B'Elanna stared at the same line of text that she'd been trying to read for the last fifteen minutes. It still didn't make any damn sense. Why couldn't Zahne just write coherently, instead of trying to impress them all with his ability to bury the simplest concepts in the most florid and opaque language he could dream up? She let loose an inarticulate yell as she hurled the PADD across her living room. It made a satisfying thunk against the wall, but almost immediately B'Elanna regretted her actions as she looked up the stairs towards where her daughter lay sleeping. She held her breath for several seconds, waiting for the tell-tale cry of Miral being startled awake. Nothing. Phew.

She glanced at the clock. 22:48. Tom was even later than he'd been last night. And the night before that.

Realizing work would be a complete shit show tomorrow if she didn't familiarize herself with Zahne's report, she rose from her favorite chair to retrieve the thrown PADD. Her CO had "graciously" allowed her to take nearly two weeks off when Tom was missing and right after his rescue, ("Oh. Yes, I suppose I see how what's going on with your husband would make it difficult for you to concentrate. You'll be able to do some work from home, though, won't you?"), but that much needed break had ended nearly a month ago, and when she returned she realized nothing about her job had changed for the better. In fact, as she watched one of her closest friends in the department take an engineering position on a science vessel, and another start looking for a job in industry, it was clear things were actually getting worse.

And trying to read this incomprehensible load of targ shit that was claiming to be an "Evaluation of Department Dynamics and Perceptions" wasn't helping anything. What would have helped was if her damn husband had come home on time like he'd promised. Instead, she was just now getting to the report - she first had to pick up her daughter from childcare, then fix their thrice blasted replicator again, then feed her increasingly angry and hungry child dinner, then help her satiated but now overtired daughter with her "homework," (she was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to simply replicate the "One Hundred Small Items from Your Home!" but, well... screw that. Why does a three year old have homework anyway?), and then, finally, deal with one of the most epic bedtime tantrums of Miral's short life. And that was saying something - Miral may have been a far easier toddler than B'Elanna had once feared she'd be, but when she finally did reach the end of her rope… well, she wasn't a quarter Klingon for nothing, and the frequency of her outbursts had escalated recently. She'd tried comming Tom three different times, asking when he'd be home to help her out, but all she'd gotten was a brusque text-only reply of Later.

Too, know that I hear and acknowledge certain team members that have expressed varying levels of disquietude concerning my; in my role as supervisor of the department as well as overseer, both initial and final, of engine schematics; capability, aptitude, and proficiency in fulfilling my responsibilities and duties in an efficient and effectual manner…

"Oh, for fuck's sake." And the PADD made its way across the room again. This time she aimed it precisely at a couch pillow to ensure a quiet landing. She wasn't taking any more chances on making her night worse than it already was. She also couldn't read another word of Zahne's drivel. She'd bullshitted her way through meetings before, she could do it again. Frankly, Zahne would be lucky if any of the staff made it through that dreck. But even though she was most definitely not alone in her distaste for their new CO, it didn't create a sense of solidarity with her fellow disgruntled officers. Instead, the widespread loathing of Zahne only made her feel more isolated - the sharp uptick in transfer requests made it feel like she was watching rats leaving a sinking ship, and she knew she wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

Because how could she resign right now? At first, it was that she hadn't wanted to disturb her husband's tentative recovery. Tom had really seemed to be trying after that conversation with his father. He had requested a new counselor as she had suggested, and had attended all the scheduled sessions. With the counselor's support, he'd asked that he return to his previous assignment of flight instructor and test pilot. He had seemed energized by his work with the young students - laughing more, being playful again with her and Miral. There had been some lingering issues - nights he hadn't slept well, and a resurgence of his claustrophobia, among other things - but even that had been slowly improving. She figured the last thing he had needed was more upheaval in his life; telling him she wanted to resign her commission and leave Mars would certainly qualify as disruptive.

Now she couldn't tell him because they were barely speaking to one another. This was because ten days ago, he had received an update in his assignment from HQ. They wanted him back on the Tyr.

