Crew Quarters, Utopia Planitia October 16, 2380 Stardate 56797.6

Lieutenant Avalon Fererra, recently assigned to the Voyager II construction project, now on two week's personal leave before rejoining the USS Churchill to resume her regular shipboard assignment, closed her duffel. She glanced around her quarters to make sure she hadn't left anything behind. There wasn't much to check since she'd acquired nothing here and had only a few personal belongings. The small room looked little different now than it had while she'd occupied it. Though her shuttle to Starfleet Headquarters didn't leave for two more hours, she didn't want to remain here any longer than necessary.

Even after a sleepless night, the only feeling she was sure of was frustration. She'd accomplished nothing she'd set out to do, but at least now she wouldn't have to look in the mirror and wonder who she was becoming. Whatever price remained for Tom Paris to pay, someone else would have to extract it. Even if she was leaving with her business unfinished, at least she was leaving with an almost clear conscience.

She'd just hoisted her duffel over her shoulder when the door announcer beeped. She wasn't expecting anyone, and she hoped it wasn't Gerry or Delia. She'd requested immediate leave and reassignment to avoid the need to go back to Voyager II. It had seemed the best way. Beyond "It was nice working with you," what could she say about her abrupt departure?

The door announcer beeped again, and her hope of whoever it was giving up if she remained silent was dashed. The station's locator system would have notified anyone looking for her that she was here. She walked to the door and pressed the manual door release.

"About time," Tom Paris said as he walked in.

She was speechless as he stopped a couple of meters into her quarters and glanced around at the impersonal decor. She'd assumed he would be on Voyager II, feeling nothing but relief that he'd never have to see her again. The last thing she'd expected was for him to show up here.

"Looks like you're about to leave," Tom said as he turned to face her.

His gaze was watchful and Ava felt a shiver of uneasiness. "You should have received word of my resignation this morning. I have some personal matters to attend to, and after yesterday I assumed you'd be happy to see the last of me." She'd also been convinced that his lack of response to her overtures was genuine, but apprehension made her blurt out sharply, "If you've come to belatedly accept my offer, it's rescinded."

Tom smiled without amusement. "I haven't. But we do need to talk, don't you think, Ava? Or should I call you Avi?"

Ava stiffened. Only her family had ever called her by that nickname. If that wasn't enough, she could tell from his shrewd expression that he knew.

"I would never have guessed," Tom said. "You don't look anything like Bruno. You must take after your mother."

Obviously he'd read her service record, and it occurred to Ava for a moment to wonder why he hadn't before. Maybe because he felt threatened after yesterday. "Congratulations," she said, "you're a brilliant investigator. Now you know. Case closed. If you'll excuse me-"

"Your brother used to talk about you," Tom said, without moving. His voice sounded distant to her, even though he was standing less than a meter away. "Bruno talked about his whole family, but he seemed to have a special affection for you. He'd say you were twelve going on thirty, and that you could almost outfly him already. He admired your grit and natural ability."

Ava felt tears prick her eyelids. She focused on her indignation to push them back. Who was he to tell her how her brother had felt? "Did he say that to you the day you killed him?"

Tom didn't flinch or blanch at her spiteful words, but she saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. "No, he didn't. But he said it enough."

"He never said it to-" Ava stopped. That wasn't his business either.

"Brothers don't usually tell their sisters how they really feel," Tom said, as if he knew from experience. "It's a lot more comfortable to harass each other. But your brother loved you. You can take my word for it."

"I should take your word for anything?" Ava asked snidely.

"You can now," Tom said softly. He looked at her, his expression somber. "Ava, I know you why you're here. You want to punish me for what happened at Caldik Prime, and I don't blame you."

Ava snorted. "How noble of you. I wanted to make us even. I wanted you to know what it felt like to lose something, like I did. All those years ago, all you got was a dishonorable discharge for killing my brother."

Tom's crooked smile held irony. "If it makes you feel any better, I punished myself plenty. I'm still not sure how I lived through it. For a long time I did just about every stupid thing I could think of to bring about my demise."

"I hoped you were dead. When Voyager was lost, I figured it was a fitting end." She had, but now she realized even that hadn't completely quelled her bitterness.

"Then Voyager resurfaced, and here I am a Starfleet officer again. Obviously that doesn't sit well with you, which I can understand."

She didn't want his understanding, damn him. "How would you expect me to feel, seeing you get everything you must have ever wanted, having a wife and a child, being lauded as a hero, while my brother never got a chance to do any of those things?"

