New Story: Working title: With Honours Veronica Jane Williams xkhoi@iafrica.com Music: Beethoven Symphony No.9 in D minor - Adagio molto e cantabile (3rd movement) Most people are familiar with the Ode to Joy (Presto) section. I love the 3rd movement. DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Paramount. I borrowed them for a short while. Some characters were created by the author; the story, needless to say, is mine. Rating: NC-17 WITH HONOURS B'Elanna was sitting in the front row, along with the elite of the Academy's senior cadets. She was wearing the equivalent of the cap and gown of Starfleet Academy. It was graduation day. Six months after she gave birth to Owen junior. That was the most terrifying day of her life, also the most joyous. She had her little girl back, and gave birth to a son, a brother for Elizabeth, who positively doted on him. He was such a lively baby, but when Elizabeth talked to him in those big sister tones of hers, he actually would gape open mouthed at her. He would be quiet for a few minutes. It still amazed her, after a year, how she had been integrated into this family, whom she took as her own now. The incredible closeness they showed, the willingness to draw her into their fold, their eagerness to share their lives with her. She felt a great affection for all of them who, when she and Tom needed them, formed a laager around them. "Protecting our own" as her sister- in-law, Caitlin McClaren told her and Tom at the time of Elizabeth's kidnapping. She basked in their love and caring, feeling at last, part of a real family, a member of a very close circle. True, when they were on Voyager, they shared the same closeness, the community of pain drawing them together. But now, here, it is really different. She was accepted, not only because she was Tom's wife, but as an individual, unconditionally. How well she remembers her mother-in-law's words when she embraced B'Elanna on the front porch at Palings: "Bless you, my child, we love you already." She felt wanted, she felt needed, she felt loved. She was listening with half an ear to the monotonous droning of Admiral Gordon's voice. He was expounding the virtues of being a product of Starfleet. Listing those men and women who brought honour to the Federation, some giving their lives in the process. As always, according to those cadets who graduated in the previous years, he would wax lyrical about the exploits of the great Captain Kirk. Whose life and experiences have become standard course material for all junior cadets. They sighed, knowing the old Admiral would now go on and on. She wondered idly what her father-in-law, a member of the "Lords of the Admiralty" as the senior cadets dubbed them, thought. It had been a hard year for her. Concentrating on being a first class cadet, being a mother, being a wife. And she worked with great drive, motivation and commitment at all of these. No one pushed any buttons for her, no one attempted to make it any easier for her than it was for her fellow cadets. She was glad of that, for she didn't want to be singled out for special treatment. She felt proud of what she had accomplished, never once did it occur to her that she could use her position as a member of the Paris family. She knew her father-in-law was proud of her, she knew Tom was proud of her. And any accolade she would be receiving here today, was because she worked for it. She smiled as she thought of the day Owen Paris was told his grandson's name as he held the little infant in his arms. He looked down on her son's face, then suddenly at her, his eyes wide, filled with tears. "Thank you. Bless you, B'Elanna. I am honoured." And he bent over to kiss her. That was when Elizabeth, as always, demanded she be kissed too. Tom looked at her then, and smiled, because Elizabeth had been disinclined to talk since her ordeal. And since Owen junior's birth, gradually returned to her old chattering self. Tom especially, was overjoyed. He had been very concerned when Elizabeth was so unresponsive in the first hours after her rescue. It was the family, once again, who helped in Elizabeth's recovery. It wasn't long before she was her bubbly self again, talking non-stop, the way they knew her. It was only sometimes, though, that she would become quiet. She hadn't in the beginning talked much about her abductors. They never prodded her, feeling that she would, in her own time feel the need to say anything. How strange, she mused, that one could remember events as always associated with another. Things would happen, "a month after Owen junior was born" or "a week before Elizabeth was kidnapped." It always came back to those major events in her life. So, a month after Elizabeth was kidnapped, she spoke for the first time about Pennina Crean, who died saving Elizabeth's life. "She was kind to me, Mama." "She didn't want to hurt me, Mama." "The man was real mean, Daddy." B'Elanna would see how Tom tried to mask his fury. "I knew Uncle Tuvok would find my Phoenix, Mama." That was perhaps the most pertinent indication that Elizabeth, small as she was, found it difficult to overcome her initial fears. For months she refused to touch her beloved toy. "I'm