The evening Tom brought home the news, Miral had been a particularly enthusiastic eater and B'Elanna had had her in the bath, trying to scrub a very sticky peanut sauce out of her hair. (No sonic showers for this kid. The epic battle that would result if B'Elanna even suggested such a travesty was not worth it). She heard Tom come through the front door, and called out to him. "We're in here! Your daughter is a complete disaster!" Miral joined in with her own entreaties for Daddy to join them.

Their calls were met with silence.

B'Elanna shrugged at her daughter, a smile on her face to hide her concern, and quickly finished up the bath. She wished she could go check on him alone, but now that Miral knew her father was home there would be no stopping her from going to see him. Once the little girl was dried and dressed and smelling of strawberries, they left the bathroom to find Tom sitting on their patio in the growing darkness, an open bottle of wine on the table next to him. Even in the declining evening light, B'Elanna could identify the distinctive bottle. It was one that Janeway had sent them for their last anniversary - a Chateau Picard bordeaux from the year they were married. They'd been saving it for a special occasion. At least that's what B'Elanna had thought.

She slid open the door to the outside, and Miral bounced up to her father. "Hi Daddy!"

"Hi, Kitten." He put down the glass in his hand and picked her up. "It's too cold out here for you in your pajamas. And it's bedtime. Go on up with Mommy."

"No!" the little girl said imperiously. "Daddy read me Ferdnan."

"Not tonight, Miral. Go to bed with your mother."

"No!" The volume was only increasing.

"Miral!" Tom barked, in an angry tone his wife had never heard him use before with their daughter. B'Elanna noted the tension in his shoulders and decided to intervene. The sooner she could get Miral in bed, the sooner she could find out what the hell was the matter.

"Hey, Sweetie," B'Elanna interrupted, picking up her now red-faced daughter. "Daddy's right. It's too cold out here. Say goodnight." She ignored the fact that Miral was kicking hard into her side, crying in anger over being denied her favorite book and favorite bedtime reader, and hauled her off to bed.

Likely feeding off her mother's agitation, it took no less than four books (including an extra reading of the much loved Ferdinand) and B'Elanna muddling her way through an old Klingon lullabye before Miral relaxed enough to fall asleep. B'Elanna grabbed a sweater, and made her way back onto the patio, where the level of wine in the bottle had noticeably fallen.

"Is the replicator broken again?" she asked, surreptitiously picking up the bottle and eyeing the contents, or lack thereof.

"What are you talking about?" Tom responded, his tone a mix of irritation and confusion.

"What's wrong with synthehol?" She kept hold of the wine, moving it behind her back as she came around the chair to face him.

He kept his gaze directed at the Martian landscape. "Guess it's just not a synthehol kind of night."

"What's going on?" she asked without further preamble. It was clear something was wrong, and even more clear that he wasn't going to volunteer anything. Tom handed her a PADD silently.

B'Elanna skimmed the memo quickly. This can't be possible, she thought, outraged. She nearly slammed the wine bottle down onto the low wall that separated the patio from the rest of their garden, stopping just short of shattering it on the stones. She started to pace. He's only been back on duty for two weeks! "They're sending you back to the Tyr? Already?" she asked, half hoping that she'd misread the PADD.

Tom continued to stare into the night sky before tossing back the wine left in his glass. "Yup." He reached to the table next to him for more wine. B'Elanna heard him mutter a low curse when he saw she had moved the bottle. He stood to refill his glass.

"This is ridiculous!" she fumed. As she continued to pace, she internally calculated how many glasses the missing wine equaled. Deal with one issue at a time, Torres. "They can't just send you out there again! Did they even talk to you first? What did your counselor say?"

"It doesn't matter what he said. The decision's been made." Another swallow of wine. "If I want to stay in Starfleet, they want me 'where I'm most needed.' It's the Tyr or give up my commission." He gave her sidelong glance.

"Goddamn bureaucrats!" she growled. "It's not their necks on the line. Who cares about the people in the field as long as they protect their precious assets." She was a long way from forgiving those in power for how they handled Tom's capture - from where she sat, they'd all been more fixated on sheltering their spy network than getting her husband to safety. If Harry had even been a day later… No. You're not going to think about that. He's home and he's fine now. There has to be a way to keep him off the Tyr.

