Some of them were handling the fuss better than others. Naomi had become quite a star, as had Neelix, the Alpha Quadrant’s only resident Talaxian. Kathryn was shocked to learn that the story of Voyager had been turned into a series of popular children’s books, and their real life adventures were now routinely taught in Federation schools.
The attention was less than welcomed by the former Maquis, who would have been just as happy to slip quietly back into the fabric of Federation society. B’Elanna wasn’t thrilled, for instance, to see her life discussed publicly as if it were one of those old television ‘soap operas’. And, while she knew the commotion would eventually die down, she was an intensely private person now faced with instant celebrity. It made her supremely uncomfortable.
Tom, on the other hand, let it roll right off him. He’d spent the week ignoring all the fuss, intent on helping B’Elanna prepare for her hearing. Maybe it was his life as an admiral’s son that allowed him such detachment, she guessed. Or that their being seen as heroic might help to combat the years of unfounded and untrue rumors about his involvement in their disappearance. No matter what, she envied they way he could shut it all out.
The morning of the ceremony, she allowed herself to hope that it would all come to an end soon enough.
While both the Paris’s hated the new standard issue singlets, B’Elanna had to admit that the dress uniforms were quite nice. She thought Tom looked especially handsome in the white formal jacket. They had just joined the rest of their friends at a pre-ceremony reception for the crew and their families in the Academy’s dining hall. It was the first time most of the crew had seen one another in almost five days.
B’Elanna knew something was different about Chakotay the moment she saw him. There was a bit of the old Maquis fire in his eyes, though this time she could tell it was from happiness rather than pain. She was just ready to ask about this change in him, when her attention was distracted by the man walking toward her tentatively from across the room.
Tom had been standing only a few feet away talking with Kathryn when he saw his wife’s eyes go blank. He didn’t even bother to excuse himself before heading to her side.
“B’Elanna, what is it?” he started to say before turning in the direction of her stare. The man was getting closer now, barely looking in their direction has he came toward them. He was a head shorter than Tom, a human, mid-fifties, handsome, with a dark complexion, and jet black eyes. He looked familiar, though Tom couldn’t place why. Paris made the connection just seconds before the man spoke.
“Hello, B’Elanna,” he said softly.
She just glared back at him. Tom wasn’t sure what to do; this was his wife’s call to make. He thought for a moment that she might pass out before he saw her steel Klingon strength of will ignite her courage. “Hello, daddy,” she said flatly. “It’s been a long time.”
John Torres looked shamed, and rightfully so. “Too long,” he said softly before turning to introduce himself to his son-in-law. “You’re Tom Paris, I assume,” he said hesitantly.
Tom didn’t know what to say. “Yes, sir,” was all he could squeak out. He wanted desperately to put his arm around his wife while she faced her long-lost father, but he knew she didn’t want or need that kind of support right now.
“John Torres,” the man said, as if Tom didn’t already know.
Tom’s next impulse was to slug the coward who had caused his wife so much lifelong pain. Again, though, he knew that was B’Elanna’s call to make.
Perhaps because she was caught off guard, perhaps her husband’s own successful reconciliation was still fresh in her mind, but B’Elanna decided in that moment to offer up her anger. She’d never forgive her father for abandoning her and her mother. She’d never forget the way the pain of that loss had colored her entire life. But now, standing before her was a tired, old excuse for a man, clearly wracked with guilt and full of a lifetime of demons. Maybe he was punishing himself enough for the both of them.
They stood awkwardly for a moment before she broke the tension. “You look well,” she lied.
“So do you,” he was being sincere. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman,” he said, a tender look in his eyes. How ironic, she thought, that he should find her beautiful now. But then she supposed he always did have a thing for Klingon women. He kept talking, afraid now that he might never get the chance again. “I just wanted to see you one more time, to tell you how much I’ve missed you, and how proud I am of the woman you’ve become.” She didn’t know how to respond.
“Thank you,” was all she could say.
The crowd was being ushered to their tables now, and B’Elanna’s look told her father she had to be going. Torres started to step away, then quickly turned back, a pleading look in his eyes. “I’d like to spend some time with you if I could,” he blurted out. She was ready to decline when he added, “I have news about your mother.”
Afraid B’Elanna might rip it up, he handed Tom a small card with his contact information. “I’ll be on Earth for the rest of the weekend,” he offered as he backed away. “I hope you’ll let me finish this conversation before I have to go.” With that, he smiled sadly and walked away, leaving his daughter and her husband stunned.
“Are you okay?” Tom asked when they were finally alone.
“I think so,” she said flatly. She was numb, he could tell.
“What should I do with this?” Tom asked, referring to the card her father had handed him.
“Keep it,” she said softly. She looked again at the empty space where John Torres once stood. “For now.”
