AN: A companion piece to my story "Musings" but it'll make sense on it's own, too. I admit, I don't like this one as much as its predecessor. lol. As always, feedback is appreciated!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sad days.

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I have a temper.

I always have. It's the damn Klingon in me-I just can't fight it.

And I don't like change. Change has never really worked out for me in the past.

So you can imagine what happened when I found out that the rest of my Maquis crewmates and I were stranded in the Delta quadrant with a shipful of Starfleet p'taqs. I was…well, we'll say unimpressed. Starfleet and I have never really gotten along very well. I gave the Academy a shot, but we had a difference of opinion as to my methods of dealing with problems. And then, to find out that I not only had to serve under Captain Janeway, but that I had to toe the Starfleet line?

My temper didn't like that one at all.

But then, somehow, somewhere along the line, it didn't seem so bad anymore. Harry helped, of course-as weird a match as we seemed, he quickly became my best friend. I didn't think much of his other best friend, though-that idiot, Tom Paris, and his stupid holodeck programs. I don't think I'd ever met a more arrogant, womanizing pig.

Suddenly, I was torn in two.

When the Vidiians kidnapped three of us and split my Klingon and Human selves apart, the Human me was terrified. Which, of course, pissed off Klingon me to no end when she found out. Eventually, of course, we escaped and were rejoined. The most shocking part about the whole ordeal to me was my 'rescuer' as it were. The person who helped me through the entire experience, defended me, stayed by my side no matter the risk to himself.

Tom Paris.

I couldn't hate him so much after that.

I don't know when it happened, exactly. I sure as hell wasn't expecting it. But it hit me like a hyperspanner to the back of the head.

Tom broke the Warp 10 barrier. And he almost died.

And as I saw him there, writhing on the biobed in pain, I felt terror like I hadn't felt since the incident with the Vidiians. I was losing him, and it felt like my stomachs were being ripped out through my abdomen. I had no reason, no right to feel that way. But I did, and it was in that second that it hit me.

Somehow, I'd fallen in love with Tom Paris.

I knew, though, the second he was better, that I wouldn't tell him. I couldn't. I knew he could never return my feelings. So time passed, and I contented myself to be his friend. I spent time with him whenever I could, without being obvious.

After awhile, he started asking me to dinner, to the holodeck. And I got scared. I turned him down, every time. I knew he couldn't possibly be interested in me, not in the way I needed, anyway.

Not that I have anything against sex. I don't. But I was too emotionally involved for that, regardless of the lack of logic behind it. But he never stopped trying.

I don't remember much about the Pon Farr. A few things here and there, but it's almost like I was drunk. The details are fuzzy and there's some moments that I can't remember at all.

But I remember Tom. The way he was there for me. The way it felt when he caught me after I pretty much ripped Vorik's arm off and held me so that I wouldn't fall. I was barely conscious, but I remember thinking that I would be fine as long as he didn't let me go.

Then I almost lost him again.

Although in fairness, I almost died, too.

And I had to tell him.

I couldn't die without telling him how I felt.

And I did.

And then Voyager found us.

And I couldn't bear to face him.

I was humiliated.

I knew he couldn't feel the same way about me.

But Voyager's not a big ship. I couldn't avoid him forever, no matter how hard I tried. He cornered me. I gave him an out. Tried to escape.

And then my life changed forever.

It's been three years. Three years of fighting, of making up, of laughing, of crying.

And just when we thought we were going to lose each other again, he asked me to marry him.

I don't know what I've done to deserve this. I've fought him, pushed him away, and struggled against nearly every kind, loving, wonderful thing he's done for me. But yet, somehow, he loves me anyway. And I know that he does-I can see it every time he looks at me. It nearly radiates from him and I want to break down and cry every time those blue eyes of his look into mine. I'm still terrified of chasing him off-after all, I'm Klingon. Well, half, but the half sure seems to come out more often than not. I'm not easy to live with. My father was proof of that.

But right now, I look into his eyes and I don't see any doubt. Only love.

And I am going to cling to that for all I'm worth.