Synopsis: Set during various periods of time post-"Endgame."

Miral Paris, the daughter of B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, and her friend Andrew Kim, the son of Harry Kim, are preparing to enter Starfleet Academy. But after eighteen years of friendship, things between them are starting to change – and their parents struggle to deal with what that means for the future.


Chapter 7: Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Academy, Main Auditorium, 2399

It was difficult for any of them to listen to the head of Starfleet Medical briefing them on the outbreak of Norvalian plague on the Quebec Outposts without wanting to take action. When the commandant took the podium and announced that end of the semester examinations would be suspended for any cadets interested in volunteering as part of Starfleet's relief wave to the outposts, the room was instantly abuzz.

Miral Paris sat with several of her lab classmates, contemplating. She'd never been interested in medicine – she'd spent enough time with the Doctor to know that – but the outposts were manned by a rather diverse group, and volunteering would mean a close-up look at comparative humanoid xenobiology, even if disease-ridden. She had anticipated studying off-campus the following semester anyway, so she thought the relief mission would perhaps give her the opportunity she was looking for. Besides that, hearing about the devastation the plague caused was enough to make anyone with a heart want to catch the nearest shuttle.

"What do you think, Paris?" Gia, the Bajoran cadet first-class sitting next to her, asked.

"I don't have much field experience," Miral replied. "But I don't see how we can say no."

"Agreed. The situation on those outposts is horrifying."

"And getting worse," Chauvin, once Miral's biochemistry lab partner, chimed in. "I'm heading back to my room to pack. What about you two?"

Miral nodded. "I'll come along. Did they say what officers are being dispatched with us?"

"I'm sure everyone at Starfleet Medical Academy is going," Gia said with confidence.

Chauvin gave a slight roll of her eyes. "They've all left already with all the medical students."

"If all the medical students are being dispatched, as well as everyone on any ship or starbase in the vicinity, and they're still taking volunteers," Miral pointed out, "it must be one hell of a plague."

"Paris, I think they've asked instructors with field medicine training to lead cadet teams," Gia said, in answer to her previous question.

"Like my dad." Miral pursed her lips for a moment.

Their paths had not crossed as often as she'd anticipated when she'd first arrived at the Academy. In fact, she only saw him in passing from time to time around the grounds. Andrew saw Harry far more frequently, thanks to their weekly lunches. Now that the possibility of going on a mission with her father was in front of her, Miral wasn't entirely certain she wanted to do it. One of the things she liked about living in the dormitory was that she could create an identity for herself separate from her family legacy.

Still, if she had inherited one thing from her parents, it was their sense of advocacy in the face of suffering. If the commandant thought she could assist on the outposts, then she would rise to the challenge. Besides, she reminded herself, there were literally hundreds of Starfleet volunteers headed for the outposts; the odds that they'd end up anywhere near each other were slim.

"What are we waiting for?" she asked those still seated around her. "Let's go pack."


Paris, Place de la Concorde, Office of the Federation Liaison to the Klingon Empire

Surprising his wife at work was just one of the many ways that Tom Paris liked to keep an image of himself firmly planted in B'Elanna's mind as she worked long into the night, but more importantly he liked watching the shock on her face quickly turn to an insuppressible smile when he walked into a room unannounced. On this particular day, he had also come bearing a request. He arrived at her office with an old-fashioned picnic basket in hand, ready to treat her to lunch outdoors in the warm spring air, and to beguile her with his charm before he asked if he could please run off to a distant outpost for a few weeks.

"Good afternoon," he greeted her secretary Anel as he entered the office. He gave his most winning smile. "Is she busy?" He leaned over the desk slightly, resting on one of his palms, and counted on the fact that Anel still had a crush on him to get him what he wanted.

"She claims to be," Anel replied in a conspiratorial tone, his lips curving into a smile. "But it's nothing that can't wait. Go on in."

"Thanks," Tom said appreciatively, widening his smile. Anel blushed slightly and turned his eyes away, and it pleased Tom to think he could still work some of the old Paris charm.

Without knocking, Tom burst into B'Elanna's office and found her sitting curled up on the sofa under the window. She was reading something, but the sound of the door opening immediately caught her attention. She looked up, first in surprise, and then in happiness. I've still got it, he thought as he crossed the room to embrace her.

He held up the picnic basket. "Paris in the springtime. Perfect for romance."

"Are you talking about yourself or the city?"

"Both. Are you hungry?"

