"Sacajawea to Voyager. Yes, Captain?" Tom's voice was reassuringly calm and level.

:::Tom, I would like to speak with B'Elanna.:::

"I'm here, Captain. Is something wrong?"

:::The Doctor informed us that you had an appointment that you will not be able to keep because of this mission.:::

"Oh, yes, I forgot to inform him that I would be unavailable. Can you give him my apologies, Captain?"

The Doctor's voice emanated from the audio channel. :::Lieutenant, I wanted to know when you wanted to reschedule this appointment.:::

B'Elanna hesitated in replying. She knew what her answer was going to be, but if she made the answer ambiguous enough, would Tom ask her about it? Maybe she would be able to tell him, finally. But what if his reaction was not what she had expected? That might endanger their mission. Well, it couldn't be helped. They'd had disagreements before. She took a deep breath. "Doctor, I'm not rescheduling. Just cancel it. When we get back, I'll come see you and talk about our other option."

:::Very well, Lieutenant. I'll see you when you get back. As SOON as you get back.:::

Tom looked at B'Elanna, a little confused by the Doctor's emphatic statement, but he said only, "Is there anything else, Captain?"

:::No, that's all, Lieutenant. We'll meet you in five days or so. Janeway out.:::

'Ask me what that was all about, Tom. Ask me,' she thought, inwardly desperate, outwardly calm.

"Lt. Torres, I have our course laid in for the outpost. It should be routine for the next few hours, so if you don't mind, I'd like to take a nap. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Can you handle it?"

"No problem, Lt. Paris." Nodding her head to him, a model of professionalism, B'Elanna's heart sank as she let her impassive fellow officer retreat to his bunk.

"Why didn't you say something, Captain?"

"It isn't my place, Doctor."

"It's apparent that Lt. Torres has not said anything to Mr. Paris. You are a woman, Captain. How do you explain her behavior?

The captain looked from the Doctor to her first officer, who was also sitting in her ready room. The commander had said nothing, but from the expression he was wearing, he was interested in her opinion, too.

"Sorry to disappoint you gentlemen, but the fact is, I haven't a clue as to why she hasn't told him. Tom may have been many things in his life, but one thing he has not been is someone who refuses to live up to the consequences of his own behavior. That's what got him thrown out of Starfleet in the first place. After his panic about the accident on Caldik Prime made him lie about the cause, he came back and admitted his mistake, paying for it with his career. I cannot see him turning his back on B'Elanna if he knew. He obviously doesn't."

Chakotay kept his gaze fastened on his captain. "I have to agree with you, Captain; Paris can be irritating at times, but he cares deeply for B'Elanna. Maybe being together on this mission will give B'Elanna a chance to tell Tom about the child."

"I certainly hope so, Commander," Janeway said wistfully.

"Hrumph. Well, I sincerely hope that I won't have to piece anyone back together again if she does," said the Doctor.

The trip from Voyager had been uneventful and extremely lonely for both of them. Tom arranged to be either sleeping or reading the entire time he was not at the conn of the shuttle. When he was at the conn, his air of complete detachment and almost impolite lack of interaction with B'Elanna killed any chance she had of feeling comfortable enough to present him with the news of his impending fatherhood.

Remembering how Neelix had found out, B'Elanna deliberately left out a few padds, turned on and running the child care programs loaded into them, hoping that he would find them while she slept and question her. The padds always were stacked neatly in her mission bag when she awoke, still switched on. He had apparently gathered them up without looking at them.

B'Elanna again thought seriously about just blurting it all out, but they had a task to complete for Voyager; she was not about to jeopardize their mission because she needed to confess she'd been withholding important information from him. The longer she hesitated telling him, the harder it was getting to say it at all. One thing about pregnancy, though: eventually, even a truly dense observer should be able to get a hint about what was developing by the sight of a huge belly waddling towards him. B'Elanna hoped it wouldn't take that for Tom to find out about this baby.

Considering their initial delay, the Sacajawea arrived at the Traveler's outpost in good time. The shuttle landed without incident. The representatives from the Telteskor Trading Consortium contacted them almost immediately. Lt. Paris informed Lt. Torres that as pilot of the shuttle, he was going to remain with the Sacajawea during the negotiations to protect the valuable crystals prior to their being traded. When the engineer offered to stay with him, however, the pilot insisted that she take a room in the inn at the Traveler's outpost. He reminded her that her primary mission was to test the materials being traded to Voyager to assure their quality. That task could best be completed at the lodge, where the traders were also staying. Confronted by such inescapable, almost Vulcan, logic, Lt. Torres acquiesced, taking a room at the inn and setting up her equipment for testing.

