Earth, Venice, Piazza San Marco, Ristorante Mezza Luna

"So, we actually had to forge an alliance with the Borg, but it all worked out," Harry Kim finished. The report on Voyager's first encounter with Species 8472 had recently become declassified, and it was gaining some interest from civilians who wanted to know more about the race that defeated even the unstoppable Borg. The trouble was, Harry was a little tired of telling the story.

Libby's Uncle Ben shuddered a little. "Just the name 'Borg' gives me the chills. I don't know how you were able to face them."

"Actually, I lived with two of them. Well, they were severed from the collective, but they still had Borg implants. One of them became an honorary senior officer."

"I would worry about getting assimilated in my sleep."

Harry smiled politely. Sometimes civilians didn't fully understand life in Starfleet. He often noted that to them it was a game of heroes and villains, not the real universe of ambiguity that he'd so often faced. "I'll admit that it took awhile for some of us to be able to trust her – Seven was her name – but she was no threat. She really tried to embrace becoming human again." His voice dropped a little. "She actually just died a little while ago."

"I'm sorry." Ben took a bite of his dinner before continuing. "You and she?"

"No, no," Harry assured him. "We were just friends." He nearly narrated the whole story – how Seven had proposed copulating with him in the mess hall, how she'd eventually become Annika and had gone away with Chakotay, only to leave him – but it seemed too operatic and long for this dinner. "Anyway, let's talk about something a little happier."

The old man's face perked up a bit. "Good idea. Let's talk about Libby."

"My favorite subject," Harry said with a smile.

Ben put a hand on Harry's forearm, and for a half-second Harry thought it was Janeway doing so. "Harry, Libby doesn't have a father."

"I know."

"I have several children, Harry, all of whom give me great pain and great joy. But Libby is very special, and I love her dearly."

"That's very clear, Ben," Harry told him. "She loves you just as much."

"In some ways she's like my own little girl. My sister likes me to look out for her. And that means," Ben said, leaning toward Harry menacingly, "that I have to protect her from anyone or anything that might try to hurt her. Including you."

"I understand completely. Please know that I feel the same way."

Ben peered into Harry's dark eyes for a moment, and Harry was unsure of what was going to happen. Then suddenly Ben smiled and was the same eccentric man he had met in Tel Aviv. "I like you, Harry Kim!" he boomed. He resumed eating.

"I like you, too," Harry said a little uncertainly.

San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Kathryn Janeway

"I guess I'm going to take you up on that offer to visit," Chakotay said grimly.

Kathryn smiled at the monitor, not paying attention to his demeanor. "You must have heard about Harry's wedding. Can you believe it? Harry Kim getting married…"

"I'll be there for the wedding," Chakotay said, "but I was actually thinking of visiting a little sooner."

"Oh? How soon?"

"Immediately."

Kathryn's eyebrows knitted together as she frowned. "Did something happen? You seem on edge."

Chakotay sighed and tugged slightly on his left earlobe, which she knew meant something was bothering him. "You could say that," he said, his voice still tense. "I just lost my job."

USS Enterprise, Forward Viewing Lounge

As Tom Paris ate his replicated lunch alone, he couldn't help overhearing the snippets of conversation taking place two tables away.

"….was in a penal colony…"

"….married…only reason they got the post…"

He was instantly transported back to a time in his life when he was more accustomed to being the source of gossip. It hadn't happened to him in a number of years, and he really didn't want to begin his tour of duty on the Enterprise that way.

He and B'Elanna had spent three years in relative peace on Starbase 174, away from the fanfare of Voyager's return and the speculation about Janeway's crew that came with it. They had talked about leaving Starfleet, as had most of their former shipmates. The time in deep space had been too long, and they had a baby and were ready for the next chapter of their lives. But Starfleet gave them purpose, and it had given them each other, and once he had been reinstated and B'Elanna had passed her academy equivalency exams, things were fine. They headed off to the starbase to work on the integration of technology they'd brought back from the Delta Quadrant, and because of the nature of their mission, no one had really thought to challenge their abilities.

Tom knew the last ten years of B'Elanna's life had been about redemption, much as they had been for him. He finally felt redeemed. He was a loyal and loving husband and father. He had a good job that he loved, and he was good to his friends. Time away in the Delta Quadrant had given him a chance to recreate himself into someone he actually liked.