"You read my mind," she admitted, nuzzling her face against his. "I'm starving. Did you happen to bring –"

"Potato salad," he confirmed, "and cherry pie for dessert."

"What a man." B'Elanna kissed him heartily, then threw the padd down on the couch. "You've convinced me. Where are we going to eat this fine meal?"

"Along the river?" Tom offered her his arm, which B'Elanna took, and they set out.

Once seated on one of the benches overlooking the Seine, Tom spared no energy in serving her. He'd even brought a candle, which the warm spring breeze kept snuffing out, and a small decanter of wine. But when he pulled out the dish of fried chicken that he'd made himself from a new recipe, Tom noticed her happiness being replaced by suspicions.

"Okay," she declared, "what's going on?"

"I can't surprise my wife?"

"Of course. You just don't usually do it with so much…forethought." Her eyes narrowed as they bore into his. "You want something."

"I do," he admitted, filling a small glass of wine for her. "You've read the reports about the Quebec Outposts?"

B'Elanna nodded. "Actually, I was just reading an update when you came. The empire is sending the infectious diseases team from the Mempa system to see if they can assist. They're worried about the contagion spreading into Klingon territory."

"The academy has asked for volunteers to lead groups of cadets in the sciences division to help. I'd like to go."

"You haven't done any medic work since we were on the Enterprise."

It wasn't a "no" exactly, for which Tom was grateful. His wife was often underestimated as a very black-and-white decision maker, but in reality she thought like an engineer: before reaching a conclusion, she'd logic through the pieces. In his mind, it made her an incredibly fair spouse.

"Doc said he'll be on a team with me."

"You already talked to the Doctor about this?"

It wasn't an accusation – more like amazement. Tom knew B'Elanna gave him credit for always attempting to keep one step ahead of her, to make that certain he'd considered every possible scenario before her ironclad logic poked a hole in his ideas. But it still never failed to surprise her when he actually succeeded.

He nodded, and she shook her head at his plotting.

"Did you think you needed to ask my permission, Tom?" she asked with a smile. "I've always let you do whatever you wanted – whatever you felt was right." She savored a bite of potato salad before continuing. "Besides, those people need help. If you think you can help, you should go."

"I don't know if I can help," he admitted, "but at least I'd like to try."

"Is Miral going?"

"I haven't seen her in a few days," Tom replied. "But if she's as much like her mother as I think she is…"

"You mean as much like you." She took another bite, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the flavor. After she swallowed, she opened her eyes and caught him looking intently at her. "Hey, you're not eating."

"I'm enjoying watching you eat." He kissed her quickly, catching her breath. "I don't know what I find sexier – you eating or you surprised."

"I already said you could go," she reminded him playfully. She held out a drumstick, and he ate a bite off it.


San Francisco, Starfleet Academy, Dormitory Room of Cadet Miral Paris

She slung her duffel bag over one shoulder and righted herself. Holding on to the shoulder strap with one hand, she reached out with the free hand to gently caress Andrew's cheek. He caught her hand as she started to pull away and squeezed it.

"Don't," she warned.

His fingers shifted to her wrist, and he brought her palm to his lips. He managed to kiss it delicately before she wriggled out of his grasp. "I don't want you to go. It's dangerous."

"We've talked about this, Andrew," she said firmly.

Miral felt herself growing angry at him. "Dangerous" was not a fair criterion. After all, the whole objective of the three years they'd spent at the Academy was to prepare for dangerous careers in Starfleet. As she looked at him, though, Andrew seemed so pathetic that her frustration waned. He would miss her and worry about her, and he didn't know what else to do or say. She supposed that, in a way, it was sweet. Miral put her bag down on the bed and stepped toward him. Placing one hand along his jaw, she drew him near, and his arms encircled her waist.

As they pulled apart, Miral nuzzled her face into his neck, breathing, "I'm still going." Then she kissed him as passionately as she could.

"Mmm, if you don't stop, I won't ever let you go."

"Walk me to the shuttle hangar?" she whispered. She turned and grabbed her bag once more.

Andrew tugged at his uniform pants. "I don't know if I can."

Miral turned to look at him and realized just how much one kiss from her could arouse him. It made her feel powerful and sexy. Since it would be the longest they'd been apart since they began dating, she decided to give in. She tossed the bag onto the floor but cautioned him, "We only have twenty minutes."

"I can be fast," he promised.

Twenty-two minutes later, they left Miral's room, this time with Andrew carrying the duffel bag and wearing a big smile.


