The BLTS Archive- Warmth II: Scenes from a Mating
#3: One Corner of My Heart
by J. A. Toner (jamelia116@aol.com)

---

Keep the tissues and the insulin handy--you'll probably need both.

Archive:  Yes to ASC, BLTS, PTF, PTCollective. All others,
please ask.

Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom.  owns the characters and the
episodes "Hunters" and TNG's "Preemptive Strike." I borrowed
some of the characters for my   own nefarious purposes, but I
promise to put them back, unharmed, when I'm done. No claim
of ownership is being made. I will make no money from this--my
only payment is the feedback I hope to get from readers (hint, hint).

Author's Notes:  In part, this story was written in response to
requests from several readers wanting to know what B'Elanna
would think about Tom and the relationship he had with Ro
Laren as I described it in my story, "The Mercenary." Since this
sequel to Warmth, "Scenes from a Mating," was also written
because people "wanted to know what happened afterwards,"
this gave me the opportunity to blend the two story universes
together and satisfy the curious at the same time. This story
stands enough apart from the rest of "Warmth 2: Scenes from a
Mating" that it doesn't have to be read to understand the rest of
it, but it does fit in here pretty well.

In the spring and early summer of 1997, I wrote "Warmth" a set of
three stories that was arranged so that it seemed like a novel.
The first told a tale of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris'
acknowledging their passion for each other while stranded
on a planet with a harsh climate. They may have done
what they had to do to stay warm, but that was really more or
less an excuse. What they really did was show how warmly
they felt towards each other. "Meanwhile, back on Voyager,"
Harry Kim and Kes discover their own feelings for one
another and marry.

In the second story, taking place several weeks later, B'Elanna
broke off her relationship with Tom. Only afterwards did she
find out that she was unexpectedly pregnant and was to proud,
at first, to let him know. Kes has her "transformation" and is
lost to Harry. When Tom found out about the baby, he asked
B'Elanna to marry him. The final story described the wedding
on a holographic beach. The last sentences describe the couple
walking up the beach, holding each other up as their feet slip
in the sands. A fitting image for marriage, I thought.

And the end of the story, I thought.

Silly me. I underestimated the fervor of those who wanted to
see Tom cuddling his newborn daughter. The ones longing to
see B'Elanna holding her baby were less vocal, but I did hear
from some of them, too. I thought I'd said all I had to say and
dragged my feet about a sequel.

But something else happened. Both Roxann Dawson and
Robbie McNeill announced they were adding to their families.
Roxann's pregancy was not written into the storyline. So,
when people begged me to write a sequel, I thought that
maybe I could write an AU of the rest of the 4th season, and
how it would look if Roxann's pregnancy had been written
into the storyline of the series.

As a result "Warmth 2: Scenes from a Mating" was conceived,
a series of self-contained stories which, when taken together,
tell how Tom and B'Elanna forged a marriage from a rocky
beginning, as well as how Harry adjusted to the loss of Kes. In
this AU, all of the episodes would happen as they had in the
televised series. Obviously, some details would differ, but I
would not assume that all the events of any show failed to
occur. Many episodes would not be mentioned at all or if they
were, only in passing. In others, a great deal from the episodes
might be shown.

I expect to post a total of nine stories altogether. The first four
are being posted now, and the remaining ones will be put up
when they're finished.

I'll get the rest of the stories done and posted as soon as I can.
Thanks, in advance, for any comments about these stories you
feel you can make.

Thanks are due to my wonderful beta readers:  Stephane, Ann,
Annie, D'Alaire, Terri, PJ (times two), and Julie

For those who might be interested, both "The Mercenary" and
its sequel about Ro Laren's life after Tom, "In the Footsteps of
Another," can be found at my website:

http://members.aol.com/jamelia116/meander.html

June, 1999

---

"Are you sure it's in here?"

"That's where I put it the last time you chewed up my cheek,
Chief," replied Tom.

"Oh, stop whining. It's not that bad."

"Not that bad! Do you have any idea what the Doc will say
when I show up for sickbay duty with this? 'Mr. Paris. Despite
my acknowledged prowess as a physician, you of all people
should know the best defense against infection is an unbroken
epidermal layer!' And that's just for starters!" Tom Paris peered
into the mirror and dabbed away at the angry looking bite on
his right cheek, just below the earlobe. "Haven't you found it
yet?"

B'Elanna blithely ignored Tom's nattering while rummaging
deeper inside her husband's top drawer in the dressing area for
Charlene and 'Kenneth's' wedding present. "Why don't you just
get it healed in sickbay, Tom?"

Tom shot a frustrated glance over his shoulder after his wife's
non sequitor. "He expects us to use our own, personal dermal
regenerator so he doesn't have to waste time treating me for
assorted Klingon love bites himself. Or infections from love
bites. It's his idea of a hint."

B'Elanna was about to snort derisively when her searching
hands encountered the outline of the object she was seeking
beneath some sort of garment. It was unmistakable, thanks to
the many times she'd had her hands on it in the past few
months. While Tom occasionally patched her up, most of the
time B'Elanna was the one holding the instrument over her
husband's pale skin, healing injuries caused by their sometimes
over-enthusiastic exploration of their physical relationship.
That old Klingon maxim about the most amorous of Klingon
women being those who were already pregnant must be true, if
B'Elanna's appetites was typical. Privately, B'Elanna believed
she'd have been just as amorous around Tom even if she hadn't
been pregnant. They'd been pretty active on Tantrum IV. In
fact, that was how he'd gotten her pregnant in the first place!
Not that she hadn't been extremely willing and eager for all
that activity herself. In fact . . .

"Did you find it yet?" asked Tom.

Tom's inquiry startled B'Elanna out of her reverie, which had
taken a distinctly sexual turn. //Maybe there *is* something to
this pregnant Klingon thing,// B'Elanna mused, answering
aloud, "I think so."

As B'Elanna began to pull the dermal regenerator from out of
its hiding place, the piece of cloth which had become wrapped
around the medical instrument came out as well. When she
pushed at it to free the instrument, a faint clink issued forth
from the fabric-enveloped package.

Curious. This was her husband's "junk" drawer, not one that
had much in the way of clothing in it as a general rule. Besides,
this fabric was rather soft to constitute one of Tom's usual
garments, unless it was one of those specialty undergarments
they'd replicated a couple of times as a gag. Nothing else
would be so silky to the touch. Nothing she knew of would
make this sort of metallic sound, though.

Lifting the dermal regenerator and its wrapping from the
drawer, B'Elanna carried her findings to the bed. The cloth was
golden brocade and tantalizingly familiar.

When she dumped the two objects out onto the bed, the
mystery of the clinking sound was quickly revealed. It was an
earring--a Bajoran one, to be precise. Several small dangles
hung from the chain connecting the pair of bands designed to
fasten the piece of jewelry around an ear. There was only the
one, but B'Elanna wasn't expecting to see a pair of them.
Thanks to her Bajoran compatriots in the Maquis, she was well
aware that the wearing of an earring by Bajorans was less a
cultural custom that it was a sign of faith. Usually, the
ornament was placed upon the ear through which the vedeks
could most easily detect one's "pagh," or life force. If this one
hadn't been striking the housing of the dermal regenerator, the
earring might not have made enough sound for B'Elanna to
have even known it was there.

Its proximity to the Bajoran jewel identified the brocade cloth.
It was a neck scarf used as part of a vedek's robes of the type
B'Elanna had seen on Ro Laren, in her "Vedek Larys" disguise,
in the days when Ro was in Chakotay's cell.

B'Elanna picked up the earring by one of its dangles and
observed the way light reflected over the many tiny metallic
surfaces. Some of the flashes were so bright, despite their
minuscule size, that it almost hurt her eyes.

"Do you have it yet? My cheek is starting to . . ." As he entered
their bedroom from the sanitary cubicle, Tom broke off his
complaint at the sight of the object hanging from his wife's
fingers.

"Ro's?" she asked him, more calmly than she thought possible,
considering her suddenly overflowing emotions.

"No, it's mine . . . but Ro gave it to me. I was wearing it when I
was captured by the Federation." Tom's gaze softened as he
plucked it off B'Elanna's proffering finger. "I'd forgotten all
about having this. I thought I'd thrown it out years ago. You
can toss it into the recycler, B'Elanna. I don't need it any more.
Now, about my cheek?"

"And the scarf?" B'Elanna persisted, somewhat heatedly, as she
picked up the dermal regenerator and waved it over the bite.
"Did you think you'd thrown that out, too?"

"I really haven't thought anything about it in a long time,
B'Elanna. When we moved into our new quarters, I just
dumped everything from my old junk drawer into the new one.
I hardly ever go in there for anything. To tell you the truth, I
should probably just recycle everything in that drawer. You
could use the space for the baby's clothes, couldn't you?"

B'Elanna bit down on her lip and didn't answer right away. She
had a "junk" drawer, too, and she'd done exactly the same thing
when they'd moved in together. It was certainly possible that
he'd forgotten about it. "Somehow, I don't think you'd be that
happy with me just dumping away all your souvenirs like that,
Tom," she finally said.

"I've got more important things in my life right now than
holding onto a reminder of one of the worst days in my life,"
Tom retorted, gently patting her hugely distended abdomen.
"Do whatever you want to with whatever you find in that
drawer, B'Elanna. Feel free to dump it all. If nothing else, I'm
sure we're going to need a junk drawer for baby souvenirs. First
lock of hair, maybe? First pair of baby shoes?"

Sniffing, B'Elanna waved the regenerator over Tom's wound a
few more times before saying, "Okay, Tom. I don't think the
Doctor will give you any lectures about Klingon mating
practices this morning."

"Thanks," Tom smiled, rising from where he was sitting on the
bed. "Seriously, how are you feeling? Any more of those little
contractions? How's your back?"

"I'm fine, Worry-wort. All I need to feel great is to spend my
regular shifts in engineering instead of this light duty. Can't you
talk to the Doctor about that? I'd only be seconds by transporter
beam from sickbay! Why can't I just go to work?"

"After that false alarm with the contractions? He's just being a
little cautious. If we have another run in with the Hirogen and
get bounced around again, you probably would be better off
out of engineering."

"I doubt that! I'd probably get bounced around crawling
through the Jefferies tubes trying to *get* to engineering!"

"You just stay out of any Jefferies tubes for the time being,
Lieutenant. I don't think you want to give birth in there.
Sickbay would be much healthier."

"Sickbay! I don't want our baby born in sickbay! That's for sick
people. Injured people. Dying people! The last thing I want is
to be reminded about that when I'm in labor! Whatever
happened to having the baby here in our quarters?"

"As long as things are going okay, you can stay here. The Doc
already told you that. Our quarters would certainly be better
than the Jefferies tubes! You know there isn't a lot in the
medical database about half-Klingons giving birth. The Doc's
flying blind, thanks to your unique physiology."

"I know, I know. But I'm perfectly fine. I want to get back on
duty! Today!"

"Glad to hear how fine you are, but this close to your due date--
or what the Doc *thinks* is your due date--I would prefer to be
on the safe side, too. You know Joe, Sue, and the rest of your
staff can handle engineering. They'll call if they need you,
Chief. You can be sure of that! Just take it easy. You'll be back
hounding them in no time."

"Is this some plot hatched by you and my staff because I've
been a little testy lately?"

"Testy? You?" At the mock incredulous tone of his voice, she
gave him a playful swat. He defended himself with arms
upraised, saying with a broad grin,  "Not now, B'Elanna.
Lovemaking has to take second place to my medical training.
The Doc is eagerly awaiting me, just itching to hound me about
it!"

"You've made your point. Just go, Hotshot," she laughed,
pushing him playfully on the back to hustle him towards the
door.

As he walked away from her, Tom suddenly hesitated and
turned to face her. She was surprised to see that all traces of
humor had fled from his face as he said, "Are you sure you're
all right?"

"Of course I am. I just told you. What is it now?" she asked,
genuinely puzzled by his change of mood. Then she
remembered. She'd broken down again about Chakotay's
message from Sveda, their mutual friend from the Maquis, only
a few hours before. "Oh, that" she added, and with a
determined act of will, put a smile back on her face. "I'm all
right. Really. I just needed to cry it out of my system."

Tom curled up his lower lip and chin in uncertainty, but he said
only, "Well, if you need me again, for anything at all, just
remember that's what comm signals are for. 'Kay?"

"Okay. Now, go, before the Doctor calls you over our comm
system and gets after you for being 'neglectful of your sickbay
duties' again. And tell him I'll give him his weekly check-up
tomorrow when I come in for my next prenatal exam."