Now Tom was where he had been ten years ago in Voyager's mess hall, listening to his crewmates spread misinformation about all the things he'd done wrong in his life. Ten years ago, he had accepted it as penance for his mistakes. Now, however, he had no desire to listen any further. He left his half-eaten food and strode out of the lounge.

Earth, South Carolina, Residence of John and Mary Kim

"Beautiful girl," Harry's mother cooed, holding her hands to Libby's face and kissing her heartily on the cheek. "My daughter."

"Not yet," Harry reminded her.

"We're still several months away from that, Mrs. Kim," Libby added, trying to politely extract herself.

"You will be soon. Sit down," she ordered, pointing to her dining table.

"Mom, Libby has to –"

"Libby nothing. Sit down," she ordered again. "I made your favorite, Harry. Apple pie."

"That sounds really nice, Mrs. Kim," Libby said, "but I have to go –"

"I'll be right back," the old woman interrupted.

Harry and Libby looked at each other, mentally shrugging, and decided to sit down. "Harry," Libby whispered, "I have to go to work."

"I know, but I think she'll erect a force field if you try to leave."

"I can't be late for work!"

"Work?" Harry's mother set a freshly baked apple pie on the table in front of them. "You don't need to work. What you need to concentrate on is having my grandchildren."

Harry nearly died of embarrassment. "Mo-om!" he cried, aware he sounded like a teenager.

She silenced him with a wave of her hand. "How soon do you think you'll have children?"

"You know what, Mom?" Harry said, rising from the table. "Libby and I will have grandchildren as soon as you move to San Francisco."

Mary Kim looked at Libby and frowned. "He's always trying to get me to move," she explained.

Libby smiled, slightly in terror. The last thing she could imagine was having the woman live closer to her. "I really have to go to work, Mrs. Kim."

"Okay, okay. Let me wrap up a piece of pie for you."

"That would be nice," Libby said graciously. Mary headed into the kitchen with the pie. "Move closer?" she whispered to Harry. "Are you crazy?"

"I know she'll never agree to it," Harry whispered. "It always gets me off the hook for whatever she wants from me."

Mary returned and handed Libby a small container. "I love you," she said, kissing Libby on the cheek again. Then she pinched the cheek between her thumb and forefinger. Even though Libby was smiling, it was obvious she was in emotional and physical distress. "Get out of here, go to work," Mary ordered, shooing Libby out the door.

Well, Harry thought as he watched her leave, that could have gone worse.

San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Kathryn Janeway

"What do you mean you just lost your job?" Kathryn asked with concern.

"You know my reputation for non-technological methods?" She nodded. "It seems it doesn't extend to any projects backed by the Federation Council."

"The Federation Council pressured the school into firing you?"

"No, they didn't have a chance. The dean of the faculty was too eager to get rid of me. We've always clashed."

"It seems incredibly short-sighted on his part," Kathryn said. "You're really starting to make a name for yourself."

"He doesn't care. Professor Feldman brings in more political attention, and I stepped on Feldman's toes. The dean warned me to back off, and I didn't."

Kathryn sighed, considering this for a moment. Chakotay was no longer the hotheaded rebel she'd first met by any means, but he was still strong-willed, especially if he felt he had a worthy cause to advocate. Destruction of a planetoid at the hands of technology certainly seemed a worthy cause for her, too. "Maybe I can talk to someone in stellar sciences," she suggested. "If Starfleet can put pressure on the university to acknowledge the damage the tachyons are doing, maybe they'll realize you were right and reinstate you."

Chakotay shook his head sadly. "You're always bailing me out of trouble," he said. "Not this time."

That frustrated Kathryn. She understood he just wanted a shoulder to lean on, not a rescue attempt, but it made her feel helpless to be relegated to confessor. She preferred using her influence to help her people. But Chakotay was a man of pride, who liked to fix his own messes. "What are you going to do?"

"There's a position in Brazil I've applied for. They'd like to interview me and give me a tour of the facilities."

"And that's why you want to come visit," she said knowingly. She gave him a crooked smile. "And here I thought it had something to do with me."

"It does." His eyes locked with hers, and she tried to turn away but found she couldn't. Something about the intensity of his voice and his gaze made her feel a little unsteady.

"Chakotay…"

"Don't say anything," he urged. "Just offer me a place to stay when I get there."

