Kathryn marveled at the bar as she walked in. Tom had certainly recreated Sandrine's — right down to the minute details.

A voice interrupted her sweeping glance around the bar. "Looking for him?" the barkeep asked as he nodded toward the corner booth.

Her heart sank. It was Tom, though she had to take a second look to be sure. His hair was longer, his face unshaven. His head was propped on the seat back and a whiskey bottle, mostly empty, sat on the table.

"Afraid so," she replied.

"You the wife he's mumbling about?"

"Friend of the family. I've come to take him home; the wife left him and their baby for another man."

"Baby? Mon Dieu! If you need help, just call."

She slid into the seat across from him. He shifted his head and gave her a strange look; probably wondering if she was real.

"I heard. I'm sorry," she said simply.

He snorted. "Is this New Zealand? 'You come to save me again?"

She snorted back. "No, we have a lunch date, remember?" She picked up his half-empty glass and swirled the contents. "Right now, I think we all need saving."

He shrugged. "My father send you?"

"No, I volunteered. Actually, I insisted. I figured you didn't need another fight."

"Thank you," his words were slurring now.

"I'm here on behalf of my goddaughter. She needs her daddy."

Tom jerked his head up. "She OK?"

"Just fine. But she's old enough to wonder why both her parents have left her."

He looked down, but she could see the tears forming. "I couldn't let Lanna take her," he finally said.

"I understand. How about we get you some food and maybe some sleep, then we can talk."

"You don't wanna see my room," he muttered.

"Probably not," she deadpanned. "I have a hotel room; there's a bed for you."

"Yeah ... sure ..." He seemed disoriented. She called the barkeep over and quickly paid the check before they walked him out to a hovertaxi.

He kept muttering all the way to the hotel. "Don't understand …. why weren't we enough?" Kathryn wished she had an answer.

He was strangely quiet as she led him up to her suite and steered him toward the smaller bedroom. He obediently sat on the bed and drank the glass of water she handed him, but showed little reaction to the detox hypospray she pressed into his neck. She finally pushed him back on the bed and leaned in to pull a cover over him. Next thing she knew, he'd pulled her down on top of him. His mouth found hers and he was kissing her frantically.

And God help her, she responded. He tasted like stale whiskey, but her mouth and tongue dueled with his and she pressed herself into his embrace. The warning bells finally went off when he pulled at her shirt, and she quickly rolled away, but not before he grabbed her arm.

"Isn't this what you wanted ... what you came for?" he asked drunkenly. She shook her head. "You don't want me, either," he said plaintively.

"I'm not here to take advantage of you. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry." He looked at her, not comprehending. She sighed, mostly at herself, and shook her arm loose. "Thomas, you really need a bath. You smell," she said. "Get some sleep."

She went into the living room and sat down, shaken by her behavior. She pulled herself back to the present: she had a call to make.

XXX

In the morning, she was sitting on the balcony when she heard something behind her. She turned to see Tom standing in the living room, a bit unsteady but showered and wearing the hotel robe.

"Good morning. How's the head?" He grimaced in response and moved to the couch.

"Think you could eat something? I can replicate some toast."

He nodded, and she brought up the food and a glass of water.

"Let's start with this ... if you need something, I brought a med kit."

He ate as she sipped her coffee. "Thank you, that's better," he said, his voice stronger. He was silent for a moment. "I don't remember a lot ... you saying something about not wanting my father to come. After that ..." he shook his head.

"That's close. I said I would find you, but I didn't tell him where I was going."

"Thank you," he whispered. "I know you're busy, but this means a lot to me." He shifted, then stopped, wincing.

She was next to him in an instant. "What's wrong?"

"You have a bone regenerator in that kit? I think I have a cracked rib."

She raised an eyebrow. He shook his head. "The fight ... when she left. She threw half the furniture in the house at me. I think I was nailed by one of the tables, or maybe half a table."

"Just sit still." She grabbed the med kit. "Open your robe," she commanded as she pulled out the tricorder.

He hesitated. She looked at him, puzzled, then suddenly realized.

