April 2365

"I'm not sure I like you two being friends," Tom complained mildly as he munched on a grissini. He and Kathleen were waiting for B'Elanna at a small Italian place not too far from the Academy. "It feels like two against one more often than not these days. And I'm not on the right side of the equation."

"Get over it," replied his sister, throwing an olive at him.

Tom caught it mid-air and popped it in his mouth. "You're just mad you didn't ask her out first," he said cheekily, then ducked when an entire breadstick came hurtling towards his head.

"Sometimes you two act like you're both about twelve years old," B'Elanna commented as she approached their table. She was holding the projectile grissini. "Good thing you got an outdoor table."

Remembering the manners his mother had pounded into him over the last two decades, Tom rose from his seat in greeting. He then promptly forgot those manners when B'Elanna pulled on the front of his shirt for a kiss. They eagerly pressed their mouths together, Tom letting the spicy notes of her perfume wash over him.

Kath chose to give them a rather rude reminder of their surroundings and a second flying olive hit him on the side of the head. "You guys better come up for air, or I'm going to have to pull out my medkit."

B'Elanna's hand pulled out of reach when Tom tried to arm himself with the breadstick she was still holding. "Truce, you two," she said, shaking her head. "We're in public."

Aiming what he hoped was a particularly ferocious glare at his sister, he pulled out a chair for B'Elanna. He straightened when a stiff breeze hit the little restaurant's patio. "Is it warm enough for you out here?" he asked. "I can get us an inside table if you want."

"It's fine, Tom," she replied, rolling her eyes but giving him a smile at the same time. "I have a jacket on."

"Right," he said, sitting back down and handing her a menu. Kathleen whispered something in her ear, likely at his expense, that made B'Elanna throw her head back and laugh. Despite what he'd said to his sister a moment ago, and despite the fact that much of their bonding seemed based on giving him a hard time, he was happy to see the two of them becoming so close. B'Elanna had been happier this semester, and, while he believed a good part of that was their own relationship, he hoped that some of it was her finding her footing at the Academy, too. Kathleen's friendship had been a big help in that regard.

Even though his sister hadn't gone to the Academy, she had gone through Starfleet Prep as he had (Moira had put her stubborn and fashionably shod foot down and had attended a high school for the more artistically inclined), and all of the Paris children had been indoctrinated into the 'Fleet lifestyle from a young age. Maybe it was because Kathleen was nearly a decade older, or maybe it was that B'Elanna didn't feel the same sense of competition with her that she did with Tom - but the younger woman was much more open to hearing advice from his sister than Tom himself. He didn't mind, though. Whatever made B'Elanna feel more comfortable on Earth was OK by him.

"Do you two want to join me?" Kathleen said at the end of lunch. "She's a great speaker. You find out a lot more about the situation than you'll ever see in the media."

"Maybe," B'Elanna said. "I'll be honest - I don't know much about what Bajor's like, before or after the Occupation. Might be interesting."

"Are you two nuts?" Tom nearly spit out his final mouthful of pasta. "B'Elanna - we'd be expelled, or at least suspended. The Federation has a strict non-intervention policy on Bajor. Which means the 'Fleet has an even stricter policy."

"We can't even hear this women speak?" B'Elanna asked, incredulous.

"Considering she's basically advocating for guerilla warfare against the Cardassians - no," Tom answered. "Honestly, Kath, I'm not even sure you should go."

"Don't start with me, little brother," Kath said, standing. "I get enough of it from Mom. I gotta get to the hospital for my overnight. See ya."

"I'm worried about her," he confided to B'Elanna as they walked back to campus. "I don't like what's happening to Bajor either, but some of the people she's following - they're pretty extreme."

"At least they're trying to do something," B'Elanna said. "Unlike the almighty Federation Council. I don't know how they can sit by and let the Cardassians destroy an entire civilization like they are."

"They're not letting them do anything," Tom said, his voice rising. "The Federation has been in conflict with the Cardassians for almost two decades. It's not as simple as sending a few ships to Bajor and we'll send the Cardies packing! We'd be at a huge disadvantage, militarily speaking, and don't think the Cardassians won't use the Federation border colonies as leverage."