"Will do," Tom said jauntily, but he took the time to pucker up
for a lingering good-bye kiss before striding out into the
corridor to begin his work day.

B'Elanna really did think she was okay--at first. Once the door
closed behind her husband, however, she had only her thoughts
for company. The walls seemed to echo hollowly with her
every step. It was much too quiet. All brightness and color
seemed to have seeped out of the suite of rooms at Tom's exit.
It was astonishing, really, how quickly he had become part of
her life. //Not just part. Essential to my life,// she thought in a
moment of revelation. //I don't ever want to know what it's like
to live without him.//

Resolving to work her way out of her sudden melancholy,
B'Elanna slipped Tom's junk drawer out of the wall where it
was housed and tumbled its contents onto the bed. //Most of
this stuff really *is* junk,// she decided, separating them into
three piles: "Keep," "Recycle," and "Ask Tom Before
Discarding."

A deck of cards that was minus the jack of spades. Several
pairs of dice, including the set she suspected was loaded. Five
socks without a match among them. All were rapidly
consigned to the "don't keep" pile. No need to keep any of
those things. They were truly the sorts of junk that gives a junk
drawer its name.

B'Elanna quickly tossed several holoimage cubes and a small
chunk of gallicite ore to the "keep" pile. That little pebble was
a souvenir for her, too, of the momentous away team mission
that had transformed her attitude towards Tom and, eventually,
both their lives. That was an easy decision, too.

Others required a little more thought, like deciding whether or
not to keep the necklace Tom had worn on the planet where
castaway Ferengi "sages" had fleeced an unsophisticated
populace. That time *Voyager* and its crew almost got home
to the Alpha Quadrant through that same wormhole the "sages"
had tumbled through, but the Ferengi managed to destroy it just
before *Voyager* could use it. There were some sad
connotations to the necklace, although overall, Tom and she
felt that saving the people of that planet from being corrupted
helped make up for the lost opportunity to get home. She added
the ears to the "ask Tom first" heap. She also needed to check
the contents of several PADDs before deciding whether they
needed to be recycled. Seeing that most contained outlines of
holonovels Tom had begun to work on with Tuvok until a
pregnant half-Klingon wife had diverted his attention, B'Elanna
placed them by the gallicite.

The sight of the PADDs brought her mind back to Ro. The last
time B'Elanna had seen her, Ro had been packing up her
things, too. She'd found a PADD listing Tom's bar bills mixed
in with some of hers. Ro had broken down in tears when she
found out what was on it. B'Elanna hadn't understood the
significance until much later, but Ro had. Tom the mercenary
had wanted to pay off his debts, to do the honorable thing, even
when no one believed such a thing would occur to him.

A few tears stung her eyes as she wondered what had happened
to the Bajoran woman. //I hope she got over Tom and found
something else to do with her life,// B'Elanna thought sadly.
//That's if she's still alive, even. I hope she never went back to
the Maquis now that I know what happened to them. At least
Sveda didn't say she'd been killed, too. If only the Hirogen
Array hadn't been destroyed, we could have asked about
her specifically.//

B'Elanna picked up the cloth and the earring. There was a story
here. Belatedly, she realized she'd never even wondered about
it before. Ro had been in love with Tom, B'Elanna knew, but
what had Tom's feelings towards Ro been? They'd been lovers
at the Maquis hideout on Malagra. Seska informed her of that
even before Ro left Chakotay's cell. B'Elanna seemed to recall
Ro saying during one of the nights they'd passed working
together on the conversion of the Klingon freighter, the
*tajtIq,* on Delistor, that she'd never had any boyfriends.
Chakotay even mentioned it once, after Ro left, now that she
thought about it. Tom and Ro had been friends at the
Academy, but nothing more. //Was that really true? Had they
been lovers at the Academy, too? And do I really want to know
what my husband once felt about an old lover?//

Felt? Or still feels?

B'Elanna felt her stomach become a little queasy as she
fingered the religious garment and piece of jewelry. Two
symbols of faith, rather. Were they just bits of flotsam from a
past life of travail, or were they souvenirs of a love her
husband didn't want to forget?

Could never forget?

Firmly, B'Elanna took her wandering thoughts in hand. It really
wasn't any of her business, anyway. Ro was part of Tom's past
in the Alpha Quadrant, a life he repeatedly denigrated. "My life
was a waste back then," Tom had said to her often enough.
"Getting captured and landing on *Voyager* were the luckiest
things that ever happened to me. I got lost back there; I found
myself out here. And now, I've found you." Surely, these pieces
of his past meant little to him now. Shrugging her shoulders to
the empty room, B'Elanna tossed them in the "don't keep" pile.

She moved to pick up a leather glove with metal studs on it,
thinking that it would look more at home in a Klingon's drawer
than her all-too-human husbands, but she hesitated. Her hand
wavered back to linger over the two Bajoran objects.

//Maybe I should ask him one more time before I recycle them,
no matter what he said this morning. It's not like I hated Ro, or
anything. I'd always wished we'd had a chance to get better
acquainted--just like she said to me that last day on Malagra.
God knows, she was right about not trusting Seska.// Picking
up the scarf and earring, B'Elanna put them in with those things
she thought Tom should pick over before recycling them.

Once she'd done that, B'Elanna was able to finish emptying
Tom's drawer was in short order. Returning it to the dressing
area, she pulled out her own junk drawer and laughed
derisively over some of the items she'd stashed in it.
//Definitely, junk. It's amazing the sort of garbage I keep. And I
always thought I was so unsentimental!// she pondered as she
went through it. There was little there from her Maquis days,
of course. She hadn't had a chance to grab more than a few
things from her quarters on the *Zola* before being transported
to *Voyager* on that fateful day when the Caretaker's Array
had been destroyed, along with their way home to the Alpha
Quadrant. At that, B'Elanna had more than Chakotay. Kurt
Bandera had grabbed his medicine bundle for him, but virtually
all of the rest of his possessions had been blown to smithereens
when the *Zola* had been sacrificed to save the Ocampa.

B'Elanna straightened suddenly as she said to herself, //The
logs. I wonder if Chakotay had time to transfer our logs to
*Voyager* before the *Zola* blew?// Aloud, she commanded,
"Computer, are there any records from the Maquis ship,
*Zola,* in *Voyager's* database?"

::::Affirmative.:::: replied the computer, as dispassionate and
precise as always. Suppressing the comment about the
literalness of Starfleet computers, B'Elanna inquired,
"Computer, list the records in the *Voyager* database that
came from the *Zola.*"

::::*Voyager's* database contains the *Zola's* official logs
and personal logs of all the *Zola's* crew which are now
serving or have ever served on *Voyager,* navigational charts
and sensor data obtained from Stardate 47547.3 through .::::

"Computer, were any of the logs from the *Zola* recorded by
someone who hasn't ever served on *Voyager?*"

::::Affirmative.::::

B'Elanna hesitated for a moment. Did she really want to access
Ro's logs? After all, she didn't know for a fact that Ro was
dead. Yet, almost without conscious thought, B'Elanna heard
herself request, "List all log entries made by Ro Laren."

::::Personal logs dated 47959.9 through 48004.1. Official log
entries dated 47961.2, 47963.9, 479 . . . ::::

As the computer droned out the list of stardates for Ro's
official log entries, B'Elanna tried to remember which ones
might have been dictated after she'd found Tom. Finally,
B'Elanna decided she might as well hear all of Ro's official
logs. There was no harm in that. Even Captain Janeway would
have no qualms about listening to official logs, although
B'Elanna doubted she'd ever bothered. Official logs are just
that. Anyone on *Voyager* had the right to hear them. This
was all ancient history now, anyway. Some Starfleet historian
writing a book about the destruction of the Maquis movement
would probably be the only one interested in these logs now--
assuming *Voyager* made it back to the Alpha Quadrant
someday for anyone to get at them.

"Computer, play all of Ro Laren's official logs, in order of their
recording."

::::Stardate 47961.2 . . . ::::

The official logs were very--official--unlike a lot of those she'd
heard dictated by her fellow Maquis. Even her own had been
much more informal than Ro's back in those days--but then, Ro
had just defected from Starfleet. She was pretty spit and polish,
unlike most of the Maquis. She'd stayed that way until the very
end, as far as B'Elanna knew. Crisp, all business, Ro's logs
reflected her personality. Virtually all of her entries were
strictly factual, recording people and events with perfect
objectivity. Even those that took place after Tom's name
started to be mentioned were dry and unemotional.

The logs included events that had taken place on *The Eye of
the Prophet,* the little scout ship that was lost with Tom. Ro
must have meticulously transferred all of the logs she made on
the scout to the main memory banks on the *Zola* at the end
of every assignment, except, of course, for that last trip to
Delistor, when the ship had been lost.

It was amusing to hear how Ro managed to convey all of their
guerrilla operations without making any incriminating
statements. From Ro's logs, the *Zola* was an innocent
merchant ship, "trading" with the residents and even the
Cardassians in the Demilitarized Zone rather than a ship of
war. Because she had been privy to the actual details of the
incidents depicted, B'Elanna knew the truth was nothing like
the bland recitation in the logs. Even Chakotay's logs weren't
so carefully circumspect about the details of their operations.

Ro's official logs weren't only circumspect about the Maquis
military operations, either. There was very little about Tom
Paris there. In one of the Delistor entries, she mentioned she'd
encountered an old friend, a "skilled pilot," and had invited
him to become a member of the *Zola's* crew. The date that
Tom had moved into her quarters on Malagra was also
preserved, but not the reason. The final entry that mentioned
his name was the one that she recorded on the *tajtIq," when
they were returning to Malagra with their new ship. Ro simply
said that their crew mate Thomas Eugene Paris, who had been
assigned to fly *The Eye of the Prophet* back to their home
port, was missing and presumed lost since he'd failed to arrive
at the designated rendezvous.

B'Elanna remembered the sorrowful look on Ro's face when
she made that last entry, although it was undetectable in the
Bajoran's precise, modulated tone of voice as captured in the
logs. There was no hint of any personal connection to Tom
here--or anywhere else in Ro's logs, for that matter--nothing at
all had been recorded of her motives or feelings about being in
the Maquis, nor was there any mention about how she felt
about Tom's sudden reentry into her life. The only entry that
was at all emotional was the last one, made just before they'd
landed on Malagra in preparation of their "bugging out" from
their base on the small planet in the Terikof belt:

". . . I have found I must resign my association with the *Zola*
and her crew. I will be leaving the ship as soon as we arrive at
our destination. I have already booked passage back to Bajor
on another vessel. I do not know, at this time, whether I will
ever return, but I wish all those dwelling on this ship well . . .
." The voice dictating this last entry and its tribute to the cell
was quavery, not at all like the other entries.

After wishing the crew well, there was a noticeable gap in the
recording, although the computer didn't state the entry had
come to an end.

B'Elanna sighed. There was little here to salve her curiosity,
but she found she was reluctant to try to break into Ro's
remaining logs. Those were personal. As B'Elanna was about
to order the computer to cease playing what was apparently
dead air, Ro's voice resumed speaking, quietly saying, "In
addition to this last official log entry, which is for all eyes and
ears, I wish to let Chakotay, B'Elanna Torres, Lon Suder, and
Michael Jonas know there are more complete details about my
time on the *Zola* to be found in my personal logs. I authorize
these four people, and also Vedek Bareil Antos, Captain Jean-
Luc Picard . . . and . . . and Thomas Eugene Paris . . . if he
ever gets the opportunity . . . (a sound intervened at this
 point, muffling the next few words before Ro continued) . . .
want you all to have access to my personal logs. Listen and
learn the truth about my time with you here on  the *Zola* and
. . . and with Tom Paris. I know there will be lots of
misinformation about our relationship . . . and I . . . I want all
of you to know the truth. To access these logs, state your name
and say, 'open personal log of Ro Laren, with the authorization
of the creator, formerly Lieutenant Ro Laren, U.S.S.
Enterprise.' End log entry."

After the computer had fallen silent, B'Elanna sat for a long
while on her couch. She was stunned. She had carte blanche to
find out exactly what she wanted to know about Ro and her
relationship with Tom, yet now that she knew she could,
B'Elanna was surprised to find she wasn't sure she wanted to
know. If Ro had been willing to let her and the others know
about the two of them, how much had she actually revealed?

