Chapter 1 The Mirror
Why did this take so long?
Of course Lieutenant Commander Thomas Eugene Paris knew the answer to that question even as those words once again raced through the mind of the thirty-six-year-old Starfleet officer. Same question, same answer. Unforeseen circumstances.
On March 17, 2379, it truly was a series of unforeseen circumstances that had literally whisked him away from the surface of this derelict but lush world. Then more pressing matters consumed him after Voyager's long-awaited but unbelievable return to the Alpha Quadrant, issues that occupied almost every waking moment. And even though it had taken three long years, he had finally made it back.
Seeing this planet again with its ancient grotto invoked a flood of both fond and painful memories. He gasped as he took in that alien landscape once more, for his recollection of it was so crisp and true. The 6' 1" Starfleet officer thought this situation was particularly remarkable given that he had spent every spare moment reconstructing infinitesimal details of scenery and events not only in his mind but the computerized model running within the privately-funded Richard Galen Institute for Intergalactic Archeological Studies. He had hoped that work would provide comforting answers to pressing questions. But it raised more of them instead. And he knew that the only rejoinder to his recurring nightmares was to be found on this remote Delta Quadrant planet. That he was able to return under an extended leave of absence despite all of the bureaucratic flack and hurdles was a God-given miracle.
As far as similar places went, this weathered hollow was quite extraordinary. Its formation was a combination of hand-fashioned and natural features loosely reminiscent of Earth's famous Blue Grotto of the Isle of Capris. The inner pool with its cobalt water apparently had been crafted half-a-million years ago and was the private swimming hole for some long-dead monarch. Even a novice could identify the stone-cutting tool marks along the sides. The archaeological team that Tom had accompanied pointed out the flooded descending stairs that he and his wife, Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres, had overlooked in their zeal years before.
Tom observed the Starfleet divers who were now standing by two massive and fully nude humanoid statues, one male and one female. They had been discovered by accident and it had taken a while to extract them from over three meters of silt. Each one was shaped in what the team's experts called an artist's rendition of the romanticized man and woman, so close in appearance that they could have been twins.
Those perfect forms could be taken for any Earth human. But Doctor Maxine Shimizu quickly pointed out one very small but important detail; the nose. Each of the two examples contained five rhinal ridges or creases running horizontal above the inner part of the eyebrows. The archeologists were flabbergasted, for these figures looked to be in every way Bajoran. And the statues, as with the outer pool, were fashioned at least 8,000,000 years ago and maybe more.
This discovery invoked a great deal of professorial puffery, each academic or practioner theorizing one thing or another. Tom had to laugh at them as they gaggled about, recalling how he went to a museum once where two teachers argued about an ancient unknown device being some type of primitive surgical tool. Later it turned out it was something called a 'church key.' Just a pointed-end can opener. But all present at least agreed that these effigies were two fine examples of a societal ideal and beautiful by anyone's standard.
When Tom and B'Elanna visited this planet three years ago, they had never seen this grotto. Thus they did not know that it was possible to swim from it into a tunnel and then to the amphitheater, the place where the incident happened. The event that Tom Paris had never forgotten nor could he. He now wondered what might have occurred if they had found that watery access back then.
Nor did they detect the main overland path, the one that wound away from the pool and towards a natural opening. Not a cave per se but more akin to the divot one makes when you scoop hard ice cream from a tub. That in turn also led to the amphitheater by following a stone staircase.
As he retraced his steps to where he had actually commenced his walk with B'Ella that beautiful Saturday morning, Paris imagined tourists crawling all over this place one day. Ferengi investors were already salivating over how they could realize profit off the natural beauty here. Sightseers would certainly be fascinated by their ability to enter the main grotto through a concave but solidly-arched doorway, pass through it to cross an elaborate stone bridge spanning a magnificent chasm three-hundred meters deep, and then suddenly appear in what could only be described as a breathtaking amphitheater carved out of the rock like a massive soup tureen.
But even that route was not how the married couple had entered this place. They had dutifully obeyed B'Elanna's Tricorder readings. And that had led them eventually to the same amphitheater, albeit from a completely different direction. And what had transpired by doing that was why the Starfleet officer had journeyed across millions of light years to revisit this place after three long years.
He was looking for his spouse.