Kathryn nodded, but she was struck with fear at the realization that everything between them – everything in her life – was about to change.

USS Enterprise, Forward Viewing Lounge

Tom didn't tell B'Elanna about what had happened. He knew it would only upset her. But it was a mistake, he realized too late. They had taken Miral to eat dinner when it happened again. Only this time, to Tom's chagrin, B'Elanna overheard. She looked at him, and her eyes said everything.

"Don't," he said quietly.

"How can Klees even let her on board, much less make her chief?"

"…no Geordi LaForge…"

"Weren't they all arrested?"

B'Elanna growled slightly.

"B'Elanna, let it go," Tom implored. "You're a senior officer. It's not worth it." He handed Miral a piece of Ktarian cake. "Eat up, munchkin."

"….served with Klingons before….really difficult to get along with…"

"…wonder if the daughter's the same way…."

At the mention of her child, B'Elanna lost control. She slammed a fist into the table, and heads around the room swiveled to look at them. Then she marched over to the table of gossips.

"If you have something to say, crewmen, you can say it to my face," she challenged, arms crossed defensively across her chest.

"Is that an order?" a young human female challenged back.

"Yes."

"I don't take orders from people who aren't real officers."

Tom swooped in to intervene at that moment before B'Elanna had the chance to think about whether or not she wanted to jeopardize being a real officer. He grabbed her elbows and steered her back to their table. She was fuming, and, he knew, humiliated.

The three ensigns sauntered smugly out of the lounge, and conversation slowly returned to normal at the other tables around the room.

Earth, San Francisco, Residence of Libby Lipschitz

"Megan Delaney? You have got to be kidding me!" Libby shouted. She started pacing up and down the living room floor. "Absolutely not!"

"Why not?" Harry asked seriously.

"I am not inviting your old girlfriend, the playmate of the Delta Quadrant, to my wedding! Forget it!"

"First of all, she was not the playmate of the Delta Quadrant," he yelled back, "and second of all, she is not my old girlfriend!" Harry felt himself growing angry. He rarely got angry. Annoyed, disappointed, sad, but rarely genuinely angry. And now the person who was supposed to be making him the happiest was beginning to make his blood boil.

They had had the same fight for the last three days, just about different people. One of them would propose someone for the guest list, and the other would raise a big ruckus. It was getting old.

"This is ridiculous, Harry!"

"Stop being so difficult!"

"I'm not the one who's being difficult!"

"How can I be difficult?" he asked. "You won't even let me talk! This is the dumbest fight I've ever had!"

"Oh, go to hell!" she said scathingly. She headed toward the door, but Harry moved to intercept her. "Get your hands off me!"

Harry removed his hands from her waist but didn't move out of her way. "Let's just stop shouting at each other," he suggested.

"You're right," Libby said, moving back to the living room. She rubbed her forehead. "Harry, I don't think I can compete with the ghosts of Voyager past."

"Nobody's asking you to."

"I'm going to take a walk," she said, collecting her cool. "I need some fresh air." She moved past him, and this time he didn't try to stop her.

Harry sighed. He went over to the computer and composed a message: "Alexander Graham Bell. Urgent."

USS Enterprise, Torres-Paris Family Quarters

They didn't talk about what had happened at dinner. They all went to bed – Miral first, and then Tom and B'Elanna, wordlessly changing into pajamas. Tom was emotionally exhausted, but he was wide awake. B'Elanna, who was still getting to know her ship, had probably crawled through every Jeffries tube possible (schematics, of course, not providing her with enough detail), but all Tom had done was sit in a chair and punch a few buttons on a console.

He suspected she'd get into bed and call for the lights to dim, peck him on the cheek, and then turn her back to him. She often did that when she was angry or just tired. But this night, however, she needed his reassurance. She called for the lights out and then pressed her warm body up against his, kissing him far more deeply than a peck. Tom put his arms around her, happy to be offering her some comfort.

An hour later he was still awake. He slid carefully out from her arm across his chest and climbed out of bed. He crept into the living room to see if they had any new messages.

There were several wishing them well aboard the ship – from the ship's counselor, from the jazz ensemble (also asking if either of them wanted to join?), and from his father. And a message from Harry. Tom pulled up Harry's message and read: "Alexander Graham Bell. Urgent."