glad you came to fetch me, Daddy." At which Tom would scoop her in his arms and hug her so tightly, she would eventually complain he's crushing her. But she was happy now that her daughter has overcome most of her trauma, with the entire family's help, in particular her Uncle Aren, who was a trained counsellor. Even her father-in-law has come to terms with what has happened to him and his granddaughter. "It weren't for my own dearest Elizabeth," he would say. "She has always been my strength. How could I not? She is far too bossy to let me wallow in self-pity. I don't mind admitting that to you, but my wife, at home, she's the boss. She whipped me into shape "or else, Owen Paris, I'll never speak to you again," she threatened. B'Elanna looked around to where the audience were seated. They were all there, Admiral and Mrs Paris, Caitlin and her husband Conor, Larissa and her husband Aren, Admiral Janeway and Chakotay, Elizabeth seated between her grandparents, Owen junior, cradled by his grandmother. He had taken an immediate liking to her. He took one look it seemed, at her kindly eyes, and he was hers for life. She smiled to herself thinking how right Tom had been when he said their son would not sit still for ten seconds flat. Luckily she could see he was fast asleep. She sighed. Then Tom. She looked at Tom. As if he could feel her eyes on him, he looked at her Then he smiled. She smiled back. Tom. Of all the family members, and that included his father, Tom had taken Elizabeth's abduction the hardest. She sighed. Remembering how she struggled to comfort him. The day he brought Elizabeth back to her, she sensed intuitively how he had to be affected by the events of her disappearance. Although he had been over the moon with his baby son, all the old insecurities, the old fears, the belief that he is unredeemable, the belief, most of all that he was, as he told Harry so many years ago, "not exactly your good luck charm," surfaced. Like a wound that had not been tended properly, it started festering again. The old scars not strong enough to combat the new onslaught on Tom's guilt and shame - an open wound that started to bleed again. And Tom was bleeding. For a while be really believed that he brought the bad luck on the family. And nothing his parents, sisters, their husbands and especially she could do, could dispel those awful feelings he had. Like his father, he could successfully hide his feelings from to the outside world, in his work environment, but in private, she took the brunt of all his frustrations. The family had been distraught that Andrew Crean's case had to be heard in open court. A civilian hearing at that. All Tom's records of his service at Caldik Prime, were laid bare for open scrutiny. He became almost demented, seeing an unrepentant Andrew Crean in the dock. Even his brother-in-law, Aren Hager, could not persuade Andrew Crean to receive counselling and tone down his anger and hatred. For most of the hearing Tom looked down, at the floor. Not wanting to look at the abductor, too ashamed when his service record was exposed, the events at Caldik Prime raked up again. Aren had taken it better than Tom, although he too, lost a beloved member of his family, his only sister there. Andrew Crean had throughout the trial, been insolent, casting angry glances at Tom from time to time. He did not bother to hide his hatred of Tom. That he killed his own sister, only fanned his anger more, blaming even her death on Tom. She felt like dying a little inside when Tom had to testify, his words coming out pained, even as he tried to be as calm as possible. She sat next to Tom, clasping his hand tightly in hers. She could feel his anger the way his fingers would squeeze hers so hard, she winced with pain. "Our society finds capital punishment reprehensible," the judge said. "However, we cannot let the crimes Andrew Crean committed go unpunished." The judge, when he sentenced the young man, first looked at the faces of the Paris family, then resumed: "The court finds the defendant, Andrew George Crean, guilty of manslaughter, kidnapping and murder." That Andrew Crean was to spend the rest of his days in a penal colony, did nothing to pacify Tom. Because Andrew left the court, and his almost maniacal laughter could be heard long after that. He had to be mad enough to kill his own sister. Long after everybody had left, Tom was still sitting with his head in his hands. Elizabeth's kidnapping had opened every insecurity he had. He was furious at Andew's sentence, since he would be entering a rehabilitation facility, and his record of behaviour reviewed every six months. He knew it was standard, but right at that moment, he wanted Andrew Crean dead. Not for the same reasons she wanted Andrew dead. He thought he could remove every trace of Caldik Prime that way. But Tom realised a long time ago that he could not escape from his past. And in his heart of hearts he had to acknowledge his own words he said to her the day they returned home: "I have to live with my past, but I can't live it down." Aren Hager had been right. There *will* always be those would remind us of our transgressions. In a most direct and violent