Returning had been anything but easy, his pleas hindered by a myriad of endless professional and personal matters. Two years were expended in San Francisco due to Starfleet's bureaucratic inquiries into Voyager's travels. There was the short-lived excitement of returning after seven-long years in hell. And of course nonstop mission debriefings. And routine medical procedures both physical and psychological. And so many emotional and mixed reunions with families. Counseling by Betazoids and shamans and priests. Media circuses to capture the spectacle, for profit. Paperwork, real and electronic. Reassignments as the crew broke up. Discharges for medical reasons or simply to get out. Retirements, promotions, awards, and decorations galore. Parties and parades. The half-attended one year reunion. Yadda, yadda.
And he spent hours upon hours in the flight simulator, naturally. And decided to pursue a doctorate in Space Engineering at the Daystrom Institute. And tried so hard to keep it together. He failed more than once, despite intense counseling.
There was also the Starfleet Board of Inquiry probing actions taken by Captain Kathryn Janeway and Voyager's crew when the Caretaker heaved their Starship 70,000 light years across the Delta Quadrant. And endless investigations over potentially violating the prime directive due to log entries revealing umpteen incidents and encounters with alien life forms. Tom winced; one of those occasions had taken a pip, driving him and B'Elanna nuts for a month as he stewed in the Brig. Got it back but it had taken one full year. And the Maquis courts-martials that thankfully ended favorably after several months of painstaking inquiry on the part of overzealous prosecutors. All of that meant testimony and redirects and statements.
And for Tom Paris, all of that living was overshadowed by the single dark cloud that dominated his life. A cloud that still denied him closure, as much as he wanted it.
One ray of light always penetrated that cloud. Miral. As much as the last three years had been painful, it had allowed Tom to focus on what was really important, his beautiful daughter. No matter what, he had made sure that his now motherless offspring was properly settled in their new San Francisco home. She was barely over three now and already a natural Starfleeter by everyone's account. And for Tom it had been a marvelous adventure watching his little girl starting to grow up, be it arranging recently for pre-school, endless babysitting, dealing with teething, and handling childhood diseases. And also changing endless piles of diapers. And dressing dolls. And laughing. And birthday parties. And Christmas without Mom. Going for walks with her in the stroller and playing horsey. And telling her over and over again about what her Mommy was like and keeping B'Elanna's memory alive through Holopictures and videos.
And explaining why she had those forehead ridges despite what some nasty children told her. And that she should view them as a badge of honor. Just like her Mom had finally come to accept after so many years of talking it through with Dad on their starship home. This was no freakish deformity. It was her culture. And she should be as proud of it as her mother finally was.
To be sure Tom was a devoted Dad, although it took a lot of hard work on his part, as a single parent and full time Starfleet staff officer. He smirked at that one. Daddy Tommy! The once cavalier helmboy had fallen so deeply in love with Voyager's Chief Engineer that she uncovered his true self. He was a family man, as she was a natural Mom. He loved Miral; she was his darling princess and everything to him. To say she had her father wrapped around her finger would be an understatement. He was around her entire hand and arm.
Returning to the Alpha Quadrant and Earth also meant surprisingly pleasant interactions with his father, Admiral Owen Paris. They got along better than ever. And his mother, Julia, as ill as she was, was still the rock she had always been. It was as if seven years apart was nothing to them. And reconnecting with his married sisters, Kathleen and Moira and their families was simply awesome. And they all loved Miral. And everyone desperately prayed that one day they would meet B'Elanna, in this life anyway. One person prayed extra hard. John Torres. Tom and his father-in-law had many long talks about the woman they missed so much.
And he made sure to keep in constant touch with Rear Admiral Kathryn Janeway, who really helped to make this return possible. And Full Lieutenant Harry Kim who was a Starship First Officer and up for another promotion already. Even Voyager's Captain Chakotay and his Academy professor wife, Lieutenant Commander Annika Hansen, sent monthly messages. And he also received constant PADD missives from Lieutenant Megan Delaney, some of which were more than obvious as to her purpose in wanting to see him once again.
As Tom now stood at the exact spot where he and B'Elanna had commenced that fateful walk, he thought about how someone else had indeed become part of his life. But it wasn't Megan. Or anyone he had known on Voyager. Or even Ricky Harris. No, it was someone else from his past. Their meeting again was by pure coincidence during his second year without his wife. He had never intended to get involved. But he supposed loneliness had a lot to do with it. And having a baby girl who needed someone more than just him. And being in close proximity to a very familiar face and a gentle touch that always seemed to be there. How that old flame turned talented archeologist came to once again burn inside him was something that he still wondered about. Fate, perhaps. And it tore at him because his blood was still hot for B'Elanna.
