it is with
military decisions. I've been around long enough to know that the
'needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.' Even though I
didn't like it, I would have understood--if this were strictly a
military decision. But it wasn't, not on Owen's part. He was punishing
the Maquis for stealing away his son. He blamed them for Tom's being
on Voyager. Never mind that he could easily have been assigned to
Voyager if he'd never been thrown out of Starfleet in the first place!
When I pointed that out to Owen, he said it would still have been the
fault of the Maquis, because that's who Captain Janeway and the crew
of Voyager were chasing when they disappeared.

"When the Klingons attacked Cardassia, I applauded them. I thought
that maybe, if the Klingons could keep the Cardassians busy, we could
rescue some of the families--the children especially--from out of the
DMZ. They were suffering terribly by that time! Owen was . . . well,
let's just say he wasn't very happy with me. And it's true. When the
spouse of one of the most important admirals in Starfleet isn't being
'politically correct,' it reflects badly on the admiral. But by that
time I couldn't stand trying to be the 'good little admiral's wife'
any more. I had follow my conscience." The tears that had been
glistening in Alicia's eyes began to spill over. Miral reached out a
hand. Alicia grasped hold of it, seeming to be hardly aware that she
had done do.

"I began to work with a group that was helping the families of the
Maquis and the people of the DMZ right after Tom disappeared, even
before Voyager was declared lost. 'The Desdichado Foundation'--that
means 'the disinherited ones.' It's from an ancient book about knights
and chivalry called *Ivanhoe.* When I started to work there, I used my
birth name, 'Alicia Kelley,' so I wouldn't embarrass Owen. Some of the
rescue workers knew who I was, but they were very good about not
saying anything publicly. Still are, actually. I just felt I needed to
*do* something for somebody else. I couldn't help my son; I was sure
he was gone forever. Helping people who had become homeless because of
war seemed to be the right thing to do . . ."

"A most honorable thing to do," Miral agreed, in a mellow voice for a
Klingon.

Alicia smiled sadly. "It was little enough I could do. Food,
medicines, clothing, finding them a new place to live--that was all
fine. But those are just things. It couldn't bring their lost loved
ones back to life. And the Maquis casualties were . . . horrendous."

"All wiped out, but for a handful, Martok told me."

"Yes. There are a few still in hiding--more than is generally
acknowledged, I hope. Some who had been recovering from wounds when
the movement was crushed just stayed put when it was all over. They
had no comrades to rejoin. I've been in touch with an old friend of
Tom's from his days at the Academy who left the Maquis for personal
reasons, long before things got to be desperate. She's still alive,
too. There may be others who have a story like hers. But outside of
them, almost all were lost--unless they were 'lucky' enough to have
been imprisoned by the Federation! And that's what I can't stand to
see now, Miral. Since the Dominion War ended, we have been helping the
Cardassians rebuild, yet the captured Maquis are still in prison. If
we can forgive the Cardassians and the Founders, why can't we forgive
the Maquis, too?"

"There is no reason not to. You are right, of course, Alicia Paris."
Miral said. Her companion smiled briefly before her mask of pain
descended again, dulling the blue eyes she had bequeathed her son.

"So you see why I . . . I really can't go back home. Not yet. I can't
rebuild my life with Owen . . . not until they are free to rebuild
theirs. Even Admiral Necheyev would probably keep her mouth shut if
Owen spoke out for their release. She's been keeping a very low
profile, since she was the one who helped muck everything up by
agreeing to that damned treaty in the first place! It's so hard; I
really do still care for him. But until Owen takes a stand to help the
Maquis, his wife can't work openly for the foundation. And I won't
give up my work. It's too important to me, and to too many others."

A little out of breath from her tumult of words, Alicia Paris
responded gratefully when Miral shook Alicia's wrist warmly, as a sign
of respect in the manner of the Klingons. "What you are doing is
important. It is a noble deed."

"Thank you. I wish I felt noble doing it, instead of mortified it has
to be done at all."

"Doing the right thing fills the heart, does it not, Alicia Paris?"

Alicia sighed, "Yes, it does. And that's especially important when
your heart feels empty."

---

After a short pause, Alicia smiled crookedly. "You know, I only just
met you, Miral, but here I am spilling out my life history to you. You
must think Tom's mother is crazy, speaking like this to a stranger."