"It's all right. I've seen a few of those, if that's what you're worried about. He chuckled painfully, and opened the robe.

It took all her willpower not to gasp at the mottled bruises on his right side. "You have three cracked ribs," she pronounced after a scan. "Unfortunately, I don't have a bone regenerator. You need a doctor."

He shook his head. "Just use the dermal regenerator on the bruises. That will help a lot."

She sat back. "I'd rather not. This should be documented. Domestic violence ..."

"Is serious," he finished for her. "I know, but I'm not pressing charges."

"Your choice. But this needs proper treatment." She thought for a moment. "Let me bandage this so I can get you home. We'll have it fixed properly, and quietly."

Another complication: As much as he wanted to get Miral, Tom couldn't face his parents at the moment. Kathryn lightly ordered him to the barbershop, then made a call.

"I'm happy to have you for a few extra days, Katie," her mother said, "just bring Tom along. I'll see what I can do from this end."

XXX

Phoebe met them at the transport station. It was a quiet return until Tom got to the front porch. The screen door banged open, and Miral ran out at top speed, yelling "Dada! Dada!" He grabbed her and hugged her tightly, whispering comfort into her ear.

They all looked up to see Gretchen in the doorway, flanked by Tom's sisters, Kathleen and Moira. Tom stiffened a bit as his sisters came out; they ignored that and in turn, hugged and kissed him.

"All right, how did you get Miral away from Mom and Dad?" he asked once they'd come inside. Gretchen had enticed the child into the kitchen for cookies so they could all talk.

"Oh, well," Kathleen said, "they had a bloody fit. But Moira pointed out that it kept Miral out of reach, just in case B'Elanna decided to come back."

"Not to mention," Moira added, "that she might think twice about confronting Kathryn. And if Kathryn wouldn't shoot her, Gretchen just might."

"We went to your place and cleaned out your stuff. Brought some; left some at my house," Kathleen said.

"And we need to talk about that," Moira said. "That place was a shambles. We threw a lot into the recycler. But first, I went through your messages ... sorry ... but there is something you need to see right now," she said, handing him a PADD.

Tom read it and whistled. "Well, that didn't take long," he said, handing the PADD to Kathryn.

"The Boreth court has granted her a divorce? And given her full custody of Miral?" she read incredulously.

"Yeah, wish I could get a case through court that quickly," Moira quipped. "Look, divorce law isn't my specialty, but I know a few things. Court decisions under Q'onoS law don't necessarily use due process, so they don't get automatic recognition. You can take this to Federation Court. I also suspect the court would be cautious about that custody decree, especially with the political situation right now.

"My colleagues suggested a lawyer who's an expert in cross-world custody cases. Turns out we have a mutual friend, so I did some arm-twisting. He's agreed to take a vid call today to discuss your options.

"Tom," she continued more softly. "Mom said that she was cheating on you. But I need to ask: Do you want to contest the divorce? Any chance you want to work things out?"

Tom sat silently for a moment, then looked at the PADD again. "No, there's no point. It's over."

"Do you want to contest the custody order?'

"Oh, hell, yes," he said firmly.

Moira squeezed his shoulder. "All right then, little brother. We have work to do."

XXX

Moira knew Tom had been injured; Kathryn had clued in her mother. But she got Tom to talk about the fight, and he finally consented to let her take images of his bruised ribs, and more importantly, agreed to see a doctor.

"By the way, Kathryn, I don't know what you said to Dad," Kathleen told her after they left, "but you managed to rattle his cage. When we left, he was willing to admit that it wasn't all Tom's fault."

"I'm just happy he listened to me."

"Kathryn," Kathleen sighed, "I think that when it comes to Tom, your opinion is the only one that counts with Dad." She looked at her closely. "How was he when you found him?"

Careful here, she reminded herself. Tom was trying to return to Starfleet; there would be enough gossip. Whispers about a drinking binge wouldn't help.

"Besides the cracked ribs? Upset," she said simply. "He needed someone to listen, and remind him that Miral needs him."