Shuttle Hangar

The hangar was a veritable madhouse, with nearly every cadet in the sciences tract present. Andrew, in his gold uniform, looked very out of place. Miral checked the roster to see which team she was assigned to. In spite of the great number who had volunteered, she'd managed to end up on a shuttle with a very familiar crew.

"Oh, great," she said with obvious disappointment as she turned back to Andrew. They moved away from the list to give others in the crowd a chance to check it. "Do you think they requested me deliberately?"

"I don't know," Andrew said, "but it might be nice to get to work with them."

Miral didn't say anything, but her glowering was response enough.

"Come on, this way." Andrew led her by the elbow through the packed hangar to the shuttle to which she was assigned. Pausing briefly outside it, he looked into her eyes and said quietly, "I don't know how I'm going to survive two weeks without you."

"Stop," she warned, a little coldly. Her voice surprised them both. She recognized the hurt in Andrew's eyes with a tinge of regret.

Andrew, chalking her attitude up to nerves and resentment at being assigned to her father's team, shrugged off his feelings and led the way into the shuttle.

Once they stepped inside, they heard the familiar voice of the Doctor calling their names. He first engulfed Miral in a hug, and then he took the bag from Andrew while clapping the cadet on the back. "Some coincidence, isn't this?"

"Why didn't you depart earlier with all the other medical personnel?" Miral wanted to know.

"Oh, I don't know," the Doctor bluffed. "Perhaps because a certain field medic requested my presence to round out his team. You know, I remember a time when your father would go to great lengths to avoid being in my company."

"Maybe he's getting lonely in his old age," Andrew joked, and he was immediately punished with a slightly wounded look from the Doctor and Miral's elbow in his kidney. "I have to get going. Promise me you'll take good care of her?"

"He'll make no such promise," Miral intervened. "No special treatment."

Another cadet stepped into the shuttle, interrupting them. "Cadet Teodora Walsingham reporting for duty, sir," she announced to the doctor as she stood at attention.

"At ease, Cadet, and welcome aboard," he replied, stepping aside slightly to let her pass.

"That's my cue," Andrew said.

"I'll give you two a minute to say good-bye," the Doctor offered.

"No need," Miral assured. "We're here in an official capacity." She gave Andrew a smile as her simple farewell.

"Besides, we already said good-bye," Andrew added mischievously. Miral's professional demeanor cracked, and a smile spread across her face. "For twenty minutes."

"Go," she ordered him, still smiling. "I'll talk to you as soon as I can."

"Stay safe," he said seriously. She nodded. He gave the bulkhead a thump with his palm, and then he left.

"Cadet Miral Paris, reporting for duty, sir," she declared, standing at attention for her godfather.

"Save the protocol for the pilot."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Only if you'll stop calling me 'sir.'"

Miral relaxed slightly, narrowing her eyes as she tried to figure out how to say what she wanted to without hurting the Doctor's feelings. "Did you have anything to do with me getting assigned to this team?" He shook his head. "Well, this is my first off-world mission. Can I ask you treat me like everyone else?"

"Of course," he assured.

"No, I mean, really treat me like everyone else. Be curt and superior. Criticize my ineptitude. I signed up because I wanted to help the outposts, but I also wanted to get the real experience of a mission."

The Doctor did not point out that she had just greatly insulted him. She was, after all, his goddaughter, and he had a soft spot for her. And that meant giving into her wishes, even if there were for him to be, in short, mean. He nodded. "I will, Cadet," he promised in a gentle voice.

Miral nodded. "Thank you. I'm going to go say hi to my dad."

She made her way to the cockpit, where Tom sat at the helm, frowning as he compared the preflight checklist on the padd in his left hand with the diagnostics console being activated with his right.

"Cadet Paris, reporting for duty," she repeated.

A wide grin on his face, Tom spun around in his chair. "Munchkin, how did you get assigned to this shuttle?"

"I don't know, but I'm requesting immediate reassignment if you don't promise stop calling me 'munchkin.'" She crossed her arms and glared at him, annoyed as much at the nickname as the fact that he was already causing trouble for her.

Tom let out a laugh. "Relax, Cadet. I'm the senior officer here. I can set a good example."

"Did you put me on this team?" she demanded.

"Nope. Why would I want to go on a mission with you?"

Miral's eyes narrowed further, and Tom nearly laughed out loud. It was like teasing B'Elanna – too easy and too fun to watch her spit fire in response.

"Okay," she said finally, dropping her arms to her sides. "Just promise me we can keep this professional."