B'Elanna looked at the memo again. She would find a way to fix this. "You need to go to this Admiral Ramos and tell her you need more time planetside. Tell her you're not ready. "

"You don't think I'm ready?" he asked, his tone odd and unreadable.

"You're not," she said matter-of-factly. No point in pretending otherwise. "You nearly had a panic attack because of a crowded 'lift last week."

"Panic attack? I think that's exaggerating some, don't you?"

His expression was closed off and dark, arms tightly crossed in front of his chest. She approached him and touched his arm; then was taken aback when he immediately pulled away from her. B'Elanna let her hand fall back to her side, stung by the rejection. "OK, maybe not a panic attack, but...be honest, Tom. You're still not yourself."

He turned on her then, his face cold. "You're the one who's not herself. All you do is try to control me lately." His voice took on a mocking tone. "Go get some sleep, Tom. You should eat something, Tom. You can't go into space, Tom. God, B'Elanna, I can think for my fucking self!"

"I know you can," she said slowly, unsure where all this hostility was coming from. "I'm not trying to control you. I thought you were the one that didn't feel ready. I thought…" How had this conversation gone so wrong? "It's OK to be scared about going back, after what happened to you."

"Maybe you're the one who's scared about me going back." Tom snarled at her. He started to move away from her, to walk into the back half of the garden.

She grabbed his arm then, refusing to let go when he tried to pull away again. She was doing her best, damn it. Why couldn't he see that she was just trying to help him? "Of course I'm scared! So fucking what? I thought we were never going to see you again. Is it so wrong that I'd prefer my husband not go back into the situation that nearly got him killed?" She took a deep breath. She was the one that had said it, after all - Tom still wasn't himself. She needed to be the grown-up here; get control of the discussion and move it in the right direction. "I'm not saying you should never go back to the Tyr. I'm just saying that maybe you should take a little more time. Make sure you're ready."

"I am ready," he barked. "And I'm sure - even if you don't think I can do it." He ripped his arm away from her and moved again towards the back gate of the garden.

"Tom!" she yelled at his retreating back. "We have to deal with this! You can't just walk away from me!"

"Watch me!" he shouted back, letting the gate door slam. The neighbor's dog started to bark, and was soon accompanied by the sound of Miral crying. Shit.

After getting Miral back to sleep, B'Elanna had stayed up waiting for him. They clearly need to talk about this more. Apparently Tom felt like he had something prove, but B'Elanna wasn't going to let his pride make him do something stupid. Exhausted and frustrated, she had finally given up just after midnight. The next morning she had found him asleep on the couch, and when he had awakened he'd been hungover and apologetic. But he still hadn't been willing to talk to her - just grabbed coffee from the replicator and told her he was going to be late.

Things had only gone downhill from there. The Tyr was on local patrol duty at the moment - ten hour shifts before returning to Mars each night. Tom should easily have been able to make it home by 20:00 - time enough to read to his daughter every night, as he had once claimed he wanted. Instead, in the week since he'd been back in space, he'd only made it home for her bedtime once.

The first night, she'd nearly lost her mind with worry when he was over two hours late and hadn't answered any of her comms. When he had finally stumbled in, he had been confused at her anger. Khau just wanted to celebrate the crew being back together, he told her. What was the big deal? Someone would have contacted her if there had been a problem. The next night he'd come home in time to tuck Miral in, but afterwards he'd been sullen and uncommunicative, watching old episodes of Captain Proton on his PADD while he drank steadily from a bottle he'd brought home with him. Frustrated with her attempts at conversation being repeatedly rebuffed, she'd told him coldly before going to bed (alone) that if this was how things were going to be, he might as well go drink at a bar with Khau.

He'd taken her at her word. Tom hadn't seen Miral in days, other than a brief kiss in the morning. He'd barely said a dozen words to his wife, and every time she'd seen him he was drunk or hungover. She thought back to when she was first pregnant with Miral, how Tom had promised he would never leave her. Physically he was still here, but B'Elanna didn't know how much longer she could tolerate the distance and walls he had erected between them. Is this what had happened to her parents? Had John retreated farther and farther away from her mother until she couldn't take it anymore? She remembered countless fights about her father's late nights at work, or socializing with friends, before he had finally packed up and left. B'Elanna didn't want to turn into the scold and harridan her mother had been, but was what she was doing any better? At least the elder Miral had fought for her marriage. B'Elanna's seemed to just be slipping away as she stood helplessly by.