The Traveler's outpost was located on a grim, rocky little world circulating a red giant, perfectly fitting Tom's mood. When he was being honest with himself, Tom had to admit that thinking about Kes did not help his heavy heart. Deep down, the helmsman knew Harry understood that his commitment to this mission predated any inkling of the imminent loss of Kes, but this knowledge did not prevent Tom from agonizing over the fact that he was abandoning his friend at the very time Harry needed him most.

Worrying about Harry was not the main cause for his depression, however. The primary reason was the trip itself, which had been torturous.

For almost two days he had shared accommodations with a clearly preoccupied and distant co-pilot/crewmate/former friend/former lover. She was still suffering from bouts of fatigue, as far as he could tell. B'Elanna had been asleep for most of the time that he had been awake. When they had been conscious at the same time, Tom had avoided talking to her about anything other than the immediate needs of the mission rather than risk provoking her into a tantrum. Tom felt that if he had not had a good supply of his meditative texts from Tuvok to help him through, flying the shuttle into the heart of the red giant would have been just as bearable as the trip he had just taken with B'Elanna. While they had managed to preserve their professionalism, which hopefully counted for something, he was acutely aware that the return trip loomed ahead. He was not looking forward to journeying another two days with Voyager's chief engineer.

Their business did not take long. B'Elanna found the quality of the pergium, coradisium, and other rare materials was even higher than she had anticipated. The Telteskator traders were delighted with the quality of the dilithium crystals being offered for trade. The goods were bartered, the usual pleasantries were exchanged, and the shuttle was readied for departure by the next morning. As soon as they had clearance from the Travelers, the Sacajawea took off, laden with materials and two heartsore crewman, heading for the rendezvous with Voyager.

The beginning of the return trip passed without incident. The crates and barrels of minerals and manufactured compounds required for certain repairs of Voyager were hooked onto projections along the inner wall of the much-repaired Sacajawea. The dilithium crystals had possessed virtually no additional mass compared to the products coming back to Voyager on the return trip.

Tom spent an extended time at the console figuring out how the load would affect the handling of the craft and fuel consumption. Satisfied that all was in order, he settled back to take a nap in the pilot's chair while the Sacajawea was on autopilot. The second bunk was now half-filled by a crate that Tom did not wish to leave on the floor of the vehicle, where it would block the passageway to the shuttle's sanitary cubicle. B'Elanna occupied the first bunk. She slept for over 11 of the first 14 hours of the trip.

"Lt. Torres, what reading do you have for the structural integrity field?"

"Hmm. The SIF isn't functioning at peak efficiency. The field is down 33%."

"I'm going to compensate by shifting additional power from the inertial damper system...uh no, I'm not. I think the inertial dampers are the problem...I'm going to have to cut the engines so we can check them out." Tom pulled the shuttle out of warp drive, but the shuttle was still hurtling through space at an alarming speed. "Wait, Torres, don't get up yet, I think the inertial damper system is about to fail. We've got to cut our speed more to...wait, stop, B'Elanna!"

The sudden abrupt failure of the inertial damper system could have been fatal to both of the shuttle occupants. Tom had taken the engines completely off line, but not soon enough to keep the shuttle from bucking wildly as the inertial dampers failed.

Tom held onto the helm console desperately, but he was still knocked out of his seat and thrown back against the port wall. Fortunately, a bruised ego was the worst injury he suffered. B'Elanna was not so lucky. Since she had been on her feet getting ready to check out the SIF/IDF system at the time the of the shuttle's wild jump, B'Elanna had been thrown all the way towards the back of the vehicle, hitting her head against the rear bunk. When Tom was able to get to his feet he saw her sprawled out on the floor, unconscious, and with a profusely bleeding gash on the left side of her forehead.

"B'Elanna!" he cried. He ran to her side. There were no visible injuries other than for the cut forehead, but Tom was taking no chances. Before risking further injury by moving her, he needed to assure himself that her neck and spine had not suffered any breaks. Grabbing his field medic kit, he scanned her with his medical tricorder. It read a possible concussion, but no broken bones or serious injuries, much to his relief, although there was one anomalous reading. It was coming from her abdomen. Tom moved the tricorder for a closer scan. A few quick punches of the buttons confirmed the reading, identifying the source of the extra heartbeat.