"I can if you can."

"I'd better go join the others." She kissed his cheek. "It's good to see you, Dad."

"Hey, I thought you wanted it to keep professional?" Tom called after her.

In the aft of the cabin, the nine other cadets assigned to the shuttle were assembled. As Miral fell in line with them, the Doctor began briefing them on their duties. The outbreak, it seemed, had spread to the surrounding systems since the commandant's announcement a few days before. The medical teams at the outposts were working around the clock to treat cases and alleviate symptoms as best as they could, leaving very little time for them to research a cure or prevention for the plague. Contagion continued to be a problem, although the virus had not yet mutated to an airborne strain. Its effects, however, were rapidly becoming more potent. There were already three hundred fatalities, and more feared in the coming hours.

"How many confirmed cases to date?" Walsingham asked.

The doctor's voice was even as he answered, "Four million seven hundred thousand, approximately." There was a murmur of surprise among the group, and the doctor gave them a moment to let the enormity sink in. "Our job will be triaging patients at the medical facility on the second outpost."

"Doctor?" someone asked. "Couldn't we better serve the settlers by assisting in research? I'm trained as a researcher, not a nurse."

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, Cadet, but Starfleet Medical is sending everyone within range to work with the outpost medical teams. What they need from us is relief – nursing, triaging, assisting victims' families. I realize it's less than glamorous," he continued, "but it's hands-on, and it's the kind of work you can expect when you serve on a starship in a combat situation." He looked around the group, waiting for them to nod in complicity. "Now, let me review the basic progression of symptoms…"


Starfleet Academy, Main Cafeteria

"How about a game of hoverball or something?" Andrew suggested to his lunch companion.

"Is that you, Andrew? Are you feeling okay?"

Andrew made a face. "Funny, Hanson. I'm serious. I have all this energy to get out."

Hanson nearly choked on his coffee. "You mean, because Miral's been gone for three days?"

"It feels like three weeks," Andrew grumbled, savagely ripping apart a dinner roll.

"You've gone without sex for longer than three days, haven't you?" Andrew looked up at him, giving Hanson the answer he needed. "Wow. Score one for Klingon DNA."

"It's not just about sex," Andrew explained. "I miss her, okay?"

"What's going on, gentlemen?" Soraya asked as she plunked down at their table.

"Andrew's sexually frustrated," Hanson reported.

"Hanson!"

"Oh, relax, Drew," Soraya said encouragingly. "He's just happy not to be the only one anymore."

"I wouldn't be if you would just give in to me," Hanson teased her, batting his eyelashes sweetly.

She gave him an equally artificial smile. "In your dreams."

"Every night."

"Guys!" Andrew snapped. Hanson and Soraya's banter had lately grown more and more explicit. While it had once seemed funny to their circle of friends – funny in its implausibility – Andrew was beginning to wonder if it wasn't rooted in something more serious. The last thing he needed after days of sleeping alone was to listen to them try to seduce each other by pretending they weren't interested. He gruffly picked up his unfinished dinner.

"Where are you going?"

To the last place on Earth where I'll think about sex. "Home."


Earth, San Francisco, Public Transport Center

The long road to reconciliation had begun when Voyager, still in the Delta Quadrant, first established live contact with Earth. John Torres had asked to speak with her, though B'Elanna didn't fully understand why. The strain of seeing her father for the first time in twenty years, combined with the high levels of hormones her pregnancy with Miral caused, had prompted her to tell him she'd write. After she'd made that promise, B'Elanna wasn't entirely certain she wanted to make good on it, but as the pieces of Tom's complicated relationship with his own father began to fall into place, B'Elanna thought perhaps she, too, could reconcile her past. She'd written her father, and since then they'd exchanged letters at regular – if long – intervals.

Twenty years later, and B'Elanna still wasn't sure what to make of her relationship with him. She had learned on Voyager that everyone had a past full of regrettable choices, and that everyone deserved a chance at redemption. She also knew he wasn't going to live forever, and she wanted to heal her old wounds. Besides that, when she and Tom had decided to have a family, she also decided to give their children everything she'd always wanted in a family – including grandparents. Although she didn't yet call him her father, B'Elanna accepted that L'Naan and Miral thought of John Torres as their grandfather. After all, he'd been a regular (if distant) participant in their lives.