After the reception, the crew was escorted to the parade grounds for their official welcome home. As expected, they were serenaded by a Vulcan children’s choir, and subjected to ponderous speeches by several Federation officials. Then the academy’s elite Nova Squadron flew the traditional ‘missing man’ formation in honor of their lost friends. It was a very staid, very respectful event, followed by the unveiling of a memorial commemorating the return of the lost ship. Like all such ceremonies, there was an element of ritual intended to bring a sense of closure to their ill-fated journey.
Of course, no one knew better than Voyager’s captain how tenuous that closure now seemed. Not only were they still grieving the loss of their friends, the fate of everything from the Maquis, to the rescued Borg, to the ship itself was yet to be determined. At least the coming week would allow them to start moving on.
Janeway spent the last part of her day greeting the families of the dead. Tom and B’Elanna introduced her to Harry’s parents. She introduced them to Tuvok’s wife and children. “It’s an honor to meet you T’Pel,” Tom said sincerely. He felt like he knew the woman before him after helping Tuvok program a holographic version of his wife during the commander’s recent pon farr.
“And you as well, Mr. Paris. My husband mentioned you several times in his letters home.”
Yikes, Tom thought. “Well, I hope his observations weren’t completely negative,” he joked.
Tom almost laughed out loud when, in a stereotypically Tuvokian manner, T’Pel raised her eyebrow and offered sardonically, “Not all of them.” Clearly, they had made a perfect couple, he realized.
T’Pel’s control of her emotions didn’t make her husband’s friends feel any better about his loss. Kathryn, in particular, was clearly mourning for her oldest and dearest friend. “There won’t be another day in my life when I don’t think of him,” she said to the Vulcan woman.
The response she received was kind. “Then I hope you’re memories are of pleasant times, for I know he would not want you burdened with regrets in his name.” The captain nodded her head and made a silent pledge to herself. ‘Only the happy memories,’ she thought. That would take a Vulcan’s self-control, she knew, but it was a pledge she would try to keep.
Chakotay had just finished saying goodbye to Moira Delaney, who was just as vivacious and beautiful as the two daughters she had lost, when he saw Kathryn move off by
herself. He made his way across the room to stand with her. “How are you holding up?” he asked.
Her face betrayed her. “I’ll be glad when this is over,” she admitted. “How about you?”
He was equally drained. “Nothing a quiet evening at home won’t fix.” She looked a little disappointed until he added, “Yours or mine?” She smiled, just as inspiration took over.
“How about neither?” she answered. “I know a place where we can spend the whole weekend and not see a single Starfleet or Federation face,” she said.
He was intrigued. “Tell me where and when,” he said, glad to agree. He could see the wheels spinning in her beautiful head.
“Meet me at the shuttle hangar at 1700 hours,” she said. And leave that uniform home.
He smiled. “It’s a date.” Maybe this day would end on a happier note than it had begun, he hoped.
~*~*~*~*~
Tom answered the door with the baby in his arms. He wasn’t surprised that John Torres was arriving a little early. He suspected it was everything the man could do to wait for this long-overdue reunion.
If she were honest with herself, B’Elanna would have had to admit to feeling just as anxious. She had wrestled with the decision to call her father, the final choice made by a deep need to hear about her mother’s fate. Somehow she suspected the news wasn’t good, but the reality couldn’t be any worse than her imagination.
She deliberately timed their meeting too late for dinner. She wanted to be able to excuse herself in the least awkward way if she didn’t like the way the conversation was going. Instead, she had invited her father to visit Admiral Paris’s home late that evening, her in-laws conveniently arranging to spend the night out of town visiting friends.
Now John Torres stood in the doorway of the Paris home, looking at the accusing eyes of his much-taller son-in-law, and feeling very much like he deserved to: ashamed and uncomfortable. Luckily, the little bundle wiggling in front of him offered a much-needed icebreaker. “Is that my granddaughter?”
Tom resented his using that term of endearment, no matter how true it was. Torres didn’t have any way to know how much his past actions had endangered this little girl’s entire existence, but her father knew and deeply resented it. But he was determined to be polite to this man if it killed him. “This is Miral Kimberly,” he said with unconcealed love and more than a little protectiveness.
“May I hold her?” Torres asked, putting Tom on the spot.
“Sure,” he said less than convincingly. “I guess so.” He handed the baby to the older man and was surprised at how comfortable he looked holding an infant. “You seem like you’ve had some practice,” Tom said. “Do you have other children?”
He saw the pain in the man’s face. “No,” he said sadly. “Just B’Elanna. I never remarried. Klingons mate for life.” Now Tom was totally confused.
No more so than his wife, who was now standing behind him at the door to the kitchen. She decided to pretend she hadn’t heard her father’s last comments. “I’ve see you’ve met Miral,” she said softly.