When B'Elanna began to swim back to consciousness, her head hurt badly; and for a disorienting few minutes she had no idea where she was. Gradually, she became aware that she was lying on a shuttlecraft's bunk, her head cradled by a pillow, a blanket covering her. Her body jerked when she remembered. The trading mission. Tom.

At her slight movement, the pilot appeared at her elbow. She looked up at him, barely recognizing him from the grim expression he was wearing.

"You're going to be all right, Lieutenant. You have a slight concussion, and I had to treat a cut on your forehead with the dermal regenerator. But otherwise, you're fine." He walked away from her, up to the helm of the shuttle before continuing. "Or perhaps I should say that you're BOTH fine. Of course, maybe that doesn't make you particularly happy - maybe you'd be happier unpregnant."

Her mind blanked out for a second. Pregnant. Who's pregnant. I'm pregnant and he knows. Gods, he knows and I didn't tell him. Staring into the dull, empty eyes of Tom Paris before he turned away from her to lean against the helm chair, B'Elanna wished that she could be anywhere but where she was, stuck in a broken shuttlecraft light years away from anyone else but the man who was the father of her luckless child.

B'Elanna gazed at Tom's back. Without turning around to face her, he said, vaguely, "I thought I couldn't even get you pregnant, B'Elanna."

B'Elanna's mouth was so dry she didn't know if she could have spit out any words even if she knew what to say. Finally, she was able to reply. "Let's just say I was never fully informed about my body's capabilities. My mother's method of sex education was to tell me, 'Don't.' "

He turned back to her then, and they stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity to both of them before Tom walked back and sat down on the half-filled bunk across from where B'Elanna was lying. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and said softly, but as intensely as a shout, "Was it so bad being with me that you couldn't even TELL me about it?"

"NO! It wasn't that," she managed to choke out. "I just didn't know how to tell you! What was I supposed to do? One day I cut your heart out with a rusty bat'leth; but a few days later, when I need you, I come back and say, 'Sorry, Tom, I didn't really mean it when I chewed you up a while ago. I have this little tiny problem, and I need you to help me now.' "

"Yes, B'Elanna, that WAS what you were supposed to do. This is my child. My responsibility. What kind of man do you think I am that I would abandon you when you needed my help?"

He looked so lost sitting there. All the scenarios that had passed through her head, and somehow it never had occurred to her that he would look like that. So alone, so lonely. B'Elanna felt profoundly ashamed at her cowardice. Never was she more aware of her Klingon heritage than at that moment, when her sense of her own honor was besmirched by recalling her lack of courage. She should have just blurted it out - better for him to have found out that way than through a mechanical device.

After a long silence, she was able to cough out, "I'm sorry, Tom. I know you aren't that kind of man."

"How long have you known?"

"Not even two weeks. It was right after we . . . I mean . . . I broke up with you. I didn't know what to do, Tom. The way it is in Engineering - how could I raise a baby by myself? But the longer I waited to tell you about it, the harder it was to say anything."

"Did it occur to you to ask me to raise the child? Keep you out of it?"

"Oh, sure. Have her rejected by her mother the way my mother rejected me, or at least, the human half of me. 'And who is your mother, little girl?' 'I don't know, just some half-Klingon, half-human woman. I wonder who it could be?' "

He gave half a grunt. "You're right. That wouldn't have been such a good idea, I guess. But why didn't you think we could do it together? What we had together . . . Be' . . . it was pretty special to me. I made no secret what you meant to me. I thought for a while that we both thought it was special. What made you give it all up?"

B'Elanna had been thinking about this a lot on the trip. It was hard to put into words, but she tried. "Tom, I was caring about you too much, thinking about you all the time. Depending upon you too much. I just had to get away, back to being myself again, independent B'Elanna, who doesn't need anyone to make her happy." Her voice faded.

"You know, Paris, the joke was on me. By the time we broke up, it was already too late. I was already so much in love with you; I think I must have gone crazy missing you. And then I found out about the baby, and you didn't seem to care anymore. Here I was, not wanting to depend on anyone, and I was going to have one of the most dependent creatures in the galaxy depending on me! Then I didn't want to tell you because I didn't know if I was going to go through with having the baby."

His voice was even more full of pain as he stated as fact: "You were going to have an abortion, without ever even telling me about the baby."