If they'd been on Voyager, at least he would have been with Harry. The younger man would have never let Tom fall into too deep a hole before pulling him out again, Harry's determined optimism never allowing him to give up on his friends. But Harry was back on the Sun Tzu in a whole other system, and Tom was spending his evenings with Damaris fucking Khau.

B'Elanna had seen the woman only once after that night in the hospital. She'd come to check on Tom a few days after their rescue - Khau hadn't done much more than grunt at B'Elanna before she'd joined Tom in the garden where they had spoken quietly for nearly an hour. And now Tom was drinking with her every night. What did they talk about? Why was it that Tom could confide in her, while leaving his wife, the woman he supposedly loved, in the dark? She thought about how he'd described her once - tough as nails, a big softie underneath - the admiration had been obvious.

This was it. A line had been drawn in the sand and she couldn't just sit by anymore - be a spectator in her own marriage. She wasn't going to allow him to disrespect her anymore, and neglect their child. And if that meant B'Elanna had to let her Klingon half show a little bit more than usual, so be it. Her daughter deserved better, and frankly, so did she.

B'Elanna looked up as the door opened and Tom stumbled through it. "Oh," he said, rubbing his eyes. "You're still awake."

Her fists clenched as she steeled herself to finally confront him. "And you're drunk again."

He rolled his eyes as he moved away from her and towards the stairs. "Give it a rest, B'Elanna," he slurred. "Don't you have anything else to worry about besides how much I drink every night?"

She got up then, and crossed to block his path to the stairs. "I do, as a matter of a fact," she responded. "I have a meeting tomorrow I have to prepare for, and you were supposed to come home early to help with Miral."

He blew out a short breath of air. B'Elanna turned her face at the smell of whiskey. "Sorry," he said, adopting his trademark lopsided grin. One that, at the moment, had completely lost its charm. "Totally forgot. I'm off tomorrow. I'll take care of her in the morning so you can prep then." He tried to move around her to the stairs, his face hardening again when she didn't get out of his way. "For God's sake, B'Elanna, I'm tired. Can you wait to yell at me more until after I get some sleep?"

The easy thing to do, B'Elanna considered, would be to move out of his way. Let him go sleep it off...again. Pretend he'd wake up and be himself...again. But the easy way wasn't working. And really, when has anything ever been easy for you, Torres? It was time take a page from her mother's book, consequences be damned. Because she sure as hell didn't want to live like this anymore.

"No," she said firmly. "This conversation isn't waiting anymore. Because I'm tired, too. Tired of waiting for you to come home every night. Tired of hearing you say sorry over and over again. Tired of having you reek of alcohol. We're doing this now, Tom, or we're not doing it at all."

That got his attention. "What the hell does that mean? Is it supposed to be a threat?" he demanded.

B'Elanna stepped onto the second stair so she could meet him eye to eye. "It's supposed to be a wake-up call. You think you're being a good father right now? Or husband? Do you really think the drinking isn't going to catch up with you at some point? Or have you forgotten about Caldik Prime?" No turning back now…

She'd rarely seen his expression so angry. His jaw clenched as he let a short huff of air through his nose. "Fuck you, B'Elanna." He turned away from her and stalked toward the front door.

"Where do you think you're going?" she growled, coming up behind him and yanking on his shoulder to turn him back to her.

"Out," he barked, "Before I say something I regret."

She grabbed him by his upper arms to stop him, thankful that his drunkenness and her Klingon strength gave her a clear advantage. She was not done. They were getting the air cleared tonight. "Running back to Khau's side again?" She swallowed before she found the courage to make her next accusation. "Or is it her bed?"

He let out a short bark of laughter. "Oh my God. Are you really still so fucking insecure that you…? I'm not cheating on you! If you even knew how stupid the idea was - me sleeping with Khau!" He broke away from her again, but circled back into their apartment instead of towards the door. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but I've been through some pretty terrible shit lately. I need to blow off some steam."

