Hero for the Times
By: Julie

"You can't erase the past, Tom. But you and your father can move on, if you both want to, and from what I've seen you both do." The letters she'd received from Owen Paris had left her with no doubt about his feelings. He was deeply grateful for a second chance with his son. "This is just another step in the healing process."

Tom gave her an odd look. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. I think we're done..." Janeway noticed Tom's lips twitching. "Something amusing you, Tom?"

"Uh, no..."

"Out with it, Mister Paris."

"I was just thinking that the doctor knew what he was doing when he made Captain Fayray a Betazoid."

Janeway scowled at his impish grin. "Not funny. Get back to your post, Lieutenant."

Tom wiped the smile off his face as he stood. "Yes, ma'am." He strode to the door in that studied stride, then stopped as it opened and looked back at her. "Captain..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Tom was out the door before she could reply. She shook her head, trying to keep from smiling. A Betazoid. Fat chance. She was lucky if she could read her own mind half the time, though she knew that wasn't what Tom had meant.

She had only told Tom the truth. He had succeeded in redeeming himself, more than she might have thought possible at one time. As much as he'd changed, so had Owen Paris. She'd known Admiral Paris had never abused his son in any way, but he had heaped his own expectations on Tom, and had demanded his son be someone he wasn't instead of allowing Tom to be himself.

Janeway knew Tom would never be an admiral like his father, not because he lacked the ability, but because such a bureaucratic job would stifle him. He loved to fly, he was a fine field medic, and he had enough imagination and holoprogramming skill to rival the doctor as a holonovelist if he so chose-though god knew she didn't want two of them on her ship right now. She hoped Owen Paris would see his son's real gifts, and would rejoice that Tom had found true contentment with his life-not just with his work, but with his wife and child. No medal or admiralship could compare to that accomplishment.

"Chakotay to Janeway."

Janeway touched her commbadge. "Yes, Commander."

"Captain Naseev is hailing us. He would like to relay the council's decision to you."

"On my way."

Janeway strode to the bridge, hoping the answer would be the one she expected.

"How do I look?" the doctor asked.

Tuvok simply raised an eyebrow, while Janeway stared at the brilliantly colored robes the doctor had donned. "I think you'll pass inspection, Doc-uh, trader."

Metaar didn't appear to notice Janeway's slip, or if she did, she didn't attach any importance to it. "Your attire is quite appropriate," she told the doctor. Then she turned to Janeway. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"You are welcome, Metaar. It has been a pleasure having you here, as well as Lizaat, Deliin and Tineel. I hope we've left you with a good impression."

"Your close association with a complex being like the EH reflects highly upon your crew, Captain."

"Thank you," Janeway replied smoothly, though Tuvok recognized the slightly sardonic inflection in her voice. The doctor surprisingly didn't gloat at Metaar's words, perhaps because he was preoccupied with his impending visit. He had assured the captain he was prepared for the negotiations, and had received a list of items to be requested and bartered from Mister Neelix and Lieutenant Torres. Yet Tuvok suspected the doctor's preoccupation was a result of his interest in the Shaal'ra people and culture. He understood and applauded the doctor's desire for knowledge.

"Once the trade is finalized, the Liduun will move into position to exchange goods via transporter."

The Liduun was already approaching and Tuvok had placed the ship on constant monitor status. He expected no aggression or deceit from the Shaal'ra, but it was his duty to take every precaution.

"We'll be ready," Janeway said.

"Shouldn't we get going?" the doctor asked, not hiding his impatience.

"Have a good trip, Doctor," Janeway said as he and Metaar stepped on the transporter platform. Tuvok initiated the transport sequence and a moment later the two disappeared.

Janeway sighed, perhaps in relief. "If all goes well, we should be on our way soon with a full supply of fresh food. And we'll have the doctor to thank for it."

"Indeed, though his accomplishment today does not compare with the feats of his holonovel protagonist."

Janeway smiled at Tuvok's dry tone. "No, I suppose not."

Tuvok followed her out of the transporter room. "Captain, I am curious. You seem to be taking this situation more calmly than would be expected."

Janeway stopped and stared at her security chief. "Am I generally hysterical, Tuvok?"

Tuvok's eyebrow rose. "No, Captain. However you are not always adept at suppressing your feelings. I intend no offense."