But then again, Ro knew Tom had been arrested as a traitor
and expected his prison sentence to last a very long time. She'd
said so, that last day they were on Malagra. Jonas and Suder
were both long dead; B'Elanna knew that Ro had held neither
in very high regard and wouldn't have expected them to care
one way or the other about Tom Paris. This Vedek Bareil and
Captain Picard were on the other side of the galaxy now. It
wasn't likely they would ever have bothered to listen, either. It
was almost as if Ro knew that someday B'Elanna Torres would
want to learn about Tom and Ro, even though she couldn't
possibly have known what Tom would come to mean to
B'Elanna. It was an eerie feeling to think that Ro Laren may
have been very frank about her relationship to Tom in her
personal logs. By Kahless, B'Elanna herself had been more
than merely frank in her personal logs when it came to Tom!
No, it was probably better she didn't know.

After several minutes' contemplation, B'Elanna pushed her
ungainly, baby-filled body off the couch and attacked her
household organizational tasks with renewed zeal. She did her
best to keep her mind diverted from all thoughts of personal
logs by cleaning out her own junk drawer and consolidating
Tom's and her possessions in other storage areas. When she
was done, she'd freed up four drawers and a section of one
closet for baby clothes. By 1015, B'Elanna stated to the empty
quarters, "That'll do it. At least, until we get a chance to build
that extra storage locker in the baby's room." She sighed
deeply. "So now what do I do?"

Her question to herself wasn't really about which chore to
begin next. Despite all her efforts, B'Elanna's curiosity raged
unabated. Her thoughts kept returning to the puzzle that could
be solved so easily. She had a perfect right to do it, thanks to
Ro's generous permission.

She could expect no contact from Tom until 1200, and then,
only if the EMH was willing to set him free for lunch. If she
decided to wander around the ship--to engineering, say--the
Doctor and Tom would both harass her. The messhall was a
possibility, but Neelix's tendency to hover over her was more
than she could take. Astrometrics? Please! The bridge was just
as off limits as engineering. There were no replicator rations to
spare for a trip to the holodeck. Tom and B'Elanna needed all
the spare credits they could manage to save for baby clothes to
fill those drawers she'd spent the last hour or so emptying.

There was one avenue of entertainment open to her. B'Elanna's
resistance crumbled. "Computer, access personal logs of
Maquis Ro Laren. This is B'Elanna Torres. Open personal log
of Ro Laren with the authorization of the creator, formerly
Lieutenant Ro Laren, U.S.S. Enterprise. Begin with first entry."

"Personal Log Ro Laren, Stardate 47959.9

"Well, here I am. I think. I've been passed around from cell to
cell in the last few days. I can't blame the Maquis for being
nervous around me. I was a Starfleet plant, sent to betray their
organization. I still could be one, for all they know. I'm not, but
they can't know that. It's a good thing I'm not really a Starfleet
spy, though. With all the Maquis I've met over the last few days,
I know much more about the organization than I should if
I really were a spy. Maybe it was a test. I hope it was, for their
sakes!

"I'm a little surprised this Chakotay was willing to accept me.
I'm not sure I would have  under the same circumstances. He's
pretty trusting. I'm glad he did, though. I want to help the
cause in any way I can.

"This seems to be a pretty decent group. Chakotay runs a tight
ship, but then, he was Starfleet, too. He resigned because of the
destruction of his home planet, which was in the DMZ, or so I
understand.

"I haven't met everyone yet, but Kurt Bandera went out of his
way to welcome me. I liked him right away. He reminds me a
little of Geordi with that open way he has.

"My fellow Bajoran Seska went out of her way to let me know
that Chakotay was taken. If she only knew how little that sort
of thing interested me! Nothing against him, of course.
Chakotay is a really good soul, I can tell. He'd be great for
somebody, just not me. Or Seska, for that matter. I don't know
what it is about her, but she makes me really uneasy. I think it's
her eyes. They're--unfriendly. Something about the way they
stare at me reminds me of my days in the labor camps, and the
Cardassian guards I knew when I was young. Strange to think
of that now.

"She doesn't make me as uneasy as that Suder guy, though. He
really gives me the creeps. With him, I know it's the eyes.
Deanna's Betazoid eyes are coal black, but at the same time
they are warm when she looks at you. Suder's got the coldest
pair of eyes I've ever seen. Bandera told me to stay clear of
Suder for a while, until he's gotten used to me. It seems that
Suder 'takes offense' easily. That sounds like a good reason to
stay clear of him permanently!

"Hogan seems nice, and competent; Jonas seems competent.
There's something about him that reminds me of Seska,
unfortunately. If I had to pick a team for a mission right now,
I'd pick Hogan and Bandera--and that engineer, B'Elanna
Torres. Her I'd pick if there was any chance at all that an
engineer would be needed--which is just about always. One
look at the *Zola's* engines, and I knew that. Anyone who can
pull that pile of crap together and make it run is somebody I'd
want on my team.

"I don't have any regrets about being here, not really. It's my
own doing. Starfleet put me in a position I thought I could
handle. I couldn't. I wish it were different--that the Federation
understood what this fight is really all about. I wish I could be
on the same side as Picard, instead of on the other side. I
already miss Geordi, Data, Worf, Dr. Crusher, Troi-- even
Riker. I don't think I'll ever forget the look on his face when I
sabotaged the attack and went over to the Maquis. As much as
I'm going to miss them all, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't
betray the Maquis, not after seeing Macias killed by the
Cardassians right in front of me.

"The Cardassians. They've always tormented me. I wanted to
stay Starfleet, but it wasn't in me to turn my back on these
people. So here I am. Maybe I was always meant to be a
renegade. It sure seems that's the way my life has gone. I hope
I've finally found a place where I can find peace of mind.
Maybe the middle of a desperate struggle for survival is a
strange place for that, but battles and me, we've always
seemed to attract one another. By the Prophets, I'm used to
fighting! As long as I'm not fighting my conscience any more,
I'll be all right, no matter how it all ends.

"End personal log."

After hearing Ro's praise of her engineering skills, B'Elanna
gave no more thought of doing something that morning besides
peeking into the mind of Ro Laren, the possibly alive, possibly
dead Maquis warrior and Starfleet turncoat. She listened to
entry after entry. The earliest were filled with Ro's impressions
of her fellow cell members. She was pleased to hear even more
evidence that Ro deeply respected B'Elanna's abilities as an
engineer and as a person. It was just as B'Elanna had always
thought. Ro had accepted B'Elanna totally as she was, even
more than B'Elanna had in those days.

---

The Bajoran's perceptiveness as exemplified by her comments
about Chakotay, Seska, Jonas, and Suder turned out to be true
of her characters sketches of the rest of the Maquis cell
members, too. Ro seemed to have an uncommon ability to see
into the motives of those around her. Ro had had the potential
to be a fine leader. In all probability she'd never had the chance
to fulfill that destiny.

B'Elanna also knew that Ro was correct in her assumption that
she wasn't fully trusted by the rest of the Maquis. Hearing Ro
return again and again to her feelings about her agonizing
decision to defect from Starfleet saddened B'Elanna. It was
fascinating to hear Ro's take on their mission to salvage the
Klingon freighter abandoned on Delistor and gratifying to hear
Ro complain about Suder and Jonas. Ro had demanded that
B'Elanna be assigned, too. "By the Prophets! If I have to put up
with only Suder and Jonas, it will never get done! I need
somebody who knows what she's doing!"

Finally, in an entry from a trip to Delistor, the name she was
hunting for was mentioned.

". . . Tom Paris. I couldn't believe it. How by all that's holy had
Tom found his way here? Now that I've got him lying naked in
my bed, it's not hard to figure out how he got here. He's been
knocking around a lot since he destroyed his career at Caldik
Prime. Not eating much, from the way his ribs are almost
poking out through his skin, and from the smell of his breath,
he's been drinking way too much, too.

"Those two thieving bastards tried to kick him to death, but I
think he'll be all right. I guess I got into port just in time. I wish
I'd thought to bring a medical kit with me to the boarding
house, but who knew I'd need one? I should've known better.
The streets of Delistor aren't safe for the ordinary visitor, even
if 'Vedek Larys' is. I'll see about getting one from one of the
ships tomorrow. Calling in a doctor this late at night might
jeopardize Torres and the others if I should be recognized.
They'd be stuck here and might get caught, too. The less
attention I draw to myself, the better off we'll all be. It's better
to leave things as they are. Tom doesn't seem to be in any
immediate danger. I'll see what more I can do for him tomorrow.

"Prophets, though, it's good to see Tom's friendly face, even if
he * is* looking scrawnier than I've ever seen him before!  End
log entry."

"Naked in my bed." B'Elanna felt her gorge rise but firmly
forced it down. This was no time for jealousy. She hadn't
known Tom then. She had no right to feel jealous--although
B'Elanna did, no matter how hard she tried not to be. After
only a moment of hesitation, she called for the next entry to
find out what had happened next.

". . .  Tom's still sound asleep, so I have a chance to catch up
with my log entries.

"When he woke up yesterday morning, we had a chance to chat
about a few things. After dinner, we talked some more. It's just
as I suspected. He's been doing lots of boozing and not much
eating. Not synthehol, either. The real stuff. From some of the
things he said, I'm willing to bet he's been doing even more
whoring than boozing--although he didn't mention that to me,
of course. He's not so far gone he'd do that.

"Tom's a pretty bitter guy right now, but I understand how that
goes. I went through it when I was in prison on Jaros. I think
he's going to get over it, though. He took the news about me
being in the Maquis better than I thought.

"Poor Tom. He hoped that since I got a second chance from
Picard, somehow, someday, he'd get a second chance at
Starfleet, too. I'm sorry there's not much chance of that. My
giving up Starfleet like I did was a tough blow to him.
Thankfully, there's a . . . a kind of resilience he has, I guess
you'd say. Deep down inside, he's still Tom, the best friend I
ever had. The *only* friend I ever had, until the *Enterprise.*
But I don't want to think about that now. I only want to think
about him getting well.

"It was strange, sleeping in bed with Tom. It's not something
I've done much--sleeping with someone. Hardly ever, in fact. I
expected him to roll around a lot, but he didn't. He hardly
groaned at all, even though he must have been uncomfortable
with those bruises all over his stomach. It was . . . kind of nice,
actually. He was the perfect gentleman--not that I expected
him to act any differently. He knows what the Cardassians did
to me. He would never do anything to upset me that way.

"The thing is, I'm not sure I'd mind if he did . . . start
something. For a long time I've wondered if there could ever
be anything like that between us. Never thought I'd see him
again to find out. Now, since Riker and me, I don't know. I
think I could with him. After all, he's the best friend I ever had.
From the time I first met him at the Academy, he's been
completely trustworthy. He's accepted me as I am--even the
sarcasm and anger that come out when I least expect it. He's
always encouraged and supported me. I've been able to tell
him the most horrible things about myself, and he's listened
with compassion. He's helped me in every way he could,
whether it was to give me a home and family to spend holidays
with or comforting me when I spewed out my venom and my . .
. my pain about the Cardassians and all their vile works.
Despite that brittle shell of "I don't care" he's wearing to
protect himself from all that's happened to him since Caldik
Prime, I can see right through him to that big, soft heart of his.
It's still there. Tom has always been one of the kindest and
most considerate people I've ever known. If I can't make love
with * him,* there truly is no hope for me to ever have that
with anyone. End log entry."

"Computer, repeat last log entry," B'Elanna said, not sure she'd
heard what she'd thought she'd heard. She listened very
carefully the second time.

There didn't seem to be much doubt. Ro had said making love
might upset her. That the Cardassians had "done something" to
her. Something "vile." If Ro was reluctant to sleep with a man--
in a sexual sense, that was obviously what she was saying, not
just sharing a bed the way she had with Tom--then it wasn't
hard to figure out that she must have been raped by the
Cardassians.

Now the Federation was at war with them again, with the help
of some Gamma Quadrant race, these "Dominions." Just one
more reason for B'Elanna to hate them--as if all the atrocities
done by their hands against the settlers in DMZ hadn't been
enough! B'Elanna's distrust and hatred of the Cardassians,
always simmering just beneath the surface of her barely
controlled temper, boiled over.

Breathing deeply, B'Elanna tried to calm herself. It was
difficult. Much as she tried to prevent it, visions of the
aftermath of what the Cardassians had done to people who only
wished to live in peace flashed before. It was a very short jump
to envisioning the faces of her friends lying tortured and
murdered in the same way. She felt anger, sorrow,
helplessness--all mixed together with regret into a bitterness
she could almost taste. Roberto. Atara. M'Cort. Savrigs. All of
them, gone forever. Sveda's letter to Chakotay had listed the
names of their friends that she had seen killed before her eyes.
The list of those, like Sveda, who were languishing in
Federation prisons was so much shorter. Ro's name had been
on neither list. Sveda must not have known what had happened
to her.

At the brink of losing her Klingon temper, B'Elanna pulled
herself back. She knew she mustn't let herself get too
emotional. The EMH had warned her. It wasn't good for the
baby or for B'Elanna herself, for that matter.