Torres’ eyes were sad and empty as he answered, “Yes. She’s beautiful. She looks just like you did as a baby, B’Elanna.” The man looked down into the face of his granddaughter as he continued. “It’s nice that you named her after your mother.”
They stood awkwardly for another moment before Tom took the initiative. “I was just putting the baby to bed,” he said, taking his daughter back into his arms. “There’s some coffee in the kitchen if you want to make yourself comfortable.” He looked back to B’Elanna as he was about to leave the room. When he saw the look on her face, Tom couldn’t stop himself, and walked over to kiss her before he left the room. “I’ll wait upstairs,” he whispered softly. She was a little embarrassed, but appreciated his show of support.
“Why don’t we go sit down,” she said as she led her father through the living room and into the kitchen.
For the next hour, Tom could hear gentle murmurs and raised voices and the breaking of at least one glass. Not long afterward he heard the front door close, followed almost immediately by the banging of the back porch’s screen door. When he was sure Torres was gone, Tom rigged his combadge as a baby monitor (a little trick his father had taught him), slapped B’Elanna’s on his chest, and headed downstairs.
He saw her sitting on the sand just off the deck. She was staring out at the water and he could hear that she was crying. He grabbed the blanket off the deck lounge chair before moving to join her at the bottom of the steps. He wrapped the blanket around her without saying a word. Even though it was summer, San Francisco evenings could be chilly, and he knew B’Elanna was sensitive to the cold.
He sat down on the sand next to her and let his wife cry it out. She’d tell him when she was ready, he knew. After about ten minutes, the crying stopped, and he watched as she pulled her emotional control back together. Tom spent a moment silently thanking Tuvok for teaching B’Elanna how to meditate. Before their sessions, she might have turned her anger at her father toward him.
It was still a few more minutes before she could bring herself to speak. “Mother’s dead,” she said flatly. Tom resisted the temptation to show her comfort physically. She’d reach out for him when she was ready.
“What happened?” he asked gently.
“She was killed in the war. Apparently the Klingons got involved in the whole Cardassian mess. Mother was on one of their scientific transports when it was ambushed.” B’Elanna turned to face him. “She died a little over two years ago,” she said. “Just about the time of my shuttle accident.”
Then it was true, he realized. B’Elanna’s ‘hallucinations’ about seeing her mother on the Barge of the Dead had been real. What frightened him most about that realization was knowing how close he had come to losing his wife forever back then.
Clearly there was more to the story, he could tell. “Apparently, seven years ago when they found out I was missing, my father contacted Mother, and they decided to reconcile. Their marriage was over, but they became friends again and stayed in touch until her death. He wanted me to know she had forgiven him. He wants me to forgive him, too.”
Tom could only imagine how hard this was for her to hear. He knew how B’Elanna carried the pain of her childhood around like a shield. She had given so much of her life to her feelings of abandonment and bitterness. He wasn’t sure she could let that go, even if her mother had found a way to.
“He also told me that things were different than I imagined. He said that my mother asked him to leave, said their fighting wasn’t good for me, and that if he was an honorable man he would do the right thing and stay away. He told me he didn’t want to go, but that Mother was within her rights. I had forgotten,” B’Elanna was now looking off in the distance, “only a Klingon woman can end a marriage. I don’t know why I didn’t think about that before.”
“Do you believe him?” Tom asked, not thrilled with the reminder of this particular facet of Klingon matrimonial tradition.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t want to believe him. I don’t want to think I spent my whole life blaming him for something that wasn’t his fault. Besides, he could have come looking for me later on. I was at Starfleet Academy for two years while he still had his commission. He could have tried to find me then.” She just shook her head. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Tom didn’t know what to say. “How did he know where to find you now?” he asked.
B’Elanna answered in a kind of monotone, as if the words she was saying had no meaning. “I wrote my mother a letter in the last datastream. The authorities on Kessick 4 forwarded it to him. He contacted Starfleet when he realized we might be coming home.”
Her flat tone of voice helped Tom know that she had probably worked through the heat of her emotions. He readjusted the blanket to cover them both as he pulled B’Elanna against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he said gently. He was glad she was letting him comfort her now.
“I’m so sorry.”
They sat on the beach for another few minutes before the cold got the better of them both. “Let me make you something warm to drink,” he said as he stood up.
“No,” she said. “Let’s just go to bed. I just want you to hold onto me for awhile.” Better idea, he thought as he helped her up. He followed her up the stairs to the deck and dropped the blanket back where he’d found it.
He forced himself to stay awake until he knew she was asleep, curled in her favorite position with her back pressed firmly against his chest. Tom couldn’t help but think that both of their family situations were more complex and nuanced than either of them had realized while growing up. Maybe their parents had just been imperfect people trying to make the best decisions for their children in uncertain circumstances.
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