The BLTS Archive- Family
Seventh in Scenes from A Marriage
by Julie Evans (Juli17@aol.com)

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Disclaimer:  Star Trek and its characters are the property of
Paramount/Viacom.  I am borrowing them for fun only, not profit.

Archiving:  Okay to archive to ASC, PT Collective archive, and BLTS.
All others please ask author for permission.

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"Put it on the list."

B'Elanna had a small smile on her face as she spoke those words, and
Tom smiled back at her amused but genuine assent to his suggestion
that  they consider Kuva'mach as a name for their daughter.  He was
kidding,  since he thought their daughter might prefer to have a name
that was a  little less weighty, but he understood the significance of
B'Elanna's  receptiveness to a Klingon name.  He reached into the
cradle and tucked  in one edge of the baby blanket, and then let his
fingers linger for a  moment on the soft cotton.   "It's getting to be
a long list.  We'll have to  pick one eventually."

B'Elanna shrugged.  "There's no need to rush.  She'll have her name
forever, and I want it to be right."

Tom's sentiment exactly.  "What about giving her a middle name?" he
suggested.  "Even though it's not a Klingon tradition, it would
reflect her  human heritage.  Then she could have a Klingon and a
human name."

"We can consider that too," B'Elanna said as she folded over the top
blanket.

"Maybe a family name,'' Tom said.  "A middle name can be carried  down
too."

B'Elanna looked up at him suspiciously.  "I hope you're not thinking
about *your* middle name."

Tom frowned.  "Hey, what's wrong with the feminine version of my
middle name?  I kind of like Eugenia."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes.  "Tom..."

"Thomasina?" Tom offered drolly.

B'Elanna snorted.  Tom patted her shoulder as he moved around her.
"Okay, we'll leave those ones off the list."  He checked the base of
the  mobile, and flicked the Klingon ship with a finger.  It swung
back and  forth lightly.   "You do know that Klingon battle cruisers
are not pink."

Tom grinned at B'Elanna's dry observation.  "Federation starships
aren't  blue either.  But I think she'll like it anyway."

B'Elanna stopped the gentle motion of the Klingon cruiser with her
hand.  "I'm sure she'll be fascinated."  She studied the little ship
for a  moment.  "It is a cute mobile, Tom."  She looked at him with a
wry  smile on her face.  "Trust you to think of it."

Tom decided that was a compliment.  "She won't be able to play with
her bat'leth for a while, so she'll need something to entertain
herself."

B'Elanna shook her head.  "A bat'leth's not a toy, Tom," she
admonished  him.

"I know."  He looked at the razor sharp edge on the bat'leth hanging
on  the wall.  "It was quite a gesture from Kohlar, giving our
daughter his  great-grandfather's bat'leth."

"She is the savior of his people," B'Elanna reminded him.

Tom smiled at the trace of sarcasm in her tone.  "True, but I think it
was  a more personal gesture.  I think he did it because he admired
the baby's  mother."

B'Elanna held Tom's keen gaze for several moments before she said
softly, "I came to admire him quite a lot too."

It was the first time Tom had ever heard B'Elanna express admiration
for  a Klingon, except for her mother in rare and generally oblique
references.  "He's an honorable man.  I wish I'd had the time to get
to  know him better.  All of them."

"Even T'Greth?" B'Elanna asked.

Tom shrugged.  "He wasn't so bad."

"He was a little typical."

"Typical?"  Tom shook his head at her dismissive assessment.
"Klingons come in all varieties, just like humans.  Otherwise you
would  have chased me like Ch'Rega chased Harry, instead of the other
way  around."

B'Elanna's eyes narrowed at his teasing grin.  "Well, I could still do
without all the macho posturing.  Which *you* contributed to, by the
way, accepting a death challenge."

Tom knew she was still a little irritated about that.  He repeated
what  he'd already said, though he knew she didn't entirely buy it.
"I didn't  have much choice.  I couldn't back down if I wanted to earn
their  respect."

"It's not worth risking your life--"

"I think it is."

B'Elanna stared at him, nonplused.  "Tom--"

"You are part Klingon, B'Elanna, and so is our daughter.  They're your
people, and I'm your husband, so that makes them my people too, in a
sense.  It is important to me to be accepted and respected by them."

B'Elanna looked at him consideringly for a moment.  "You don't have go
into testosterone overload to be accepted by them."

Tom's lips quirked.  "Don't worry, it comes naturally to me."

