After 12 months of being light years apart, the only thing that now kept Tom from B'Elanna was a reinforced piece of plastic.

But as he watched her through the windows of the doctor's office, meditating on this afternoon's events, he felt even more separated from her than before.

For many nights he'd dreamed of this day. Finding her and rescuing her. Taking her back and loving her. Other nights it was a nightmare: learning she was dead, bringing her home in nothing but a hollowed out torpedo casing. It was one or the other, with the past year providing him with plenty of variations.

But never in his wildest imaginings had he expected this to happen.

It was a devastating realization.

"Are you alright Tom?"

The Captain's reassuring voice broke through his daze, bringing him into the present.

He looked around the room, at the doctor, the captain, and at the old Maltan physician.

They all seemed worried about him, particularly the captain. Quite a change from her disappointed expression when he'd raised a tirade outside of sickbay, yelling at anyone and everyone for keeping him from seeing her.

He'd harassed Sam Wildman, who assisted the doctor in his place, for information. He'd badgered Harry, still confused, to open the sickbay doors from his station on the bridge. And he'd begged Chakotay, pleading that he reason with the Captain, giving a million rationalizations on why he should see her.

But he wasn't rational, he couldn't see her, and it took three large Maltan sentries who'd beamed on onboard—along with a now stern Asher-to get him to back off.

Ants had crawled in his brain for the past five hours until the Captain had commed him and asked him to come down to sickbay.

And now the Captain was asking him if he was alright.

"Do you need anything Lieutenant.?" the doctor had asked him, genuinely worried.

The question almost made him snap.

"A long explanation would be a great help," he answered.

The Captain didn't look very happy with his attitude, but who could blame him. The situation had deteriorated from bad to worse, and it was only now that things were picking up for them.

Tom's cockiness was a defense mechanism, she knew that, but she still braced herself for how the pilot would react to what the doctor was about to tell him.

It was 2300, she'd lived with this information for most of the day and she still couldn't wrap her mind around it.

After leaving Tuvok and a few crewmen as a sign of trust so B'Elanna could come aboard, she had settled down to wait for the results of the Doctor's and Koran's medical scans.

The news left her numb with pain and anger. There was no telling what it would do to Tom.

"In brief, Lt. Torres is suffering from Amnesia," the doctor told him.

"Tell me something I don't know," he shot back.

The doctor ignored his insolence.

"This is the result of B'Elanna's scans," he answered, handing him a PADD." I told Koran that you have enough medical knowledge to understand her injuries and their…effects."

The doctor's voice grew fainter as he scrolled down the list. Tom's chest seemed to constrict as he read line upon line, scanning B'Elanna's medical history for the past 12 months, starting from the beginning.

"God, B'Elanna." No tears came out, but he seemed to be clutching the PADD tighter than usual.

"There was nothing in our databases about her physiology," Koran was telling him. "She was dying…as a physician I had no choice."

Tom merely nodded. There was no use getting angry now. In fact, he was beyond angry. At this stage, all he could do was to try and feel hope, though nothing from what he was reading seemed hopeful.

Brain surgery was never easy. Even with their full database, the first thing the doctor had told him in his neurology class was that brain surgery was never a sure thing. It was a complicated organ, and even by the 24th century physicians still hadn't solved all of its mysteries.

Like why B'Elanna couldn't remember.

"What," he asked, "are her chances of recovery?"

"Physically she's fine," the doctor answered. "She's fit, she's healthy, only her memory seems affected."

Of course.

How hard was it to crush a Klingon skull? Seven times the average human bone density. They used to joke that it was made of steel.

Yet here was proof that bone was just bone.

Even now, he could still see the small fissures from where regenerated bone had mended the shattered pieces. It was patched in three places. He could only imagine what kind of trauma she had sustained when it was still new.

On second thought, he didn't want to imagine.

Didn't want to know how she managed to have a collapsed lung, fractured bones, broken ribs…bruises, contusions, and lacerations on several parts of her body.