"No, not crazy. Perhaps I am not truly a stranger. We are just
learning about each other, which I think we must do for the sake of
our children, if they are saying to one another what I think they must
be saying! They are taking long enough!" Miral spoke the last sentence
loudly, as if she were ordering them to come even though they could
not possibly hear her. Alicia's smile broadened into a grin before
Miral continued, "I spoke half in jest in Thomas' quarters, but now,
from what I have just heard, I truly believe we are allies. Or perhaps
we are sisters in heart, even though we were not born of the same
people. Not everyone goes to battle in a starship in open combat to
show their courage. You are a warrior in your own way, Alicia Paris.
That is what I always tried to teach B'Elanna, but she was not able to
understand. I hope it will be different now. I am glad to see that
Thomas Paris learned about honor from his mother as well as his
father. Perhaps more from his mother than either of you know."

"Thank you," Alicia said softly. "You know, even now, I just want to
be reconciled with Owen, if I can do it . . . honorably. That word
seems to come up a lot around Klingons!"

Miral grunted, but she said nothing right away. Finally, she admitted,
"At least you know the reason you are apart. I wish I could say the
same about my separation from B'Elanna's father. He never told me why
he left." Grief, after so many years, was still easy to hear in her
voice.

"Miral . . ." Alicia said, sympathetically, "I'm so sorry."

The Klingon accepted the human woman's compassion with the barest of
nods. "I was bitter against all humans at first. I decided to take my
daughter away from Kessik, away from the memories of her father. We
went to *Qo'nos,* but . . . since you have been so honest with me, I
will share this with you. I have made mistakes in my life, too."

"Everyone does, Miral. I think we all were able to agree on that
tonight."

"We did at that." B'Elanna's mother was melancholy as she said, "I
made most of my mistakes with B'Elanna. The greatest was trying to
take away her memories of her father, because I did not wish to think
of him myself. I should not have done that."

"If it was so painful for you, and not knowing why, it must have been
hard to talk to B'Elanna about it. Was she old enough to understand
when he left?"

"She was almost six years old, old enough to remember him. And to miss
him, as I did. Maybe more. After he left, she became fearful. I tried
to make her stronger, to bring out her Klingon side. I even sent her
away for one summer to a monastery to study Klingon ways! I should not
have bothered. It was useless. She came back full of resentment for
being sent away. And . . . I missed her so."

"You did what you thought was best, didn't you? That's all we can ever
do, as parents."

Miral looked away from Alicia. "Most of the time I did what I thought
best. About one thing, I must confess, I knew it was wrong even as I
was doing it. I convinced myself my Lanna would be upset, but I knew
she had every right to them."

"A right to what, may I ask?"

"Messages. Her father sent them to her. To me, too. Not many. One or
two a year, that is all. After the first one, when I saw he did not
explain his leaving, I could barely bring myself to open my own. I
just glanced at them to make sure he had not said something about
coming back. I set them aside, and B'Elanna's with them. I always
meant to give them to her when she was not so unhappy, when she was
content to follow Klingon ways. Then, I thought, she would be ready
for whatever was in them. But that time never came. Always, she tried
to be all human, even though she never could be that, no matter how
hard she tried. She was always too much my daughter."

"So you kept them all these years, unread?"

"I finally did read them after the final ones came." Miral hesitated.
"B'Elanna had left the Academy by then. I had no idea where she was,
so I could not send her messages to her. She may have been with the
Maquis already. I cannot say. I never even knew she was a Maquis until
her vessel was declared lost, along with Voyager."

"Final messages? Your husband is dead?"

"Yes." Miral looked straight into Alicia's eyes. "He was killed in
action. The Cardassians killed him."

Alicia closed her eyes and bent her head, moaning in distress.

"I opened his last message to me. He said I should know he always
honored our vows and remained faithful to me even while we were apart.
That he still loved me and regretted nothing of our time together. He
was sorry he could not explain his absence. I wonder now if he didn't
know himself the reason he could not stay with us, or if he could not
face the reason enough to tell me, even after death. I went back to
read all of his messages, to me, and to B'Elanna, too, since she was
gone. There was nothing in them but a few words, saying that he was
sorry he could not be with us, but he hoped she was being a good girl,
learning the lessons her mother could teach her!" Miral shook her
head. "He told her he loved his 'beautiful little girl.'