One more year passed, their relationship deepening as time filled with his degree work and begging Starfleet's bigwigs to allow him to return to the Delta Quadrant. That took a mountain of paperwork and expensive lawyers, painstaking negotiations, and his father calling in long overdue chits. But as Dad told him, this was his daughter-in-law they were talking about, alive or dead.
And Tom ashamedly prayed more than once that she was dead. That was horrible; he knew it. But she might as well be because he was going absolutely crazy without her. And he did not know what happened or why. He just did not know how to move on or if he should. What if she was alive? How could he be with another? Or get married again? It nearly caused him to start drinking once more but he couldn't do that. Every day he would wake up and look at Miral. And there was B'Elanna.
Eventually, Tom's return was approved as a discovery mission. That allowed him to lead the brand-new slipstream-equipped science vessel USS Pegasus to that place so full of painful and very sharp memories.
So here he was. Standing in front of the Delta Flyer II-B. He had left there an hour ago to scrutinize the recent archeological discoveries at the pool, leaving Flight Engineer Lieutenant Myra Anderson, Security Officer Ensign Mike Milano, and two guards to watch over things. One other person was aboard, that person. Busy rummaging through a duffle bag looking for a hand spade, brushes, and dental picks.
The landing went as planned, although it was difficult for him to fly anymore. He had put their ship, his and B'Elanna's, down next to Voyager's long-abandoned Class Two shuttle, Tecumseh. It was still there, exactly where he had left it three years ago. The power was long dead but the locks remained secure and completely untouched, less a slight covering of clinging vines and grainy dust. A Starfleet salvage crew was going over it with hand scanners, finding nothing of note.
And those same antediluvian forests were there, resplendent in their chartreuse leaves indicative of early Spring. The air was just as crisp and slightly moist as he remembered, the sap oozing out of the split bark. Buzzing insects told him that they were the only living creatures about. Insects it seemed always survived catastrophes both natural and inhabitant-contrived. And a number of violent episodes had evidently rocked this K-class planet more than once. The evidence was both numerous and compelling.
Despite what information he and B'Elanna had mined years before, Starfleet never identified the actual name of this place. The scientists merely dubbed it Narcissus, after what he and she had discovered here. What the Federation science eggheads had figured out, however, was that the planet had a hole-and-corner history. While they roamed about, B'Elanna's Tricorder had synched with Tom's to merge their data. That revealed a labyrinth below the surface, a place that at the time they had no idea would turn out to be so significant to the history of the Milky Way galaxy.
Using the data, the Pegasus' discovery team uncovered the well-preserved remains of a highly-sophisticated and antediluvian space port. And this was no ordinary one, for it was immense and capable of sustaining several million beings. Kilometer upon kilometer of empty shops and hotels and restaurants and offices and hospitals and everything else were virtually intact. And although only a few areas had been explored so far, all evidence indicated that this place was a temporary transfer point. Travelers came to board those abandoned ark-like vessels that were large enough to carry several thousand beings at a time, including bags and baggage. Where those beings came from or where they went was another matter. Even scientists don't know everything although, as Tom knew well enough from being a student once again, very few would ever admit it.
Walking forward along his original route, the officer's vision soon became distorted by blowing dust. He stumbled in pain but that was normal now. And dust storms were the constant bane of this place, the loose topsoil relocated by frequent yet very brief and severe winds. It reminded him of the Great Plains in the America's, perhaps contemporary Kansas or Nebraska. Placing an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, he stumbled onward as his chest-protector lamps projected powerful beams to guide his way. This storm was expected and planned for; it had happened to him just this way with B'Ella. And unlike a near-death experience in space with her about six years ago, he had plenty of oxygen.
And this time he had also brought along a large backpack filled with technological gadgetry from state-of-the-art hand Phasers to highly-sophisticated communicators. He had checked the comms a dozen times and even called for her now although there had been no contact with B'Elanna after she had passed through that ancient mirror thirty-six months ago. Predictably, no response.
The wind subsided once more, allowing Tom to gingerly step down onto the grotto's ornate but sooty stonework floor. There he found what he expected, two sets of still recognizable footprints created by Starfleet-issue boots. They ran parallel to each other, the smaller set to the left of the larger ones. And here at this pillar the two were close together, the tell-tale patterns showing that the two officers were walking about in a tight circle.