Though the report had said that she was well nourished before all the trauma happened. Female slaves fetched a high price; any sign of ill health diminished their value. Had she been weak when the assault happened, she might not have survived.

"Well thank God for small mercies," he thought bitterly.

Down, down, down. Tom scrolled through the endless information, the useless information; because in the end, it all boiled down to one thing.

"Is there a chance that she'll recover her memory?"

Silence seemed to be his only answer. The Captain tried not to flinch while Koran's eyes clouded despite his calm composure. Even the doctor could not get the grimace out of his face.

"We're not entirely sure. Like I've told you in your neurology class-"

"I think I skipped those chapters, Doc. B'Elanna and I had a date," he cut in. "So if you don't mind, I'd like one of your ballpark figures."

The doctor sighed, figuring out the best way to give his explanation.

"Mr. Paris…Tom…judging from her recent medical history and the part of the brain that was injured…I can only deduce a thirty percent chance that she'll recover her memory."

The world seemed to fade in a flash of white and his bones turned to jelly, the breath literally knocked out of him.

"But like I said, we can never be too sure," The doctor was quick to follow. "Klingon's have the best regenerative traits. I know that thirty percent doesn't seem very significant, but who knows? Not a lot of research has been done on the redundancies of the Klingon nervous system, and with the lieutenant's luck, maybe thirty percent is enough of a fighting chance."

The doctor seemed so earnest that Tom felt like laughing…at him, at his fate, at B'Elanna's fate…heck, at everyone's fate for being stuck here in the great Delta Quadrant.

"Tom." The captain placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "At least she's healthy, and we've found her."

That idea seemed even more ridiculous.

"Found her? You think we've found her?" he cried. "She won't even look at us Captain. The only thing familiar about her is her name. Her voice, her face…she looks different, she even sounds different…"

There was a helpless catch in his throat when he recalled everything that had happened.

"Twelve whole months of hoping and when I do find her, she doesn't even know me"

Neither the doctor nor the captain could offer any comfort. Instead they watched B'Elanna from across the room, huddled close to her brother, her only family in what she now considered a ship full of strangers.

They didn't know what to say, which was why Koran chose to speak up.

"Perhaps it is not a question of wanting to remember Mr. Paris, as opposed to facing the fears that her memories may bring."

They'd been expecting him, but everyone on Voyager still seemed surprised as he materialized on the transporter.

Besides the captain and the crewman manning the controls, there were five others from security present in the room and the away party that his father had requested to be onboard, along with a dark man with pointed ears and a neutral expression on his face.

Aron didn't like him, but put on a diplomatic smile as he shook the Captain's hand and immediately inquired about B'Elanna.

He didn't rush, he knew B'Elanna was safe; these were her people after all. But "were" was the operative word. She'd often been wary of strangers, and from the way she had sounded on the communiqué, this is what these people were.

Outside, crewman lined the wall, anxious to see the man B'Elanna called 'brother'.

The curiosity was expected, though the way the crew looked at him made him squeamish.

He already knew that he looked too different to even be considered as B'Elanna's natural brother. Tall, lean, fair, with his light grey eyes and chin length red hair-the ripples on his forehead were probably their only closest features.

It was night and day, he and B'Elanna. But none of these people would ever understand what a connection he had with his sister.

She even knew it was him as soon as the doors opened.

He and his father were in the middle of a treaty when they were called. Aman couldn't get away, but he immediately sent his son as soon as they could manage.

No doubt there were a few people that would be insulted for his brash manners, but they did good in not showing the direness of the situation.

His daughter needed their help on another international matter, please forgive his son for the early departure. No need to worry, he had no doubt that things would eventually be resolved.

Though for how long?

B'Elanna's composure had broken down as soon as he came in. She didn't cry, but panic was evident in her eyes as she struggled to give some sort of explanation.

Not that she could offer any.

All she could manage were strings of incoherent words, a retelling of this afternoon's event laced with her newfound paranoia.