"Tom, I didn't say-"

"And if these idiots Kath keeps talking about think some little homegrown militia is going to sail in there and help the Bajoran Resistance throw off the oppressors, they're insane. The Cardassians will wipe the floor with them."

"No one thinks-"

"It's not going be easy, or pretty, or nice, B'Elanna; and a lot of people are going to die. Badly and painfully, and I'm not OK with my sister being one of them!"

"Tom!"

He stopped in his tracks, and turned to see that B'Elanna was over a meter behind him, her arms crossed. "What?"

"Oh," she said, an eyebrow rising. "I'm allowed to speak now?" At his apologetic grimace, she closed the distance between them. "Look," she said, "I get this is a sensitive topic for you. But does it occur to you that it is for Kathleen, too? And maybe she's just dealing with it differently than you are?"

"But-" he protested.

"Hey," she said more gently, taking his hand. "Your sister is a smart woman and I wouldn't exactly call her impulsive. Just because she's going to hear some people speak doesn't mean she's going to run off to become a freedom fighter."

Tom sighed. "Sorry. I guess I'm overreacting a little, huh?"

B'Elanna looped her arm through his and started them back on their path to campus. "Just a little. I'll forgive you this time. You may be surprised to hear this, but I also have been accused of overreacting. Just once or twice."

Tom chuckled and kissed her hair, thanking whatever lucky star or benevolent deity had brought her into his life. Tom had never lacked for friends, or girlfriends, or even the occasional boyfriend when he'd felt the urge - but his relationship with B'Elanna was different. Having spent his entire childhood in a household that frequently hosted Starfleet brass, alien diplomats, and various other notables, Tom had been trained from an early age in the art of putting other people at ease - and how this often meant suppressing one's darker impulses and truths. Keeping things light, presenting a charming, pleasant exterior - these things were second nature by the time he'd graduated from high school.

B'Elanna Torres had no interest in this superficial version of Tom Paris, however. From the night that she'd witnessed firsthand the horror show that was his home life, Tom realized she was much more interested in the person that lay hidden deeper inside. He had soon found himself confiding in her all sorts of things he had long buried, even from his sisters - his shame about running away from his father's illness to join the Naval Patrol; his feelings of inadequacy when he'd considered that going command track would mean constant comparisons to his father, his grandmother, and the half dozen other 'Fleet luminaries that shared his last name; his anger at his mother and Kathleen for their constant battles about his father, and at Moira for barely acknowledging a problem even existed. And B'Elanna had patiently listened to all of it with no judgment or facile suggestions on how to fix things, just unwavering compassion.

Tom realized it sounded crazy - they'd known each other for not even eight months, and had only been together for three - but he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman. He'd never been so sure of anything in his life. Except, perhaps, the certainty that if he told B'Elanna his vision of their future together, she'd likely go running for the hills and never look back.

So this was one thing he wasn't going to confide in her. Not yet.

"When are your parents supposed to get here?" he asked her as they neared the Academy.

B'Elanna's voice took on a rare bright tone. "A little over two hours. And it's just my dad. My mother changed her mind about coming."

"Oh," Tom said, frowning. "I didn't realize. I'm sorry. I was looking forward to meeting her."

B'Elanna dropped her arm from his, and shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. "It's fine. It'll be easier with just Dad. My mother doesn't care much for Earth. She'd probably just spend most of her time complaining about the weather, or the food, or something." She looked up at him with a grin. Tom wasn't sure he'd ever seen her so excited. "You're going to love my dad, though. He's great."

"He'd have to be." Tom returned her smile. "How else could he have such an amazing daughter?"

"Shut up," she said, shaking her head but laughing all the same.

Honestly, Tom was a little nervous about meeting John Torres, given that his daughter seemed to worship the ground he walked on. He'd been surprised a few weeks ago, when B'Elanna had finally shown him a picture. Given how enthusiastically she extolled her father's praises, Tom's brain had created an image of a rugged man that was two meters tall with shoulders as broad a mountain and flowing ebony hair. Essentially, a Klingon without the ridges. He had just barely suppressed his startled laughter when he saw the holo-photo of the completely average-looking middle-aged human, who had passed down his pensive brown eyes to his daughter (and looked to be a good deal shorter than Tom was).