He knew immediately what it meant, but he wasn't going to talk to Harry without his pajamas. He stealthily crept back into the bedroom and found them in a puddle on the floor. As he threw them on, B'Elanna stirred slightly. "I draw the line at leaving bed to tell Harry what you just did in it," she teased sleepily.

Tom smiled. "How'd you know it was Harry?"

"Who else would you be getting out of bed for in the middle of the night?" she asked, opening her eyes and sitting up slightly.

"He sent an Alexander Graham Bell urgent."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it's an emergency. Go back to sleep. I'll be back soon."

He returned to the living room and commed Harry, who was sitting in his own living room, pajama-clad.

"It took you long enough," Harry griped.

"Sorry. I had some problems of my own today. What's the emergency?"

"I don't know if I can marry Libby."

The news surprised Tom. "What happened?"

"We've been fighting nonstop about who to invite to the wedding. I've never seen her like this before, and I've never seen myself like this before. I was in a rage earlier today."

"Harry, everybody fights about who to invite to their wedding," Tom told him. "That's nothing to worry about. It's practically a tradition."

"Did you?" Harry asked pointedly, knowing that Tom's impromptu marriage on Voyager had not necessitated a guest list, much less a quarrel over it.

"Come on, Harry, couples fight."

"Libby and I aren't like you and B'Elanna," Harry explained. "We don't fight. That kind of antagonism isn't part of our relationship."

Tom hadn't really expected that it was. "Okay, but it's not always going to be perfect, Harry. That's what makes marriage. Sometimes it's not fun, and sometimes it's downright ugly."

"It's downright ugly to be married to B'Elanna?"

"No," Tom said frankly, "but she finds it downright ugly to be married to me sometimes. Look, the point is that you still want to make a life together, even if it's not always great. Do you still want to make a life with Libby?" Harry didn't answer for a moment. "Think carefully, Har. Imagine your life without her." Tom gave his friend a moment. "Do you want to have a life with her?" he repeated.

"Of course."

"Then go apologize to her for whatever you did."

"I invited the Delaneys."

Tom winced at the news. "Well, uninvite them."

"That's rude. And anyway, I don't want her to think she won. She should trust me."

"Look, Harry, at the end of the day, what's more important, having the Delaneys at your wedding, or having Libby there?"

Harry smiled. "You're right, as always. What's going on with you? You said you had a rough day."

"Yeah, I don't know if I should talk about it or not," he admitted. "B'Elanna and I haven't really talked about it yet."

"Are you two fighting?"

Tom nearly laughed out loud. Once upon a time Harry had asked him that question nearly every day, and back then it had been true. Their bouts were the stuff of legends on Voyager, until they got married. These days, however, they were a team. They disagreed often – and loudly – but they did not fight. Tom had learned from being intimate with the same person for so many years that the difference was the end result: disagreements led to discussions and compromises, and both parties were happy; fighting led to hurting each other. Tom preferred the former.

"No, we're not fighting," he told Harry. "We've had some troubles with junior officers talking about us – about our pasts. B'Elanna nearly hit one of them today in the lounge."

"You must have it expected it to happen, though, right?"

"I did, but, Harry, B'Elanna has worked so hard for this position. I hate the thought of anyone judging her by anything other than her Starfleet service record – which, I might point out, is letter-perfect."

Harry could have pointed out that that wasn't exactly true. B'Elanna had clashed with Janeway at least once and gone on report at least once, and he knew she'd had a few encounters with her previous commanding officer, but he wasn't going to argue with his friend about his image of his wife. It was sweet.

"What does Captain Klees think?"

"I don't know," Tom told him. "He knew who we were when we got this assignment. It's not a surprise to him that we have pasts."

"You want to know what I think? I don't think it has anything to do with you being arrested or B'Elanna being in the Maquis. It's the flagship. People are going to be jealous. If you had both graduated with honors and worked your way up on other ships for the last ten years, they'd still talk about you."

Tom looked at the image of his friend on screen and realized that Harry Kim was becoming a grown-up. "When did you get so wise?"

Harry laughed. "Some time after I met Uncle Ben, maybe."

"Uncle Ben?"

"Libby's uncle."

Tom's eyes caught the chronometer, and he realized he'd need sleep if he wanted to stay awake on the tomblike bridge in the morning. "Hey, Harry, I should go. Have a good night, and thanks for the advice."

"I'm happy to be the one to give advice sometimes," Harry said. "And thanks for yours."