"Are you sure you're fine on your own?"

Tom rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I'm going to be fine, Harry," he reassured him for what seemed like the upteenth time.

"Are you sure?"

For a moment, Tom wanted to just reach over and throttle his best friend.

The Captain had granted shoreleave to Tom and some crewmembers assigned to the race, allowing them a little rest before the main event.

As a result, he and Harry were walking on one of Azara's famous beaches, exclusive to the race participants. They'd spent the better part of the morning exploring their privilege, which they discovered was more like Earth than they thought.

It was a little bigger than Earth, but everything else—the islands, the atmosphere, their way of government, were similar to that of their home planet. Of course, besides the island they hadn't really seen much of the planet.

Tom had spent most of his time on the station, getting the Delta Flyer through preliminary inspections and subjecting himself to the first of many physical examinations.

Qualifying was hard: the ship, its pilot, and the pit crew needed to be briefed and up to standard. Anything less and they could be rejected outright.

And his competition wasn't even the highlight of this event. Another race—the five-man crew regatta—was the most important and thus was the culminating event.

He'd seen some of the ships competing in that event when he flew in the Flyer and was looking forward to meeting some of the pilots. In fact, a gala was being thrown in honor of the pilots and their respective crew later this week, which led to their current dilemma.

The amount of paperwork proved to be just as tedious as physically qualifying. He'd been amazed at the number of forms to be filled out before the gala.

Fortunately for him, his only job was to fly the ship. The rest of the documentation was being handled by Seven of Nine, whose patience was built to withstand one of the few things constant in the universe: red tape.

She was handling last minute details as well as providing the additional documentation needed from first time competitors. The fact that they were from another sector had already turned them into a minor celebrity. People wanted to know more about them and she was becoming more adept at telling the story over and over, even if they all knew it was probably getting on her efficient Borg nerves.

Unfortunately for Harry, who'd been spared from the paper shuffling for the most part, he needed to come down and answer some clarifying questions.

As the Flyer's registered crew engineer, he was the one tasked to provide the technical details. Normally, Tom involved himself in everything that concerned the Flyer, but decided to sit this one out—for obvious reasons.

"Just go, Harry." He was beginning to whine. "You don't want to keep Seven waiting."

Tom's below the belt jab at Harry's infatuation drew the attention away from himself as his best friend once again took the bait.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I am over that!"

"As many times as it will take for you to convince me and the rest of the crew that you really are." he countered. "Are you gonna go or do I have to comm her and have her beam you there herself?"

"Tom!"

"Time's running Harry and you of all people know how she gets."

Harry threw his hands up and sighed.

"I give up" he grumbled, then laughed along with Tom.

But soon the laughter died down, and they were left with the same awkward situation.

Harry didn't want to leave Tom alone.

His friend had been doing fine for months—at least, in front of the crew.

On his own, Harry knew that Tom still had a long way to go. It may not be as bad as before, but he certainly wasn't better. He wasn't sure what, but leaving Tom on an alien planet…

This place made him feel wierd, his senses heightened somewhat. Like he knew something was going to happen, he just didn't know what. And with Tom being the more sensitive, he knew that he'd probably felt it too, long before he did.

"Maybe it's just nerves," he told himself. "This is just adrenaline, anxiety from the race."

But still…

He looked at his friend, who was now giving him the sullen look of a 12 year old whose parents would leave him alone on the beach.

"All right, I'm going, I'm going," he acquiesced. "Are you sure-"

Tom sighed and gave Harry a subtle shove, "Have fun with Seven, Harry."

Harry was almost to the wooden boardwalks when his commbadge chirped.

"Seven of Nine to Harry Kim."

Once again, for Seven's impeccable timing…

"Kim here," he answered, smiling. "I'm on my way, Seven, no need to-"

"Thank you Ensign, but you need not walk. Prepare for transport."

"What! It's only 15 minutes Seven-"

"No," she answered. "It is imperative that you arrive now."

And before he could protest, he felt the familiar tingle of the transporter, his world vanishing in blue light.

Tom watched, chuckling to himself, as Harry vanished just a few feet away.

Over the past few weeks, Seven had developed a rather proprietary attitude towards Harry, taking the two's precarious non-relationship to another level.