He spent the next few hours waiting for Koran and the Voyager doctor—a rather interesting AI—to finish their tests. B'Elanna wanted him in the room at all times, right where she could see him.

And when they were done, she'd sat down with him on the spare biobed, where he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side for a hug. Drained, B'Elanna tucked her head in the crook of his neck, with Aron holding tightly to one of her hands.

This was how they'd dealt with B'Elanna's initial nightmares.

It was on the ship traveling back to Malta, after he'd rescued her from the Dalian traders, that B'Elanna encountered the first bump in her recovery.

Her memories.

There were nights that they'd have to strap her to the bed, afraid that her violent movements would hurt her. She screamed and yelled, calling out to someone, but never saying a name; never revealing anything, not wanting them to know who he is, even as she begged them not to hurt him, to stop hurting her.

The damage had been extensive, and for a while, they thought that it would take a long time for her psyche to recover.

But in the three weeks that it took for him to come home, he'd learned how to sit with her to calm her fears…while she in turn learned how to forget the bad memories.

The nightmares were still there, but the violence had abated. And by the time they got home, B'Elanna had successfully buried a part of her past and vowed to only look at the future.

B'Elanna stirred and he looked down to see a flicker of light in her absent gaze. She seemed to hesitate before speaking, weighing her words.

"Aron…"

"Yes?" He waited.

"I don't think I can do this…"

His forehead crinkled as he stared at her. "Do what?"

"Remember."

"Her head injury may be the primary culprit to her memory loss, but a lot of things happened before the…assault," Koran carefully explained.

"She remembers some things. Aron originally encouraged her to make a journal for anything that she felt was significant to her past. She said she'd try, but she wasn't exactly cooperative."

The doctor snorted at that.

"Occasionally, she'd show Aron or me an entry. They all seem to be little things: a sound, a color, a word, a certain smell. But without a way to verify things, we couldn't really confirm if she was right. She once told us that she was always cold, but she couldn't be too sure if she'd lived a warmer climate or if she just hated the cold. This frustrated her and she eventually…stopped trying."

"Can we see her journal?" Tom asked, hopeful.

Koran nodded. "I will ask Aron if he has it, he's always been the only one she could fully trust."

There was a heavy pause before he continued.

"B'Elanna has…generally been well in her stay with us. She had some…difficulty with her temper in the beginning, but she has since learned to control her frustrations. She's been an outstanding member of our community, made a good impression to her family and their constituents…everything was fine. Then two months ago she became…withdrawn, distracted…somewhat reclusive."

"We thought the stress from the race was getting to her, but Aron seems to think that it's more than that."

"Like what?" Tom prompted.

"B'Elanna's always been a very good rider. She moved up the hoverbiking levels fairly quickly and has been competing in the intermediate level since she started. But she's never had major accidents…not until a few months ago. She's also generally responsible, but lately she's been sneaking out…She kept her ships location hidden from everyone. She only left clues for Aron to find her. We always knew that she would be safe, but she's never behaved like this before."

"Oh, she has." The doctor smirked, not bothering with the looks that Tom and the captain gave him.

"Aron told me that she's been having…dreams…nightmares for the past weeks. She won't tell us what it is, but considering how many people she takes into her confidence, we're just glad that she's not upset that we know."

"As a rule, families of noble birth are required to keep an extensive daily log of everyday activities, and B'Elanna is no exception. It's generally for historical purposes, things to store in our archive than for any official purpose. It is not accessible to anyone but B'Elanna and the Prime Minister, and he would never betray her confidence."

"So you think B'Elanna may have said something in her daily log?" Tom asked.

"I cannot be too sure. Most journals have a personal approach, but with B'Elanna having sole access to her logs-"

"You can't be too sure," Tom finished, resigned. "Great."

"I will try and convince Aron to have her grant him access, or have the minister grant me special permission to view them for medical reasons. But I prefer that Aron do it. He will not be happy, he will view it as an invasion. Hopefully he'll agree."

All the talk of Aron had led them to watch the two "siblings" through the plastic window.