way, Andrew Crean did. "I hate him, B'Elanna. For what he did to us. I hate him." That was the evening after the trial, when she sat on the couch in the lounge, and held a sobbing Tom against her heart. Right at that time she couldn't allow herself the luxury of expressing the same angry sentiments, the need to console her husband superceding everything else. It was evident every time he looked at Elizabeth, for instance. He would picture her unconscious body as he held her in his arms before being beamed to Voyager. Those were the few moments that Tom thought Elizabeth was dead. She would see him close his eyes, and try hard to dispel those terrible images. Yes, the aftermath of Elizabeth and his father's ordeal was almost as terrible as the actual events themselves. They had a number of really heated arguments as she tried to get Tom to understand that he needn't crucify himself anymore. That he needn't blame himself. Her heart bled for him that day in court when the events of Caldik Prime were raked up again. "Tom," she tried to persuade him, "it's over now. Over." "No B'Elanna, it's not over. Because there will still be someone out there who will say Paris is a no-good. Paris doesn't deserve any chance at freedom, at happiness." "You really don't believe in yourself, is it Tom? Not anymore. You don't believe that all these things that happened, wasn't your fault. It's taken you years to shake off the shackles of your guilt. Are you wanting to tell me it will take you another ten years to be back where you were a year ago? Because then, Tom Paris, I married a coward." That got to him. He scowled at her that day. The children were mercifully asleep. They were headed for one of their showdowns. He grabbed her shoulders, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. She knew in a few seconds he would shake her hard. "I don't deserve you, B'Elanna." She could see the smouldering anger in his impassioned eyes. "I don't deserve this family. I don't deserve to be in this family. Because all I'll ever bring them, is bad luck. Bad luck. And pain. And suffering. And embarrassment." He was shaking her now. She managed to break his grip, grabbed his shirt front and said: "Right. You really believe that. Then you can watch your children grow away from you. Become scared of you. Like you had been of your father." She felt the sting of his palm across her cheek. He looked completely shocked for a few moments. He opened his mouth to speak. She saw his face suffuse with red as the shame washed over him. "That's right, Tom. Hit me, if it will make you feel better. If you believe you are of no value to us." "B'Elanna - I - I'm sorry - ." He moved toward her, but she backed away, saw how he closed his eyes as she did that. "How sorry can you be, Tom? For more than ten years you believed your family hated you. You were so angry at them, you thought they could never love you. For more than ten years, you believed that the things you did, you could never be pardoned for. Yet the day you walked into your father's office, he opened his heart to you. Your whole family welcomed you back. I'm not certain, but your sisters don't even seem jealous that *you* are being showered with love." "B'Elanna, if - " "If what, Tom?" She felt she was hitting against a brick wall. She just couldn't get through to him. He had reached the lowest ebb of his self esteem. The old Tom was back. The one that could infuriate her so. With his wise-cracks, trivialising his pain, his hurt, he thought he could fool his family, he thought he could forget. "I - If I hadn't screwed up so badly - " That was when she wanted to smack him. She felt a blinding anger take hold of her. She realised she was thinking of doing so, when she saw him rub his cheek. She looked at her palm, saw how red it was. She had, in fact smacked him, and quite hard, it seemed. "Tom, do you know what you sound like now? Like you are ungrateful. I've counted my blessings every day, since we got Elizabeth back. You should too. Be very grateful that our daughter has survived, is with us again. Instead, you wallow in self-pity." "I'm sorr - " "Don't be, Tom. You want to wallow, it seems. It's so unworthy of you. Unworthy of someone wanting to be great." Tom closed his eyes then, and when he opened them, there was a pleading in his eyes. "B'Elanna, I want to try. But a past is a past, you have to understand that that." "Tom, sweetheart," she whispered, "a past is also something you put where it belongs: in the past." She closed her arms around him, the gesture so consoling, he felt like crying. His own arms went convulsively around her. "I need you, B'Elanna," he whispered desperately into her hair. "So much. I don't know how I can go on. It's eating me up, you know." "I love you, Tom. But I want you to understand, that this time, we are all there for you. Remember what I told you after Larissa spoke with you? We all give you permission to draw on our strength." They had been standing in the small kitchen, while she was preparing Owen Junior's formula. After one month of breastfeeding him, it became impractical to continue, as her studies took all her time. That was the only concession Starfleet