A/N: A little later than usual on this one. Just a quick explanation here. The flashbacks used in this story are extrapolated from scenes that could have occurred in the show, but that we never saw, that explains how the relationship between Tom and B'Elanna evolved.

May 11, 2371

USS Voyager

Tom approached Sick Bay, moving down the corridor, no one else in his line of sight. As he got closer to the door, he saw Chakotay emerge, facing out into the hallway as the door hissed shut behind him. Tom watched him as he stood still, turning back and staring at the closed door, as if he couldn't decide to go back inside, or continue on his way. Curious, Tom watched as Chakotay took a few steps, then turned back and repeated the motion.

When he turned back the second time, he noticed Tom, and gave a small grin and a cordial tip of his head as he moved towards him. "Lieutenant," Chakotay addressed genially.

"Is she awake, Chakotay?" Tom asked, realizing he sounded strangely eager, when he believed himself to be only just concerned.

Chakotay was startled for a moment, wondering why Tom would ask anything at all about B'Elanna. "B'Elanna?" he asked, just to orient himself. "Yes, she's awake. She's fine. Just confined to Sick Bay for the next five days or so. The Doctor has to…reintegrate her Klingon DNA. It may have served the Vidiians' purposes, but she can't live without it."

Tom couldn't explain the burning sensation he felt inside his chest, when he thought just how upset he thought B'Elanna would have been, hearing those facts. When he thought about it, he wasn't even sure why he was here, wanting to see her. All he knew was that he felt like something…significant…had happened between them while they had been in captivity. He couldn't explain it, or even put words to it. Somewhere, somehow, her overall tone of disdain towards him seemed to have disappeared, or at the very least, been preempted for a while.

The more he thought about it, the more he tried to rationalize what it was that had actually occurred. He had interacted only with her human half. The human inside her wasn't completely disgusted by him, he noticed. Although Tom knew B'Elanna and Harry were friends, much better friends than he and B'Elanna had ever been, he had a very strong suspicion that what she had told him–about her father, about hating her forehead ridges, about hating the Klingon half of herself–she had never told anyone else. He again rationalized it had to be the missing Klingon traits that had made her do so, made her seem so vulnerable to him. Why he had done his best to protect her.

But Pete Durst…It was his job to protect him as well, and now Pete was dead. First casualty since the Caretaker had tossed the ship 75,000 light years, and it happened on his watch.

Tom hadn't realized his face had changed, that something haunted had become apparent in his eyes, but Chakotay saw it. Chakotay had been in Starfleet in the past, in command, long enough to see that kind of burden weigh someone down. "Paris," Chakotay said intently. "Listen, I know, I know," he stressed, offering empathy, not just sympathy, "how hard that is. To lose someone when you're in command."

Tom half twisted away, sucking in a huge breath and pulling his shoulders back as he stood up straighter. He didn't want to talk about it, certainly not to Chakotay. "Commander, I–" he began hesitantly. Tom swallowed hard, then looked back at Chakotay's face, the hard glint in his eyes gone. "I was just…barely holding it together. When I realized that was you, when I heard your voice…" Tom blew out his breath, chuckling humorlessly. "I'd never been so relieved in my life. Like I could finally breathe, because it…wasn't all up to me anymore. Pathetic, right?" Tom grumbled.

"No, Paris. Just human nature. Whatever it was you felt on the inside, you never let it show. You got her out of there alive, when she was sick…and terrified," Chakotay offered. He held his hand up, hesitated a bit, but let it rest on the taller man's shoulder.

The warmth spread in him as he realized she had told Chakotay about him and what he had done while they had been captives. He still wasn't sure why it mattered, but he tried to not let it bother him that much.

Tom walked into Sick Bay, not sure how she would look or what condition she would be in. He saw her, balancing on the edge of the biobed, hunched forward, her right hand running back and forth across her smooth forehead. "Hey, B'Elanna," he said quietly.