The development had provided new matter to ships betting pools and amused Tom to no end.

It also provided him some added distraction.

Working on the bridge or on the Delta Flyer most of the time had two special advantages: it kept him really busy and visible to the rest of the crew.

They had finally—finally­—stopped worrying about him all the time. Some had even started talking to him again. Gone was the time when all anyone could say to him was "I'm sorry."

They had not forgotten but they had moved on, as were the Captain and Chakotay…Tuvok, Neelix…Harry. So should he…

Sometimes he thought he had, or was at least trying to.

But not a day went by that he didn't think of her. How could he? Every corner of the ship reminded him of her; every time he jumped to warp he felt her presence as Voyager advanced in a burst of energy. The Delta Flyer bore marks of her genius and at night, even his quarters were haunted by her memories.

Heck, even this alien planet reminded him of her.

At mid afternoon, the sun was high up on the shore, making the waters shine a crystalline blue. He walked further down the beach, searching for…something.

He didn't bother questioning a lot of things now; he just went ahead and did it. It hasn't gotten him into trouble yet, but it was only a matter of time.

It was a path to self-destruction that he knew all too well, and if he wasn't careful, he'd be walking down the same hellish path he'd been on before Voyager.

"What you do to me, B'Elanna," he thought, stumbling on a stone

He reached down and uncovered the flat disc from the ground, feeling the sun baked heat of it burn his hands.

It was a hot day, but he knew the temperature was just right. Above him, sea birds were crying, and the surf rolled in on the warm sand. Not enough for him to burn but just enough to keep a Klingon toasty.

Just another perfect day at the beach…

His thumb smoothed over the fine sand, feeling the rough edges before throwing the stone out to the sea, watching it skip and sink.

"God, you would have loved this, B'Elanna," he murmured. "You would have loved this."

"B'Elanna?"

At the sound of his voice, B'Elanna looked up to the speaker in front of her, her mind racing to think of an excuse…

"You were a thousand parsecs away," Jake laughed, then reached out to brush a strand of her hair, cupping her cheek. "What were you thinking?"

She sighed and instinctively leaned into the warmth.

"The race," she smiled, trying to dispel the worry from his face. "And you."

"That's nice to hear."

"It was nice to have said it."

Their eyes locked and B'Elanna, in one of her rare moments, drew close to place her lips on his cheek.

Only to have him draw back slightly, smiling regretfully before he retreated to a more acceptable position.

"You know I miss you but this isn't the time to do that."

Her eyes widened slightly as she remembered where she was.

All at once, the crowds and the noise came crashing in, a none-too subtle reminder of just how things were.

A server passed with a tray of wine and she grabbed one, telling herself not to down its contents in one nervous gulp.

It was a week before the races began and she was close to a wreck. Even though she was confident of the Argo and her team, she still felt like there were a million things that needed to be checked or calibrated.

Qualifying for the races had been tough: pilot physicals, ships inspections, recalibrations and on site modifications…the ridiculous amount of paperwork.

Thankfully, someone else had the unfortunate task of filling the dozen million entry forms, freeing her to supervise her crew and spend most of her days in the hangars with the Argo.

She hadn't seen much of her family since they'd landed on Azara a few days ago. Her father and brother were busy with their diplomatic duties, Jake was busy qualifying for his own heat, while she and her pit crew struggled with the standardization procedures that the race officials demanded.

Thank the spirits hey weren't first timers. If they were, there would have been more paperwork, more physicals, and more qualifying tests to go through. As it was, the preliminary paperwork was enough to put her asunder.

Now she was here, relaxing at a private party that one of Jake's relatives was throwing in honor of the races.

"Aunt Mina is here somewhere…" Jake was saying, looking around the room "She was asking me about you…"

B'Elanna sighed and finished her drink. They were all asking about her. For the past two hours she'd done nothing but circulate with Jake, smiling and answering polite (but still nosy) questions.

She wished her brother were here. Natural diplomat that he was, Aron always found a way to deflect any probing questions. He'd promised to be here later in the afternoon, laughing as he left her out to dry with Jake's great Aunt Mina and three gossipy aunts.

"Aunt Ara's sisters," he had informed her. "We are not related."