She couldn't look at him. "At first, but Kes, she . . . she was talking to me. And the longer I waited, the harder that got, too. And once I stopped feeling angry and sorry about 'my pregnancy' and realized that I was carrying your child, . . . .I couldn't kill your child. Our child. I don't know how I'm going to do it, Tom, but I am going to have this baby now. Your daughter. That's what I was canceling with the Doctor. The abortion."

"Why do you keep saying that you have to do this alone, B'Elanna? I know you like being in charge of yourself. Boy, if there is one thing you've taught me, it's to leave you alone when you want to do something yourself. Raising a child is different, though. Have you ever thought that it is no accident that the advanced species almost always require at least two parents for reproduction? Maybe genetic diversity isn't the only reason - maybe it's also that offspring simply do better with more than one parent."

"I should think I do know that, since my mother had to raise me on her own. I've been so mad at her about so many things, but I guess sometimes I haven't been fair to her. She did the best she could all alone, trying to make me into the perfect Klingon woman warrior. She just couldn't get the human side out of me enough to do it."

"Did she really do it alone? Weren't there teachers, and friends, and other people to help? Besides, there isn't only 'Dependent' and 'Independent,' B'Elanna. There's also 'Interdependent,' when people work together for the same goal. I'm the best damned pilot you ever saw, but unless you give me the machine to fly, I'm not going anywhere. And you may be able to fly this shuttle, but in the middle of a firefight, who do you want in the pilot's seat?"

"You, Hotshot."

Breaking into a sad smile, Tom sat down beside her on the bunk. "B'Elanna, B'Elanna, B'Elanna," making her smile with him, as she remembered how he was always calling Harry's name out like that. "You don't have to do it alone. I love you, I have loved you for so long, I will always love you. I thought I've been in love before, but I couldn't have been, not when I see how I feel about you now."

"Then why have you been so distant, so . . . unemotional!"

"Didn't you know I was taking Vulcan lessons from Tuvok? The only way I could bear being around you even for a moment was to try to bury away my emotions. The meditations helped, but I've gotta confess. I'll never make a very good Vulcan."

They laughed together, and she took his hands in hers and gave them a squeeze. Crazy, wonderful, did he have any idea how wonderful he was? She didn't think so. He was just as mixed up as she was about things like this.

"I love you, B'Elanna Torres. I'm not sure how many times I've asked you to marry me, and you've always turned me down, but I will still be your husband, if you'll let me. If that's too much of a commitment for you to make, then let me be your lover. If THAT'S too much, then at least, let me be a father to your child. It's only logical, since I AM the father of your child." Tom interlaced her fingers with his before continuing.

"I need something more, though. I need you to be my friend again. I need you to yell at me, and to tease me, and to get hostile when I get carried away and try to push you too hard about something. B'Elanna, I've been feeling that Old Tom Paris, who didn't care about anything, especially himself, trying to come back . . . and B'Elanna . . . I don't want to be him anymore." As Tom knelt down in front of B'Elanna, she tried to look away, but she could hear the bleakness of empty vacuum in his voice.

B'Elanna finally looked up and saw what she could not bear to see. His eyes were glistening with tears he did not want to shed, and she began to feel a tightness in her own eyes, a dampness that she had seldom felt in her life.

"Tom-" B'Elanna choked out, then she opened her arms to him. Tom put his hands on her waist, and she embraced him, pulling his head to her bosom. Unsteadily, she went on. "I am your friend. A stupid, selfish friend. I don't know why you still want me, but I am grateful you still do. Tom-I'm so sorry. Please . . . "

There were no words for several minutes, only a few sobs and many caresses. Somewhere along the line, he gathered her up into his arms as they sat on the bunk in the back of the shuttle. Arms wrapped around close, they rocked each other slowly from side to side, comforting each other.

After they had both calmed down, Tom said to her, "Lt. Torres, Chief Engineer, ma'am. Would you like to check out what is wrong with this shuttle? I think the gravity field plate in the floor of the shuttle cracked."

"Since when are you an engineer, Mr. Paris?"

"I don't pretend to be an engineer, Lieutenant, but I happen to hang around with some of the best. And I do know shuttlecraft, as you have probably heard."

"I have, Mr. Paris. Carry on." He pulled her up from her seat. Lifting a panel in the floor of the shuttle, they checked the plate. It had a long hairline crack running down the middle of it. "You seem to be correct, Mr. Paris."