B'Elanna shook her head at her husband's unabashed tone.  It was true.
She'd never thought about it before, but Tom at times acted a lot like
a  Klingon.  It wasn't just the fact that he was brash and pigheaded,
and had  an occasional tendency to boast.  He also stood fast in the
face of a  threat, and he was fiercely loyal to those he cared about.
She was  momentarily startled at her easy attribution of positive
traits to Klingons,  though she'd begun to realize that she'd judged
them too narrowly.  And  she wondered what it meant that she had
fallen in love with a man who  had more than a few traits in common
with them--

"Besides, I really didn't like what T'Greth said to you, B'Elanna."
Tom  was frowning.  "I know you can defend yourself, but it made me
mad."

"So I noticed," B'Elanna said dryly.  She looked at him curiously.
"Did  you know that the captain wouldn't let you fight a death
battle?"

"It certainly is against Starfleet regulations, and the captain can be
a  stickler about that," Tom said.  "If I had thought about it for any
length  of time, I would have realized that she'd intercede.  But I
didn't accept  T'Greth's challenge thinking that I'd just get out of
it in the end anyway.   I *would* have fought him."

B'Elanna didn't doubt he would have followed through with it if the
captain hadn't intervened.  "I've never doubted your courage, Tom.
You  don't have to prove it to me by getting yourself killed."

Tom shook his head.  "You really don't think I could have won, do
you?"

"Tom, you're human, and you have very little experience with the
bat'leth.  T'Greth is a Klingon, and he's spent most of his life using
a  bat'leth.  So, no, I don't think you could have beaten him."
B'Elanna  squeezed his arm and added reassuringly, "But I didn't marry
you for  your brute strength."

"No?"

"For your endurance, maybe..."

Tom eyebrows rose at her implication.  "My...endurance, huh?"

B'Elanna's lips curved a little, but she just said, "You lasted quite
a while  with T'Greth.  I was impressed."

"I was getting tired at the end," Tom said.  "If he hadn't collapsed
from  the virus he would have had me soon enough."

B'Elanna shrugged.  "You held your own, especially for someone who'd
only handled a bat'leth once before for just a few minutes."

Tom was surprised at B'Elanna's reference to the only other time he'd
handled a bat'leth.  When Tuvok had mentioned a suitable training
program, Tom had glanced at her, but had been saved from a response
by Kohlar's offer to train him.  "I did practice for several hours
with  Kohlar," he reminded her.  "And you know I've always been more
than  willing to explore Klingon culture with you."

B'Elanna nodded.  "I know."  It was she who had long been...well,
hostile to the concept, as Tom had once correctly accused her.  "I
guess  some of it isn't so bad.  The prayer for the dead, for
instance.  I'd  forgotten that it actually is a...comforting
tradition."  She'd been  momentarily disconcerted by the sense of
connection and solace she'd  felt at just saying those words again.
During the years she'd expunged  everything Klingon from her life
she'd lost that feeling, and had  forgotten that Klingons, including
her mother, sought out that spiritual  renewal every day.

"Whatever Klingon traditions you want to pursue, B'Elanna, you know
I'm all for it," Tom told her earnestly.  "I may not be Klingon, but
I'm  willing to join you in any of them."

"I'll hold you to that," B'Elanna said.  She knew of several
traditions her  husband would embrace eagerly.  She smiled.  "You may
not be  Klingon, Tom, but the Klingons accepted you, even T'Greth.
And  Kohlar told me I had chosen a worthy husband."

Tom couldn't help feeling very pleased, but he just replied
facetiously, "I  guess he didn't base his judgment on my bat'leth
skills."

B'Elanna chuckled.  "Probably not."

"Hopefully your family will feel the same way one day," Tom said."

"They will," B'Elanna said, without hesitation.  She looked down at
the  cradle, and ran her hand over the polished wood.  Everything in
it was in  place.  "I guess this is as ready as it's going to get."

Tom nodded as B'Elanna stepped back, but he didn't join her
immediately.  Instead he brushed his fingers over the carefully folded
and tucked blankets again, and a brief, gentle smile touched his lips.

"What are you thinking?"  B'Elanna asked, though she knew.  The same
thing she thought about whenever she looked at the cradle.

Tom looked up, the tenderness still in his eyes.  "I'm imagining our
daughter curled up here in a few months."

B'Elanna pressed her hand to the small mound of her belly, and said
softly, "It's a nice thought."

Tom nodded and moved to join her, his expression sobering suddenly.
"Do you remember when I said that nothing had ever scared me as much
as hearing that our baby had a problem, even though it turned out to
be a  small problem?"  He continued before she could respond, his
voice  taking on a rough edge.  "I spoke too soon.  It was nothing
compared to  the terror I felt when the doctor told us that you and
the baby both had  the virus."