For the next few minutes, B'Elanna concentrated on keeping
herself in control. What finally worked was practicing her
labor and delivery breathing pattern exercises. //Thank
Kahless--and maybe Ro's Bajoran Prophets, too--for helping
me calm down. This baby really is a blessing. The very thought
of her can make me remember what's really important.//
B'Elanna sighed, recovering her equilibrium at last.

Should she continue to listen? It was clear, now, that she was
eavesdropping on someone's most intimate thoughts. It amazed
her that Ro would have given her leave to listen to what she
was hearing. Maybe she simply forgot how revealing some of
her entries were when she gave permission for B'Elanna to
listen in on them. Or perhaps Ro had had a premonition that
she wouldn't live much longer and wanted someone to know
what she'd suffered. Still, B'Elanna had no way of knowing if
Ro really were dead. If she were alive, it was doubtful
B'Elanna would be privy to this. Then again, if they'd had the
chance to become as friendly as they may have if Ro had
stayed with the cell, she may have told B'Elanna much or even
all of this. And the part about that soft heart of Tom's beneath a
shell of "I don't care"--B'Elanna had to smile at how accurate
that was.

Shaking her head at her own ambivalence, she started to tell
the computer to end its recitation. That would be the right thing
to do, to stop invading the privacy of a woman who was
probably long dead. Stumbling over the word, "Computer,"
several times and hesitating, however, B'Elanna finally ordered
the computer to "resume" instead.

There were several entries in a row that documented things
which B'Elanna already knew about their mission on Delistor.
But it was fascinating to hear Ro's slant on the incidents. There
was a lot more about her distrust of Michael Jonas and her
unease with Lon Suder. She'd had no trouble trusting Tom or
B'Elanna, though. B'Elanna found more evidence of just how
good a judge of character Ro had been.

Tom was mentioned when "Vedek Larys" procured him
clothing to wear because she'd thrown out the ones ripped to
shreds by his attackers. B'Elanna laughed when Ro said that
Tom was leaving Delistor with her on *The Eye of the
Prophet* dressed as a Bajoran religious man. Tom, the aspiring
vedek! The very idea was hysterically funny.

When she listened to the long entry about how Tom had agreed
to join the Maquis as a pilot, but only if he could get paid for it,
B'Elanna found herself remembering that last day, when Ro
found his list of bar bill debts while B'Elanna was trying to get
her to stay in the Maquis. Tom really had been a mercenary
back then! When she listened to what Ro had to say about
Chakotay's initial reaction to Tom, however, B'Elanna shook
her head in dismay at how blind Chakotay had been about what
Tom was really like:

". . . Chakotay doesn't trust Tom. He thinks I made a mistake
bringing him back to our base. He thinks he's a spy! That's
pretty funny. I know for a fact that Tom has been knocking
around for the past few years, since the truth came out about
the deaths at Caldik Prime. When Chakotay was still in
Starfleet, he must have heard about Tom's disgrace. Did he
really think that Starfleet would know they would need a spy to
infiltrate the Maquis back then, before there even was a
Maquis to infiltrate?

"I don't think I want to think about *that* too closely. It would
mean the Federation knew all along they would sacrifice the
colony worlds to the Cardassians. That they'd anticipated a
rebellion, and that they'd refuse to back their own citizens in
the dispute. I can't bring myself to believe Starfleet is that
duplicitous. Besides, I always know when Tom is kidding or
lying--even when it's himself he's lying or kidding. Tom's the
least likely 'secret agent' I can imagine. He can't hide the truth.
Those blue eyes of his can't hide anything like that from me.

"One thing I'm not happy about, though. I've been trying to
convince Chakotay to trust Tom, but he isn't making it easy for
me. He's been flirting with every woman he's seen in Malagra
since he arrived. He's been disappearing with some of them,
too, and doing a lot more than just flirting, I'm sure. He was at
the bar with Alana this afternoon. He went off with that slut,
too. Seska made sure I knew that. He's probably at the Latinum
Shrine right now, picking up someone to sleep with tonight.

"I know I shouldn't let this bother me. He's just digging his
own grave . . . failing again when he could be making
something of himself . . . it's his life. If he wants to waste it
on sex and booze, he's got a right to do it. It's his choice to
waste it if he . . . .

"Damn! Who am I kidding! I can't take this any more. He's
been my friend for a long time--my only friend, for too many
years. By the Prophets! I know he's better than this! I'm going
to go to that bar and drag him back here and talk some sense
into him . . . or else. If he won't listen to reason, then fine. He
can go to the Pah-Wraiths, if he wants. I won't defend him
before Chakotay any more. The hell with him. But I've got to
try, just once more. I owe him that much, for the sake of all he
did for me back at the Academy. End log entry."

The next log entry was dated two full days later.

"Sweet Prophets, thank you! You've blessed me. I will always
be grateful for all Your gifts to me, but for Tom, most of all.
You've been leading me to him all my life, only I was too stupid
to see that before now. I should have realized when You sent
me on the path to the Academy and set Tom before me from the
very beginning that he and I were meant to be together.

"Tom is everything I always imagined a lover should be--or
what I could imagine, once I was able to think about having a
lover without feeling revolted. I should thank Will Riker for
that, at least. He let me know what it was like to be with a man
who cared as much for what I was feeling as he did when we
had sex. No, made love. Saying 'had sex' is so clinical. Tom
and I make love. Share each other's bodies. He's made me
appreciate, finally, what it means to Honor the Prophets and
Their Gifts.

"He's so gentle, and kind, and compassionate, and, and . . .
giving. I guess that's it. It's funny how often 'give' and 'gift'
come up when I'm talking about this, but I guess that's what it
really is all about, isn't it? We give each other our bodies to
bring pleasure to each other, receiving pleasure ourselves in
return. Reciprocal. It's such a simple concept. An obvious
concept! But it's not something I really understood before Tom
. . . gave this to me. There's that word again. Or maybe he's
just the instrument You've sent me so that I could understand.

"All I know is that he's a kind and good man, more than he
even realizes himself. Maybe I can help him see that, too--the
gift I can give him, in return for all he's done for me. I owe him
so much for the joy he's brought me, just as I owe You all
honor and praise for sending us on the same path.

"He's good at making love. I guess I should give credit to all
those women who came before me for that. They taught him
well. He may have been using sex to help forget what a mess
his life had become, but he never took any of them for granted,
even then. A couple of the women here have even come up to
me today to tell me how lucky I was! Sela Evaluon even said
she was sorry I got to him before she'd had a chance to be with
him at least once. And here I thought I was doing her a favor
keeping him away from her because she was such an innocent!

"I never knew my body could feel the way he makes it feel.
Riker was good, I know, but Tom . . . I guess it's true--what I've
always suspected--if you really love someone, you can get past
bad memories, like the ones I've got, and really let yourself go.

"I know I'll never forget everything that the Cardassians did to
me, but Tom's been very good about reading me. When I do get
a flashback of the old days, he always picks up on it. Asks me if
I'm all right--stops whatever it is that he's doing and just holds
me for a while until I'm okay. I know there's certain things he
hasn't done with me that a man and a woman usually do
together, but he's not pushing them. He knows I've been forced
enough times in my life. He's only doing what I'm ready for.

"I hope that someday there's nothing I won't be afraid to do
with him. With the help of the Prophets, I have faith that time
will come soon--when I will be able to give myself, body and
soul, to him, without any reservations. End log entry."

"Pause," B'Elanna called out to the empty room. Ro's voice
ceased, yet the room still felt her presence. B'Elanna clumsily
pushed herself off the couch, where she'd been sitting, and
walked over to the viewport of their quarters. Tom's and her
quarters. She ordered the viewport to open and looked out into
the vastness of space.

From where their quarters were, B'Elanna knew, the Alpha
Quadrant was at the far right corner of the opening. The stars
that she knew--the stars that Tom and Ro had known--were in
that direction.

Emotions roiled within her, jealousy and anger were there, but
somehow, they were no longer paramount. She couldn't totally
exclude them, of course; she felt twinges of both. Overriding
them was pity. Pity for Ro Laren, who had seemed so strong to
B'Elanna, but who had harbored this terrible secret, so personal
that only one person had apparently ever been privy to it. Tom
Paris, Ro Laren's "only friend, for so many years," she'd said, if
B'Elanna remembered it right. Tom had been Ro's best friend
and lover--long before he'd been B'Elanna's husband--long
before he'd encouraged a half-Klingon who was deeply denying
her Klingon heritage to embrace it, because it was part of her.

B'Elanna had looked up to the Bajoran during the short time
they had been acquainted, before Ro left the Maquis after Tom
Paris had been captured. B'Elanna had been unable to
understand why Ro had been so upset by Tom's capture. She
knew they'd been lovers, of course--Seska had made sure to tell
B'Elanna that, too, just as she'd been so eager to tell Ro of
Tom's dalliances. At the time, she'd believed all that Seska had
said about Tom. When she'd seen Ro's heartbreak when the
Bajoran was packing to leave, B'Elanna hadn't thought Tom
was worth Ro's tears.

Now, of course, she knew how right Ro had been. He had been
worth every bit of Ro's anguished weeping. Seska had been the
one who had been wrong about Tom, assuming  she hadn't
deliberately misrepresented him. Now that she knew Seska had
actually been a Cardassian, B'Elanna couldn't be sure now. It
was so clear to B'Elanna now, just as it had been to Ro back
then, that Tom's sexual promiscuity had been the way he'd
coped with his loneliness, his way to block away his awareness
of all of those empty tomorrows that confronted him when his
future had been bleak and without direction.

B'Elanna remembered the shock she'd felt when she found out
her handsome Starfleet rescuer from the Ocampan tunnels and
Ro Laren's no-good boyfriend were one and the same person.
She'd even called him a pig to his face one night in Sandrine's,
right after he'd created the program during their first months on
*Voyager.* She'd taken such pleasure at the hurt look that
crossed his face when she'd hurled that epithet at him. Now,
the very thought of the pain she'd inflicted brought an ashamed
blush to her cheeks.

Her husband might have acted like a pig back then, but he
hadn't really been one. He'd had a relationship or two, but there
had been nothing callous about the way he'd treated his
partners on *Voyager.* Tom Paris may have wrapped himself
in a cloak of feigned indifference, mingled with equal parts of
sarcasm and hedonism, whenever he needed to defend himself
from the rest of the galaxy, but he'd never abandoned what
really mattered. He'd always been considerate, giving, caring.
All those qualities that Ro had related--B'Elanna had
discovered them, too. It may have taken her longer to see what
Ro had seen in him, but eventually, B'Elanna had seen it.

Sighing, B'Elanna considered again about the advisability of
continuing to listen to Ro's logs. This time, though, it only took
seconds for her to call out, "Resume." She would listen to Ro
Laren's logs to the bitter end. At least she already knew the
unhappy ending of their love affair. She'd been there.

---

"Mr. Paris? Are you listening to me?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, Doc."

"Are you certain B'Elanna was in satisfactory condition when
you left her this morning?"

"She said she was, but you know B'Elanna. She'll probably be
in labor for hours before admitting it."

The EMH arched his brow and looked askance at his assistant's
flippant remark but quickly reconsidered. Tom Paris knew his
wife very well. "I'd like to say you're wrong about that, Mr.
Paris, but you're probably quite right. Perhaps you should
check on her. It's almost 1300 hours. And, much as it pains me
to break the momentum of your medical studies, I believe you
are due a lunch break."

Tom smiled at the holographically produced physician.
"Thanks, Doc. I was beginning to wonder if you wanted to see
how long I could go without a meal before fainting from
hunger."

"Hrumph. Sometimes in the medical profession, one cannot
afford to stop dispensing treatments just because the
chronometer says it's mealtime. Since we have everything
under control here, however, I believe I can let you go for an
hour or so. Don't push it!"

Pointedly looking around Sickbay, totally empty except for the
EMH and his assistant, Tom agreed, "Yeah, we've been really
busy today, haven't we?"

"Go, Mr. Paris, before I change my mind."

"Gone, Doc. See you in an hour." Tom hustled out the door. If
he stopped by the mess hall to pick up something to bring back
to their quarters--assuming anything on the menu today was
edible--it would save rations for something they needed later.

---

". . . I finally talked Chakotay into giving Tom his first mission
today. He'll be coming along with me to pick up our refitted
trading vessel. I'm happy he'll be with me, but I'm sorry that
Chakotay still doesn't trust him. He still thinks Tom's a spy. He
said something about how Tom's 'cure' might be worse than my
'disease.'