The two of them were whispering, Aron seemingly comforting B'Elanna who was trying very hard to put up a brave face.

She wasn't succeeding. However, Aron seemed good at calming her somewhat. Had this been the old B'Elanna, she might have thrown a few tools by now.

"They are very close." Koran told them.

"The Prime Minister's wife and eldest son died in an ambush nearly a decade ago. The two of them were meeting the Prime Minister at a peace treaty. Aron was sick so he had to stay behind. He did, however, accompany them to the launching bay, where he saw their shuttle explode. He has felt the lost of his sibling everyday since then."

If there was one thing B'Elanna picked up from her diplomatic studies, it was the art of arguing without looking like you were arguing, something which Aron now regretted teaching.

"You're being unfair," Aron was telling her.

"Why not?" she argued. "Just understand my position."

Aron immediately played his trump card, "Father would never approve."

"They're my memories."

"They're your people."

A sudden hurt flashed in her eyes, and B'Elanna immediately tried to contain it.

"So all of a sudden they're my people…" she whispered tersely.

His eyes narrowed as he answered back "No, you know what I mean. Stop trying to evade the issue."

He sighed. He couldn't understand why she was being so…difficult.

"These people have been searching for you for a long time, they deserve some answers B'Elanna."

"I can't give them any answers. I can't remember."

"That's not an excuse."

"You think this is an excuse!" her voice was trembling now, packed with anger. "I tried Aron, I wanted to, I did, but sometimes things are best left the way they are."

"B'Elanna…"

"They left me!" she hissed.

"They thought you were dead!"

"Now that is an excuse," she snapped back. "If you were missing and father thought that there would be any chance that you might be alive, he'd come after you. Even if it meant abdicating, he'd come after you. Even if it takes a year, two years…he would never have given up. I would have done the same thing for you Aron, now tell me you wouldn't have done it for me."

Aron didn't say anything. For once, he was speechless. He'd never seen his sister this agitated, this passionate about something. Oh she was expressive with her anger. In the beginning she even broke things. But lately she had mellowed down; and even though she still spoke her mind he'd never seen her with this much conviction.

And the truth was…she was right. He would never have given up on her. Never.If there would have been but a sliver of a chance that she would still be out there, he would find her. And even if she wasn't his biological daughter, his father would have made the sacrifice for her.

They didn't leave anyone behind, not after what happened to his mother and brother.

"Malta has had a rather colorful past." Koran told them

"No kidding," Tom murmured.

The Maltan doctor had just given them a historical overview of Malta's world war, a small version of Armageddon not unlike Earth's Third World War.

But unlike on Earth, recovery hadn't been as easy. Maltan's were exceptionally talented arms makers, and they put those talents to use when developing weapons against each other. The devastation had nearly wiped out the whole planet.

It took years to undo the damage, both physical and social. Aron's mother and brother were the last victims of whatever animosity was left.

This year was the thirtieth anniversary of the war's end, and they were celebrating it by making a come-back on the regatta.

Despite its rather bloody past, the picture of modern day Malta that Koran had drawn made it to be an appealing place to live.

Certainly more appealing than a small, crammed starship that was forever running out of resources.

"So what happens now?" Tom asked.

No one seemed to know the answer to that question.

It was obvious that B'Elanna didn't want to come back. They didn't want to force her into anything, but with her current state it was too soon to make any permanent decisions.

A lot relied on the next few days, and even if the odds were against them, Tom couldn't really think of anything to do but to convince her that her place was here.

There simply wasn't any alternative.

"It's the proper thing to do."

B'Elanna sighed as she looked back at her brother's determined face.

From behind him, she could see Koran, the holographic doctor, and the ship's captain having a rather heated discussion.

The blonde man from the beach was just sitting there, clutching at the chair's armrest, and looking at the opposite wall, trying very hard to control himself.

"B'Elanna!"

She tore her eyes away from the young man and into Aron's questioning gaze.

"What?"

"Do you know that man?"

"What?" she asked again, irritated.

"I asked if you knew that man."