That spot was precisely where B'Elanna's Tricorder acquired the power spike that had brought them to this planet in the first place. And that device allowed her gleeful self to follow that steady signal by meandering down a side path where she used a Phaser to burn through flora that had once been part of a neatly-trimmed maze-like hedgerow. At the time Tom nearly lost sight of her, for he was staring straight ahead just as he was now, contemplating some of the most interesting ornate stone buildings he had ever seen, ones that rivaled the ruins of Sakari IV in beauty and complexity. As three years previously, carved long-dead creatures stared unseeingly back at him in grim mockery of his being there. This time, however, he took more than a few Holopictures, which were instantly uploaded to the Pegasus for near-instantaneous archeological and anthropological analysis.
Tom paused to berate himself over pushing B'Elanna into undertaking what was supposed to have been a brief but playful diversion. The two had not been away from Voyager very much, as newlyweds. His wife had just given birth to Miral three months before and she was so exhausted from caring for her and working hard as the Chief Engineer. Tom was also tired, for they were both doting first-time parents where every sneeze meant their daughter had the Drusian plague.
So when this K-class planet was identified as having an interesting and unknown power source, that discovery immediately tweaked B'Elanna's interest. Tom used that to suggest the two of them take a day or two to investigate it and at the same time enjoy some much needed personal time alone. It did not take long for the eager couple to convince Captain Janeway to let them have a look around. Scanners showed the planet to be very old and without life, less those insects and the flora. And Janeway was always interested in alternative alien power sources, as part of their mission to explore and document the Delta Quadrant while trying to get home.
Hindsight is 20-20. Timing is everything. If we had only known. Those well-worn clichés had certainly applied to Tom here. With the Delta Flyer II down for maintenance, the two had arrived on the Tecumseh. But everyone aboard Voyager had known during that fateful month of March that Project Pathfinder had finally developed a wormhole big enough to convey a medium-sized Starship. And that Admiral Paris and Lieutenant Reggie Barclay had contacted Janeway via MIDAS to alert her that a wormhole would be opened for them in forty-eight hours, one so large and energy consuming that another attempt could not be made for at least two years. The entire crew was ecstatic at this chance to go home, celebrating with champagne what would finally terminate this unplanned adventure.
But then this planet was discovered with its energy spike, prompting Paris and Torres to push for their brief off-ship soiree. At the time they like everyone else thought they had two full days. Two days for what should have been a husband-wife working vacation sans an infant Miral who was left under the gentle supervision of her EMH godfather and Aunty Seven-of-Nine.
Paris turned to the left now, stepping forward carefully so as to not disturb those small footprints or his old ones. Once again the two trails intersected, this time denoting where his wife had pointed out a bubbling fountain of crystal clear water. After scanning it she had a taste and remarked how fresh it was. Then she turned and splashed just a bit of it onto his uniform, that laugh as clean as the water itself and that broad grin of hers beaming as it always did when something really excited her. She had grabbed his arm and pulled him close, aggressively planting a very passionate kiss on his willing mouth, which he returned in kind. He felt his lips now; sensing the love that had passed between them. They were as moist, warm, and willing now as they were then. And his eyes lowered, for that was the last fiery kiss she had bestowed on him, perhaps forever.
Before departing she suggested taking what once was called a 'selfie,' a timed photo of the two of them smiling with their arms around each other. And just for grins one more where they held up their left hands, displaying their wedding rings for the entire universe to see. Then he turned to her and simply said, "I love you, B'Elanna." And she told him that he was her life before she sauntered off.
And now that ring was off his finger, hanging upon a small duranium chain around his neck. He played with it a bit as he made a slow turn to the right to break through the scrub brush. That led him into the opening they had passed through before. And into the scooped-out amphitheater, a large bowl perhaps 150 meters in diameter.
Overhead was that entirely whole and curved roof; the one shaped like a seashell that B'Elanna remarked was designed to reflect sound. A few deeply carved stone seats hinted to the shape of long-dead occupants, the bulkier ones near the front probably reserved for important beings. He remembered brushing a few centimeters of filth off the middle chair and copping a squat as the self-proclaimed emperor for a day. His good mood overcame him so much that he failed to notice B'Elanna who was twenty meters away. She was standing on a dais in front of something that had grabbed her engineering brain immediately. Her mouth moved to say something but Captain Janeway's urgent comm interrupted her.