"For somebody who knows what the Cardassians have done to
the settlers in the DMZ, Chakotay has a real blind spot about
what it was like for me to live on Bajor as a child. There's
almost an innocence about him. I'm surprised that Seska hasn't
filled him in more, but then, Seska and I aren't exactly the best
of buddies. I sometimes think she must have been a
collaborator during the Occupation who's joined us now to
make up for her lapse in judgment. The less I see of her, the
better.

"I've got to be careful about how I break this to Tom, though. I
wonder if I should tell him I told Chakotay I wanted him with
me because he was so good in bed, I didn't want to miss a
single night! He might laugh, or he might be offended that I put
it that way. Especially since I put it a lot more crudely than
that!

"We'll be leaving tomorrow morning . . . "

"Computer, halt! B'Elanna! What the hell are you doing?"

Her husband's voice startled her so much that B'Elanna
propelled herself off the sofa without a struggle for the first
time in over two months. "Tom . . ." she began, but the anger
suffusing his normally calm and benevolent face stunned her
into silence.

The tray he'd been carrying crashed onto the table vehemently.
"I asked you what the hell are you doing, prying into someone's
personal logs!"

The injustice of his remark prodded her into an angry outburst
of her own. "I'm not prying! I have express permission to listen
to these logs!"

"Permission! Don't lie to me, B'Elanna! How can Ro give you
permission to go into her logs when she's not here? Can't you
let the woman rest in peace?"

B'Elanna started to gasp out another angry retort, but caught
herself. Instead, with an icy coldness, she ordered, "Computer,
play the final section of Ro Laren's last official log, recorded
the day she left the Maquis--begin right after the long pause a
few minutes before the ending."

Tom opened his mouth to object, but the computer complied
with B'Elanna's command before he could emit a coherent
word. As soon as Ro's voice came over the speakers, Tom
moaned softly, but he didn't interrupt.

". . . I wish to let Chakotay, B'Elanna Torres, Lon Suder, and
Michael Jonas know there are more complete details about my
time on the *Zola* and with her crew to be found in my
personal logs. I authorize these four people, and also Vedek
Bareil Antos, Captain Jean-Luc Picard . . . and . . . and
Thomas Eugene Paris . . . if he ever gets the opportunity . . . . I
want you all to have access to my personal logs. Listen and
find out about my time with you here on  the *Zola* and . . .
and with Tom Paris. I know there will be lots of misinformation
about us, and I . . . I want all of you to know the truth. To
access these logs, state . . ."

The air of their quarters, ablaze with suppressed anger before
the voice of the Bajoran floated out of cyberspace, became
almost funereal by the time her voice had ceased. At the point
that Ro's voice broke after saying his name, Tom sank to the
sofa, his hands covering his eyes. For several seconds after the
words "End log entry" brought silence, B'Elanna watched her
husband as he sat motionless, as if he were still listening to the
voice that had ceased. Finally, Tom removed his hands and she
could see his expression. He was dry-eyed, but his features
were distorted with distress.

Although Tom was seldom speechless, he was now. When
B'Elanna finally spoke, her voice reverberated in the air loudly,
even though she deliberately pitched her voice low and as soft
as she could. "Tom, I didn't listen to anything I didn't have the
right to hear. You see? I just wanted to know a little about what
Ro might have said about you in her official logs, but there
wasn't much there. And I . . . I guess I needed to remember
those days in the Maquis, too . . . so many of them are gone,
now . . . " B'Elanna's voice broke as she was unable to keep her
composure. The faces of lost friends rose up in her mind's eye
again, and she was unable to continue.

Tom stood up and walked over to his wife, wrapping her up in
his arms as she sobbed into his shoulder. B'Elanna clutched
folds of his tunic top tightly in her fists, drawing comfort from
the solidity of his presence. When she could speak again, she
said, "I won't listen to it any more if it upsets you."

At that, Tom breathed out a solitary, sad chuckle as he wiped
the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "I don't seem to be
the only one who's upset."

She smiled a little and rested her cheek against his chest. The
heart beat resonating beneath her ear calmed her. "I know. I
just . . . I guess there's unfinished business between Ro and me.
I believed all of Seska's lies about you, even though Ro told me
you weren't like that. I was so stupid. And now . . . "

" . . . you've found out that Ro had very good taste in friends?"
he finished for her when B'Elanna's pause threatened to last an
uncomfortably long time.

"As a matter of fact, yes," she agreed. "She did. She had a
pretty good idea of who to trust and not to trust. Did I ever tell
you she warned me I shouldn't listen to Seska because she was
a snake who'd betray us someday?"

"Ouch! No! You're right, Ro really could see through people.
I'm glad she didn't give up on me on Malagra. You could have
called me a pig to my face there, B'Elanna, and it would have
been the absolute truth. I'd have had no defense at all." Wiping
the last of her tears away, his hands moved back to stroke her
hair. B'Elanna shuddered as she pulled herself back together
after her crying jag.

While still stroking her hair, Tom leaned back enough to study
her face. Not wanting to renew her distress, he carefully asked
her, "Are you sure it's a good idea for you to listen to these
now, B'Elanna? So soon after Chakotay's news from Sveda?"

"I don't really know, Tom. It's just something I have to do."
B'Elanna took his hands in hers and squeezed them tightly, not
knowing what more to say. His eyes looked haunted, and he
had trouble meeting her gaze. Finally she sighed again and
asked him, "So, you want to have some lunch now?"

Grimacing a smile, Tom shook his head. "I'm not hungry. I'll sit
down with you and keep you company. You should eat
something."

He was as good as his word, not that there were many of them
spoken during the meal. Tom's mind seemed far away most of
the time. While at first B'Elanna felt better just having him
near her while she ate, she became more melancholy as she
began to wonder just how much Tom still felt for the Bajoran
woman, as deeply affected as he seemed to be simply from
hearing her recorded voice. Several times she wanted to ask
him what he had felt for Ro, but the words died in her mouth.

She felt a little better when Tom got up to leave. After
arranging his body in the perfect position to avoid leaning too
heavily upon her baby-filled abdomen, he kissed his wife with
a passion and intensity that warmed her thoroughly.

As she began to clear the dishes into the recycler, however, his
next question chilled her again. "You're not going to listen to
the rest of them, are you?" There was no doubt what "them"
might be.

Sadly, she shrugged her shoulders. "I've heard most of them
now anyway, I think. I might as well see it to the end."

There was a long, very pregnant pause, which passed while
Tom wiped down the table for her while she finished disposing
of the dishes. At last, he inquired, "How far are you?"

"The one I was listening to when you came in is the last one
she dictated before you left Malagra to come to Delistor.
Remember, when you brought us the last of the parts to fix the
*tajtIq*?"

"How could I forget?" he responded grimly.

She looked back at him contritely. "I'm sorry, Tom. I just
meant . . . well, anyway, I think it's the last one. There weren't
any official logs after that until after you . . . I mean . . . "

He rescued her. "Yeah. That's how it would be. Anything
recorded after we left Malagra would have been in *The Eye's*
data banks and lost when I was captured."

"Tom, do you really want me to stop listening to them?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Ro gave you her blessing,
B'Elanna. It's up to you. If you think you can handle it okay,
then go ahead. I don't have the right to tell you to stop."

"She gave you permission to listen, too. She must have had a
reason, something she wanted you to hear . . ."

"Not me. Sorry. I already know what happened," Tom shook
his head, a shadow crossing his face. She looked away,
disappointed even though she could understand how he felt.
These memories were painful, even for her. It was too much to
expect him to share them with her, that was obvious. His arms
coming around her to hug her from the back interrupted her
ruminations. He murmured into her ear as his hands slipped
protectively over her stomach, "B'Elanna, listen if you must. I
don't want to hear what she said about me--especially if she
was as explicit as you get in your logs . . ."

"If you didn't eavesdrop on me, you wouldn't have to worry
about how explicit they are!" His gentle teasing raised her
spirits.

"Okay. I can take a hint. From now on I'll just roll over and
pretend I'm still asleep whenever you're recording your logs."

"Pretend is about right!" she snorted, caressing the beautiful
hands resting on her belly. She always felt so safe when his
arms were around her, from any angle. That it might not be a
comfort for some people to feel the arms of a lover around
them was terribly depressing. Was that how it had been for Ro,
because of the Cardassians? Turning, she took a deep breath to
ask him about it when she noticed a gleam of liquid glittering
in his eyes. She didn't bother to ask her question. Now was not
the time.

Catching up her hands in his, he kissed them and said, huskily,
"I'd better go. You know the Doc."

"Yeah, I know," she replied.

He gave her a brief kiss and was gone.

For several minutes, B'Elanna stood where she was, watching
the doorway and wishing he'd come back even as she churned
over the pros and cons of what to do. She couldn't help
wondering if she were making the right choice by continuing.
Clearly, Tom wanted to roll over and pretend that this didn't
happen, either. His relationship with Ro was a part of his past
that he wanted to keep buried along with so many other ghosts.
She understood; but in this, Tom's desires were diametrically
opposed to hers.

When she'd begun to explore the logs of the *Zola,*, she'd
merely been curious about Ro and Tom. Now, she was far
beyond simple curiosity. Somehow, the ill-fated love affair of
Tom and Ro had become a first-person account of loss,
connected in B'Elanna's mind to the death of her friends back
home and of the Maquis movement itself. A part of her wanted
to leave it all buried, too, but another part knew that she
couldn't let it go. She had to see it through to the bitter ending.
Not until she saw the story to the end would she be able to set
this behind her--and perhaps set behind the loss of so many
others she would never see again.

Recognizing and accepting that this was something she had to
do, B'Elanna settled herself in the corner of her sofa. Firmly,
she stated, "Computer, resume . . ."

---

Thanks to the Doctor's plea for "just a few more minutes of
your time, Mr. Paris," Tom didn't reach the door to their
quarters until almost 1800. Seeing the rooms in total darkness,
Tom slowed his step as he entered. //She must have already left
to go to the mess hall,// he thought. When he called for 50%
illumination, however, he sensed someone in the main seating
area. He bit the command back at the opening word and stood
just inside the doorway, giving his eyes a chance to adjust to
the dimness. In the faint light given off by stars sliding by the
open viewport, he could just barely see her.

She was sitting at the end of the sofa, her head cradled in her
right hand, elbow propped on the arm of the sofa, feet curled
up beneath her. He wondered if she might have fallen asleep
sitting up, the way he'd found her a few months ago. That time,
only her even breathing let him know she had passed out from
pregnancy-induced fatigue. Not this time, though. As he moved
further into the room, her head swung around in his direction.

"Hey," he called out softly.

"Hey," she answered, her voice equally subdued.

"Lights, 25%," he said as he approached her. "Why were you
here in the dark, B'Elanna?"

"It suits my mood."

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. Sitting down beside his
wife, he put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close
to him. Despite the low light, he could see just how red her
eyes were. B'Elanna didn't cry often, but when she did, she did
a good job of it. "You want to tell me about it?"

"I didn't think you wanted to hear anything from Ro's logs."

"I don't," he said honestly. "If they made you this upset, I know
I'd rather skip them."

"Oh, it's not just hearing the logs, Tom. It's all the memories
coming back to me while I'm listening to them. I keep seeing
them all the way they were the last time I saw them, alive,
vital. And then I envision them lying dead, their bodies
scattered around in some lonely cavern. Or I think of them
blown to atoms floating in space somewhere . . ."

As B'Elanna broke down and sobbed into his shoulder, he
rubbed her back and murmured, "It's okay. I'm here." She
relaxed gratefully into his arms and let out the pent up
emotions of the past few hours as he wordlessly comforted her
with his presence.

A few minutes later, after the tears had stopped, he casually
suggested, "Interested in a trip to the mess hall for some
dinner, Chief? I understand Neelix has agreed to cook at least
one edible thing for every meal each night."

"Edible to you, maybe," she mumbled, struggling to smile.

"I'm sure he'll have just the right thing for a woman in a
delicate condition. And if not, I'll con him into replicating the
right thing for you. I have it on good authority there'll be only
good company there tonight."

"The Borg's on duty?" she asked suspiciously.

"Better yet. The Doc ordered her to go into her regeneration
chamber early tonight and stay there for an extra four hours,
minimum. She needs to make up for the time she missed while
she was held captive by the Hirogen. So, it'll be just Harry and
us. He said he'd hold the table until 1830. If we hurry, we can
still catch him."

"All right. Let me splash some cold water on my eyes first.
Some Klingon I am, the way I cry all the time."

Tom smiled encouragingly at her. Helping her up from her
awkward position on the sofa, he walked her out of their sitting
area and up to the doorway of their bathroom. In seconds, the
sound of splashing water floated out of their sanitary cubicle.

