AN: Well, that vote didn't help me at all! Much to my surprise, I had one, kind of, Seska. Yes, VoyFan2, it would be one hell of a back story. Maybe in the future. I have to say your comment about Tom's wife being dead sent my muse skyrocketing. I actually hadn't considered the mother and wife as two separate people. Now that would lead to a wonderful Kathryn story, at least in my mind.
So far, we have B'Elanna or Kathryn as the mother of Elizabeth, the former with more votes. Well, let's see what the next episode has in stall for us. I might even have to do two versions of this story, or at least another fic altogether. Maquis Janeway…the muse is simmering.
Chapter Two:
Ten years earlier.
"Remaining in a teaching position is not good for your career, Thomas," Owen glared at his son, "especially after the incident at Caldik Prime. You need to be on a Starship, getting command experience, regaining your reputation."
Walking past the Admiral and Lieutenant, Cadet Third Class B'Elanna Torres caught the sentence. She knew they had to be related. The younger was almost a carbon copy of the elder, minus a few years. It took hearing the words 'Caldik Prime' to understand the Lieutenant was Tom Paris, newly arrived instructor of basic piloting. His accident had become legendary amongst the student population since joining the teaching staff at the start of this semester. Intrigued, and more than a little voyeuristic, she ducked behind a strategically placed bush. Internally B'Elanna smiled at the mid-twenties Lieutenant being balled out on campus by his father. It was something her mother would have done, accusing her of not being Klingon enough. Lt. Paris's demeanour reminded Torres of the arguments she'd had with Miral, particularly about Starfleet.
"How many times," Tom sighed, his eyes refusing to meet his father's gaze, "do I have to tell you, Dad. I'm happy here for the moment. It's giving me time to heal, emotionally and physically. When I'm ready, I'll get back into space."
"You've had six months already," the Admiral huffed. "If you ever want that third pip, you need to be making the right decisions, now."
"Brown nosing," Tom hissed between clenched teeth, "you mean. It's never been my style and I don't intend to start now. If that's all, Admiral, I have a class to teach."
"Dismissed," Owen barked, his displeasure obvious.
Muttering under his breath, Tom stalked away. Cadet Torres watched, coming to the sudden realisation that Starfleet brats didn't have it as easy as she thought. Intrigued by the family dynamics, B'Elanna looked up Lt. Paris's service record. He'd almost bombed out of the Academy in his first semester, even if he was one of the most decorated pilots of his generation. Something must have happened because from the second, Tom Paris's grades improved. The only acceptation being his survival training. Initially Lt. Tuvok was to take the course. At the last minute, Admiral Paris interceded and Tom's grades suffered. However, whatever lesson his son was supposed to learn back fired. Pushing his son towards a prestigious posting on graduation, the B minus dragged down his overall Academy score and Ensign Tom Paris's application was declined.
Snorting at the Admiral getting his just desert, Torres recognised others came from just as dysfunctional families as her own and succeeded at the Academy. While the issues might not be exactly the same, Lt. Paris's father was as bad as her mother in many ways. A month later, B'Elanna came across Lt. Paris while crossing the campus. Sucking up her courage, she approached the man.
"Sir," she asked, timidly for a half Klingon, "how did you do it?"
When the Lieutenant simply stared, B'Elanna was forced to continue, "make it through the Academy while your father taught here?"
Torres wasn't prepared for the bark of laughter. "Of all the things I thought you'd ask, Cadet," Tom sobered, "that would have been my last guess."
Watching the young woman's reaction, Lt. Paris knew there was more behind this question. It was in her carefully guarded eyes. He could see she was struggling, trying to decide if she should stay, if she had the tenacity to complete her studies, to fit in to the ridged structure of Starfleet. Being part Klingon couldn't be easy with the current situation between the Federation and Empire.
"The answer is sheer determination to prove the old man wrong. But," he warned, "only after a classmate told me to pull my head in and stop acting so petulantly. I nearly bombed out in my first year. Brem reminded me, I wasn't the only kid with parental issues and from a dysfunctional family, even if that family was the equivalent of Starfleet royalty. If I really didn't want a career in Starfleet, I should get out and give some other kid who needed the placement a chance. A kid who didn't have their way paved just because of their family name. I realised, if I was to succeed, I had to be here for me, because this is what I wanted and I was willing to work for it, no matter how much it cost. When I finally accepted that, everything turned around."
Once again, scrutinising the girl, Tom noticed her chewing the inside of her bottom lip. He could tell the Cadet wanted to say more but couldn't. Sighing, he remembered that feeling. Vulnerability, along with the unwillingness to let anyone else know or in.
"My doors always open, Cadet," Lt. Paris offered. "In spite of rumour, I've been there and done that. I'd hate to see you leave the Academy based on family issues that might be holding back your potential. In the end, you decided to come here and were intelligent enough to pass the entrance exam. Will you ever forgive yourself if you don't complete your studies? If you let someone else win. There's no honour in that."