Tom was silent for several moments, his expression pained. Finally he said, "I'd expect you to hate me."

And she had. So much. At least she thought she had. Ava's hands clenched around her duffel. She realized she was holding it like a shield, but she didn't put it down.

"There's not much point in me saying I wish it had never happened," Tom said when she remained silent. "I wished it a million times, and it never made a difference, just like it doesn't now. I can't change anything. All I can say is that I'm sorry. I always have been, even when I was too afraid to admit my error."

"Afraid?" Ava asked harshly. "That you'd lose your chance at promotion, or be thrown out of Starfleet, or that your father the Admiral would be angry?"

"Yes," Tom admitted. "And I was afraid to face the fact that it was my bad decision that...killed them. I wanted to hide from it, to pretend at any cost that it hadn't happened. So I denied it to everybody, but mostly to myself." His lips twisted and he shook his head. "It didn't work."

Something haunted flashed briefly in Tom's eyes, and Ava wished she hadn't seen it. She didn't want to think about his pain at causing those deaths. She smiled bitterly, recalling again her father's opinion that living with that knowledge was punishment enough. "After Bruno died my mother was inconsolable. She said he was little more than a boy, and he'd barely started his life. She was as angry as I was when we heard about your belated confession. My father was too at first, but he told my mother that you were also little more than a boy, young enough to make a terrible mistake and handle it badly. Even though I thought he should, he wouldn't condemn you for what you did."

"Your father was far more generous than I deserved," Tom said. "My youth wasn't an excuse."

"No, it wasn't," Ava agreed. They stared at each other for several long seconds. He didn't avoid her gaze, or offer any further defense.

Ava felt the anger inside her dissipate a little, and she took a ragged breath. "The truth is, I don't know what to think anymore. You aren't the same person you were then, and I guess that much I can accept. My father has always said I should forgive you in my heart. He's probably right. But I don't know if I can ever forget what you did."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Tom said. "But I still owe you an apology. I know it's very late, and I know it's far from enough, but it's all I have. I'm truly sorry, Ava. There's not a day of my life that I don't regret my actions, or that I don't think of Bruno and the others and remember how lucky I was to know them.""

Ava heard the sincerity in his voice, which shook just a little. There was no pleading in his steady gaze. He was offering her a heartfelt apology, whether she elected to take it or not. She made an instantaneous decision, one she wouldn't have thought she was capable of even a day ago. "I accept your apology."

Tom took a deep breath. "Thank you."

Ava realized she owed him an apology too. "I'm sorry for the past few weeks. For what I tried to do-"

"It doesn't matter," Tom said, cutting her off. "It's forgotten." After a moment he cleared his throat. "You're a fine pilot, Ava. You've been an asset on Voyager II. My exit evaluation will reflect that fact."

Ava nodded, understanding his meaning. Tom Paris would give her a good review, based on the quality of her work, and uninfluenced by everything else that had passed between them. "Thank you."

They looked at each other silently again, as if neither of them was sure how to end the conversation. Despite the cleared air between them, or because of it, they were both at a loss for words. Finally Ava said, "I'm not rushing you-well, I guess I am, but I was just on my way out."

Tom smiled, with the first trace of his trademark good humor since he'd walked through her door. It was surprisingly nice to see. "Good luck, Ava," he said as he walked past her. He stopped at the door and looked back. "In case you doubt it, your brother would be proud of you."

Without another word he slipped out the door. Ava stared after him, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her chest. The grief might never completely go away, and she'd always miss her big brother. But the darkness that had lodged in one corner of her heart for so long-the bitterness she'd held onto against all reason, instead of letting it fade naturally-that was gone.

She'd never doubted her brother loved her. Despite his teasing, he'd been supportive and protective. But she'd never known he'd talked about her, or thought so highly of her abilities. She was absurdly grateful to have made that discovery about him. It was ironic that she'd come here to take something from Tom Paris, and he'd given her something instead.

Tom had also said her brother would be proud of her. Ava wasn't so sure. That she'd followed in his footsteps to become a pilot, yes. But the way she'd refused to let go of his loss, probably not. Her brother had been the type who never held a grudge, and he would have forgiven Tom without hesitation. She'd always known that, but until now she'd refused to see it, or how her lack of forgiveness had tarnished his memory.