'Janeway to landing party.'
Tom recalled that B'Elanna must have hit her comm badge simultaneously with his, the tell-tale shriek of squelch override so apparent. Yeah, she outranked him and was in charge. But they always played that little game to see who was faster on the button. He had won, this time. The lithe brunette giggled and turned back to the object she was scrutinizing with a Tricorder.
'Paris here, Captain.'
'Tom, the wormhole is forming earlier than we expected. They are going to do it here. You two need to get back right now. We won't have much time once it fully expands. The Alpha Quadrant beckons!'
'Affirmative! On our way.'
'Janeway out.'
Tom turned to B'Elanna who acknowledged with a nod that the message was received. But scientific curiosity demanded that she at least take a Holopicture of what was a plain and very old mirror approximately three meters high. Despite the crumbling rocks that surrounded it, the polished quartz surface lacked so much as a scratch, perfectly reflecting her image in the picture. The mirror was in too perfect a condition actually, just as it was now. Tom recalled his wife fumbling around for her camera to reset the data memory card.
He yelled. "Bea, we have to go!"
"Just a moment, Tom. I need to photograph this so the archeologists can give it a once over. This mirror is the power spike! I mean, it is emanating incredible power! So strange for something that my Tricorder is saying is at least 8,100,000 years old. No apparent source fueling it. I wonder what this thing does." The hair on her neck told her not to touch it but she did anyway, right on the frame. Nothing out of the ordinary happened in response that she could see. Maybe a slight vibration similar to her receiving a mild electrical shock. She jerked her hand back and looked at it. Nothing.
"I wouldn't do that, Honey! Unfamiliar alien tech is not something we should play with right now. We need to get back to Voyager or we are going to miss the ride home. And I don't know about you, Mrs. Paris, but I am pretty sick of the Delta Quadrant. Although, if it wasn't for this seven year foray, I never would have met you again. And won your heart as long as that took to break you down, all eight ventricles worth." He brushed off his uniform to clear it of that blowing grit.
She took the picture but surprisingly dropped the camera, her hands feeling a bit tingly and numb. Leaning over to pick it up by the strap, she laughed as she looked at him with what could only be called intense love. "You sap! Tommy, sometimes I just…. Hey! What the hell…."
What ensued had haunted Tom Paris, for years. As the wormhole began to form and widen way above the planet's surface it also began to vacuum in space debris. Voyager shook as it was being pulled but its internal dampeners compensated. The planet, however, was less fortunate. It jerked slightly on it axis just enough to cause tremors in the range of a magnitude seven earthquake. One formed along a fissure deep beneath the amphitheater and shook the area so hard that Tom was thrown to the ground. B'Elanna lost her balance and pitched forward. The last word she screamed out was "Tom!" Then she fell into the mirror and vanished. Three years ago.
"B'Elanna!" As the earth settled once more, Tom scrambled to his feet and ran to the object, placing his hands on the surface. It was absolutely solid and cold as ice. His Tricorder indicated no power levels at all. Pounding on it did nothing. Frantic, Tom ran around to the rear only to find a plain and rock-hard onyx backing. He looked below and above; nothing. She's gone! Oh God, help me! Now he was frenetically screaming B'Elanna's name over and over, again with no response. All that was left to indicate she had ever been there were her footprints in the dust and her dropped Holocamera.
'Janeway to landing party. That's it you two. I'm beaming you out now. Can't wait. Leave the shuttle. Transporter Room 2, lock on to landing party and beam them out NOW. '
'Transporter Room 2, Captain. Wilco. Energizing. Captain! I only have a lock on….'
'Captain, this is Tom. Wait! B'Elanna isn't….'
Tom now paused and rubbed his face, fighting back the tears. He remembered all of that as he now stepped onto that dais, the mirror throbbing with power once more. He had followed B'Elanna's pre-disappearance routine perfectly. Drank some fountain water. Splashed some out and took pictures. Scanned the area. Touched the mirror frame. Took pictures. He didn't know if any of that mattered but it couldn't hurt.
Then he sensed a presence and turned to see that someone. The Richard Galen Institute for Intergalactic Archeological Studies Chief Archeologist. Doctor Ro Laren's compassionate brown eyes were staring up at him. And that look of love was on her face. He returned it, as best he could.
They leaned into each other, kissing deeply. Then they hugged but not too closely. Neither Tom nor Laren could get as close as they desired due to the elaborate exoskeleton under Tom's uniform, the one that allowed him to walk.