Nodding, the half Klingon pivoted on her foot and strode away. Tom watched as she disappeared into the crowd. He wouldn't even be able to check up on her, tell her academic advisor to kept an eye on the girl. "Dam," Paris muttered under his breath, "why didn't you ask her name."
Eight years earlier.
"Lt. Paris," Captain Galsia Hared called her second bridge officer into her ready room. Deception was a Miranda class supply ship with a crew compliment of twenty-seven. Small enough to be a family of sorts. They'd come to know Tom over the last year and discarded the reputation that followed him. "I'd like you to meet Ensign Torres. B'Elanna is straight out of the academy and will be joining the Engineering crew. Torres, Tom's our Helmsman, among other duties. Lt. Paris will show you around before you report to the quartermaster on deck four. Your shift starts at 0800 ships time. Dismissed."
Smiling as they left the ready room, Tom looked down at the half Klingon. "I remember you from the Academy. I'm glad to see you got through. You had me worried after out talk."
Nodding, B'Elanna didn't say anything. She hoped her appreciation showed in her eyes. Over the next year their friendship would turn into a love affair culminating in their wedding another year later. Still on Deception, they'd been married a little over six months when the Engineering Chiefs assistant collapsed on duty. Thankfully the vessel was in transporter range of a Starbase.
"Congregations, Lieutenant," the doctor smiled after running a medical tricorder over the young officer. "You're pregnant with twins, which explains your symptoms."
"Pregnant," Torres stuttered, rolling her eyes. "I don't have the time or energy to be pregnant."
"Your file states your married," the doctor stated cautiously, "and you're not currently on contraceptives. Am I to understand this is somewhat of a surprise?"
"I'm Klingon," B'Elanna stated acidly, "my husband is Human. The chances of conception are, well, astronomical."
"Your son and daughter are three parts Human and one Klingon," the doctor retorted. "There are one hundred and forty billion of each species inhabiting this part of the galaxy, at least a million married and you are not the only full or part Klingon wearing a Starfleet uniform. While the odds might be against you, they aren't zero. If you didn't want to tempt fate, you and your husband should have been on contraceptives."
Sighing, B'Elanna gave the man an evil look. "At least Tom will be happy," she muttered.
"We are not keeping your pregnancy a secret, B'Elanna," Tom stated in a heated tone when she told him later the same night. He's been worried sick until his wife returned to Deception. "The Captain needs to know, as dose the Chief Engineer."
"I'm not going to hide it," she responded acidly. "I couldn't even if I wanted too. I just want to keep it between us for the next few weeks. Captain Janeway has offered me a promotion to full Lieutenant and Chief Engineer on Intrepid, the first of her class. I want this, Tom. I want the challenge of getting that ship through her final construction and trials. By then I'll be ready for parental leave."
Sighing, he nodded. It had been like this from the first. B'Elanna's engines would always come first. In some ways, Lt. Paris felt responsible for her single-minded determination. His conversation with a second-year cadet had more of an effect than he'd ever imagined. "Then I guess I'm going to take a more stable posting."
"Please," Torres huffed, "not on Earth, or Q'onos."
"That," Tom smirked, "I think we can agree on. Between your mother and my father, those planets are not an option. I can always go back and teach at the Academy while you're at the construction yards. At least we can spend the weekends together."
Although they caught up, physically, every week and spent hours on the com, the emotional distance between them grew. Three days before the vessel took her maiden flight, Elizabeth and William Paris were born, B'Elanna working until her water broke on the Engine room floor. This event, more than any other, demonstrated the detachment creeping into their marriage to Lt. Paris. Especially when Intrepid's Chief Engineer insisted on returning to work within twenty-four hours of expelling her children and taking the vessel out with Cpt. Janeway. A week later they were ordered to Deep Space Nine, to patrol the Demilitarised Zone between the Federation and Cardassian boarders.
"B'Elanna," Tom paced his wife's quarters on Intrepid, "this is ridiculous. They're only a week old, and you want to take the twins to DS9. What the hell am I supposed to do? I'm posted to the Academy until the end of the semester."
"I spoke with Janeway," Torres looked into the crib her son and daughter shared. They slumbered peacefully while their parents argued, once again. It had been like this since their birth. With the trials, and the expectation the Engineering Chief would be available for issues twenty-four seven, Tom had been the primary carer for the children. "There's a position for a pilot on station. She's willing to put in a word for you."
"Great," Tom spat, angered that his 'Caldik Prime' reputation still hounded his career prospects. So far, his postings had been determined by his wife's promotions. B'Elanna ensured he went with her, in whatever capacity her commanding officer saw fit. He was thoroughly sick of it, especially with the two little people laying in their crib who deserved better than a workaholic mother. They had to come first. "So, I get to see you what, one week in every three months when Intrepid calls in for supplies. What about the kids, B'Elanna. They need both parents, a stable environment. The kind of childhood neither of us experienced."