He was curious to meet Miral, though. As much as B'Elanna liked to talk about her father, her mother was lucky to get a passing mention - a complaint about Day of Honor rituals (which B'Elanna was quick to clarify she didn't really observe anymore), a remark about the terraforming work Miral did as a biophysicist. Even Kathleen and his mother seemed to have a closer relationship than B'Elanna and Miral had. Tom wondered why she had decided not to come. He also wondered why B'Elanna hadn't mentioned it until now - given how long it took to get here from Kessik on public transport, and that John was scheduled to arrive in two hours, it seemed unlikely that she hadn't known for at least a day or two.

"He won't have a lot of time," B'Elanna was saying. "He's got to be at the conference in Anchorage in the morning. But I thought we could walk around campus and visit his old haunts, maybe show him the Warp Mechanics lab - I want him to see the project I'm working on - and then we can get some dinner."

"Mexican?" Tom asked hopefully. It had been a while since they'd gone to their favorite place.

"Uh-uh." B'Elanna shook her head dismissively. "He grew up in Oaxaca, remember? Nothing we'll get in San Francisco will be authentic enough. We should do seafood. You can't get fresh seafood on Kessik, and I know he likes it."

Tom's brow furrowed. "But you hate fish. You hate even the smell of fish. You won't even let me order fish when we go out."

She shrugged. "It's one night. I just want to make sure he gets a good meal while he's here."

They reached his dormitory first, and stopped in front before Tom headed upstairs to cram in some studying. "You sure you want me to tag along?" Tom asked her. "Maybe you want some time alone with him? I don't mind."

B'Elanna beamed at him and tilted her face up for a kiss, nipping at his lower lip before she pulled away. "I'm sure. I can't wait for the two of you to meet. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

But, when Tom approached her dormitory two hours later, he could see her excitement and happiness were gone. B'Elanna's arms were wrapped tightly around herself, despite the unseasonably warm weather, and she was slouched on the bench by the walkway. The man Tom knew to be John Torres was standing nearby and appeared to be pleading with her.

"I'm sorry, B'Elanna, but we haven't seen each other since graduate school!" Tom heard him say. "I didn't know she was going to be there until this morning."

"I don't understand why you can't get dinner with this woman tomorrow," B'Elanna said to the ground. "You can't wait one more day?"

"The conference is jam-packed with meetings and lectures," John said. "We won't have much time for socializing at all. It's not like the two of us aren't spending any time together. I don't have to leave for almost an hour. You're not really upset about this, are you, Little Bee?"

Of course she is, you jackass! She's been looking forward to seeing you for weeks! Tom cleared his throat. "Uh, hello? Mr. Torres? I'm Tom Paris." He flashed his trademarked winning smile, particularly useful when one needed to hide an impulse to punch someone in the nose.

"Tom!" Mr. Torres cried, grasping the proffered hand. "Very pleased to meet you! Please, call me John. B'Elanna has told me so much about you. Not that your reputation doesn't precede you, or your family's reputation at any rate."

"Dad!" B'Elanna looked up at that, shooting an apologetic look at Tom.

John seemed to miss his daughter's comment and how Tom's mouth thinned at the remark. "As you might have heard, I don't have as much time in California as I had originally planned. But I'd love to meet your parents sometime - especially your father. He was quite the hero when he was on active duty. I'm surprised he retired rather than join the admiralty. He'd really be an asset."

"Maybe your next visit," Tom said, concentrating on keeping his smile fixed firmly in place. He mentally thanked his mother for her impeccable example on hiding animosity behind a bland tone and an even blander expression. "I hope you have time to at least go to the Warp Mechanics lab. B'Elanna's project is really incredible. Professor Chapman thinks it may even have enough promise to be considered for a future engine design."