Just over two years ago now, a despondent and frankly near-suicidal Lieutenant Tom Paris had yet another shuttlecraft accident, this time very serious. Yeah, he was flying solo and distracted at the time, worried sick over B'Elanna and what he was going to do to find her. That caused him to make a series of small but nearly deadly piloting errors on his final approach to Mars Colony to pick up Lieutenant Commander Tuvok so he could testify at the Board of Inquiry. He put the thing down way too hard, crushing so many vertebrae that he would never walk again on his own. Even twenty-fourth-century Federation medicine and Voyager's EMH had no solution for that kind of spinal damage. By all rights he should have been medically discharged. But he was an Admiral's son, an Academy grad, and a promising officer with a future. Thus Starfleet paid for the experimental powered exoskeleton from the Daystrom Institute, one fabricated by Professor and soon-to-be-commissioned Annika Hansen herself.
Laren looked pleadingly into Tom's eyes. "Tom, do you really think she is in there? And alive? I mean, three years is a long time to be separated, even if you are married. People grow apart. They grieve and move on with their lives. And even if she is in there, there is no telling what there really means or what it is. And if she is alive, she was alone with no support from Voyager. Or…you. Yet I also know B'Elanna is a survivalist. She will do whatever she has to do to live. Anything." She paused, not wanting to say more at the moment.
This was nothing new from her. Her deeply personal conversations with Tom had started a few months after they met once again at the Institute when he started working on that model. She could not help but to reach out to him, given that her very close friend B'Elanna Torres was missing or dead. That was all it was supposed to be. Comfort and understanding from an old…friend.
At first she had no intention of getting physically involved again with that famous warp ten pilot. As she knew, no one can get physically involved with someone without emotional attachment. The physical always serves to fuel the emotional. How could it not when you allow someone to touch your body like that? And she did not need this. There was someone on Bajor, a very kind doctor of medicine who had lost his wife to cervical cancer. And he had two children, two girls who were five and three. She loved them all and they loved her. When he asked her to marry him, she said she would have to think about it. That was a year ago now. And he was still waiting.
This entire situation was awkward to say the least. After seeing Tom once more that old feeling returned. Laren got down on her knees at night and prayed to the Prophets to please not allow her to get involved with him once again. Either they never answered or she did not listen.
As Maquis, she and Tom and B'Elanna were three very good friends who were tight through good times and bad. But she and Tom became passionate lovers until he was sent to prison in New Zealand and she returned to Bajor. If that had not happened, well, who knows? Yet Laren and Seska both knew that Torres was falling in love with Tom and him with her, despite the very torrid affair. They both did their best to hide it. Laren knew that it had been Little Miss No-relationships Torres who preferred to suffer rather than expose her very hurt little girl self to a deeply-meaningful relationship with Paris. And when Laren heard that B'Elanna and Tom had actually married on Voyager and had a daughter that was no surprise to her. Why it had taken nearly seven years on board for that to happen she had no idea. And she was actually happy for them because she had known for a long time that those two had always belonged together.
"I guess what I am saying is that there is no telling what happened to her." She gripped his right hand. He squeezed hers back. "And you want to move on, Tom. I mean, you don't even wear her ring anymore."
That hurt but it was true. That ring only reminded him every day of what they once had. "I know what you are saying, Laren." He kissed the brunette's cheek and she moaned with his touch. "But I suppose if any one of us was going to move on it would be her, not me. You knew her. In the relationship we had, have I mean, she was the one who was least secure. Always trying to reconcile her two halves." Now he did fondle the wedding ring B'Ella had given him four years ago, as if he could sense her presence nearby. His blood ran warm as it always did when he was near her ever since they took the blood oath years ago.
He turned and walked away from the mirror, although its power called to him. "I needed constant reassurance that she loved me but B'Elanna, well, she was always conflicted when it came to us. Those two sides of her, human and Klingon were always at odds no matter what I did. She reconciled that conflict over time and especially once we married but not flawlessly. Before that, there was that damned alien almost sucking the life out of her due to her stubborn Klingon honor not wanting that hologram Cardassian butcher to save her. Abusing herself over the Maquis deaths and not telling me was due to her human side. After we married she tried to alter Miral's features in her womb. That was Klingon shame. And later thinking I would up and leave her one day, well, that was human too."