"Well thank the spirits for that," she grumbled, looking around for the server, hoping for another dash of courage in a glass.

Nightmares, amnesia, multiple riding accidents…and nothing scared her more than being under the social scrutiny of Jake's relatives.

Aron had better come pretty soon. She was already contemplating tipping a vase just to ease the tension.

"Calm yourself, B'Elanna" she breathed.

Aron might be amused by her temper but Jake surely wasn't. He was always so…proper, that she couldn't help but be the same way when around him. It usually wasn't a problem, but it was times like these that things that made her want to flare up.

She finally spotted the server at the other end of the room, right next to the large bay doors. He was balancing a new load of drinks and was heading out, no doubt to serve the dozen other guests who had spilled into the sandy backyard of this beachside villa.

She was set to catch him when a glint of gold caught her eyes from the right side window.

A man was walking down the shore, towards their villa. Stopping once in a while to pick up sticks and stones and throwing them back out into the sea.

He had sandy blonde hair cropped close to his head, a most unusual haircut for the people in this system who preferred growing it out to their napes; unless you were in the military.

"Maybe he's in the service" she thought

He was still quite far, though she noticed by his clothes that he was not from here. The man wore a garishly bright shirt and with his pants rolled at the cuffs.

It was unusual for her to notice such things, but she was particularly curious about the stranger. Like she wanted to know his story.

It was most unusual…or rather, familiar.

She couldn't help feel as if she'd met this man before…

She moved without thought, drawn to this lonely stranger. Wanting somehow to come out and talk to him, comfort him…

How would you know if he's lonely or needs comfort, you don't even know him…

She was almost to the door when she felt an arm gently press on her elbow.

"There you are" Jake smiled, distractedly "I'd just found out Aunt Mina but when I turned you were gone. Come on, she wants to talk to you."

"But-"

"That's her."

She followed his gaze to a stately old woman standing near the entrance of the living room, looking both welcoming and scrutinizing at the same time.

"But-"

She felt herself being propelled towards the woman, even as she glanced back towards the window, and at the man, who had now walked ever closer to the house…

Tom didn't realize how far he'd walked until he saw a house, a party, and a huge alien approaching him.

"Halt!"

He wasted no time in stopping, the loud booming voice literally shocking him to stop.

The man approaching him looked like a huge, muscular elf, if there was such a thing. He was pale and tall, his lavender hair reaching his shoulders. Save for the angular chin and the rippled forehead, he looked very much human. His ears were even round.

He even recognized that all too familiar look of annoyance on his face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know this area was restricted," he explained. "The race officials said we were free to explore the beach."

The man eyed him dubiously. "You are a competitor?"

"Yeah, I'm a pilot," he answered.

"Ah. May I see your documents?"

Tom reached in the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt and pulled out a small card that the organizers had given him and handed it to the guard.

The man took the card and ran it against a PADD. Examining its contents. Moments later he relaxed, thumbing off the PADD and handing him back the card.

"I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience Lt. Paris."

Tom smiled and pocketed the card again "Not a problem. I thought for a minute that I wandered too far."

"No, it's alright. The whole sector of this island has been reserved for the competitors, though not a lot of them have ventured into this area."

"Wonder why" he answered, then looked at the villa "That's quite a party you have over there."

Tom's trained eyes spotted several other guards watching him from the villa. They didn't appear to have weapons but he was sure that they had them.

The man turned to the other guards and gave a slight nod, sending them back to their duties again.

"It is a celebration of Malta's return to the races. It has been quite awhile since they joined, this is their first time back."

It was a medium sized party, not unlike the ones they used to have in Neelix' resort, only it seemed more formal and it was mid-afternoon instead of dusk. There were people from different races milling around in drinks with their own little umbrellas, laughing and dancing to music.

"Back from where I come from, we used to call this a luau. Only the people here are better dressed and there are less banging drums."

The man gave a subtle snort. "The hostess is Malta's ambassador to Azara, she does not favor…drums. This is in honor of her nephew and the new consort. Perhaps you've met them."

Tom shook his head. "I doubt it. I've been tied up with the qualifications and the paperwork. This is the first break I've had since we got here. I'm beginning to think that the paperwork itself is part of the qualifying procedure."