"I thought we could swap them," she sighed. "I'm trying to make this work, Tom, but you're not making it easy. I had to beg Captain Janeway to even consider putting in a word for you. She knows your father, served with him on the Al Batani." The expression B'Elanna levelled at her husband spoke volumes. Obviously, Janeway was not a fan. "Look, I'll take one with me, the other stays with you. We can change on my next rotation. That way we both get time with them."
"What about safety, childcare, time for us?" Tom demanded, incensed by his wife's plan. He felt like enough of a failure without his wife having to beg for any assignment within Starfleet so they could remain together as a family on the very edge of Federation space. Lt. Paris wasn't about to let his marriage and family disintegrate without a fight. Nor did he want his children so close to contested territory.
"Take the DS9 posting and we'll work it out," B'Elanna sighed before a com interrupted them. Within seconds she was gone. Within hours his new orders came through. Like it or not, Lt. Paris made the journey to DS9 with his wife.
It turned out to be the worst mistake Tom ever made. Cpt. Janeway simply refused to have the children on her ship after ferrying the family to DS9. Tom Paris became a single father of two, twelve out of every thirteen weeks. His job suffered, he felt isolated and had been forced into reducing his posting to part-time.
Eighteen months later his life turned upside down once again. The shuttle carrying is wife, son and Captain Janeway was found in a million tiny chards just inside the DMZ. It had been attacked by the Maquis and destroyed with all hands. According to the official report, the away team had been trying to access medical treatment for William when they were ambushed.
"Son," Admiral Owen Paris had turned up at DS9 personally. Just being in the same room as his father caused Tom to feel sick. He knew what the man thought of B'Elanna and his marriage. Never one for mincing words, a pained expression crossed the older man's face. "I need to tell you the truth. Janeway and Torres have defected to the Maquis. The accident was staged. Starfleet feel it wouldn't serve anyone so the official report will stand. You are now, officially, a widower."
Nodding, Tom felt numb. He'd seen the changes in B'Elanna, felt the distance between them become almost untenable. More and more often his wife spent her off duty hours with Janeway, their heads together, discussing the Maquis situation. Lt. Paris had an inkling something was wrong when B'Elanna insisted on taking William with her on this rotation on the DMZ.
I should have listened to my instincts, Tom shook his head, sighing at the memory, and demanded William remain with me. Hell, I was the primary carer for the children, everyone knew that. B'Elanna's defection I could have come to terms with, but dragging our son into that situation was sheer selfish madness. I don't think I can ever forgive her for that.
Standing before Cpt. Howards ready room door, Tom straightened his spine and pushed the bell. In the three and a half years since, Lt. Paris moved away from DS9 and Starfleet, allowing his career to fall into obscurity. Two years ago, he'd been approached to come off personal leave and put the uniform on, once again. They needed an instructor at the Academy on Furgus IV. It was a nine to five job, allowing Lizzy to have her father at home every night and all weekend. It suited them well, until Rue approached him to take a promotion, after spending six months regaining his space legs on Venture, a Galaxy class starship. Until yesterday, Tom had been a Lieutenant, Chief Con and second bridge officer. Today, he'd gained his extra pip and the duties that went with it.
"Come," Rue's deep tone issued from the Comm.
"Lt. Commander Paris, reporting for duty, Sir," Tom stated.
"Good to have you on board, Commander. I hope Lizzy settled with Rachael Carey?" the Captain attempted to put his XO at ease.
"Yes, Sir," Tom watched the man before him carefully. "Permission to speak freely?"
"Granted," Rue almost smiled.
He knew what was coming next. Expected it. Six months with his previous First Officer, now Captain of her own vessel, had been good for Tom Paris and his daughter. Lt. Paris's time on the Galaxy class ship taught him what Cpt. Howard wanted and needed in an XO, especially with the assignment Starfleet had given them. Launching Voyager, the latest version of the Intrepid class, had a very specific reason. His choice of Tom Paris had been even more particular, and one Starfleet had backed.
"Why me?" Tom requested, his tone a little confused.
"The mission," Rue responded, a slightly sly smile creeping onto the corners of his lips. In every communication over the last year, he'd diplomatically steered the conversation away from this every question.
"What is our mission, Captain?" Shivering, Tom had the sinking suspicion he'd been played.
"To find your wife, son and Kathryn Janeway," the Captain stated. "It's time to get Voyager launched, Mr. Paris. Shall we," Rue stood and pointed to the door leading to the bridge.
"Yes, Sir," Tom nodded his understanding. Heart beating wildly, he wondered what he'd find if and when they caught up with the Maquis.
OK, time for you to choose:
1: To get lost in the Delta quadrant nor not to get lost in the Delta quadrant?
2: Janeway and Torres as spies or traitors? (Can be one of each)
Let me know your thoughts.