Tom was not there to hear it. He had moved over to the
viewport to gaze out into the darkness, his eyes focused on
infinity.

---

"I'd just about given up on the two of you. I was going to
leave," Harry Kim said as they walked over, trays in hand.
"Maqu . . . B'Elanna. You're looking great."

"Mama B'Elanna does look smashing tonight, doesn't she?"
Tom agreed.

Flashing a grateful smile to Tom for helping him cover up his
careless, stumbling faux pas, Harry pulled out a chair and
helped B'Elanna sit down. Calling her by his pet name for her
today could only have caused her pain, but it had almost
slipped out anyway, from sheer habit. "You know, you look
like that baby is going to pop out any second now."

"I hope so. Then I can get back to engineering," she said
sharply. "Are you keeping Carey and Nicoletti in line down
there, Harry?"

"I'm doing my best. You know how rowdy they can get."

"Carey? Nicoletti? Rowdy???" B'Elanna sputtered a laugh.

"Seriously--Carey and Nicoletti really *are* taking very good
care of your warp core. Don't worry about a thing," Harry
assured. "Although they did say I should ask you about a slight
phase variance in the plasma injectors they've picked up, if I
saw you . . ."

Her spirits seemed to revive as they talked shop for the next
hour. A few times they skated close to thin ice. It wasn't
because of anything that was said by the three of them,  But
several times, the subject of the messages was discussed loudly
enough for them to hear it at nearby tables.

When the conversation behind them between Ensign Golwat
and Chell turned to the contents of her message from home,
Harry realized that Tom was trying to stay away from the
subject when he began to speak more heartily, as if to obscure
what was being said at the other table. When Tabor and
Gerron, two of the Bajorans on board, toasted "Lost friends,
lost heroes" in bold voices a few minutes later, Harry saw Tom
flick his eyes towards his wife to gauge her reaction. There was
a sudden intake of breath and a pause in her lecture to Harry
about the proper way to align the magnetic constrictors, but she
picked up the thread of her instruction again almost
immediately. Harry caught on and did his part, responding
earnestly and pulling her along in technical directions, safely
away from the dangerous, emotional ones.

By the time they were all enjoying the fruit Harry
recommended by taking another piece himself and mumbling,
"I'm really full, but they're so good," Harry was feeling
confident that the worst was over. The mess hall was emptying,
and the few who were left were sitting quite far away from
them.

And then she said it.

"So, Harry. Did you tell Tom what yours said?"

"Pardon, B'Elanna?" he responded, slightly flustered.

"Don't give us that, Harry. You know what I was asking you.
Did you share your message from home with Tom?"

Harry shot a look of despair in Tom's direction. "No, I . . . I
didn't."

"Why not? Wasn't it good news?"

"I didn't think he'd want to know, B'Elanna, since his got lost."

B'Elanna turned to Tom, who was looking very determinedly at
a spot on the edge of the table. "Do you mind talking about
this, Tom? It's been just about the only topic of conversation
anyone has talked about in here all night."

"I don't know what . . . " Harry's attempt at lying didn't even
make it to the end of the sentence.

"Yes, you do, Harry," she insisted.

Reluctantly, Harry acquiesced. "It was from my parents. You
know that. You're the one that downloaded it. They were
delighted to find out that they were right to be stubborn when
they insisted their only son wasn't dead, even after they got
official word I was from Starfleet."

"That's wonderful, Harry. They're well, then?" Tom said
quickly.

"Oh, yeah. They're great. Nothing much else, really. Some
news about some people I know. Nothing special."

"I'll bet it was special to you, though," B'Elanna persisted.

"Sure, but . . . B'Elanna, I've been trying not to burden Tom--or
you--with my good news. It doesn't seem fair to gloat when
yours . . . wasn't so good."

She hesitated a moment before saying, "Because I'm happy for
you, Harry. I'm glad you heard from your parents. It's good to
know that *someone* got good news!"

"Well, I did, B'Elanna. I'm . . . I'm sorry that it didn't work out
for the two of you to get any messages."

"Hey, you know, it's really getting late. I think we should head
out. What do you say, B'Elanna?" Tom began to consolidate his
dirty dishes and B'Elanna's onto a single tray.

"Tom, sit down. I'm not going to start to cry again, or anything.
Harry, really, I didn't expect to get any messages from home, so
it didn't really bother me. Tom, stop looking at me like that. It
really *didn't* bother me!"

Clearing her throat, B'Elanna said to Harry, who felt and
looked stricken, "I really don't mind about not getting a letter.
Chakotay's news upset me enough. I admit that. That's why
Tom's hovering over me like a mother hen."

"I'm sorry about what happened," Harry offered.

She dipped her head to acknowledge her friend's condolences.
"It got me thinking about some of my friends and what
happened, and I, uh, I listened to some of the Maquis logs that
are in *Voyager's* database today. And . . . I kind of look at
that as my own 'letter from home.' So, I got a little . . .
emotional . . . this afternoon."

Tom's rolling eyes were a very broad hint that B'Elanna had
been more than a "little upset," but Harry knew better than to
push the issue. "I see. Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes, having dinner with you two helped a lot."

"Always glad to be of service," Harry said sincerely. "But I
think maybe I really should go now. I've got to be on the bridge
early tomorrow. See you on the bridge tomorrow, Tom?"

"Oh, yeah. The Doc had me all to himself today. I can't wait to
get my hands on the helm controls again!"

"See you tomorrow, then. Good night, B'Elanna." Harry picked
up his tray and retreated to the recycler, feeling as guilty for
leaving Tom in the lurch as he did happy to be leaving
B'Elanna in his care. //Tom can handle it,// Harry rationalized.
//I only wish Kes were still around to help us through all this.
She always knew the right thing to say.// The happiness Harry
felt over hearing from his parents was obscured by the flood of
misery washing over him at the memory of his lost love.

---

After they'd said their good-byes to Harry, Tom turned to
B'Elanna and whispered, "I think we should probably get home,
too."

"Sure . . . Tom?"

"Yes?" he drawled as they walked out into the corridor.

"Tom, you do have a 'message from home.' From Ro. She left a
message for you."

He took a slight misstep, then shrugged his shoulders. "I
thought she might, the way that 'permission' message went."

"You should listen to what she has to say," B'Elanna insisted.

"I'll think about it," he said, in the tone he used when he had no
intention of doing any such thing.

"Fine. Be that way!" she exploded, storming down the corridor.

It was amazing how fast B'Elanna could still move, despite the
fact that she was walking for two. At first Tom was simply
going to let her go, but when she almost knocked Tuvok over
and did bump solidly into Larson, who was doing his best to
jump out of her way, Tom couldn't hold himself back. He
called out, "B'Elanna! Wait!" and ran after her to stop her
before she had a chance to damage herself or anyone else.

He caught up to her just before she was going to step into the
turbolift. "Let go of me or I'll break something!" she grunted
between clenched teeth.

"Probably your own head, the way you just went crashing down
the corridor!"

"Fine. I won't run any more." She twisted her face away, but
not before he saw, beneath her seething anger, a hint of a much
graver emotion.

"B'Elanna, I don't get it. Why can't you leave this alone? Ro's
message to me is almost four years old. Ancient history.
Sometimes it's better just to leave the past in the past." Tom
smiled at B'Elanna he what he hoped she would interpret as a
conciliatory manner.

"Afraid what your reaction will be?" B'Elanna snapped.

"Afraid of my reaction? What are you talking about?"

B'Elanna tore away from his hold and stomped into the
turbolift. She barked out "Deck 9" so quickly, the door almost
closed on Tom's foot as he leaped inside.

"Halt, Turbolift! B'Elanna, what's going on?" he demanded; but
just as suddenly, he called her name and softly touched her
cheeks, where rivulets of tears had appeared.

She put her hands up as if to ward away his touch. Relenting,
she grabbed him by the wrists, saying, with a catch in her
voice, "I just . . . I wonder if you don't want to listen to her
voice because . . . you wish she was here with you instead of
me."

"B'Elanna! How can you possibly believe that? I love you!
Don't you know that yet?"

"You don't say it very often."

Breathing out a heavy puff of air in reluctant agreement, Tom
studied her face and saw the anguish, plain to see now that her
defensive anger had begun to fade. Grabbing his wife's chin, he
forced her to look into his eyes as deeply as his gaze was
boring into hers. "You're right. I'm not great about saying the
words; I know that. But I thought you could tell how much you
mean to me anyway, from what I do, not what I say."

"I do, I guess. I just . . . I don't feel very . . . I don't know how
to
put this, Tom!"

He pulled her into his arms again as the thought crossed his
mind that in the past 24 hours he'd had to hug away more tears
from B'Elanna Torres than in all the other years he'd known her
put together. Now was not the time to verbalize that, however;
even he could see that. Instead, he shushed her, saying, "It's
okay. You want to hear it, and I want to say it. I don't know
why I have such trouble doing it!"

"Then say it, Tom."

"B'Elanna, I love you. You are the most beautiful woman I
have *ever* seen, especially now."

"Oh, please! I'm as big as a space station."

"Beautiful, B'Elanna. Absolutely beautiful." He kissed her
tenderly on the lips, then backed away from her to see her face
more clearly. Her color was high, more from her emotional
state than from pregnancy, although that contributed to her
flushed skin tones. Her eyes shone with residual tears. She was
never more his wild, passionate Klingon beauty than she was at
that moment. It struck him that even though his words had
sprung from the desire to placate her, what he'd said was the
literal truth. B'Elanna Torres truly was the most gorgeous
woman he'd ever known.

"Hey? Is there a problem in there?" The banging of the turbolift
door reminded them both of where they were.

"No, Ashmore. Nothing's wrong," Tom called out. Jumping
next to B'Elanna, he ordered the lift door to open. He didn't
know what Ashmore might have thought upon entering, but
since the ride to their deck was only a few seconds long, no
actual conversation was necessary. They exited the turbolift
with barely a word. Slowly, they walked to their cabin, with
Tom's arm protectively circling B'Elanna's shoulders.

After their own door closed behind them, Tom said carefully,
"You know, I've never been much for saying it to anyone."

"I know. Ro said so in her logs," she said, drawing a quick
chuckle from Tom. Biting her lip, she went on, "Tom? When
Janeway got you out of Auckland? Why did you agree to go
looking for us? Was it just to get out of prison, or did you have
. . . another motive?"

Tom's eyes shifted away from hers for a split second in a
solemn contemplation of their ceiling, but then he sighed and
admitted, "It was *mainly* just to get out of prison. But it
wasn't only that." Pulling her by the hand into the seating area,
he sat her down on the couch and took his place in a chair in
front of her, leaning towards her with his hands clasped before
him. "Hell, I never expected to find you anyway, but if I did . .
."

". . . you were going to try to get away from Janeway so you
could run away with Ro?" she completed for him abruptly.

"No, I was going to try to find a way for all of you to escape
again, if I could."

"You didn't want to find Ro?"

"I wanted to find out what had happened to her--sure I did. She
was my friend."

"You loved her."

"I . . . in a way, yes."

"Come on, Tom. It's obvious you loved her."

"I loved her in a different way than I love you, B'Elanna. I don't
know how to explain it to you. Somehow, when we finally got
together, it was so . . . so right. Like I'd been looking for you all
along, but just didn't know how to find you. Even when I did
find you, you didn't exactly make it easy for me!"

"I guess I didn't. You don't pick the easy ones, do you, Tom?"

He chuckled painfully. "No, I don't seem to. Just the ones that
are full of fire and spirit and are a helluva lot smarter than me."
He got up and sat down beside her so that he could trace her
forehead ridges gently with this thumbs as he spoke. "Just the
really exotic ones with a warm, vulnerable side they hate to
show to anybody."

B'Elanna didn't respond verbally. Her dark eyes gazing
trustingly into Tom's. He smiled back at her and confided,
"You know, that last morning Ro and I were to . . . well, the
last time we saw each other, she told me that she'd better keep
me away from her Klingon engineer, because she knew how
much I loved 'fancy' foreheads. When I saw you in the tunnels
on Ocampa, I knew right away she'd been talking about you.
Maybe she had some kind of Bajoran vision of us together, or
something."

"Maybe she knew what a pig you could be." The anger and
bitterness in her voice had seeped away despite her sharp
words, replaced by a hint of the playful quality that he loved so
much.

"Oh, yeah. She knew that. Didn't she say so in her logs?"

"She certainly did." B'Elanna stroked Tom's face. "You should
listen to them."