They both laughed at that.

"There is a reason why they give such special privileges to the pilots and its crews."

Tom knew he should get going, but this was the first person he'd talked to all week who wasn't from Voyager and didn't want to talk about the races.

Besides, there was something about the house that made him want to stay.

"The bay has a very good restaurant that offers some of Azaras delicacies. Most pilots and engineers go there, the food is free for competitors."

"Thanks."

"Why don't you bring a lady friend, the view is quite nice in the evenings."

A dark cloud seemed to have settled in the conversation, making the sentry struggle with the subtle change.

"Uh, my friend…I mean, my mate was just lost in a mission a year ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Please, no. You were just trying to be hospitable. And you're right; if she were here I would take her to the restaurant. She would have loved this place."

He paused, taking in his surroundings.

"She loved the beach. We had simulators back on our ship that can recreate places, but nothing beats the real thing. It's been awhile since we've even touched real sand, much less seen real sun or surf. This would have been a real vacation for us."

The guard looked ready to apologize again when he saw something at the side of the house.

It was…no, it couldn't be…

B'Elanna was standing right at the balcony, looking out into the deserted beach.

"Damn," she muttered. "He's gone."

She'd feigned interest while talking to Jakob's great aunt Mina—of no direct relation to them, Aron would have been quick to point out.

She'd talked to enough relatives for the day. A great part of her was even thankful that she didn't remember anything for her past life, something, which drastically limited the points in conversation.

Instead, all topics were focused on her future: how did she find Malta, what were her plans, how was Aron treating her, or more importantly: how was Jakobian treating her? How did she find the family?

She couldn't help but notice that all discussions seemed to be leading to one direction: something which she wasn't quite comfortable with yet.

"Great Aunt Mina" was particularly open, asking her all sorts of personal questions.

She would have been offended if her mind had wholly into it. She'd spent most of the half hour nodding, smiling, and giving acceptably short answers, wishing that the old lady would just go to bed or something so that she could go and see if the man was still out there.

She didn't know why she was so curious. Knowing that he had access to this area meant that he was a competitor. Perhaps that was it: she hadn't talked to anyone but her pit crew for the past week and she was itching to talk to someone about something not related to the race. Though this party wasn't helping her any…

Maybe he went that way…

She leaned on the railing, trying to catch a look at the side of the house—

"B'Elanna!"

She immediately pulled herself up, rolling her eyes as she headed inside for more questions.

"Tunneling?"

"That's when the bike passes through a pipe in the track. It can do a complete 360 turn. Or—depending on the riders skills-maintain a stable 180 ledge."

Tom gave the handlebars of the red "hoverbike" an experimental squeeze, pretending to ride the powerful machine through some of the tracks that the sentry was describing.

"It's a dangerous sport; a lot of people get thrown get into collisions. Some circuits are on naturally built tracks, so you can never really predict the terrain. It's not uncommon for a rider to lose control."

"This seems a bit too heavy for a race bike."

"It has to be, the rider's small."

Tom's eyebrows rose. "Small?"

"I think compact may be the right word," he corrected himself. "Riders are typically male, this one's been modified to fit a female. It needs the extra weight to prevent her from flipping over when other riders graze her."

"Looks like she did a pretty good job."

"She's a pretty good engineer."

Asher, the guard remembered that the young man's mate had been an engineer and struggled to come up with a way to ease the situation. Thankfully, he didn't seem as bothered as the first time.

"My…mate, before she…was lost.. had an interest in race bikes. It's almost like hover bikes, except its ancient earth technology: it has wheels" he explained "Race bikes went out of fashion when hovercars came in, so only the bike collector's ride. All our motorcycles have wheels though; I'd love to try this one."

"There aren't a lot of hoverbike enthusiasts on Azarra, so you'd have to go farther out to rent one. But this bikes small enough for a beginner like you. If you'd like, I could ask my employer if she'd give you a first lesson."

Tom was surprised, "She'd do that?"

He laughed. "She will appreciate your enthusiasm. She comes from a family of diplomats who are not really all that athletic. She welcomes anyone who is interested in the sport."

"Cool."

Asher stopped and gave him an incredulous look.

"You know, she always says that!"

"Cool?"