"Which means we'll be here until Voyager comes get us, since the replicator on this craft is nowhere near big enough to create a new plate like this. Unless you can weld it or something, B'Elanna?"

"No, that isn't advisable. We can't count on it holding up. The structural integrity field also depends upon this plate. We could endanger the entire craft by continuing on with a jury-rigged repair. How is the SIF holding up, Tom."

"It's fine, but there's no strain on it at all. We're drifting on the heading we were taking toward the rendezvous point. When I tried the thrusters on the lowest setting, the SIF fluctuated a little, so I figured it wasn't worth pushing it. We have communications, and when the captain realizes we aren't coming, Voyager will come back to get us."

"I don't think we should be surprised that this happened, Tom. There's a heavy load in here. And when you consider how often this shuttle has crashed and then been fixed, it was probably inevitable."

Tom kneeled down and replaced the panel. "So, let me guess, checking the gravity field plates in all the shuttles is going to be the first thing you do when Voyager picks us up."

"No, the first thing I'm going to do is go to the Doctor for his poking and prodding prenatal exam, and maybe a general one, too. I don't want any more surprises."

A huge grin slowly spread across Tom's face. "That's right. Dang! I'm going to be a Daddy!"

"Finally registered with you? We've only been talking about it for over an hour!"

"I just, you know, thought about what our baby might look like. Have you thought about that?" He tentatively rested his hand on her stomach, caressing it gently, as if he had finally absorbed who was housed within.

"A few times," she said with amusement, enjoying his touch. She could hardly believe it. They barely had been able to stand the sight of each other for days, and now, in an hour, they were back to being friends again. Being close to him brought all those old feelings back so clearly. She was acutely aware of his wonderful, heady scent. Her pulse began to thrum more loudly in her neck as she breathed it in deeply.

She wanted more from him, she realized. The touch of his hand on her belly and his scent must have sparked it. The taste of his blood was surging in her memory, awakening a hunger that became more insistent the more she tried to push it away. Not merely the 'IwmeQbogh, the blood fever, this must be the yatlhmo' ngachuqraD, the sex compulsion of pregnancy that her Klingon pregnancy texts had described. B'Elanna was shocked at the intensity of her desire, but there was no doubt about it: she wanted Tom's body, and she wanted it now.

"So, Tom, now that you know, can you tell how my body has changed?"

"Not really. Your stomach is just as flat as always."

"Actually it isn't. It just looks that way because of other areas that have changed a bit more." At his puzzled expression, she told him, "Look up a little." Then he saw.

"My God, your breasts got big!"

She laughed, a little hesitantly, "That's what happens to pregnant Klingons and to pregnant humans, I've found out. If you weren't trying so hard to avoid me, you might have noticed."

The purr in her voice dragged his attention back to her face and away from his intrigued regard of her luxurious bosom. The passion in her voice was unmistakable.

"B'Elanna, we're just making up here. You don't want me to pressure you into marriage, but falling into bed again immediately will be fine?" he asked incredulously.

"Make up sex, Paris. You've heard of it, I'm sure. I wouldn't mind it. It's supposed to be incredible. You're pretty incredible anyway, Hotshot." She was almost growling at him. Then she sighed, "Come on, Tom. Please."

"B'Elanna, what is going on with you?"

"Hormones, Tom. I want you. I have to have you. Now."

Then she was growling at him, unzipping the front of her uniform, grabbing his hand and shoving it under her turtleneck. He pulled out his hand abruptly, saying firmly, "Oh, no, we aren't. Not yet. We have lots to discuss before we jump into bed again. Just calm down, Torres."

"God, I'm weak. No Klingon or half-Klingon could possibly be interested in someone who caves in to temptation like I just did."

"You weren't so weak. You held off even after I stripped off all of my clothes and sat in your lap. I had to use my secret weapons to subdue you." Her pregnancy swollen breasts, held up to him after she had taken a big bite out of his left cheek, had finally been his undoing. She looked into his eyes. They were filled with a contentment that she was sure was reflected in her own.

"See, I told you making up would be a good idea."

He groaned a bit, but laughed too, as Tom cradled B'Elanna's head near his chest.

After a few tranquil moments, Tom asked her, "So, will you let me know when it is okay to ask you to marry me again? I'm not asking you to marry me this minute, mind you, I just want to know when you might be in a receptive mood to be asked."

She groaned. "Paris, don't you ever give up? Are you going to ask me to marry you every time we make love? Do you really think that getting married will keep us from having these misunderstanding or arguing, probably over nothing?"

