Hero for the Times
By: Julie
First, they would need an advocate who could point out that potential, who understood their nature, and who could argue passionately for their rights. He was living proof that holograms could be every bit as sentient as any organic being. He'd experienced the same joys and heartaches, triumphs and failures, passions and desires. Given that, who could be a better advocate than him?
The doctor knew just the medium to make his strongest appeal. He picked up a dataPADD from his desk, and started to work.
B'Elanna arrived home at 1920 hours to find her husband on the floor by the couch. Several weeks ago Miral started pulling herself up anywhere she could get a grip. Now she was gripping the coffee table as she glided along on her chubby little legs, using the table to keep herself balanced.
"Walk to daddy, sweetheart," Tom said, his arms outstretched from where he crouched a meter or so away, just out of Miral's reach. "Show mommy you can do it."
"She walked?" B'Elanna asked as she joined him, feeling a pang that she'd missed it. Miral had been thoughtful enough to say her first word with both of her parents present.
"No, not yet. Every time she lets go she ends up on her butt. She's getting close though, aren't you, sweetie?"
Miral let go of the table at that moment. Her legs wobbled as she attempted a shaky step and landed immediately on her butt.
B'Elanna knelt down and kissed her daughter's dark curls. Miral wrapped her arms around her mother's neck, babbling as B'Elanna picked her up and hugged her. Then she handed Miral over to Tom.
"How was your day?"
"Long," B'Elanna answered as she walked toward the closet. "Sorry I'm a little late but the warp matrix overflow system was acting up again." She kicked off her shoes. "I wanted to minimize any chance of being bothered during our time with your parents tomorrow."
"If you get too busy tomorrow, it's no big deal. You'll meet them eventually."
B'Elanna went still for a moment. When she turned around, Miral was blowing spit bubbles, something her father-who was smiling at her indulgently-had taught her. B'Elanna dropped her jacket and held out her arms. "I'll take her."
B'Elanna balanced her daughter on her hip, bouncing her lightly in one arm. Then she reached out with the other hand and shoved Tom in the chest. He fell backward on the bed with a soft "oomph", and stared up at her in astonishment.
"What was that for?!"
B'Elanna smiled at Miral and wiped a smudge off her cheek before looking at Tom. "For being a jerk. For acting like you don't care, and like I shouldn't care. For saying my meeting your parents isn't a big deal."
"B'Elanna, I didn't mean-"
"That's always your line, Tom." B'Elanna felt her temper simmering, but she kept it under control for Miral's sake. "Everything is no big deal to you. You can take it or leave it."
"That's not true-"
"I'm supposed to believe that it's no big deal talking to your parents-to your father," she amended. Tom's mother had always been solidly supportive of her son, when Tom had allowed her to be part of his life. "Then why were you so eager to trade your time with Harry?"
"Because Harry was disappointed in his draw. My father and I are fine now. We've been writing letters, and you know we've reconciled."
"Right," B'Elanna said. Miral was squirming and B'Elanna set her on the carpet just as she started to fuss. Then she looked at Tom again and crossed her arms. "You haven't talked to your father face to face in...nine years?"
Tom shrugged as he sat up. "More or less."
"And this will be the first time in fifteen or more years you'll be talking to him as someone besides a drunken, reprobate, self- absorbed and self-pitying loser."
Tom winced. "Geez, don't mince words, B'Elanna."
"I didn't. But you're not that person anymore, Tom. You've turned yourself around and put that all behind you. You're...well, respectable now."
"Ouch. That hurts even more."
B'Elanna glared at him. "This isn't a joke, Tom. Tell me the truth. Tell me you're not at all apprehensive about talking to your father again."
Tom tensed and for a moment she thought he wasn't going to reply. "I *have* been talking to him in letters. Besides, don't you think I'm a little too old to care what my father thinks?"
Those letters between Tom and his father were cordial, even affectionate in moments, if one looked hard enough, but they contained no mention of the past. She knew this was different than writing letters. "You may not need his approval anymore, Tom, but you'll never be too old to want to mend your relationship with him. He's your father. You can't dismiss him, or pretend the state of that relationship doesn't affect you." B'Elanna smiled bitterly. "I know."
Tom reached for her hand, but B'Elanna put her hands on her hips. "Tell you what, Tom. If you talk to your father, when it's my turn, I'll talk to my father."
Tom stared at her for several moments, eyes narrowed, as if was trying to figure out the punch line. The only sound was Miral's hands slapping the bed where she'd pulled herself up, unaware of her parents' sudden silence. B'Elanna wondered with sudden dismay what the hell had possessed her to utter those words. Tom was already going to talk to his father, indifferent attitude or not. Her response to the one letter she'd received from her father had been barely cordial. Why would she want to actually talk to him after all this time when just writing that one letter had been so difficult?
"Deal." Tom's eyes bored into hers as he spoke, as if daring her to change her mind. It made B'Elanna feel cornered, and she snarled, "Fine!"
"Unless you really don't want to, B'Elanna."