made, that she could be at home with her children while attending the Academy. She took his hand and led him to the lounge where she made him sit on the couch. She took him in her arms, he buried his face in her neck, and started sobbing his heart out. That was when she realised that Tom hadn't, since he went looking for Elizabeth expressed himself in any way, except for the occasional glimpses of anger she could see sometimes smouldering in his eyes. While all of them were allowed to express themselves, in word or even actions, Tom was the one holding everyone together. It was Tom on whom everyone came to depend. He had to be strong for everybody's sake, especially her sake. Why, she wondered at the time, didn't we pick this up? Andrew Crean, led away that day to prison, did more than just attack his father, and kidnap their daughter. He stood for everything Tom wanted to forget, but couldn't. The most tangible reminder that Tom made a mistake which he could never, never ever undo. And that was what rankled with him so. While his own brother-in-law was also affected by what happened at Caldik Prime, he was again the most positive proof that one could have a greatness of heart to say: "there's nothing to forgive." That there can be pardon for anyone who seeks it. He loved Tom as he would an own brother. But Andrew. Tom was haunted by that laughter. The mad cackle. The kind of madness that, had he and Tuvok not arrived at the scene in time, would have killed Elizabeth. In fact that, according to Tuvok had been Andrew's intention as they burst into the doorway and saw him point the phaser at the two prone figures on the floor. It was this image Tom found so difficult to shake off. That made him hate Andrew Crean more. A man who had no compunction to kill his own sister. **************************** B'Elanna was woken from her reverie as she heard Admiral Gordon start to call out the names of the cadets to come forward and receive their diplomas. The way she was seated meant that hers would be called out last. Last of the row of elite cadets who distinguished themselves in one way or another. She felt the excitement, thinking how glad she was that she would be wearing this cadet uniform for the last time. She had already been approached by Starfleet to join the team of Dr. Leah Brahms at the Utopia Planitia Shipyards in warp core efficiency design, the subject of her honours thesis and other papers she had published. Something she had to make a decision on, since she would have to be away from home for a year. She couldn't see herself separated from Tom and the children for any length of time, much less a year. For her, offers were streaming in. Something he thought unusual, to which her father-in-law just snorted saying: "What's so unusual about it? You were the brightest and the best. Think of it as a compliment, B'Elanna. You can take any commission you want." She was going to take her short vacation with Tom first, before coming to any decision, she thought. She was looking forward to it, thinking that they hadn't enjoyed being completely alone, even without the children for a long time. But then again, she had been so busy healing Tom... Things came to a head two months ago. Tom was leaving on a month long mission into deep space. It was one of those conversations that started out amiable enough, after they had made passionate love. They were in the main bedroom. "B'Elanna," Tom ventured. She could see he was treading rather carefully over the subject he was trying to bring up. "Wouldn't it be a good idea if I took the children on the mission with me? There are now trained educators on board. The children wouldn't be lonely." He looked expectantly at her. "That way you have a month in which to work without interruptions on your papers." She could feel how the hair ends in her neck bristled. "Tom, you don't really mean that, do you?" she asked him, still lying in his arms. "Sweetheart, you know how you've been working round the clock to complete your papers and studies, *and* care of the children. I just thought I'd lighten your load." "Tom, if I didn't know you better, I would probably have agreed. Even so, I wouldn't allow it. I'll miss the children. Besides, Owen junior is only four months old. No, they stay with me. You have an ulterior motive anyway." "Angel," he tried lightheartedly, "you know that isn't true." Then he started to kiss her sensually, trapping her to him. She wriggled loose, and started scowling: "Tom, don't you know how paranoid you've become in these last months? Poor Elizabeth is not aloud outside, or to go to the park anymore. You don't want her to go to Mama and Dad unless one of us is with them. How do you think your father feels? You don't trust him. You don't trust me. You had better snap out of it, Tom." "You don't know how - " "What Tom? That you suffered? Still wallow? Still feel all the guilt and the shame? Frankly, I'm beginning to get tired of hearing that song from you everytime." "Fine, then let me arrange for the doctor at Headquarters to fit them with subdermal transponders - " "A tracking device? Tom, have you gone mad? Look, we are all concerned that a similar incident could