"No, Be', I have no illusions about that. Marriage won't solve all our problems. We'll always have to work on compromise."

"We aren't so good at being open with each other and talking over things, either."

"So I don't always talk too much?" he teased.

"That's one I need to work on more, I guess." She stretched languidly against his long body.

In all seriousness, he rubbed her belly, lying against his own. "We have this little girl coming who deserves better from us than we got from our own parents, B'Elanna. The least we could do is promise her that we have faith in having a future together."

"Getting married didn't keep my parents together."

"I know, but it wasn't your fault they didn't stay together, you understand that, don't you? It was between them; it had nothing to do with you."

"If you say so, Tom. I have no way to know. So, anyway, I suppose since you are so big on all things Klingon, you are prepared to mate for life?"

"Yes, I am. I was ready the FIRST time I offered to take the Oath with you, when we were in our den back on Tantrum."

"You would promise never to leave me, I suppose, the way my father did."

"No, I can't promise that, B'Elanna; no one can. What I can promise is that if I do leave you, my heart won't be beating, and there won't be any sign of life in my body. Unless you push me away, like I think your mother did with your father."

"What makes you think that happened?"

He was quiet for a minute. "Did you ever research the Starfleet archive file about your father that I suggested you should?"

"No." Her voice was distant, as it always was when she spoke of her father.

"I did."

"And . . . "

At that moment he did not wish to break their fragile peace by sharing what he knew, but he doubted she would be willing to leave it at that. "B'Elanna, I don't know for sure why your father left, or why he stayed away from you for so long, but I am sure that he cared for you."

"It would have been nice if he let me know it."

Tom debated how much to tell her. As much as he could remember seemed to be the best bet. "B'Elanna, Starfleet personnel files report that Lieutenant Commander Rafael Torres was killed in action during the Cardassian conflict in 2362. He left behind over two hundred messages for his daughter B'Elanna, all returned to him, unread, by his former wife, your mother. There were over a hundred messages to her, too. He had them saved in the archives at Starfleet Headquarters under the hundred year seal, along with his death messages for both of you. That doesn't sound like a man who left his wife because he didn't like the way his daughter's forehead looked."

"Tom, when I was in the Academy, all I had to do was ask and I could have gotten his messages? All of them?" All he could do was nod, then hold her as she sobbed.

A short while later, when she had calmed down again and seemed in the mood to talk, Tom reverted to the joking Paris. "So, are you ready for me to ask you to marry you yet?"

"Why are you persisting in this, Tom?"

"I thought I might be on a hot streak. After all, I've gone from persona non grata, to friend, to father of your child, to lover in a couple of hours. I figured I might as well go for the whole shebang."

B'Elanna adjusted her position so that she could look into his eyes, questioning, "Why do you want me, Paris? You could have anyone on the ship. There are probably women who would come onto Voyager to sign on for this marathon adventure just for the chance to be with you! Why me?"

"B'Elanna, you are the mother of my child."

"That's not it, and you know it. You were asking me long before you knew about the baby."

"You want another reason, besides the fact that I love you?"

"That's exactly it, Tom. Why do you love me, after I treated you so badly?"

He propped his head up on his hand and faced her, his other hand supporting her back. "I love you because you're beautiful - yes you are beautiful, don't you look at me like that! - you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known." He brushed her forehead ridges with the gentlest of licks and kisses, working his way down until he reached her mouth. After a satisfying kiss, he went on, "And I love you because you are the most exciting, vivid woman I have ever known. There are so many sides to you. In the Vidiian prison, I met your human self and your Klingon self, but neither excited me as much as your half-human, half-Klingon self does. I love B'Elanna. I love Lt. Torres, the chief engineer. I love your intelligence, your creativity, and that wicked sense of humor of yours that, fortunately, I can appreciate. I know that I'll never tire of you. Next to you, every other woman in the galaxy is boring; and I can't have boring."

"Risk-taking maniac that you are."

He laughed. "That's right. The riskier it is, the more I like it. On the edge. I'll always have to be on my guard with you around."

Holding her body close beside his, Tom kissed her again and again. When he came up for air, he had an inquiry of his own. "Fair is fair, Torres. Why do you allow me anywhere near you? My personal history in the honor department is definitely below Klingon standards. I'm a pig and an infamous flirt, and-as you are always telling me-I talk too damn much. What do you see in me?"