She jumped, startled by his presence. When she turned her head towards him, he saw the tears pooling under her eyes and streaking down her cheeks. It was extremely unsettling to see her crying–her usual fiery, angry aura no longer present. "Tom," she breathed, trying to pretend her heart wasn't racing after being so slightly startled. His name sounded strange on her lips, reminding her that she almost always called him Paris, even though he almost never called her Torres in the same way.

"I just saw Chakotay," Tom said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the previous meeting in the hallway. "He told me about the Klingon DNA. Are you ok?" he asked cautiously, slowly walking closer to her.

She huffed out a breath, pressing her hands together between her knees and shifting her eyes toward the ceiling. "I guess I have to be. I don't have a choice. I'll die if the Doctor doesn't reintegrate it. I can't synthesize proteins without it."

He stood beside her, pulling himself up to sit next to her on the biobed, careful to leave plenty of space between them. "I'm sorry," he said, unsure if she understood the depth of his condolences. "But if it's any consolation," he added, smiling softly, "as much as you may have wished for this, it's just not…you."

Hearing her own words, echoed in his voice, struck her inside. She nodded silently in agreement with him, even at the same time as she wondered why he would miss the angry Klingon who thought he was a deplorable, degenerate pig. She watched him, uncomfortable, running his palms over his knees, while he kept his gaze riveted on the floor. "Can I tell you something?" she asked, her voice just a hush above a whisper.

He shifted his gaze, his crystal blue irises regarding her from the corners of his eyes. "Sure," he replied.

"I know I was a little…out of sorts down there. All of my strength, my courage, my…fearlessness…seems to come from her," she said, gesturing towards the place where he knew the full Klingon version of her, what remained of her, was stored. She turned her head, making sure she held his stare. "I may have…insinuated…in the past…that you were a coward, you know, because you lied…hid from your responsibilities. I'm sorry," she added quietly.

"B'Elanna, that's the truth," he countered. "You don't have to apologize for the truth."

"Tom, when you put yourself in between that guard and Durst…that was the bravest thing I have ever seen anyone do," she said, her voice inflected with the admiration she felt.

"I was…terrified, and I felt sick when they took him away…and there was nothing I could do," he finished, just as his voice broke.

"It wasn't your fault, Tom," she assured him.

"No, but he was my responsibility, and I couldn't protect him," Tom said in defeat.

She silently acknowledged his truth, knowing that burden was the first of many a lot of them would experience, as more lives could be lost on their endless journey. "No," she whispered. "But, you protected me. And you told me…fear was nothing to be ashamed of. You're right, and maybe you need to listen to what you said yourself."

He puffed out his breath as he acknowledged the candor in her comments. The aching, gnawing pain in his chest eased, ever so slightly, as he accepted her encouragement. He had come here to make sure she was alright, and she had turned the tables on him, bolstering his spirits in return. The more he interacted with her, the more he seemed to understand why Harry and she were such good friends.

He was still grinning, half of his teeth showing, when he turned to her again. "When you're, you know, all put back together, and you decide you hate me again," he teased, his breath coming out in a rush. "Just…just know, the things you told me…I won't repeat that. I know you didn't swear me to secrecy, but, somehow, I don't think, if the Klingon part of you was still there, that you would have told me that stuff."

"Thank you," she replied quietly, shifting her eyes to the floor. She felt the heat in her cheeks, praying that he didn't notice. She couldn't look back at him, afraid of what he would see on her face if she did. She believed he was right, the words he gave in his explanation, and yet, she was glad he knew. Of anyone here on this ship, even Chakotay, she thought he would understand best. She didn't know why, but she couldn't shake how strongly she felt it.

June 29, 2386

Starbase 47

"Do you believe me? That you're angry?" Echenna asked Tom, as she sat across from him in his office. She calmly folded her hands between her knees, waiting.

"What right do I have to be angry?" he said, his voice devoid of inflection.

"You have a right to feel however it is you feel," she assured him.

He was silent for a very long stretch, where he just breathed, heavily and shakily. "B'Elanna really had a temper. She struggled with it her entire life, way before I met her, and all of the time that we were together," he added, even as he felt his stomach twist as he was forced to acknowledge the past tense he was using to refer to their relationship. "Part of her healing, at least a little, was understanding that anger…was a way to protect herself, help her feel strong when she was vulnerable."