"I already told you, I don't know him. I've never seen him before other than today at the docks and at the beach."

Both their eyes widened at what she just said.

"The beach?" he asked "You saw him today? At the party?"

"No, he was…I think he was walking right outside the house," she stuttered.

"And where were you?"

"I was inside, with Jake."

"And you saw him?"

She was instantly on the defensive.

"I was bored, I was staring out the window looking for a distraction."

"And you happened to notice this distraction?" he replied, curious.

"He looked different. He was wearing funny clothes. And there aren't a lot of blue eyed men-especially those with short blonde hair-on Azarra, let alone Malta."

"But the beach is at least thirty yards from the house B'Elanna."

"So?"

"At that distance…how did you know that his eyes were blue?"

The captain sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

They'd been at this for hours, and she was exhausted. The doctor may be up to discussing this until the wee hours of the morning but she was ready to collapse.

And beside her she could see Tom's patience eroding to dangerous levels.

Even with his occasional smart mouthed comments, she had to admit that in light of this afternoons event's, he'd handled himself pretty well—heck, extremely well.

She knew—could tell by the way he held himself and the storm brewing in his troubled eyes-that he wanted nothing but to run to B'Elanna and crush her in his arms, memory loss or no.

Instead, they'd held him off until the last minute. Summoning him to sickbay only to keep him away for yet a few hours, with B'Elanna in plain view and in another man's arms, albeit a brothers arms.

Had she been in Tom's shoes, she might have flown to the door, screaming.

Yet here he was, practicing diplomacy, but most of all, respecting B'Elanna's position.

"Now that," she thought "is love."

"I cannot be too sure, but the Prime Minister may be tied for the rest of the evening with the Treaty." Koran told them.

"I know," she answered. "He sent me a message saying that he'll be here as soon as he's able. His son's early departure has already aroused suspicion, his leaving might just turn this into a full-blown inquiry, and no one wants to turn this into a scandal. People will find out soon enough, but we both agree that it's better if we have control of the situation as early as now."

A chirp filtered through the mumbled ascents in the room.

"Bridge to Janeway" Chakotay's voice sounded

"Go ahead, Commander."

"Someone here from the planet wants to talk to B'Elanna."

"I'm afraid they have to wait. She's rather indisposed right now."

He heard a frustrated sigh from Chakotay's end.

"I've told him that, but he's been calling every ten minutes since the last hour. He's very…persistent."

Oh hell, she thought, rolling her eyes. "Who is he?"

"He says he's a family member."

In front of her, she heard the old doctor sigh. He shook his head. "I know who he is Captain. Your commander is right to contact you, he will not stop."

"Is this another brother?"

"No," he answered, sneaking Tom a rather wary gaze. "He's a relative and…close friend."

Janeway gave another frustrated sigh.

"Give me a minute Commander, then put him through."

B'Elanna took a tentative step inside the doctor's office, giving Tom a furtive look.

He kept his gaze trained to his boots, making her feel oddly disappointed. She took a deep breath as Aron placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, ushering her in.

"Someone wants to talk to you, Lieutenant," the Captain said when she called her.

The honorific made her flinch. "Just B'Elanna, please."

That gave Kathryn Janeway another big sign for a headache. She would have to remember that, maybe even brief the crew on how to handle the situation…if she could figure out how.

"Have a seat while we put him through."

She'd barely sat down when the screen in front of her flickered to life, and even though she had an idea on who was calling, seeing him still made her jump.

"B'Elanna!"

His voice boomed, and as the image settled, the people from Voyager were treated to a first look at this imposing figure.

Built like a linebacker with a shaven head—a sure sign that he was in Malta's defense force-the man on the communiqué looked on with a menacing glare, though his dark eyes softened somewhat when he saw B'Elanna. But that didn't remove the grim set on his prominent lips, nor the angered edge in his deep voice.

B'Elanna felt both anxiety and relief at seeing him.

"Jake!" she managed to cry out.

"B'Elanna! Where the hell are you?"