B'Elanna slipped her arms around Tom's waist and hugged him, letting
her cheek rest against his shoulder.  "That turned out to be a small
problem in the end, too," she reminded him gently.

"Thank God," Tom said, his voice almost a whisper.  After the doctor
had given them the bad news he'd spent the rest of that day at the
helm  feeling powerless--getting alternately hot with fury at the
Klingons for  bringing the virus onboard, and cold with dread over the
thought of  losing B'Elanna and their daughter.  He hugged his wife
now and spoke  against her hair, "When you called me from sickbay and
told me the  doctor had found a cure in the baby's antibodies...well,
I've never felt so  incredibly relieved in my life."

B'Elanna looked up at him and smiled with deliberate nonchalance.  "We
survived the Nehret and a bat'leth challenge, and we're still here,
same as  always.  That never changes."

Tom nodded and gave her a grateful smile in return.  "Our life is
pretty  damned good, isn't it?"

"I don't have any complaints," B'Elanna said.  Then she amended,
"Well,  maybe one."

Tom looked concerned.  "What?"

"I'm hungry."

Tom grinned.  "Is that a hint that *I* should make dinner?"

"You are quite an expert with the replicator," B'Elanna said dryly as
she  turned him toward the dining area, keeping one arm around his
waist.   She pressed her free hand momentarily to the small of her
back.

 "Backache?" Tom asked.

"A minor twinge," B'Elanna said dismissively.  "It's nothing.  It goes
with the territory."

Tom knew she'd just recently started feeling the effects of the baby's
weight on her back, especially after working in engineering all day.
"If  *you* fix dinner, I'll give you a back rub after."

His offer was suspiciously close to blackmail, and B'Elanna glared at
him briefly while he just smirked back.  Still, she knew a good offer
when she heard one.  Among Tom's many talents, he would have made a
great masseur.  "Deal."

"I'll set the table," Tom offered gallantly as they walked toward the
replicator.

B'Elanna gave his butt a firm pat.  "That's very sweet of you."

A minute later Tom was arranging their red china on the table.  "What
do you really think about giving our daughter a family name?"

"I'm open to the idea," B'Elanna said as she carried the salads to the
table.  "We already put a few on the list.  I do like your
grandmother's  name, Mikaela.  And Amanda...a great-grandmother,
right?"

"Right," Tom said as he moved over to the replicator.  He picked up
one  of the steaming serving bowls and breathed in the aroma of beef
tips in  burgundy sauce.  "Ummm, smells good.  What about your female
ancestors?"

"We talked about Isabel," B'Elanna reminded him.

Tom took the bowl of glazed carrots from her and set it on the table.
"The grandmother who made you banana pancakes."

"Yes."  B'Elanna had told Tom a little about her father's mother.
Losing  contact with her human grandparents had been another painful
consequence of her father's desertion.

"What about your Klingon grandmother?" Tom asked as he pulled out  her
chair.

B'Elanna watched Tom walk around the table and take his seat before
she spoke, her voice rueful.  "I guess I've never really talked about
her,  have I?"

Tom shook his head.  Besides her mother, she'd told him almost nothing
about her Klingon family.  "No," he answered her question, his voice
mild.  He picked up one of the serving bowls and began to fill their
plates.  "But I'd love to hear about her."

B'Elanna was silent for several moments as Tom set a plate in front of
her.  He looked at her expectantly, and she began to speak softly,
"Her  name was Linan.  She was the daughter of Krellek..."

While they ate B'Elanna spoke in detail of her Klingon family,
recalling  those memories that she realized with mild surprise were
more good  than bad.  She shared them with her husband for the first
time--the first  time she'd shared them with anyone.

---

Late the next afternoon Tom walked into their quarters.  He knew
B'Elanna wouldn't be there since she was scheduled for a double shift.
She'd been putting in fewer of those lately, since Voyager's systems
had  managed to stay in good working order over the past several
weeks.  He  worried a little that she was pushing herself too hard,
but she was  perfectly healthy, and he knew she wasn't going to slow
down any more  than she absolutely had to.

"Computer, lights."

Their quarters brightened as the door closed behind him.  The first
thing  that caught his eye was the cradle, and he smiled.  He liked
seeing it  there every time he came home now, with the little ships
dangling over  it.  It gave him a deep sense of contentment.

The second thing he noticed as his eyes automatically scanned the room
was the bulky object lying on the bed, wrapped in some sort of paper.
His brow creased as he moved to the bed, and then his mouth dropped
open slightly.