occur. But I refuse to live constantly in fear, Tom. Be dictated by it. The kind of fear you want to instill in me. I refuse to have my children rigged as though they're criminals. My answer is no. For heaven's sake Tom. They're babies!" "B'Elanna please, sweetheart. Indulge me this once -" "No - !! Never, Tom. It's you who must look at yourself and this almost unhealthy attitude of yours. It's killing you and it's killing me!" By this time, they were shouting at each other. And almost fighting, for she had been punctuating his chest with every word she uttered, while he tried to stop her. She struggled to free herself from his punishing grip, his fingers digging into her flesh. She screamed that he let her go. "B'Elanna, I want the children protected!" he shouted back. "No - ! You leave my babies alone, Tom. It's you who must change, you! Because if I give in to you now, they will never have any freedom!" There were angry tears spilling from her. She pounded his chest again, beating her fists against him. He tried to stop her by pressing her face close to his, and grinding his mouth against her. She slapped him then. "Dammit, B'Elanna, you are going to listen to me," as he pulled her closer again, his fingers meshed in her hair, and she screamed, her hands trying to fight him off. That was when they heard another long wailing scream. And saw Elizabeth standing in the doorway of the bedroom. The fear was etched across her features. Her blue eyes wide and scared. And she was clutching her blanky. She was starting to hyperventilate. For a brief second B'Elanna thought this was what she must have looked like, facing her abductors. On Tom's commbadge lying on the nightstand they could hear Owen junior crying. He was sleeping with the transmitter they used for Elizabeth when she was a baby, and their shouting woke him up. He was screaming at the top of his lungs. "Oh, my God," Tom whimpered in agony. By that time B'Elanna had thrown a robe over her. "You take care of Elizabeth," she barked softly. She ran to the baby's bedroom, finding a hysterical Owen trying to haul himself out of his crib. He was only four months old, but the size Elizabeth was at eight months. He never did like, unlike his sister, to sleep with the transmitter. She lifted him out, went to sit in the rocking chair with him, and sang softly to him some ancient Klingon lullaby. She rocked him gently, crooning all the while to him, holding his warm, soft body close against her. He was soothed more by her voice than what she sang. It was a long while later that Owen finally settled down. His hair clinging to his forehead. She kissed his ridges, then settled back again for a few minutes, rocking all the time gently in the chair, making sure he was sleeping. It was when his thumb went into his mouth, his cheeks flustered from his bout of crying, that she could be certain he was now sleeping. She placed him gently back in the crib again, making sure the transmitter was fixed behind his ear. When she peeped into Elizabeth's room, Tom was sitting down next to her on the bed. His hand was stroking her hair, and she seemed to have calmed down. Tom looked at her when she entered, she saw the shame on his face. "How is she?" "She's fine now," he whispered. She bent over to touch Elizabeth's cheek. The sleep-dazed child turned into her hand, and muttered, "I'm sorry Mama. I'm too much trouble." "No, sweetheart. You're *never* too much trouble," she assured her daughter. For a brief moment B'Elanna closed her eyes. She knew that over the next few days she would have to convince Elizabeth it wasn't her fault. She had stopped feeling like she wanted to kill Tom. Everytime she tried to get through to him, she felt like she was hitting a brick wall. So she sighed, left the room and went to sit on the couch in the lounge. Staring at the wide vista of San Francisco Bay. She had drawn up her knees so that her feet rested on the edge of the seat. Those few seconds she saw Elizabeth in the doorway brought back her old memories of her parents fighting. A five year old B'Elanna, standing exactly as Elizabeth did, in the doorway of her parents' bedroom, the same fear mirrored on her face, her own screams as she watched her parents grappling. She remembered the terrible anxiety and apprehension she felt that she was the cause of their fighting. That it was her fault. How she ran towards them and swore she'd never do it again. She never knew what it was that she imagined she did wrong, but she felt it was the thing to say to stop them from fighting. She swore she'd behave and be a good little girl. But the fighting went on. Day after day. If they weren't physically at each other's throats, it was a war of words. The worst B'Elanna felt, of her parents' pending break-up, were the silences. When they thought they'd not fight in front of her. But, she was always in the middle. Like she and Tom just now, her parents reached a point where they forgot they could be heard. She was seriously affected. Her parents' marriage didn't survive. Kor'ena Torres became an embittered woman. She became a distraught child who cried night after night for her Daddy to come back. But Diego Torres, who