AN: As usual, Parmount owns them, I just like to play 'What if?' Thanks for reading, and reviews/comments are always appreciated.
ooo
B'Elanna, 2379
"Miral and I had lunch with Dad today," Tom says as he maneuvers our wiggly daughter into her high chair.
"Oh?" I say, feigning interest. I still don't understand why Tom has anything to do with his father.
"He says Kathryn is on leave. Her mom had surgery."
"That's too bad," I remark.
"I should check on her," he says offhandedly. The words no sooner leave his mouth than a familiar jealously settles in my gut.
I know it's crazy: Tom's given me no reason to think he was cheating. The Admiral's always been open and friendly, not like a woman who has something to hide. Sometimes she seems wistful. Like she wants a closer relationship with us, except the rank bar is in the way.
But she and Tom have this friendship. Maybe it's because they're both Starfleet brats or because she knows his family. But go to a party, and they're talking and laughing uproariously. She thinks his lame jokes are funny, though occasionally, he goes too far, and she frowns at him. He just gives her that juvenile grin, and she starts laughing again.
I know they occasionally have lunch when she's in town. I know they exchange messages on occasion, and she's in the group that gets images of Miral.
Maybe I just wish things were as easy for us as it seems to be between them.
ooo
We've hit a rough patch. Again. But Harry's back from a six-month run on the Rostov, and the Admiral's hosting a party. I suspect she wants to show off her new house. So we go, and talking with other people helps a lot — until I see that Harry and the Admiral have Tom cornered out on the deck. She has a hand on his arm, and they all look worried. Tom shakes his head, and I suspect our marriage is the topic of conversation.
They leave, and Tom stays outside. I get involved in a conversation, but eventually, I look around and realize he's still out there, standing in the shadows. The look on his face is soft and affectionate, almost regretful.
I know he's not looking at me, so I follow his gaze … Kahless! He's looking at the Admiral.
Sam Wildman comes over to talk, and the next time I glance over, Tom's talking to Harry and his girlfriend in the kitchen.
The party winds down, and Tom goes to collect our jackets. The Admiral is on the stair landing; they talk briefly, and he turns to go upstairs. The Admiral watches him go, and she has the same look — soft and wistful.
ooo
"I'm guessing Harry and the Admiral were grilling you about our problems," I say when we get home. He shrugs. "They know us too well. I told them we were working through it. That we'll be all right."
"Will we?" He looks at me, confused. "I saw the look you gave her when you thought no one was watching. By the way, Flyboy, she looks at you the same way."
He shakes his head in exasperation. "I can't speak for Kathryn. You know she means a lot to me. I'd still be in prison if it wasn't for her. That doesn't mean we're having an affair or that we plan to have one."
"Have you forgotten that she threw you in the brig?"
"Not at all. But we hashed that out on Voyager, which I told you about." He throws up his hands. "I don't get the jealously. And don't bother to deny it," he challenges me. "I saw the dirty looks when I talked to her. She saw them, so did Harry."
I fire back, and the fight is on until our shouting wakes Miral. I go upstairs to settle her. When I get back, he's sitting on the couch. "I don't know what to do," he says sadly.
"I'm not sure either," I say, "But I know I can't do this anymore."
ooo
Tom, 2379
"Have you talked to the Admiral?" Harry asks during our vid call, and I know he's hinting.
"Did you tell her about the divorce, or should I blame my father?"
He looks uncomfortable. "Your father beat me to it," he admits. "But she's been worried about you guys since the party. Have you talked to her at all?"
"She sent a message," I admit. "Thought I'd wait to call her. Don't want it to look like I ran to the other woman. Even if she isn't the other woman." I shake my head. "She doesn't need that kind of crap," I add. God knows she was grilled over the rumors about her relationship with Chakotay.
"You haven't done anything wrong," Harry reminds me. "I get that you're trying to protect the Admiral, but she's blaming herself for this. You two need to talk." He shakes his head. "B'Elanna is going to think whatever she wants to think."
"How'd you get so wise?" I tease.
ooo
It was another week before I got up the nerve to call. She's off-world again: The call connects at Jupiter Station. She's in civvies, a soft gray sweater that compliments her eyes. "Well, hello there," she says with that crooked grin.
"Hi," I begin, then stop before my voice squeaks. "Thanks for the message, and I'm sorry I haven't called before now."
"You've had a full plate," she allows, then pauses. "Look, I'm sorry if Harry and I … if our meddling at the party led to this."
"You two weren't meddling," I break in. "None of this is your fault."
She studies me for a moment, then relaxes. She nods and leans forward, chin propped on her hand. "How are you? Really?"
"Relieved, I think. Otherwise, the new apartment is OK, and I've picked up a new client."
"Great! What's the job?" she asks, and it hits me: At some point, B'Elanna and I stopped talking about our work.
"A holo-training manual for repairing positronic circuit boards. It's pretty easy, and the credits are good, probably because it's so damn boring," I say, which makes her laugh. "How's your work?"
She winces. "Can't tell you much," she sighs, "There's a dispute in the Hebet sector, and the diplomats want an admiral to lead negotiations. I'm sure Hebet is lovely right now, but this is not a senior staff-level issue."
"I don't think Hebet is lovely at any time," I quip, then take a breath. "I was wondering …" I stop to get control of my traitorous voice. "Er, when you get back, would you like to get dinner, maybe shoot some pool? It's been a long time since you whipped me at Eight Ball."
The look she gives me is pure mischief. "I doubt I've lost my touch," she teases. "Tell you what: I'll be back by the weekend. You bring the pizza, and I'll supply the pool table."
ooo
B'Elanna, 2381
I glance at the chronometer: Tom should be here with Miral any time now. This will be interesting: We haven't been face-to-face in months, since we do most hand-offs through the daycare center. It will also be the first time I've seen him since he and the Admiral got married.
Not that I'm surprised; I'd heard rumors that they were involved, and references to the Admiral started running through Miral's chatter. I should have picked up on it when Miral talked about a new dress and a party at Grandma's house, though she just shrugged when I asked what kind of party.
"Didn't you get an invite to the wedding?" I teased Harry after I got the news. He looked annoyed by the question. "I won't spy on Tom for you, and vice-versa," he told me early on.
"I did, but I'm out here for the next four months," he said, waving a hand around his quarters on the Graham.
The buzzer sounds, and when I open the door, Miral practically jumps into my arms. I hug her tightly as Tom brings her bags to the porch.
He looks good; he's even dressed like an adult. And the hover-ute behind him, complete with dog, is too upscale to be a hovershare.
He says something, but I'm distracted by his ring: a band of two woven silver braids. I don't doubt that its more-delicate twin is on the Admiral's left hand. In any case, it's a far cry from the simple gold bands we wore.
He kisses Miral goodbye, then walks back to the ute. I have to fire one last shot: "Guess I was right about you and the Admiral."
He straightens and turns, and for a moment, I think he's going to yell at me the way he used to. Instead, he just looks at me. I don't see anger, or reproach, or sadness. Just distance.
I'm expecting him to say something … anything.
He gets in the ute and drives away.