He couldn't fail to recognize the shape under the white paper.  A
bat'leth.

He glanced at Kohlar's bat'leth, still hanging on the wall.  For a
brief  second he wondered how the one on the bed had gotten there.
Then he  smiled as he reached over and picked up the bat'leth.  It
could only be  from B'Elanna.

He hefted the still wrapped bat'leth with one hand, feeling its
weight,  and then noticed the small data recorder resting on the bed.
It had been  obscured by the bat'leth, and he retrieved it with his
free hand.  There  was an audio message notification flashing on the
screen.  He pressed  the retrieval button, and dropped the recorder
back onto the bed.  He  started tearing the paper from the bat'leth as
B'Elanna's voice spilled out.

"Since you were so enamored with Kohlar's bat'leth, I thought you
might  like this.  I found the specifications still filed in the
computer.  I figured  you should start practicing if you're going to
help teach our daughter  when she's old enough.  Or if you decide to
accept any more Klingon  challenges."

Tom smiled at the sardonic tone in B'Elanna's voice as he tossed the
paper on the floor.

"Once the baby's born, maybe we can try out that old program of yours
again."

Tom smiled wider.  He'd always regretted the abrupt termination of
their  first session.

"I'll be home late, since I'm working a double shift.  And you know
what  *that* means, so maybe you'd better use your holodeck time
tonight to  start refining your defensive moves."

Tom grinned at the mock snarl in her voice.  He hadn't been sure she'd
heard his comment to T'Greth, since she hadn't called him on it.
Obviously she had.

He swung the bat'leth in an experimental arc as the recorder clicked
off.   He recognized the feel of it.  It was one of the two bat'leths
he'd  replicated for that training program he'd all but tricked her
into  participating in nearly four years ago when she'd lost a bet to
him.  It  was a bet he'd deliberately manipulated--not that he'd
actually cheated,  he'd just made sure he knew the answer beforehand.
She hadn't wanted  to do the program at all, and their match had
lasted all of ten minutes  before she'd stormed out of the holodeck.
He'd recycled both bat'leths  the next day.

He ran a finger carefully over the sharp edge of the bat'leth.  A lot
of  things had changed since that day, not the least of which was
B'Elanna's  attitude toward her Klingon heritage.  He'd been
fascinated by it from  the beginning, but she'd rebuffed nearly all
his early efforts to get her  interested.  Though he'd never lost
interest in that side of her heritage,  he'd finally quit pushing her
on the subject.  He knew now that he should  never have pushed her at
all.  B'Elanna had needed to accept her heritage  on her own terms.
It had been a slow, difficult journey for her--it still  was--but she
was coming to appreciate and value that part of herself.    He was
genuinely happy for her, and for their daughter.

And for himself, Tom admitted silently.  He wanted to share in all of
B'Elanna's life, and in all that their daughter's life would be.

Tom recalled the comment Kohlar had made while they'd been training
with the bat'leths.  Kohlar had told Tom that he was a lucky man, and
while Tom had been momentarily distracted by that unexpected  comment,
Kohlar had swung his bat'leth, knocking Tom off his feet.  As  Tom had
landed hard on his butt, Kohlar had growled and warned him  not to let
anything pierce his concentration while he was wielding a  bat'leth.

Later Tom had reflected on Kohlar's words that had initially startled
him, and the undercurrent in the Klingon's voice he'd recognized as
loneliness, and maybe envy.  He knew that Klingons valued family even
above glory in battle, since glory was meaningless without the family
on  which that glory was bestowed.  It was no different than Vulcans
revering family even above logic.  He knew Tuvok would find some  way
to argue around that, but he'd seen and heard the depth of Tuvok's
devotion when he spoke of his wife or children.  He supposed that was
one thing virtually every humanoid race had in common.  Rarely was
anything held in higher regard than family.  In that respect, Tom knew
Kohlar was right.  He was a very lucky man.

Tom swung the bat'leth again, getting the feel for it as Kohlar had
instructed him, unable to keep a grin from spreading across his face.
It  was an elegant weapon, heavy and powerful, yet graceful.  He
intended  to master it.

He wondered if the original program he'd designed four years ago was
still in the inactive files somewhere.  If not, he'd just redesign it.

Tom strode into the corridor, bat'leth in hand.  The car race he'd
planned  tonight would have to wait.  He headed for the holodeck,
still smiling  broadly, well aware that what he'd said to B'Elanna
last night was the  whole truth, on every level.

Oh yes, his life was damned good indeed.

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The End