"B'Elanna . . . I know you're right. I should, especially if she
left an actual message for me." He sighed. "It's just that
everybody's emotions have been stripped absolutely raw the
past few days. So much has happened: the Hirogen almost
killed Tuvok and Seven; the array got destroyed, so we lost our
chance to stay in touch with home; we got the word about the
Maquis; and we heard more about the war with the Cardassians
and this Dominion--all of that, plus I *almost* get a message
from my father but lose it just when I've decided I might
actually *want* to hear what he has to say. Maybe some day I'll
listen to Ro's message, but I don't know if I can take it now."

"What she has to say is important, Tom."

"You aren't going to let this die, are you?"

"No. I'm not."

Tom grimaced as he tried to think of a way to delay her by
saying he'd still think about it, but the intensity in her eyes and
voice stunned him to silence. There must be something in that
message that B'Elanna needed him to hear, yet sitting calmly
here in their quarters on *Voyager* and listening to an almost
undoubtedly dead Ro Laren's voice was more than he could
bear thinking about.

"I want to, but . . ."

"Don't worry, Tom," B'Elanna assured him. "There isn't
anything embarrassing in them. No big, nasty secrets about
you."

"That's a relief--I think."

That broke them both up and they laughed together, but the
light moment didn't last. B'Elanna suddenly gripped his hands
more tightly in hers. "There were some nasty secrets, though.
Just not about you. It was really . . . pretty harrowing. I always
thought I had it rough, growing up on Kessik, with my mother
and me the only Klingons there. But after hearing what
happened to Ro . . . what happened to me was a picnic. I knew
she must have gone through hard times on Bajor as a child, but
it never occurred to me that she'd been raped by the
Cardassians."

Tom sighed deeply. "To call it rape isn't nearly enough,
B'Elanna. Torturing a little kid is more accurate."

"It's horrible."

"I don't know how she survived it, but she did."

"You seemed to have helped her."

Tom shook his head, his gaze fastened far away now. "Not as
much as being Bajoran did. When she had nothing else at all--
no family, no future--her faith and traditions seemed to sustain
her, even when she didn't realize it."

"Is that why you've been so adamant about me accepting my
Klingon side?"

He turned back to B'Elanna. "Partly. I've seen how important
your Klingon side is to who you are, too. You need it to
survive, just as much as you need your human side."

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

"You need to accept something, too. Your past. You'll never
really put it behind you until you do."

He gazed at her steadily, his bland mask hiding the barrage of
emotions her words had churned up in his heart. B'Elanna was
not always the most perceptive woman alive, but she had her
moments. Much as he wanted to deny it, she was probably
right. As the seconds stretched into minutes, he finally said,
"You want to listen with me?"

"I . . . I've already heard it, Tom. If you don't mind, I'd like to
get ready for bed. But I will be here for you. Is that okay?"

"Okay, Chief. But just where is this personal message, anyway?
I'm not in the mood to wade through all her logs. I know most
of it already. I lived it."

"It's the last personal log entry. Stardate 48004, I think it was."

He helped her get herself up from the couch and watched as
she waddled into the bathroom. As fast as she'd been before
when she was running away from him, now B'Elanna moved
slowly and laboriously. The baby seemed to have shifted lower
in the few minutes that they'd been speaking together. It
wouldn't be long, now, before he was a father.  //There you go
again, distracting yourself. Paris, you know damn well what
the problem really is. Let's get it over with so B'Elanna can get
this out of her system before the baby comes.//

He seated himself forward so that his hands were clasped in
front of him while his arms rested on the top of his wide-
spaced thighs. When he was as ready as he felt he could be, he
announced, "Computer, acknowledge this is Thomas Paris.
Confirmed?"

::::Confirmed.:::

"Open personal log of Ro Laren, with the authorization of the
creator, formerly Lieutenant Ro Laren, U.S.S. Enterprise. Is my
right to access this log confirmed?"

::::Access confirmed.::::

"There goes my last chance to get out of it," Tom muttered.
Gripping his hands until the knuckles went white, he said more
loudly, "Play the final personal log entry of Ro Laren, Stardate
48004, in its entirety."

::::Personal Log, Ro Laren, Stardate 48004.1.

"We're only a couple of hours from the hideout, but I'll do the
best I can to fill in the gap. I've lost the last couple of days'
logs along with 'The Eye of the Prophet.' Along with Tom.

"I want to believe I'll see him again someday, but in my heart, I
know I won't. Or if, by some miracle of the Prophets I do, it
won't be the same. I don't know why I know that so surely, but I
do. This is it. I love him dearly, but I will never get a chance to
say it to him again . . . I'll never get a chance to hear him say it
to me. He never did say it to me, even though I believe he does
care, deeply. How could he not care for me? He just sacrificed
his future so that I could escape with my life.

"Jonas had the nerve to say that Tom was a plant sent to
betray us, and that he'd be waiting at the rendezvous point with
a bunch of Starfleet ships at his back. Well, Tom wasn't there,
and we all know that *The Eye* is such a fast ship, if he'd
wanted to get there to set a trap for us, they'd have had us.
There was no one there, and we didn't dare wait for him for
more than a few minutes past our set departure time.

"We did a long-range sensor sweep, and there's definitely a lot
of 'Fleet activity around Delistor. Some scout ship supposedly
fired on the *U.S.S. Powell* in the outer reaches of the
Delistor system. The Cardassians even sent a ship to
investigate. The commercial shippers are flashing the news to
everyone within subspace transmission range. That's where all
our information is coming from. The Starfleet channels are
crackling like crazy, but all those messages are encrypted. I
don't have access to Starfleet codes any more, but I don't need
them. I know who was in that scout ship. Prophets preserve
him, because if Tom did fire on a Starfleet vessel, he's in even
deeper trouble than I thought he'd be when he asked me to let
him pull this crazy stunt so we could get away.

"It all seemed to be going so well. We got to Delistor with the
parts without any trouble. It was a wonderful trip with Tom
there with me. I made contact with our people, and we were
able to finish it all up in only 48 hours. Tom didn't ask any
untoward questions. He knew he needed to complete this
mission without any slip-ups  for Chakotay to have any chance
of trusting him in the future. He even served meals at the soup
kitchen! He acted the part of the perfect Supplicant.

"And then, just as we were getting the ship ready to go, he
made contact with Suder. He must have seen him that first
night we came in, when we had dinner at the Point. 'Get the
vedek. The 'Fleet is in.' Suder was furious. Said it was a trap.
By the Prophets, it certainly was, but it wasn't set by Tom!
 
"He asked me to give him my vedek robes, so he could enlist a
decoy. I don't even want to think about who he could have
gotten to do that, or what he said to convince her to do it. I
assume it was a her, with my robes. When I think of the kinds
of women who hang around that part of the Port . . .

"Anyway. He said good-bye to me. He didn't say he loved me--
he's never said that--but I know he does care for me, deeply. I
didn't want to let him go. By all that's holy, I wanted to stay
with him, even if it meant I was going to be captured, but Tom
was right. I do know things about the Maquis that Starfleet
could get out of me, and Tom hardly knows anything. How's
that for irony? Chakotay's distrust of Tom made him the
perfect fall guy. And when I made contact with Chakotay just
now to warn him that we had to get all our operations off
Malagra, he just had to tell me again that Tom was a spy!
Forget that he doesn't know anything worth knowing--that he
helped us get away clean. No, he's going to lead Starfleet into
Malagra to capture us. Our having a headstart on getting
away, thanks to Tom, doesn't mean anything, does it?!

"Chakotay didn't want to listen to me when I told him what
Tom had said--he'd never be able to give any of the dead from
Caldik Prime their lives back, so he wanted to do this for us.
To give me, and Suder, and those he'd never even met--
B'Elanna and Jonas--their lives, too. I could hear Seska in the
background, laughing, when I was telling Chakotay that. I
wish I could wring that woman's neck, not that it would do any
good. Until Chakotay gets out of that woman's spell, he'll
never trust Tom--or me.

"One thing I've decided, now that I've had a chance to absorb
all this. I can't stay in the Maquis. I couldn't stay in Starfleet
because of what they were doing to the Maquis, and I can't
stay in the Maquis because of what's happened to Tom. If they
can't trust me, I can't trust them. As long as I'm around, if
anything goes wrong, someone will say it's because of me. I
can't live my life this way any more. I've lived too long without
being trusted. No more. No more.

"I guess I've *really* screwed up my life this time. I have no
idea where to go--except, maybe, to go home.

"I haven't stepped foot onto Bajor since the Occupation ended.
I wanted to go home someday, but the thought of going there,
after being raped all those times by the Cardassians . . . there
were just too many bad memories there for me. But when I was
so troubled about what to do during the undercover mission
and confided in Vedek Bareil who I really was, he told me he
had a place to shelter me there until I could decide my true
path. That's the best thing I can hope for, now. The future is so
. . . so cloudy now. So dark. I need the help of  the Prophets.
I'm sure not doing so good on my own.

"Torres, at least, didn't accuse me of harboring a spy, although
when Seska gets her back in her sphere of influence, that could
change. In the amount of time I've got left, I can't possibly
explain all that needs to be said about Tom and me to
Chakotay and the others. Maybe the best thing I can do is
simply open my logs to them, so they can know what we were
really about. What I was really about. No, I wasn't a spy. I
really defected! And when I did, I betrayed the trust of the one
man who believed in me when no one else did. And Tom wasn't
a spy, either! I will believe that to my dying day.

"I'm going to do it. I'm going to leave the Maquis, but I'll let
Chakotay, B'Elanna, Suder, and Jonas have the right to listen
to these personal logs of mine after I'm gone, so . . .

"In the Name of the Prophets, why should I stop there? Who
knows what's going to happen to us all? Starfleet may get us
anyway, or even the Cardassians. Maybe long after all this is
over, after I'm long dead, it wouldn't be so bad for people to
know about Ro Laren, the Starfleet traitor, the one who could
only stick it out for a few months in the Maquis because
everyone thought she would betray them someday. Ro Laren,
historical footnote.

"Okay. B'Elanna Torres, Lon Suder, Michael Jonas and
Chakotay--if any of you are listening to this, then something
must have happened and you needed to find out the truth about
me. So here it is. I swear by the Celestial Temple and all that is
and ever will be that what is contained in these logs is the
truth. I'm not saying it's the whole truth--that it's everything I
know--if I'd known I'd been making these logs for anything
other than my own use, I'd have made sure I was a lot more
complete! But whatever you heard me say here, I swear, is true
to the best of my knowledge. If you know I'm dead, then feel
free to let anyone in the galaxy listen in. I'll be beyond caring.

"And . . . and there are three others that should hear these, if
you can get them to hear them, so they can know what's been
on my mind.

"Vedek Bareil Antos, I want you to know who it was that you
offered to help. I'm on my way to take you up on the offer. I
hope I made it, and that you did help me. It meant a lot to me
that you were even willing to help me. I think you must be one
of the best man that ever lived on Bajor, and it's criminal you
didn't become Kai instead of that hypocrite Winn. And if I
didn't make it to you, then thanks for the offer anyway. I'm
grateful. Here I am, warts and all.

"Captain Jean-Luc Picard . . . I . . . uh . . . I'm sorry. I just . .
.
That's all I can say. I'm sorry. I never meant to betray your trust
in me, but I . . . I just couldn't betray these people. You believed
in me when no one else did. For all my days, I will be grateful for
that. You helped me believe in me again, and without that,
I would have been truly lost, no matter what else I ever did in
this life. I'm not sure that you're really all that happy about the
Federation policies towards the Maquis, either, but I
understand--really, I do--that above all else, you are bound by
your word as a Starfleet officer. I'm sorry I let you down,
but I had to. You see, the other thing you gave me back was
my conscience, and with that in place, I just couldn't do what
you sent me to do. I should have turned down that mission.
It's my tragedy that I accepted it--even though I guess
maybe the Maquis wouldn't see it that way. Captain, the only
other thing I can say is that when I defected, I felt just like I
did when my . . . when my father was killed in front of my eyes
when I was little . . . except it was me that held the knife this
time. And this time, I understood right from the beginning what
was being done for me, and that I let you down. I'm sorry,
Captain. I truly am.

"And finally, Tom. Thomas Eugene Paris. You are a good man,
better than you let others see. I'm so glad you let me past that
mask of yours to let me see into your heart.

"If you ever get to hear this, I want you to know that I love you.
I will always love you. I will keep you in my heart always--but
there's one thing I have to tell you. Something always
whispered in my mind and in my heart that we weren't going to
be forever. Maybe it was the crazy situation we were in. Being
a rebel isn't exactly a prescription for long life, is it?
Somehow, as deeply as I fell in love with you, I knew this day
would come--that I'd have to say good-bye to you.