"Oh," John said, his eyebrows drawing together. "I wanted to walk around campus a bit, see how things have changed since I was here - I've got some great stories for you, Tom - but sure, we can stop by the Warp Mechanics lab."

"We don't have to," B'Elanna muttered as she stood, still keeping her eyes mostly on the grass.

"Of course we do!" Tom interjected before John could agree with her. "You promised to explain it to me. Again. Maybe I'll even understand you this time," he added with a wink when she peered up at him. Tom felt a small bubble of pleasure when she smiled at his joke, but he didn't miss that it wasn't much more than a hollow imitation of the joy she'd exuded earlier.

An hour and a half later, he sat on the same bench B'Elanna had occupied earlier, waiting for her to return from the transit station. He shivered a little. The warm afternoon sun had long disappeared behind a bank of clouds, and the day had cooled off rapidly as it faded into evening. He tried to remember if B'Elanna had still had her jacket on.

He'd begged off walking to the station, claiming it was so the two of them could have some father-daughter time; the truth was he was tired of forcing himself to laugh at the other man's stories. John seemed to have spent most of his visit talking about himself or asking Tom about his life and family, despite the younger man's many attempts to redirect the conversation back to B'Elanna. She, on the other hand, had been uncharacteristically subdued. It wasn't so unusual for her to be quiet, ("Will you can it, Paris?" was a frequent request when they studied together), but Tom had never seen her look so… small.

"You're still here," B'Elanna said when she arrived back at her dorm.

"Of course," he said with cheer he didn't feel. "I figure even if your dad can't come, we can still go out for dinner. And look on the bright side - now we don't have to get fish!"

She smiled at him, but her eyes still look dulled. "I don't know. I'm still kind of full from lunch. Can I take a rain check?" She started to edge towards the door of her dorm.

Desperate to lift her downcast expression, Tom jumped up and took her by the hand. "Wait!" he said. "We don't have to do dinner. Ren's gone until tomorrow - we can go back to my room. Talk, or just hang out." He took a step closer and brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. "Whatever you want," he promised.

Her free hand tugged on her lower lip and she kept her head turned partially back towards the dorm, as if weighing her options. He fought an urge to wrap her in a hug, afraid that if he rushed her she'd bolt. Finally she turned back to him, and he saw the corner of her mouth twitch as she met his eyes. "Whatever I want, huh?" she whispered huskily, and Tom saw a little of her spark reappear. She reached up to caress his face, and he felt a shiver of anticipation as she dragged a finger along his jawline.

Ten very long minutes later, they'd made it across the quad to his dorm and Tom found himself being shoved backwards onto his bed. Dizzy with longing, but also with her sudden change of mood, he clutched her hands to still them as she tried to rip open his jacket. "B'Elanna," he panted, "wait."

"You said whatever I want," she growled as she nipped at his neck, "and I don't," one hand pulled free, "want" then the other one, "to wait."

Much later, when Tom's higher brain functions were back online, he lay next to her naked form, lazily tracing patterns along her spine. "That feels nice," she mumbled into his pillow.

"Good," he said, smiling as his hand reached the perfect curve of her lower back. Tom debated with himself whether he should say something, ask her if she wanted to talk about her father's visit. He thought back to all of those stories she told him about John Torres, and how they were now shaded with an anxious yearning he hadn't noticed before. He also thought of similar nights in the recent past, when they'd lain in the dark on this bed or hers, and she'd listened to his fears about his father and his mother and his future.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. "Your father, I mean?"

Her muscles tensed. She pushed off her stomach so that her back faced him, and pulled the blanket up over her hips. "Nothing to talk about," she said. "He was busy. Plans change."

"It's OK," Tom said, soldiering on, "to be disappointed. I know you were looking forward to spending time with him."

What happened next occurred so suddenly he couldn't understand how she'd done it. Within seconds he was again flat on his back, but this time with his hands pinned down by hers, up past his shoulders. "If I'm disappointed," she said with a feral grin, "it's because the only thing you're doing with that luscious mouth of yours is talking."

And with that, all thoughts of John Torres very quickly flew from Tom's mind. After all, he had promised her whatever she wanted.