"Tom!" B'Elanna bit off a frustrated growl at her husband's earnest expression. She supposed there was some subconscious motivation behind her offer, some reason she wanted to repair her troubled relationship with her father too, even if he didn't deserve it. She sighed. "I want to, okay?"
Tom grinned at her belligerent tone. When he reached for her hand, she let him pull her toward him, until she was standing between his legs. "When the time comes, *we'll* talk to your father, B'Elanna. Just like we'll talk to my mother and father."
"Okay," B'Elanna agreed.
"I'm sorry if I was dismissive. I do want you to meet my parents, B'Elanna."
B'Elanna nodded. "Just don't shut me out. We're in this together now."
"I know. I wouldn't want it any other way. I promise I'll do better."
"In that case I guess I'll forgive you." B'Elanna leaned down and touched her lips to his.
"Dada!"
Tom and B'Elanna turned to look at Miral, who was staring intently at B'Elanna's discarded uniform jacket. She had one hand on the bed to balance herself, and before either of her parents could say anything she let go and took three unsteady steps toward the jacket. Then she fell on the floor, close enough for her little hands to grab onto the shiny pips that had caught her attention.
"Miral, you walked!"
Tom's shout was nearly deafening as he hopped off the bed and scooped Miral into his arms. "You walked!" he repeated, looking with wonder at his daughter, who was grinning from ear to ear. "And you wanted us to see, didn't you?"
B'Elanna wasn't sure about that. Or, maybe it was true. She smiled at Miral and kissed her cheek. "I'm proud of you too, sweetie." Then she noticed Tom's expression change at he stared down at his daughter. "What?"
"It's just going so fast," Tom murmured, as he pressed his lips to Miral's forehead.
B'Elanna understood what he meant. It seemed like Miral had just been a tiny baby in her arms, and now here she was starting to talk and walk. She sighed in agreement. "It is, but we're enjoying every minute, aren't we?"
Tom smiled at B'Elanna's question. "Yes, we are. Come on, Miral," he said. "It's time for your bath."
Miral squealed with delight. There was nothing she liked better than splashing water all over the bathroom. B'Elanna watched Tom carry their daughter in that direction. "Tom..."
He looked back. "Yeah?"
"If you are even one minute late tomorrow, I'll break your nose."
Tom grinned at her. "Yes, ma'am." He disappeared into the bathroom, though B'Elanna could still hear his words. "Mommy's almost as scary as Captain Janeway..."
Smart-ass. She knew Tom would be on time tomorrow, threats or not. Once she wouldn't have counted on it, despite loving him, but he had changed. Even if he sometimes backslid-well, she'd had her moments too. She supposed the trick was that they kept working at it.
Act Four:
"Lieutenant Paris, my ready room. Now."
Captain Janeway spoke in her most authoritative voice, and headed straight for her ready room without detouring to the lower level of the bridge. She saw Tom's startled gaze and wide eyes as he glanced at Chakotay and then Kim. She was seated behind her desk by the time he entered, not dawdling, but not hurrying either, full of that natural Paris outward composure, something he had in common with his father.
"Sit down, Mister Paris."
Tom did as told, again at his own easy pace, though his brow was furrowed as if he was trying to figure out what he might have already done wrong so early in the morning.
"I understand you will be talking to your family today, Lieutenant."
Tom was silent for a moment, as if he hadn't understood her words. "Uh...yes."
"Are you looking forward to it?"
It was several seconds again before Tom spoke. "Captain, if you've decided you want to trade numbers, I don't think I can. Icheb and B'Elanna are both going to be there, and I wouldn't want to disappoint them. Not to mention, B'Elanna would kill me."
"I don't want to trade with you, Lieutenant." Janeway leaned back in her chair, making herself comfortable. "I just thought it was far past time we had a personal chat." She rather enjoyed Tom's flustered expression. It wasn't easy to disconcert him, but it was worth it when she succeeded. "Relax, Tom."
Tom didn't alter his posture. "Exactly what are we chatting about, Captain?"
"Your father."
"My...Captain-"
"We've been on this ship together for almost eight years, Tom, and we've never had a *real* conversation about your father. Oh, you've mentioned him a few times, and I've brought up his name once or twice too. Yet we've shied away from talking in any depth about the man who's had a profound influence on both our lives. Why do you think that is?"
"Because...we didn't want to?"
Janeway smiled. Despite Tom's flippancy she suspected he was speaking the truth in his case. "As for my own reason, I think in the beginning I assumed our perspectives were too far apart to allow a meaningful conversation."
"Or maybe you thought that I'd say something to tarnish your image of my father," Tom suggested, with less flippancy this time.
"Or maybe I didn't want to intrude on your feelings, or devalue them," Janeway countered. "He was your father, after all, and though we knew the same man, we knew different aspects of him." Different enough that he could seem like two separate people at times. Janeway realized the irony, considering their visitors. "Still, I was once ready to invite you to dinner so we could talk seriously about your father. That was right after you told me how he squelched your childhood dream to join the Federation Naval Patrol. Then I never quite got around to it."