"Blowing off steam is a session with bat'leths, or blowing things up on a holodeck!" she hissed at him, still conscious of Miral sleeping upstairs. "It's not hiding in a bottle every night with your CO. Your female CO."

He pressed his hands to his forehead. "I can't believe this. You really think I'm sleeping around? That I'd do something like that to you?"

She bit the inside of her cheek. She would not cry in front of him. "I don't know what to think anymore. You're never here! You won't talk to me! I don't even know who you are right now!"

"Well that's just great!" he shouted back, throwing his arms in the air. "It good to know how little faith you have in me! God, B'Elanna - if you think I'd do something like that, why did you even marry me?"

"That's-" her response was interrupted by an anguished cry from upstairs. "Fantastic. You woke her up," she said, turning away from him as she started to lose the battle with her tears.

"I'll go," he muttered and started to push past her to the stairs.

She shoved him back again so that he stumbled. "No," she snapped. "You're drunk. You're not going anywhere near her." She ran up the stairs before he could say anything else.

B'Elanna had to pause outside of Miral's room to take several deep breaths before she felt it was safe to enter. The last thing her crying child needed was to see her mother in such a heightened state of emotion. Feeling her heart rate start to slow, she slipped into the room and called softly to her daugher. Singing a quiet song B'Elanna's human grandmother once taught her served to calm them both as they lay together on the bed.

What have I done? she thought as she clutched her now sleeping daughter to her chest. Accusing him of cheating on me? Throwing his worst mistake in his face? How could I have brought up Caldik Prime? Even her mother had not been so cruel during her many blow ups at her husband. B'Elanna realized this might be it - the moment she had always feared, the one when she drove Tom away with her uncontrollable anger. She filled with self-loathing. It was one thing for her to end her marriage, but what if she'd deprived Miral of her father as well? She felt another round of tears well up inside of her, but she didn't have any fight left. She let the sobs come as she buried her face in her daughter's hair.

She woke with a start some time later, having dozed off still wrapped around Miral. She crept out of the little girl's room as she scrubbed dried tears off her face. Seeing her own bedroom open and empty, B'Elanna bit her lip and returned back downstairs.

With a small seed of fear growing deep inside her, she checked for him on the couch, in the kitchen, out in the garden. Tom was nowhere to be found. As her heart started to beat frantically in her chest, she saw the door to their guest room cracked open.

There he was, passed out cold on the bed. He hadn't even taken off his boots. She pulled them off and covered him with the blanket folded at the foot of the bed. He didn't so much as twitch an eyelid.

What is wrong with me? she thought, as she watched him sleep. Tom was not her father. He would never cheat on her and he was not leaving. Her husband could be many things - childish, snide, defensive - but one thing she knew she could always count on was his loyalty. He might tear down their marriage brick by brick with his drinking and the way he hid from his problems, but he'd be there until the bitter end. She allowed herself to breath again as she gently touched his hair, confirming he was really here with them.

She thought of the night before he was supposed to report back to the Tyr. It was the last night she'd seen him sober, and it had been terrible. He'd barely slept, having awakened more than once panicky and sweating. He had tried multiple times to leave their bedroom, telling her he didn't want to keep her up. But she had pulled him to her time and again, hoping her presence would help to soothe him. In the end, she must have slept through his final nightmare, because when she had woken up the next morning, he was gone. Nothing but a note saying he'd be back that night, once the Tyr returned to Mars.

Every night since, he'd slept like a baby. Soused, but peaceful. As hurt and angry as she was, B'Elanna couldn't help but feel like she'd failed him. She wanted so badly for him to be OK - for him to be the strong one, the supportive one again - that she'd fooled herself into believing everything was fine. He was clearly still in so much pain, and she didn't know how to change that for him. And, she was beginning to realize, she would never be able to. Tom had to want to fix it. He needed to make the decision to make a change. But maybe what she could do was give him the kick in the ass he needed.

She went back out to the living room and opened their comm console. First she sent a quick message to Zahne, informing him she was taking a leave of absence, effective immediately. It's not like she gave a crap about any consequences the memo might cause. (And I can skip that damn meeting. Harry would be so proud of me for finding the silver lining.) Then she checked the local time in California. She had a call to make.