She nodded as he spoke. "That's very true," she started. "Anger is always secondary…to hurt, disappointment, fear. It's a defense mechanism. The way to cure the anger is to heal the underlying hurt that caused the response."

She watched him, struggling to say something else. He opened and closed his mouth several times, no words ever issuing forth. Eventually, she saw him grimace as if he were in physical pain.

"You're angry at B'Elanna," she proclaimed, almost daring him to disagree with her. "Do you blame her for what happened?"

"None of us would be here if she hadn't done what she did. She saved hundreds of lives by doing what she did," he argued.

"Of course. She did her duty, as any Starfleet officer would do," she replied, her voice stiff and formal. "But, in some way, you believe her most important duty was to you, and your family, and your unborn child," she added gently.

In a broken voice, he replied, "There was no way to save everyone without that sacrifice. Even if she chose to protect our son, we all would have died in the explosion. What else could she have done?" he asked in desperation, a rhetorical question that he wished there was an answer for.

Echenna's eyes glowed, teeming pools of sadness as she collected her thoughts. "And she left you alone, to grieve for your daughter…and your son."

He stayed still, silent, breathing labored breaths. She could see the whiteness of his knuckles as he clenched his hands over his lips. "What do you want me to say?" he growled, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. "That I am angry at her for leaving me alone? Fine, yes, I am. Because it's not fair," he railed. "It's not fair that she's still alive and I still lost her. It's not fair that…that the universe somehow saw fit to give me everything that I ever wanted in life…but only for a little while…and then took it all away again." His voice rose, then broke, as the tears filled his eyes.

Echenna reached for his hand, not letting him pull it away. She didn't say anything, sure in the moment that nothing she could say now would matter. Logically, he was right. This wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair. People died too young, dreams were left unfulfilled, hopes crashed and burned despite all the well-wishing anyone could do. There was an abyss present in every life, its proximity only making itself known at specific times. Her only goal now was to simply keep him from falling into it. It was harder to do than anyone had any inkling.

"It's ok…to be angry at yourself, too, you know," she whispered. "Or to accept that, if she were capable of understanding, B'Elanna would be angry at you. For not protecting your daughter…even though, using the same rationale, there was nothing else you could have done, Commander."

Nothing else he could have done…He had said that to himself a thousand times, a million times. What if he had gone with Aaron instead of triaging the wounded with T'Lassa? What if he had ordered all the children on the station to be evacuated at the first disturbance? It was an endless spiral–useless, hopeless wishing to change something he knew he could never change.

June 30, 2386

Starbase 47

"Admiral Janeway," Tom said to the viewscreen in the conference room. Seated around the table with him were Aaron, T'Lassa, Lieutenant Baytard, as well as Captain Chakotay. They were assembled to discuss the early stages of the investigation being conducted into the series of events that had led to the partial destruction of the station.

"I'll make this as brief as I can, as I know you people are extremely busy. I just wanted to touch base, and fill in the senior staff with the situational details," Janeway explained. "There is still a high level of classification involved with this case, but, what I can divulge, I certainly will."

"Temporal Investigations? Is that what you mean?" Tom asked her impatiently.

"It is, but, at the same time, there is more here than that. Your Chief Medical Officer was correct, Commander. The debris you recovered was a piece of a sphere, formerly in what was known as the Delphic Expanse, created by a race known to the Xindi as the Guardians," Janeway explained. "The network of spheres actually created the conditions in the Delphic Expanse, or what is now known today as Sector 005 today. Astronomers on Earth had known of the existence of the Delphic Expanse since the launch of the Hubble Telescope in 1990. But they had no idea what it was like until after First Contact, as the Vulcans had experience with that part of space. As history tells us, the Xindi attacked Earth in 2153 because they believed Earth to be a threat to their species' continued survival. A race of interdimensional beings who the Xindi worshiped as deities created those spheres, as it was later discovered, because they were attempting to change the nature of space in our realm, to be more hospitable to them. For it to be habitable by the Guardians, it became uninhabitable for all species in this realm. The Xindi were manipulated by the Guardians, never understanding, until the crew of the Enterprise NX-01 showed them they were in the same danger, not from Earth, but their gods themselves. In exchange for help in stopping the planet killer from being deployed, the crew of the NX-01 found a way to destroy that network of spheres. The spheres collapsed upon themselves, and imploded back inside subspace. By the time Archer and his crew returned to Earth, what was left of the Delphic Expanse had dissipated, and in just another few months, the effects had disappeared as if they had never been there at all."