Janeway resumed walking. "None taken."

"You often have little patience with the doctor's egotism, and the Shaal'ra continue to greatly inflate the doctor's value to Voyager based on his holonovel."

She smiled wryly. "I've swallowed my pride before when dealing with the cultural biases of alien races. I can't blame the doctor for that, and his holonovel is the reason he's over there right now securing needed supplies. I've also begun to realize that I've probably helped fuel the doctor's need to boost his ego constantly. I've never really treated him as a person. I reprogrammed him once without his knowledge or permission, and I absolved him of responsibility for deserting to the hologram ship when any other crew member would have been in the brig for months for the same infractions."

"You regretted your first action," Tuvok noted.

"And more or less repeated my bad judgment in the second." Tuvok didn't refute that, and Janeway shook her head. "Here I am expecting Starfleet to grant him sentient status, and by my own actions I've never done so myself. Now I'm wondering how much my actions might hurt his cause."

"I trust Starfleet will make a decision based on all the facts, Captain. Most sentient beings have an inborn prejudice for their nature over any different nature, which leads to shortsightedness. For the Shaal'ra it is single-identity beings, and for you it has been the holographic nature of the doctor. With experience and effort one can learn to overcome such prejudices."

Janeway nodded, then looked at Tuvok. "I suppose the Vulcans don't have such prejudices, given the IDIC philosophy."

Tuvok's eyebrow rose. "We overcame them." He elected not to volunteer how recently Vulcans had achieved a true adherence to IDIC.

"Join me for lunch?" Janeway asked as they stopped in front the turbolift.

"Thank you, Captain, but I am scheduled to speak to my family over the FTL link at fourteen thirty-four hours. I wish to prepare."

Janeway gave him a genuinely pleased smile. "I understand." She touched his arm briefly, then stepped into the turbolift. "Give T'Pel my regards."

"I will do so, Captain." Tuvok watched the turbolift doors close, and moved down the corridor. As usual he had many matters to contemplate, from status reports, to security upgrades, to the phaser bank refit. Yet he was finding it difficult to concentrate today. Vulcans were not impatient, but Tuvok found the anticipation of speaking with T'Pel and their children was inhibiting his logical thought processes. His current state was perilously close to an emotional reaction and he knew he should immediately meditate to reassert his Vulcan mental disciplines.

After a moment's consideration he decided against it. This once, he would allow this small, pleasant feeling of anticipation to remain inside him. No one else need ever know.

Tom strode toward the briefing room, trying to will away his memories. Though he didn't want to, he couldn't stop himself from recalling the last words he and his father had spoken directly to each other, when he was being led away from court to be transported to New Zealand. His mother and father and been in the hallway, his mother in tears. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. Instead he'd looked at his father, who had looked back, his expression rigid and forbidding.

For one desperate moment, Tom had wanted to throw himself at his father and beg for forgiveness. He'd wanted his father to take him in his arms and tell him that it would be okay, and that he still loved him. Then his father had spoken.

"You've made your choice, Thomas. You've worn out your welcome as my son."

Tom had smirked, and in one last gesture of defiance he said in a mocking voice, "Go to hell...*Dad*."

He'd thought he heard his mother call his name as he walked away, but he couldn't be sure through the sudden dizziness that made his head swim. He'd stumbled and one of the guards escorting him had roughly steadied him. At that moment he'd known with certainty that it was all gone. His life, his future, his family...

Even after all these years, recalling the intensity of that exchange and the harsh finality of their words to each other made Tom break out in a sweat. He swallowed as he approached the briefing room. He was the first to arrive. The fact almost made him smile, when he thought of the unlikelihood. Almost, but not quite.

"Hey, Tom."

Harry strode toward him, grinning. "You're early."

Tom shrugged. "I figured I could do it once in my life. So, you okay doing this, Harry?"

"Wha-oh, sure. I'm eager to talk to my parents, but it's fun to see everyone so happy after seeing their families."

At that moment Icheb appeared, carrying Miral. "B'Elanna asked me to get Miral. She got detained in Engineering, but she promised to be here on time."

Tom wondered why B'Elanna hadn't called him. She'd probably worried he'd end up being late. He smiled at his daughter, who was squirming in Icheb's arms. Seeing her always gladdened his heart, and reminded him of how much he truly had. "Hey, angel."