Maybe that was what she'd really come here to find, even though she hadn't known she was searching for it. Not revenge but forgiveness-for Tom, and from her brother.

Ava slung her duffel over her shoulder. She'd come here obsessed with Tom Paris's life, but she was leaving free of that obsession. It felt good. Whatever Tom's future held-and it was probably only good-he'd worked hard to get there while reconciling his past. It was time she did the same.

She walked out the door without a backward glance. Instead of spending two weeks in San Francisco waiting for the Churchill to arrive, she decided she would go home. It had been too long since she'd been there. She could visit her family, and have a long talk with her father. Then she would start over once again-wasn't life only a series of new beginnings anyway?-and make her brother truly proud of her.

Crew Quarters, Utopia Planitia November 4, 2380 Stardate 56850.1

"'Night, Daddy."

Miral held her arms out to him, and Tom took her in a tight hug. She was in her pajamas, freshly bathed, and her hair smelled like her favorite jasmine shampoo. He buried his face in her scent and softness, overwhelmed for a moment by the sense of love and gratitude that occasionally hit him unexpectedly, until she started to squirm.

"Love you, Daddy," Miral said as B'Elanna took her.

"Love you too, angel," Tom replied.

B'Elanna smiled at him before she took Miral down the hall to bed. Tom watched them disappear into Miral's room and walked to the window. Their quarters were situated in the officer's section, along the outer rim of the main station. From here he could see the vista of the station's shipyards, including the enormous sphere of the enclosed shipyard, and part of the docking ring with its spokes strutting out from the sphere, where some of the ships in the latest stages of construction were tethered. Voyager II had recently been moved there again, and was just visible, looking like a tiny, graceful ornament hanging against the star-studded black backdrop of space.

The Paris-Torres family would be onboard Voyager II when she departed for the Delta Quadrant in another two months. They'd made that decision over dinner tonight. Miral had been included in that unanimous decision, though her "yea" had been influenced more by his description of flying among the distant stars, and the promise of frequent calls home to her grandparents, than by any comprehensive understanding of the how it would affect her life.

Tom felt a jolt of anticipation at the thought of piloting a brand new starship, especially a new Voyager. There would be a lot to do before they left: picking and choosing what to take, packing and rearranging, and tying up all the loose ends of their lives here. That wouldn't happen for a while yet, but in the meantime he had some loose ends of his own to tie up, loose ends that had waited eighteen years already-

"She's down," B'Elanna said as she walked into the living room. "She can't wait to fly 'in the stars' with you."

Tom smiled as B'Elanna joined him. "She also asked when is 'Kissmas' and 'Pixin,'" B'Elanna added, mimicking her daughter. "It's a little early to get her excited about that."

Tom shrugged at B'Elanna's admonishing look. "I read Dr. Suess's 'The Grinch Who Stole Christmas' to her last night. That probably piqued her interest."

"And I suppose Neelix brought up Prixin when he called the other day," B'Elanna said. "I don't know if it's a good thing having her birthday, Christmas, and Prixin all fall within a few weeks of each other. She seems to think it's a month invented especially for her, and she's getting spoiled enough as it is."

Tom smiled. "She's a little kid. Let her get spoiled."

B'Elanna's eyebrows rose. "I'll get back to you on the wisdom of that notion once she's a teenager. So..." she moved slightly behind him and wrapped her arms around his back. "What's on your mind, Flyboy?"

Tom glanced over his shoulder at her. She was giving him that "I know you've been brooding about something" look. He sighed quietly. "Just thinking about decisions."

"We made the right one about Voyager," B'Elanna said, referring to the ship without the "two" tacked on, as most were starting to do now. "But it's something else, isn't it? She left the station days ago, you know."

"It's not about her directly," Tom said. His lips quirked. "You weren't really jealous, were you?"

B'Elanna smirked. "You wish. And that's not an answer to my question."

Tom had told B'Elanna about his confrontation with Ava, and all that had transpired between them. Though it had stirred up painful memories, he'd assured her the meeting had ended up being a positive thing. That experience and the encounter with Rick had given him a sense of partial resolution. Even if he could never erase his past, maybe he and everyone else who'd been within its sphere of influence truly could go forward and coexist despite it.

"Tom, you have to put it completely to rest sometime," B'Elanna said. She laid her cheek against his back. "You have a right to move on."

"So does everyone else," Tom said. "B'Elanna, I have to do something I should have done a long time ago."

B'Elanna pulled away from him and gripped his arm, prompting him to turn and face her. "You're not going to Caldik Prime."