Since she knew what she wanted to say but had not figured out how to word it yet, B'Elanna stalled. She got up on one elbow to look him in the eye, then thought better of it and swung her leg over his waist, straddling him. Her hands began to wander over his chest. He stretched his body and began to moan softly, murmuring, "So it's my body you want?"

She laughed, but with an intensity that spoke of much greater depths of feeling than only humor, "No, my fine specimen, although I do want your body, too, and I'll get it again soon enough." She bent down, placing both hands on either side of his head and kissing him deeply before continuing, "My lusty hero, I do want one part of you - but not that part you are probably thinking of - I can see that smile." She rubbed his chest again, tenderly patting the firm muscles beneath their covering of soft skin and red-gold hair, cherishing what lay beneath. "It's your heart. You have great courage, which is always important to my Klingon side, but you also have something more in there. I have never known anyone who has a kinder heart than you do."

"Kind, you love me because I'm kind? If that isn't like 'kissing your sister,' I don't know what is!" He grimaced. Being loved for being kind was not what he had wanted or expected to hear!

"Don't be a pig, Paris. Kindness is underrated. I would have liked to have had more of it thrown my way when I was growing up; I sincerely doubt that kindness would be the first thing that people think about when they think of me! Would you prefer it if I called it compassion? Self-sacrifice? That's part of it, too; maybe that's the link with courage. The truth is, you love others well enough to be willing to sacrifice your own life for them - you've tried to often enough. All that love for everyone on Voyager, even those who've treated you like trash, and yet I know there will always be enough love in that heart for me. ME. And you ARE the bravest man I ever met, Tom Paris. The proof is that you want me . . . now that is really brave. Orcrazy. I'm not sure which."

In his eyes she saw love shining for her. There was more she wanted to say to him, but some words had always been hard for her to say. Finally, B'Elanna mentioned casually, as an afterthought, "I guess I should tell you that I love you, too."

"That's funny, I thought you just said it a minute ago."

Hugging him tightly, B'Elanna sighed. "You're right, I did, Hotshot. I just wasn't sure you could hear me."

"So, are you going to tell me when I can ask you to marry you again?"

"Paris! I can't believe you!" B'Elanna rolled her eyes in mock frustration. "What would we get by my saying 'yes' to you right now?"

"It would be one less thing to argue about."

B'Elanna stroked his face with her fingertips. How could the two of them hope to be happy, with all of the loneliness and pain they had already gone through in their lives?

His expectant face was before her, and those crystalline orbs staring up at her so hopefully were open passageways to the soul within. She had learned more about that soul in the last few weeks than any other which she had ever encountered; but, enough to trust him with the rest of her life? It was true that she had trusted him with her physical body on numerous occasions when he had offered his own to save hers, at times, when just he and B'Elanna were on a mission, at others, as part of the crew complement of Voyager which he was also busily saving.

Now it was her own soul, her very being, that she would be placing in his care. In order to do that, she had to rely on their having complete faith in each other, faith that no matter what happened, they would be able to navigate their way back to what they were sharing at this moment. She had never been very good at relying upon anyone but herself. Maybe it was time to change that.

B'Elanna relented. For some things, she finally accepted, there could never be any guarantees. The best she could hope for was the feeling that this was the right decision, and she had that feeling now.

But, it would be a good idea to have one less thing to get in their way.

She took a great, deep breath before leaping over the abyss, "OK, Tom, I'll marry you. Just to get rid of that one thing we always argue about." She planted a big, noisy kiss on his mouth, which he returned lustily.

"B'Elanna Torres. Chief Engineer. Wife. Mother. Miracle Worker of the Engine Room. I kind of like the sound of all that," he teased.

"Thomas Eugene Paris. Chief Helmsman. Husband. Father. Best Damned Pilot in the Delta Quadrant," she answered him. Taking his head between her hands, B'Elanna admired his clear aquamarine eyes, as he admired eyes the color of soft, hot fudge.

B'Elanna kissed him. Tom stroked the hair from her forehead, kissed her face and bit her neck. She nipped him on the shoulder; he suckled her sore breasts as she squirmed in delighted agony. She played with his flesh; he played with hers. They whispered each other's names as their caresses enflamed their bodies once more.

B'Elanna lifted herself over him and rocked back and forth, glorying in the feel of Tom's flesh embraced by hers, in the dance that has been danced for millions of years. In harmony with the beating of their hearts, they moaned incoherently as they celebrated the coming of a new life.