"That is when I knew I should have given them all to B'Elanna when
they first came. She always thought her father believed she was ugly
because she had inherited ridges on her forehead from me! When she was
small, she tried to hide her head with scarves and hats, to look more
human. How could she think that? Would he have thought a Klingon a
worthy bride if he hated how I looked?" Miral looked into the
distance. "He always called me his 'fierce beauty' . . . "

"You will have to share those messages with her now."

"Yes. And just as you and Admiral Paris must tell Thomas about what
has happened to your marriage, I must tell B'Elanna she will never be
able to ask her father why he left us."

They stood a few moments together, communing in silence, perhaps
gathering strength for the ordeals both would have to face. Alicia was
first to speak, her face relaxing into a fond grin of remembrance.

"You know, when Tom was young, his father always made him get a
military haircut in the summer. Owen said it was 'good for
discipline.' Tommy always wore a hat to hide it from his friends. I
knew he was ashamed of it. Even his friends who had parents in
Starfleet didn't make them get their hair cut like that." She sighed.
"Every spring, I used to ask Owen if Tom really needed to get his hair
shaved off. Every spring, I always went along. It's easy to see the
mistakes we've made in hindsight, isn't it?"

"*QaghmeylIj tIchID, yIyoH.*"

"I can see I'm going to have to brush up on my *tlhIngan.* I'm afraid
I don't know how to say much more than *Qapla'!*"

"You will when I'm around--but B'Elanna seldom speaks it unless she
must." Miral replied. "It means, 'Have the courage to admit your
mistakes.' "

"That's always good advice. I think Tom has finally learned that."

"I hope my daughter has."

"I believe she has."

"They are much alike in some ways, your son and my daughter."

"Not too much alike, I hope! That wouldn't be so good! I wonder what
they're doing? We're definitely going to be late, now."

"I hope they are . . ."

Down the corridor from where the two mothers were standing, the door
to the turbolift swished open and belched out Tom and B'Elanna.

"I'm sorry we're late. We got a little distracted and lost track of
the time," Tom called out as the two hurried towards them. B'Elanna
was almost running, trying to keep up with Tom's long strides.

As they approached, Alicia made a show of checking her chronometer but
bent close to Miral to whisper, "When we get down there, share what I
told you with B'Elanna. She needs to know it all . . . all of it."

"Of course," Miral murmured. "You must tell Tom what I told you,
also."

Tom smiled quizzically at his mother when they arrived at the
transporter room door. She quickly tapped her wrist, and said, loud
enough for all of them to hear, "And I was just saying to Miral that
you were always punctual arriving at these sorts of events. Look at
the time! We're twenty minutes late!"

After apologizing profusely, they entered the transporter room. Tom
asked the transport technician, "Can we transport inside the Grand
Ballroom safely?"

"Just outside, Lieutenant. The transport area is clear."

"The advantages of being fashionably late, right, Mom? B'Elanna?
Miral?" Tom held his  hands out to assist both of their mothers onto
the transport pad, as B'Elanna was already in position.

"You *will* let us know what you were talking about for such a long
time," Miral ordered. It was not a question.

B'Elanna and Tom shared a quick smile as the transporter beam swirled
them all away in a sparkle of light.

---

The "transport area" was, as the technician said, only a short
distance in front of the entrance doors of the Grand Ballroom at
Starfleet Headquarters, where the reception was being held. As Miral's
vision returned to normal, she immediately saw the tall man in the
admiral's uniform standing outside the doorway. From holoimages, she
knew him immediately. Even if she had not, the sudden catch in Thomas'
breath would have alerted her to who this man was.

As soon as the transporter beam faded away, the admiral began walking
towards them. He was not really smiling; his expression was too
vulnerable for that. Admiral Paris' face reflected years of grief,
worry and hope for a miraculous conclusion to an almost unimaginably
long journey, a miracle which had occurred. Knowing what she now did,
however, Miral could also see tension in his jaw which would not be
relieved until painful revelations had been shared.

When father and son reached each other, they threw their arms around
each other and hugged each other closely, while the three women stood
watching. B'Elanna looked somewhat irritated when the embrace was
prolonged. When Miral lightly touched B'Elanna's upper arm, she calmed
down, waiting patiently until Tom backed up a little and asked, his
voice husky with emotion, "I'm not going to be dressed down for an
improper Public Display of Affection, am I, Dad?"

"No, son, no one's going to do anything like that." Admiral Paris, his
face still glowing, kept his hand cupped around the back of Tom's
head, as if he didn't dare lose contact with his boy or he might
vanish again into a distant quadrant.