Tom wasn't sure if it was a question or a command. He saw the apprehension in B'Elanna's eyes. She was probably worried he intended to immerse himself in the place where his life had once fallen apart, and would relapse into a quagmire of guilt and self-pity. He shook his head. "I don't need to go back there, B'Elanna. Caldik Prime is etched permanently in my mind. I've seen it often enough without actually being there."

B'Elanna had witnessed a few of his bad dreams, though they'd come far more infrequently in recent years. She looked stricken. "Tom, I didn't mean-"

"It's okay," Tom interrupted her. "I have no intention of ever going back there. It wouldn't serve any purpose. But there is one thing I should have done and never did."

"What?" B'Elanna asked.

"Apologize," Tom said. His meeting with Ava had brought about that realization. He might have offered a general apology during his official confession, though he'd been in such a fugue state he couldn't actually remember. But Ava had been the first person to whom he'd offered a personal apology.

"Did I even tell you Odile's parents were at my Starfleet hearing?" Tom asked, though he knew he hadn't. "Her father told me he never wanted to see my face again. I figured everyone else involved would feel the same, so approaching them, even with an apology, would just make their pain worse. Nice of me to spare their feelings, wasn't it?" He smiled self-deprecatingly, but B'Elanna's gaze on him remained steady. "At least that's what I told myself. Of course, it let me off the hook too. And back then I was too absorbed in self-pity to really worry about anyone else."

"So you want to go see the families now and offer them an apology?" B'Elanna asked gently.

Tom shook his head. "No. It is true that some of them probably don't want to see me, even after all this time. I'll send letters." He took a deep breath. "It's been so long-too long-but I owe this to them."

B'Elanna nodded. "I agree. And you owe it to yourself." She laced her fingers in his. "Even if they don't respond, or don't want to accept your apology, that doesn't matter. It doesn't change your intention."

Tom knew B'Elanna was trying to warn him, and she was right. He didn't expect to hear anything back. He wasn't doing this get absolution from anyone, or to set things right. Nothing could do that. But he had to offer what little he had toward that debt, even if it would never be paid. "I'll work on it tomorrow."

"If you want me to be here, I can change my schedule..."

"This is something I have to do on my own," Tom said. "But thanks for offering." He squeezed her hands. "Just knowing you support me means a lot."

"You can send Miral to the Children's Center, so she isn't underfoot."

Tom shook his head. "She'll be fine here." And she'd remind him of the best things he'd achieved in his life while he was acknowledging the worst.

B'Elanna let out a small, frustrated sigh. "Okay. But I'll expect you and Miral to meet me for lunch."

Tom figured he'd need the break. Though he knew B'Elanna was motivated out of concern, he didn't resent the fact, especially since she was willing to take a break from her increasingly busy schedule on Voyager to check up on him. "The arboretum?"

"How about the mess hall on Voyager," B'Elanna suggested. "We can try out the new replicators."

"Have they been recalibrated again?" Tom asked. Last he'd heard the replicators were still a little bit...off, to put it kindly.

"According to Lieutenant Percy, the hot plain tomato soup is red now instead of chartreuse."

Tom laughed. "Great. I wonder if it tastes remotely like tomato soup. Or if there are any tables and chairs in the mess hall yet. But it's a deal. Miral can start getting a feel for the ship."

B'Elanna looked past him out the window, her gaze locking on Voyager II. After a moment turned her gaze back to him. "Tom, are you sure?"

"I'd have been outvoted anyway."

"Hey, you're the one who got Miral all excited about it!" B'Elanna protested.

"And there's your answer," Tom said. He smiled at his wife, who relaxed and smiled back. "So, do you think Miral is really asleep?"

"She was pretty worn out," B'Elanna said.

"I guess that means some quality personal time for Mommy and Daddy," Tom said, pulling her toward him.

B'Elanna grinned. "I guess it does, but I have to take a shower first. I spent all day up to my elbows in plasma conduits."

Tom sniffed her hair. "Smells okay to me, but we can take a shower."

"We?" B'Elanna asked archly. "Hmm. I suppose I could use your help with all those hard-to-reach places."

Tom's smile was smug. "I knew there was a reason you couldn't live without me."

B'Elanna laughed as moved away from the window. "Tom, you're the one who can't live without me."

That was true. And as they walked down the hallway, he was grateful all over again for his life, every day of it-even tomorrow.