Miral responded with an enthusiastic "Dada!" as Tom took her from Icheb. Then he patted Icheb's shoulder. "No need to look so nervous."

"I am not nervous," Icheb said.

Right. Maybe it was just him. "You won't have to say much. Mom will do most of the talking," Tom assured Icheb.

"Tom's told me his mother is the kind of person who includes everyone," B'Elanna said as she joined them. She straightened the strap of Miral's red jumper, and kissed her cheek.

"Glad you made it," Tom said softly.

"There was no chance I'd miss it," B'Elanna said, slipping her arm through his.

The door to the briefing room opened and Tuvok walked out, his expression imperturbable as ever. "How is your family, Tuvok?" Harry asked.

"They are well."

"I'm sure they were happy to talk to you," Tom said.

"They were...pleased. As was I to speak with them."

Was that the barest hint of emotion he heard in Tuvok's voice? Tom smiled. "I'm glad it went well."

Tuvok's eyebrow rose. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I wish you equal success."

Tom hoped so too as he followed Harry, B'Elanna and Icheb into the briefing room. While they took seats at the table, Harry moved to the console. Tom let Miral sit on the table, putting his hands around her to keep her from wandering.

"Okay, I'll back in five minutes," Harry said from behind them. Tom felt Harry's hand squeeze his shoulder briefly. "Enjoy."

Tom busied himself for a moment pulling Miral back as she tried to crawl away. When he looked up, his parents were on the screen.

"Tom."

Tom immediately met his mother's gaze. She was smiling, her blue eyes glistening.

"You look wonderful."

The last time she'd seen him, in that corridor as he was being led away to prison, he knew he'd looked drained and defeated, as if he'd thrown his soul away. That's how he'd felt. Her tears then had been tears of sorrow. She had tears in her eyes now, but they were tears of joy. Tom's eyes grew damp as he realized how desperately he'd missed her, not just since he'd been on Voyager but during all those years before when he'd refused to come home. He felt B'Elanna's hand close over his.

"Hi, Mom," he said softly. "You look wonderful too."

She did. She looked the same as he remembered her. "You must be Miral," she said, as Miral stared back at her in fascination. "I can't wait to hold you." She glanced up at Tom, her smile tremulous. "She's beautiful. And I can see why."

Alicia Paris transferred her gaze to B'Elanna, her regard warm. "You're as lovely as Tom said you were. Tom got his good taste from me. Welcome to the family."

"Yes, welcome, B'Elanna," Owen Paris added, speaking for the first time. "And you too, Icheb. Alicia and I have looked forward to meeting you both."

B'Elanna smiled as Icheb said, "It's good to meet you, sir. And ma'am."

Tom knew his mother would put a stop to that form of address soon.

"And welcome to you, Miral."

Tom couldn't avoid it any longer. He looked at his father. Owen Paris was smiling gently at his granddaughter. "Look, Alicia," he said. "She has her father's eyes." Then he looked up.

Tom and his father stared at each other silently, and warily, at least on Tom's part. It seemed like all the moments, good and bad, and all the words they'd ever said to each other were right there between them. The tension was palpable and even Miral lapsed into stillness. Moments passed, while Tom noticed that his father looked older, and not as invincible as he'd always seemed. His gaze was softer, his posture more relaxed.

"Hello, son."

His father spoke first. Then he smiled, a genuine smile, and there was no censure in his gaze, no disappointment or disgust, as there had been nine years ago. There was only happiness and pride.

Tom realized his father hadn't addressed him as "Lieutenant" or "Thomas" or even "Tom," but as "son." The fear he'd denied, that the past would shadow this reunion, that his father would still be unable to completely forgive all that had gone between them before-that *he* would be unable to forgive it-Tom realized it was unfounded. Suddenly it was as if the past had never happened- -or as if it had, but it didn't matter anymore. They were still father and son, and always would be, no matter what.

Out of the corner of his eye Tom saw Icheb's smile, and he felt B'Elanna squeeze his hand harder while Miral grasped a handful of his shirt, trying to get his attention. His lips curved slowly as he returned his father's smile. Then he spoke the words he hadn't said in nine years, and hadn't spoken without anger, or guilt, or disdain for even longer-words that now seemed inordinately precious to him.

"Hey, Dad."