"And I am saying good-bye, Tom. If we meet again someday--
and much as I'd love to believe that will happen, I don't really
think it's going to--if we meet again, it won't be the same. Even
when you were taking my robes away and saying good-bye to
me at the Point, that you'd get away and meet up with us, I
knew this was it. Chakotay warned me that you would break
my heart, and I guess that's true--but you didn't break it the
way he thought you would. You left me, but you did it to save
all of us. I know it, even if he's too blinded by Seska's hatred of
you to know it yet. Maybe someday he'll know how wrong he
was. I hope so.

"I have something else to thank you for, too. You gave me the
gift of yourself, and I will always remember that. I hope you
realize how special you really are--when you let yourself be.
You know, you can be such a jerk sometimes--such a pig! But
underneath it all, you have the biggest, softest heart I've ever
seen--and one of the bravest. You stuck your neck out with your
father and all the Academy brass all those years ago for a
bitter and lonely Bajoran cadet who was rude to you. It would
have been so much easier to let her be, but you wouldn't do
that. You were my friend and never once laid a hand on me
back then, when I couldn't have taken it. You always protected
me once you knew what had happened to me on Bajor. You
even encouraged me to find a woman if I couldn't bring myself
to be happy with a man, thanks to what Cardassian men did to
me. You were . . . considerate, always. You were never friends
with me for what was in it for you, but because you cared
about me. I know a lot of people wouldn't believe that of you,
but I know it's true.

"And then, when we met again in the Maquis, you helped me
discover all the joys a man and a woman can share when they
join together in love. You brought me back to the way of the
Prophets, you know that? I can Honor the Prophets now--I can
perform the act which creates a new life, thanks to you. I
thought I would never be able to hold a child of my own in my
arms because I couldn't . . . I couldn't Honor the Prophets.
Now I can. If they smile on me, maybe someday I will have a
child. And you know what? If I ever have a son, his name is
going to be Tom.

"So this is it. I hope you find someone to share your life with
someday, because you aren't a man who should be wasting it
flitting from female to female. It's not really the way your heart
works. You need to give it to one person--who will be the
luckiest woman in the galaxy, by the way--and let her give all
her love back to you in return. I hope you can think of me with
charity in your heart sometimes, as I always will think of you,
but don't hold onto my memory. Find the one you are meant to
be with and . . . love her. I free you from any hold I may have
on your heart . . . just as I'm freeing you from mine with these
words . . . I . . . Oh, Tom! May all the blessings of the Prophets
fall to you and to those you love . . . because you deserve it!

"End log entry . . . "

The sounds of Ro's gasping breaths at the end of her message
that marked her efforts to hold herself together died away.
Tom's hands had completely covered his face almost from the
first words she'd said. As silence filled the room again, he
slowly slid them away to reveal his reddened eyes. He looked
up at B'Elanna, who was leaning her back against the wall by
the viewport, facing out to the stars. She turned her face back
towards him, and he saw that it was again gleaming with her
tears. He wanted to say something--he had to say something--
but he couldn't find his voice.

He let his eyes speak for him, and fortunately, she was able to
answer his unspoken question by rushing over to him. Standing
before him, she wrapped him up in her arms. He curved
himself over the swollen belly where their child still lived and
rested his head between B'Elanna's very full breasts, with his arms
thrown around her. They stayed in that position for several minutes,
until Tom finally lifted his head and whispered, with as much
of a smile as he could muster, "I guess I can tell why it was
important for you to have me hear that now."

At another time, she might have swatted him for insolence, but
not this time. The pain so palpable in his voice eliminated the
possibility of any meanings other than the one on the surface.
"Yes, Tom, I guess you can. I'm sorry I put you through it. It
was selfish of me, but, I just . . . right now I needed you to hear
it."

"Yeah. It's okay, B'Elanna." He was looking up into her eyes,
but his right hand was caressing her belly where their daughter
was undulating beneath B'Elanna's skin, almost ready to burst
into independent life. "She's pretty active tonight, isn't she?"

"Must be all this crying. Whenever I breath deep, she gets that
way." She moved his hand down to where the baby was kicking
particularly energetically, anticipating the smile that it would
bring to his face. She was not disappointed. "Tom . . . do you
want to change the name we picked for her? I mean, after
hearing what Ro said . . ."

"No, I like the name we picked. Maybe next time."

"Next time? You think there's even going to *be* a next time?"
she snorted in disbelief.

He chuckled and pulled her down to sit in his lap, stretching
his arms around her. It was a good thing he had long arms; they
barely reached around her. "I can talk you into it. You just
watch."

She laughed back at him and laid her head against his. "You
probably can. Let's give it a while before you do, though, okay?

"I'll try to hold myself back."

She was quiet for a few minutes, relaxing into his hold and
gaining as much strength from him as she was giving to him.
At last she said, as a statement, not a question, "You really
loved her."

"She was my friend and my lover. I'm not going to lie to you,
B'Elanna. It's just like what she said about Picard and her. She
believed in me when no one else did, when everyone else hated
me for what I'd done, before they even met me. It was hard.
Everyone thought that I was a murderer--me, included. I knew
damn well that I was a liar who blamed the dead for what I'd
done myself. When I met up with Ro again, I was busy
drinking myself into an early grave and having sex with women
I didn't give a damn about because, for a few minutes, it let me
forget who I was. A damned failure. And she wouldn't let me
keep doing that. She told me . . . she showed me I was
somebody who was still worth something. Worth loving."

"She was right."

"She was right about something else, too. You have to be able
to believe in yourself before you can really believe in anything
else again. She helped me remember that, too."

"I'm glad she did." They hugged each other tightly, and then
B'Elanna asked, "Did you really fire on Starfleet?"

"You know, I have no idea. It was such a blur when it was
happening. I know I didn't do it deliberately!"

"How can you not know?"

"Well, you see, when I found my decoy to put on Ro's robes, I
thought she looked a little familiar. And I found out later that
she knew me, but she figured I was just one of her Johns or
something. She was a prostitute, and I promised her this great
time in Zero-G. Anything, to get her to put those robes on so
that the Starfleet undercover guys would follow us and not Ro
or the rest of you. After we got up there, I was sabotaging all
the systems--propulsion, navigation, all the logs, especially--
and I thought I got the weapons system, too. Maybe there was
some residual energy in them, I don't know now. Anyway,
when this woman finally recognized me, she blew up because
*I'd* cheated *her* by drinking up her money when I had
nothing for her to steal from me! It was the very same
prostitute that attacked me the night Ro found me in the gutter
on Delistor."

"Oh, please! You didn't know her?"

"I was pretty drunk when I met her. And she'd been drinking,
too, I'm pretty sure. Ro said she had an accomplice, so I guess
it wasn't the first time she'd done that sort of thing. I don't
remember much of that night at all, to tell you the truth. All I
know is what I figured out later and what Ro told me. So, on
*The Eye,* when she recognized me, this woman threw herself
at me. I shut off the gravity and she literally flew into the
control panel. She could have discharged a phaser blast then, I
guess. Considering how angry she was with me, I don't think
getting captured by the *Powell* was necessarily the worst
thing that ever happened to me. The officers may have hated
me, but I was really glad to get away from . . . Dorinda, or
something. I can't remember her name now."

"So you were charged with treason--and firing on a Starfleet
vessel."

"Yeah. But they were after Ro, not me. I was right about that;
they weren't very happy when they got me instead of her. I
couldn't tell them much, and the little I did know--about where
the hideout was--I held back as long as I could, to give you the
best chance of getting away and staying free."

"And we did." She kissed him tenderly in thanks.

"B'Elanna? There's one other thing I learned on the *Powell.*
Ro and I were betrayed by a Federation spy, but there was a
Cardassian spy, too. It's not hard to figure out who the
Cardassian spy was . . . "

"Seska, of course."

"Right. But the Federation spy? That was before Tuvok came,
I'm pretty sure. I don't remember seeing him . . ."

"You're right. He didn't come until much later. It was Sela."

"Sela? The innocent orphan?"

"It must have been. The leaks stopped when we left Malagra,
and she was the only one besides Ro who didn't come with us.
For a while, Seska said it proved that Ro was the leak, but
Chakotay never believed it. The leaks had started before Ro
got there--and Seska and Sela were both there before she came.
Seska must have stopped passing information on to the
Cardassians for while to throw suspicion on Ro. We were
really successful for a time after we left Malagra. And then
Tuvok came, but the Caretaker got us before Tuvok had a
chance to do much damage."

"That all fits." Tom silently contemplated what she'd told him,
but finally he asked what he had always been reluctant to ask
anyone before. "So, do you know where Ro went?"

"She took a freighter to Bajor, that's all I know. I never knew
exactly where she intended to go. From her last log entry, I'm
guessing she went to that Vedek Bareil, but none of us ever
heard from her again."

Tom nodded sadly.

"Tom, I hope the reason Sveda didn't say anything about Ro in
her letter to Chakotay was that she never went back to the
Maquis. I hope she stayed on Bajor and found peace."

"I hope so, too, B'Elanna. I remember her telling me about that
vedek once. She said he was a very good man, very spiritual,
but practical, too. There was some kind of scandal that she
thought was trumped up, or he probably would have become
leader of all the vedeks when Kai Opaka disappeared. If
anyone could help Laren find her way, maybe he could."

At the mention of Ro's given name, more evidence of just how
much she'd meant to her husband, B'Elanna sat up straighter on
his lap. He moved his hand to the small of her back to support
her and help her balance there. "Tom?" she asked.

"Um-humm?"

"When you told me to throw out anything from that drawer I
wanted, I put aside some things I thought you should see first,
even though you said I could get rid of them." With a push on
her back from him, she took to her feet. He followed her to the
shelf in the corner of their sitting area that had a small, hidden
drawer underneath it. Pulling it open, she removed the earring
and scarf, along with the Ferengi ear necklace. "These are the
things I set aside. You don't really want me to throw these out,
do you?"

Tom chuckled as he picked up the necklace with one finger. "I
seem to remember my sisters wearing stuff like this when they
used to play dress-up," he said. "Let's put it aside for the baby."
He set it back into the drawer. Gently, he touched the earring and
the scarf in B'Elanna's hand, but these he didn't take from her. "As
for these . . . no. I guess I'd rather keep them. As long as you don't
mind, B'Elanna. I'll get rid of them if having them around bothers
you."

B'Elanna smiled ruefully. "Well, I admit I'm not very good at
sharing, Tom; but in this case, I really don't mind. Ro was a
good person."

"Yes, she was."

"I guess--make that, I know--you'll never forget her."

Tom pulled B'Elanna around to face him and put his arms
around her expanded waist. She put hers around his neck, the
earring and scarf still clasped in one hand. He whispered to
her, with all the gravity that was in his voice when he sincerely
meant what he was saying, "I love you very, very much,
B'Elanna. Even though I don't say it nearly often enough, you
are my love. But that doesn't mean I won't think of her
sometimes. A lot of my memories of the Academy, especially
the good ones, were times I shared with her. Maybe in one
little teeny, tiny corner of my heart, I will always love Ro
Laren, I don't know. I know I'll always wish her well, wherever
she may be."

B'Elanna traced his eyebrows and nose with her forefinger,
chasing away some of the sadness in his eyes with her touch. A
little sparkle returned to her eyes. Placing her fingers within
hisline of sight and separating her thumb and forefinger about
fivecentimeters apart, she teased, "This teeny a corner?"

"Maybe even teenier than that," he grinned, pushing her fingers
a little closer together--but not so far as to let them touch. His
grin faded to a shadow of its usual breadth as he added, "But
she's still going to be there, B'Elanna. Now you know. As long
as you've got the rest of my heart, is that okay with you?"

B'Elanna nodded. "As long as I've got the rest of you, yes, that's
okay with me." She put her arm back around his neck and
kissed him lightly on the lips. "And you know what else? I
hope she's alive and safe back on Bajor, with a man of her own
who gave her that little boy Tom she said she wanted to name
after you."

"She deserved to find someone who made her just as happy as
you make me."

"I'm not sure I'd go that far."

He laughed.

---

The two lieutenants moved together as closely as their unborn
daughter would allow and hugged each other tightly. They
stayed in each other's arms for a very long time, the Bajoran
earring and scarf still clenched in B'Elanna's left hand. Those
objects had lost any power they may ever have had to damage
the love she'd found with Tom. Instead, these souvenirs of a
lost love would serve as a reminder of how powerful--and how
transitory--both life and love could be. The two on *Voyager*
had always known this intellectually, of course. Now, they
knew it in their hearts, as well.

---

The End