"You mean, I blew it," Tom corrected with a rueful smile. "That's another thing we never talked about again."
No, they hadn't. Janeway shrugged. "You served your sentence, and it was over."
"Right." Tom looked at her curiously. "Permission to speak freely, Captain?"
"Of course."
"I've always wondered why you put me in the brig instead of confining me to quarters."
Janeway was silent. Tom was an admiral's son, and he was familiar with Starfleet regulations. He was aware that she could have confined him to quarters for his actions, as she had with others who'd broken the rules. As she might have done then, if it had been anyone but him. He'd never asked her then why she didn't. "Several reasons. One was that I was very angry. I took your actions personally, which was probably wrong of me."
"That's not an apology, Tom," she added at his startled look. "You deserved that punishment. You forced me to fire on your ship, and you threw my faith in you back in my face..." She didn't mention how deep that wound had felt at the time. "But I also saw a glimpse of the person I'd hoped you were becoming, and I wanted to force you back on the right path. Strangely enough, it was the fact that you broke the rules for something you believed in that was the deciding factor. Angry as I was, and much as I felt you'd betrayed my trust, that made me believe you still had a chance, *if* I was hard on you."
Tom smiled wryly. "I guess it worked. I know I was wrong, and I regret that I compromised your faith in me, but when I was in the brig, I felt...well, good about myself, despite where I was. It was a turning point for me. When I wasn't going crazy."
Janeway doubted Tom had any idea how hard his confinement had been for her. She'd gone to see him almost two weeks after she'd had him locked in the brig. By that time the doctor had dropped several not so subtle hints about the physical and psychological effects of solitary confinement, without actually championing Tom's release openly. When she'd looked in on Tom, he'd been asleep-not a relaxed sleep, but a restless sleep. He'd looked pale and tired. She had walked away quickly to stop herself from relenting and releasing him right then, but the next day she'd granted Harry's pending request to visit.
"I even used the time to write my father a letter."
Janeway looked at Tom. He'd never told her that, but why would he? "What did you say?"
"I let him know I was in jail again, and why. I left it up to him to take it how he wanted."
"Did you send it?" Janeway asked. Though Admiral Paris would have learned of Tom's infractions through the official logs, she was curious.
"It went out with the first datastream transmission. I wasn't sure how he'd take it, but he's never mentioned it. I'm sure he didn't approve of what I did, but I guess he accepted my reasons."
And perhaps accepted his son's independence, including the right to make, and pay for, his own mistakes. "I'm not surprised. Your father is a man with high standards, but I don't think they are unreasonable."
Tom shrugged. "It didn't always feel that way when I was a kid. It seemed like nothing I did was quite good enough for him. I always could have done a little better, by his measure. He had his dreams for me, and he never asked me about mine. And after he came back from-uh, anyway..."
Janeway could tell from Tom's flush what he'd been about to say. "After he was a prisoner of the Cardassians," she said.
Tom nodded slowly. "He was different, which was to be expected. He never talked about his experience. All he was interested in was his work, and preparing me to follow in his footsteps. I was just starting high school. He made sure I took only courses geared to getting into the Academy, refused to let me join any extracurricular sports that weren't featured at the Academy, didn't talk to me for days if I got a B instead of an A on a test. Really, he didn't talk to me at all, except to tell me I wasn't doing good enough. I wanted him to talk to me, or at least listen to me."
"Tom..." Janeway's voice was compassionate.
Tom cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Captain. I shouldn't be telling you this. It had to be hard on my father, what happened to him. And to you. I shouldn't have brought it up-"
"It's fine," she said, though it still hurt to remember that time. "It *was* hard on your father, not so much his own torture, but that he couldn't protect his crew. But you were only thirteen years old, Tom. He probably wanted to protect you from it. Even when he was pushing you to do more, he was always proud of you. He often said so."
"He never told me so," Tom said softly. His voice turned harsh. "Then I made sure he couldn't after Caldik Prime."
This was the first time Tom had ever said those two words in her presence. When she'd first heard about the incident she'd felt sorry for both Admiral Paris and his son. Later she'd heard about Tom's confession to lying, and she'd been angry that the admiral had been saddled with such a son, after all he'd already gone through. She'd figured Tom Paris had no right to any sympathy, and that he deserved to suffer every bit of guilt and shame he hopefully felt. She hadn't considered his life or anything that might have led to his actions-both lying and then freely confessing. But years later, when she'd asked Admiral Hayes to assign Tom Paris to Voyager as an observer, she'd done it because she'd hoped he could start to redeem himself. Admittedly, she'd acted originally for the benefit of his father, but it was Tom's well being that soon had become her priority.
Tom sighed. "I've come to realize that however much I blamed my father for the pressure he put me under, my actions were my own choice. He didn't make me lie, or join the Maquis."
"That's true," Janeway said. "But you've changed, Tom. You've earned my faith back and more, and you've reached the potential I always hoped was there. What's more, your father knows you've reached that potential-not his, but your own. He's changed too, you know."
Tom nodded. "I know. I just hope it's enough."