It was a long-winded explanation, Tom thought, but Janeway was giving necessary background to everyone, and not everyone seated around the table knew history as well as Tom did. The fact that it was a subject that he thoroughly enjoyed kept his attention, even as he fidgeted. He thought, of anyone else here who was listening, T'Lassa also knew most of what Janeway had explained, based on the information she had told him. He never expected the bizarre, inexplicable look on her face. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought she looked agitated, almost fearful, listening to Janeway's words.

"The subspace disruption that was noted on the station's sensor logs approximately two hours before the explosion had all of the characteristics of the spatial distortions noted from ships that had entered the Delphic Expanse in the past. Graviton surges, depolarizations, as well as the actual warping of spacetime," she added.

"That bubble, if you will," Aaron interjected, "was traveling at sub-light speed."

"Correct, Commander," Janeway countered. "All of the historical data and accounts were recorded after the Delphic Expanse was established, probably more than a thousand years before Hubble picked it up. It was quite difficult, examining such ancient reports and rudimentary sensor information, but we know that when the spheres collapsed back into the Guardians' realm, they pulled those bubbles of distortion with them, at incredible speeds. What we believed destabilized this base was…some sort of tear in space, where pieces of that realm, bordering our own, are able to transverse. First, the debris from one of those 85 spheres, then bubbles of that realm followed."

"Is it a natural phenomenon?" Tom asked. "Or is something or someone creating that situation?"

"That's part of our investigation, Commander," Janeway explained. "From the scans Endeavor has been conducting since she arrived, we've noted extremely high levels of tachyons in specific areas of the starbase, as well as in the surrounding space for up to a parsec. We'd like to assemble a team, to get more specific and exact readings before we come to any conclusions. Captain," she added, directly to Chakotay, "assemble your team and have them work with Commanders Paris and Michaels. We'll reconvene in a weeks' time, as this type of in depth study takes time, considering the condition that the base is still in."

"Of course, Admiral," Chakotay replied.

"Very well," Janeway said with finality. "Dismissed."

The occupants of the room rose, and slowly trickled out of the room. Tom noticed T'Lassa, still seated, alone at the table, staring at the table top blankly. "What's wrong, Doctor?" Tom asked as he walked towards her.

She almost shook herself, as if from reverie. Strange, Tom thought. "The part that Janeway can't discuss with you," she said stiffly. "The part that Temporal Investigations classified…I believe I know what that is about, Sir," she admitted.

"Then…you know you can't tell me, right?" he asked incredulously. "If this is about something that your great-grandmother knew–"

"It involves knowledge of the future," she blurted.

Tom blanched. "Then, you really shouldn't be telling me any of this."

She was insistent. "Without getting into specifics, which I believe would violate the Temporal Prime Directive, I can tell you that…the actions Admiral Janeway described–T'Pol and Commander Tucker destroying the sphere network…were believed to have changed a possible future outcome. A war that would have taken place…was believed to have been averted."

"Ok," Tom said slowly, wondering where she was going with this.

Her eyes were wide, her face slightly pale, when she replied, "But…logically speaking, if that war never takes place…why the need for classification?"

"I don't…I don't understand," he offered.

She breathed out hard, the slightest hint of frustration evident on her otherwise stoic face. "I can't explain more, other than to say, I believe the war the Federation believes will now never happen…was always destined to occur. Only now, the circumstances, the cause and effect, have been altered. Perhaps without knowing they have done so, the Federation has corrupted this timeline, and may have put the entire fate of the Federation at risk."