"Yes," he answered. "When she finds something impressive or amusing…"

"Where is Aron," she mentally fumed. "If this goes any longer I will start chewing my hand off"

Now she was cornered by Inspector Kala, who was—for a change-male and not a relative, but still managed to maintain this afternoon's sufferable theme: how was she doing with the preparations for the race and how did she like working with Jakobian?

Even Jake had gotten tired of the routine and wandered off, leaving her with a million and one—

A gentle trilling in her pocket broke B'Elanna's silent tirade. With a smile, she excused herself and went to answer her call in private.

The grin that she had been sporting dropped from her face as soon as she entered the bathroom.

"How are you doing?"

"Aron!" she yelled. "Where are you? You said you were going to come here and rescue me!"

"I got held up, the negotiations took longer than I thought," he answered. "So, how are the in-laws?"

"That's not funny."

"I wasn't trying to be."

"Just get yourself here, Aron," she seethed "I'm tired, I'm cranky, this is the first break I've gotten all week-"

"Alright, alright, stop it before you break something," he said. "Father wants you here to answer some questions."

"Ugh, no more questions!"

"You can always stay," he joked. "I'll tell father you're having such a great time…"

"What time do I need to be there?" she sighed.

"Around…now. We're at the Ander Complex, I'll wait for you at the lobby."

"Give me around fifteen to ride there and five to get away."

"Ok. See you in fifteen."

The line went dead before she could even complain. She considered calling just to yell at him but decided against it. At least he'd given her an excuse. She knew for a fact that she didn't need to be there.

She palmed her communicator, getting ready to ask Asher to prepare her bike for she was—thank God—leaving.

"B'Elanna to Asher…"

"Are you sure this is fine?"

Tom and Asher were making their way to the house. He'd already met some of the guests and they were delighted to meet another pilot, especially one not from their system.

"Yes. Besides, she hates these things" he answered, making a show of looking at a chronometer strapped to his wrist "In fact, I'm pretty sure that she's just about ready to throw something—she's been here for the better part of the day. I'm sure Jakobians family is making her crazy."

"You're really close huh?"

"I've been her bodyguard for ten months, she isn't an easy watch. It helps to know her moods."

"If you say so," he answered. "Though before we start, do you think you can show me the bathroom?"

"Of course."

They were about to enter the house when a tell tale chirp sounded in the air.

"Excuse me, Asher," Tom said, tapping his badge. "Paris here."

"Tom where are you? Why is it so noisy?"

"I'm at a party Harry" he answered "I'm about to meet some new people."

"That's great buddy but listen, you have to come here."

"Now?"

"Yes, now!" Harry barked then paused, almost as if he was pacing himself.

Harry hardly ever raised his voice, and he could hear Seven talking softly in the background.

"Are you okay, Harry?"

"Yes, just…you have to come here Tom. There's something you have to see."

This time, Tom's brow was furrowed with concern. "Where are you?"

"We're at the shipyard. You don't need to walk, we've already asked Voyager for a transport."

"Okay, just give me a second" he answered, not liking the urgent tone in Harry's voice, then turned to Asher.

"I'm sorry Asher, but it seems like I'm going to have to meet your brilliant boss some other time."

"No worries. I'll tell her you asked about her bike, she'll be happy to hear that someone appreciates her work."

"Yeah, you do that," he said, shaking his hand. "See you at the races."

With that, he stepped back just in time for his commbadge to give another chirp.

"Voyager to Paris, you ready lieutenant?"

"Go ahead Mike," he smiled, waving goodbye. "Energize."

Asher watched as the young pilot was engulfed by a brilliant blue light, shimmering for a few seconds before winking out into space.

Nice guy, he thought, moving to walk back to his post when his own communicator sounded.

"B'Elanna to Asher."

"Go ahead, M'lady," he answered.

"My rescue has come. Aron wants me to drop by the Complex to meet with him and father. Can you warm up my bike while I say goodbye?"

"Sure thing, ma'am." He smiled.

"Great," she said. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

A few minutes, Asher thought, walking over to the shiny red bike. Knowing her, she'd be out in a few seconds. It was too bad the Lieutenant Paris couldn't stay. Something told him that the two of them would have gotten along.