Tom, she knew, resented John Torres. He hated that he'd damaged her as a child so greatly, said things about her that she'd overheard, left her and caused her to doubt that anyone would ever stay with her long-term. He hated that Torres' abandonment meant B'Elanna had come to dislike herself enough to nearly turn their first daughter into a lab experiment, instead of the beautiful Klingon child he'd signed up for. And he really hated that John Torres had turned up in their lives so suddenly, without warning, when B'Elanna was in a pregnant and fragile state.

But they'd talked extensively about him over the years, and Tom had told her many times that it wasn't his place to decide what role the man would play in their lives. That decision was entirely hers. It was for that reason that B'Elanna thought rendering a verdict on L'Naan's latest request while Tom and Miral were away on the Quebec Outposts would be okay. She and Tom had always had a rule to make decisions about the girls fifty-fifty, but in light of the extenuating circumstances and the nature of L'Naan's request, she felt comfortable with the decision resting solely upon her.

The request was not a small one: L'Naan, concerned for her grandfather's failing health, wanted to spend the whole summer with him. Her semester had just concluded, and she would return before fall classes commenced. In the meantime, she would take a passenger ship to the small colony where Torres lived and spend her free time taking care of him.

L'Naan had always been a practical, thoughtful child, and B'Elanna was unable to deny her request on the grounds of raw emotion. So on this day, without Tom around to support her, she took L'Naan to the transport center and prepared to send her off.

"I know you're going to tell me to take care of myself and to be good," L'Naan said as they embraced, "but we both know I'm completely capable. What you really want to say is that you want me to be careful not to get hurt."

"Actually," B'Elanna corrected, "I was going to tell you that I think you're a great person for wanting to take care of him. You have a good heart, L'Naan." She squeezed her daughter tightly. "I was also going to tell you that if you don't check in with me at least once a week, I will have the empire dispatch a bird of prey to go looking for you."

"Of course." She kissed her mother's cheek. "Bye, mom."

As her daughter walked away from her, B'Elanna realized that she was, for the first time in a very long time, all alone.


Kim Family Residence

"Hi," Libby said with surprise as Andrew let himself into their house. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to get away for awhile."

"Did you eat yet?"

He shook his head. "I didn't get to. Will you make me something?" Andrew knew he was taking advantage of her and acting like a child, but for the moment he didn't care.

"Of course." Libby put down the book she was reading and entered the kitchen area, running a hand through Andrew's hair as she passed him. "Let's see. I can make you mashed potatoes or roasted chicken."

"Both."

"Hungry?"

"Rough day."

Libby set about reheating the food as she said, "You miss her, don't you?" She didn't wait for an answer; she didn't need one. "She's going to be back soon. How are you going to manage when you're on two ships light-years apart?"

Andrew grimaced. "Do we have to talk about this?"

"I guess not." Libby set a plate of food in front of him. "Other than Miral, how are you doing?"

"Fine," he said with his mouth full. "More of the same."

"Are you ready for your exams?"

Andrew shoveled a forkful of potatoes into his mouth and nodded.

"Honestly, Drew," she declared as she tossed him a napkin, "have you lost all your manners?"

"Sorry, Mom." He wiped his mouth and put the napkin politely in his lap.

Once he finished eating, Andrew moved to the comfort of his old bedroom. One of the advantages of being an only child was that his parents had left it just as he had, so he never had the experience some of his friends at the Academy had of returning home to sleep in a personality-free guest room (or, worse, the living room sofa). He sprawled out on his bed with the model Enterprise Tom Paris had once given him as a birthday present.

Libby was still in the kitchen, tidying up, when Harry came home. "Hi, baby," she said warmly as he greeted her with a kiss. "Did you have dinner yet?"

"I have been looking forward to your chicken all day," he announced.

"Sorry, love, Drew just ate the rest of it."

"Andrew? What's he doing here?"

"He came home hungry."

"So you dropped everything to feed him my leftover chicken?" Harry took an apple from the bowl of fruit on the counter and buffed it against his uniform. "Libs, he's an adult. Why do you baby him?"

"You don't seem to mind when I do it to you," she pointed out, prying the apple from his hands. She returned it to the bowl of fruit, then instructed the replicator to prepare a fresh batch of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes.

"Replicated?" Harry whined.

"Shut up and eat." She put the plate down in front of him. "You work fourteen hours a day and come home to a wife who makes you dinner without saying a word about how late you are, and you complain?"

"Sorry, Libby." He leaned across the kitchen counter to kiss her. "Thank you." She nodded that he was forgiven, and he started to eat. "You sound more like your mother every day, you know."