Tom rubbed his face and looked back at Laren. "But I…love both her halves. They make her B'Elanna. I would never do that to her, you know, leave her. She claimed and bit me on Sakari IV. Given her, that took a lot despite the fever. As the male, I asked her to take the blood oath on our wedding night to honor her and she agreed. That is no small thing for any Klingon woman to do, half human or not. It is more than just saying ritual words and making love afterwards, Laren. Our souls are now bonded forever and that can never be undone, even if we were to divorce. We can never be divided. We are truly one person now." Then he touched his chin, B'Elanna's claiming scar still so prominent.
"For now I have Miral and so in a way I have her. You, Laren, have been great, taking care of my daughter. At times I think she loves you, as a surrogate mother. You spend a lot of time caring for her when Mom or my sisters can't do it. I am very fortunate to have you around as a…very good friend." An involved friend.
The 5'9" Ro Laren squeezed his hand once again, her other hand now slipping around his waist. He did not fight her off this time. "Just a friend, Tom? Are you sure that is all you want from me? Once you go through that mirror you may never come back from wherever it leads. I really don't want to lose you again. I…fell in love with you once more but you know that." She leaned in and kissed him, hard. "She's gone, Tom. Let her go. You have to move on."
He returned her kiss but broke contact after a moment and laughed, shaking his head. "I know that inside of me, I suppose." He looked away and then back. "But you don't 'have' me now to lose, Laren. I have so very strong feelings for you, yes. And you know that. But I am married and that is sacred to us both, B'Elanna and me. And as far as what I want, I want her. She is all I have ever wanted. All I have ever needed. Only death can change that, hers or mine."
Laren smiled a bit but it hurt. She had tried to win Tom's heart over these past months but maybe not hard enough. So now she was taking in the scent of his cologne as it intertwined with her perfume. That caused her to grab his strong shoulders even through that tunic and the portable exoskeleton that supported his spine but also increased Tom's strength to male Klingon proportions. Pulling him close, she knew from experience that he would not resist her. He couldn't and didn't. She pried open his mouth with her tongue and he responded fast. Her left leg wrapped around his thighs, so wanting to pull him down to the ground and peel off that artificial strength enhancer and everything else. As they went backwards she fumbled for her shirt releases and lifted her bra to expose her breasts and swollen nipples. She pushed forward naturally as he lay on his back, seeking once again the long-awaited pleasure attained from his much practiced tongue.
He almost gave in; he was rock hard. But he stopped her with one panting look. "We…can't…do this. It's not right. I took the blood oath."
Tom had flashbacks to a similar situation years ago, as Laren straddled him and rubbed her groin on his. "Tom, we all take oaths. Sometimes you just have to work around them. I want you now. Inside of me. Please." She raised up and began to peel off the rest of her clothing.
Paris' mind burned. This was so right. And oh so wrong. That resistance returned, the same as it was on Sakari IV when a desperate and crazed B'Elanna Torres begged him to screw her and end the burning hell of blood fever. And he was so close to doing her right on that cave floor. But morally he knew it was wrong to take her that way. He was also Laren's friend, not just a past lover, and he had to look out for her too. His strength of character took over, for he was an Admiral's son and was raised to be a gentleman and to respect women. Okay, so he had more than a few females since being a teenager. But always mutual when they were in their right mind. Laren was definitely in her right mind now. But he was no longer single. He had not only taken the blood oath with B'Elanna but also a vow to love, honor, and cherish her. And they had a daughter. There was no honor in this. And that stopped him cold.
"I can't do it. I have to go."
Laren was disappointed yet again but it had been that way for months. Holding hands, kissing, hugging, getting very close to copulating but nothing intimate. Now she rolled off of him and allowed him to stand. She remained on her knees while dressing, her frustration and even some anger gradually subsiding.
"Tom, I hope you find who you are looking for."
He noticed that her eyes were so brown and wet. She was sniffing now. "Me too. This isn't easy to leave behind people you love and especially Miral. But I suppose Lewis Carroll would be proud of me. Laren, I know you will help Mom take care of my daughter and please keep telling her that I love her. She's like her Daddy at times. Needs that constant assurance."
He took a tentative step forward. "I wish I could love you, Laren. Even when we were that way as Maquis you knew I was in love with B'Elanna. If there is anything good that comes out of this at all, I suppose it is that I really know now what I must do and why. Don't keep the lights on, Laren. I don't know if I will ever come home."
Without looking back, he stepped through the mirror.