Thomas moved slightly, inviting B'Elanna to take a step forward in
front of his welcoming arm, and said, "Dad, I'd like you to meet
B'Elanna Torres, the best engineer you ever met!" He turned to smile
at her. "And the most beautiful, too. And this is her mother, Miral of
the House of Martok? Have you met before?"

Admiral Paris greeted Miral with a quick clasp of the wrist before
taking both of B'Elanna's hands into his. He looked down at their
joined hands momentarily before meeting her eyes. "It's a pleasure to
meet you, B'Elanna Torres. Welcome home."

Miral lost track of B'Elanna's reply and Thomas' happy chattering
response. She watched the admiral and saw the shadow come into his
eyes when he realized his son had not been told by Alicia Paris of the
changes that had occurred to their family. She felt a measure of pity
for the man, that he still did not understand his wife after all this
time, but there was nothing Miral could do for him. He must face this
challenge himself, to do what must be done. At least he would not be
alone. Alicia would be there at his side. Miral would not have that
luxury when she told B'Elanna what must be said.

A somewhat awkward lull came into the conversation until Thomas
suggested, "I guess it's time we went into this party, isn't it?"

Alicia answered quickly, "Not quite yet, Tom. With all the . . .
excitement . . . of meeting B'Elanna and Miral, there were a few
things we never had a chance to talk about. Isn't there a lounge here
where we can speak privately, Owen?"

"Yes, there is, down the hall," he replied in a subdued voice. "You
will excuse us for a few minutes, Lieuten . . . I mean, B'Elanna and
Miral?"

Thomas' brow creased in puzzlement. B'Elanna opened her mouth, as if
to protest, but Miral said smoothly, "Of course. My daughter and I
have a few things to discuss with each other as well. As you said,
Alicia Paris, there was much . . . excitement . . . when first we met.
There are things my B'Elanna must know." Miral's eyes met Alicia's.
Understanding passed between them.

B'Elanna and Thomas exchanged a private look of their own before he
followed his parents to an intersecting corridor. Several doors could
be seen from where B'Elanna and her mother stood. Miral noted which
door they went through before turning back to her daughter.

B'Elanna's pique at being left out was not entirely dispelled. "I
guess I can figure out where I'm going to fit into this family," she
muttered, then froze, realizing what she had let slip.

"I'm glad to see that that was one of the things you and Thomas
discussed when you tossed us out of your quarters," Miral sniffed.
"You know how I feel about those who settle for being *par'machai*
rather than *loDnal* and *be'nal.*"

"We have to get through the next few weeks before we can make any
plans for me to become a *be'nal,* Mother."

"That would be wise."

"I still feel a little annoyed. What can they be talking about that I
shouldn't hear?"

"It is not that you cannot hear what they have to tell Thomas,
B'Elanna. Alicia told me what they wished to tell him. She told me to
share it with you. When you hear, I think you will understand why they
wished to be alone with their son. And . . . I have some things I must
share with you, too, some which I should have told you about years
ago, before we parted in anger, others I learned of long after. Thomas
will hear of them from his mother. Over there, you see? There is a
bench up that way. We can sit there . . . and talk."

"Talk? The way our 'talks' always go, aren't you afraid everyone will
hear us shouting at each other, out here in the open?"

"You may shout at me, if you wish. I will deserve it. I hope you will
listen, also, and learn from my mistake. And when we are finished, we
will wait together for Thomas and his parents. He will need you then,
I am sure, as much as you will probably need him."

Her daughter looked intently at her. Miral remembered another who used
to look at her that way, one she would never see again in this life.
Now she could see this look only as it echoed from out of B'Elanna's
eyes. Dark brown eyes, like her father's. Full lips, just like his.
B'Elanna was as much her father's daughter as she was Miral's. She
deserved to know what little Miral knew of his fate.

---

A half hour later, after some anger, no real shouting, but a lot of
intense "discussion," B'Elanna and her mother were sitting silently
next to each other on the bench. They had exhausted words, but that
did not mean they were not speaking to each other, or that no
communication passed between them. For the first time in many years
they were sitting comfortably together, not as two individuals at
loggerheads with one another, but as two members of the same family.

When B'Elanna heard a certain step approaching the bench, she turned
her head and stood up to meet him.

Wordlessly, she went to his open arms, to hold him as he held her.

To be there.

---

The End