always called her his little Bee, whom she was certain loved her, never returned. She felt understandably deeply concerned about their own marriage. That if Tom continued to beat himself, blame himself, wallow in self-pity, their marriage would perhaps not withstand this onslaught. Fearing this, she knew she'd continue to fight, not give up, to try and convince her husband that they need to get on with their lives. That they needed to be there for Elizabeth and Owen when they were five years old, when they were fifteen years old, when they were twenty five years old. They needed to be there as a united front. Like his parents. A few minutes later she was joined by Tom, who sat down next to her. For long moments they didn't speak. She closed her eyes and rested her chin on her knees, feeling the sting of tears. She tried so hard the past four months since the attack and kidnapping. But it seemed every step Tom took forward, he took two back. He was suffering, she accepted that, had very great empathy and compassion. He could not put Andrew Crean out of his mind. But sometimes he was just impervious to her efforts to console him. She remembered a time, long ago, on Voyager, when she miscarried and she had been inconsolable. Tom's amazing patience when he was the one doing the comforting, and she the difficult one, accusing him of being insensitive. She understood now how one could become frustrated when all your attempts appear to have no effect at all. She tried her best, allowing him to take all his angers, his frustrations out on her, when on the outside he allowed himself no such outlet. There was for him no other outlet. She felt the tears coming as she wondered how long Tom was going to continue beating himself, crucifying himself for what had happened six months ago. All his assurances that he was getting over it to the contrary. It was unforgivable that they reached a point where they cared not who listened to their rows. It was unforgivable that the children had to be drawn into it, unforgivable that they terrified the children. That they could become so focused on their own problems and arguments, they forgot about their children. She felt Tom's hand on her hair, stroking gently from the top of her scalp to the hair ends. She turned her face to look at him. His face was haggard, she could see the terrible shame in his eyes. It affected him as much as it did her. He drew her into his embrace. With trembling fingers he stroked her hair, her cheeks, used his thumb to wipe the tears that started and didn't seem to want to stop. "Forgive...please, B'Elanna," he whispered into her hair. She buried her face in his chest, and cried a long time. She could feel him shaking, knew that he was crying too. Nothing needed to be said. She just felt that perhaps Tom had been shocked into realising his behaviour was beginning to affect the children. When he left the next day to be transported to Space Dock, she knew he was committed to making greater effort at his own healing. That night had become a catharsis for them. It really did turn the tide, and she felt better than she had for months. Only now really beginning to enjoy having the children around her. So in the early morning she would take Elizabeth and Owen to their grandmother, and then leave for the Academy. They were only too happy to go to Grandma. Especially Owen junior, who would cling to her and coo at her. His little hands always on Grandma's cheek, with the tiny fingers splayed, and he would attempt to kiss her. She forgave Tom in the month that he was on Voyager, that he would contact her on the vid-com every night, talk to her. Making sure she and the children were safe. Elizabeth especially, who found this communication device a novelty. Once she knew her Daddy's codes, she would call him at any time, much to the annoyance obviously of her Daddy, who would at that time be on the bridge. But the air was cleared between them, and she would give him an update on the children's activities. One evening she held Owen up, and he smiled at his Daddy, who was surprised to see the squirt had sprouted a tooth. When he returned home for a one week visit, they were so excited at having him with them again. It was wonderful seeing the shadows beginning to leave his eyes at last. He left again on a three week mission, only to return the day before, in time for her graduation. He had a month's leave of absence. It was the joys and privilege of being in the Alpha Quadrant again, things like taking leave a matter of making an application. In the Delta Quadrant they worked round the clock in shifts for eight long years. No one could take leave. It was wonderful to have him back, and when they made love last night, it was so tender, so poignant that she cried all the time she reached her pinnacle, with Tom cradling her in his arms. "I love you B'Elanna. Never let me go." She answered by kissing him fervently on his lips, before they went into another spell of lovemaking. She was happy. After today's proceedings she and Tom would go to Palings for a much needed vacation, with his parents looking after the children. They were obviously very happy to baby-sit the children. *********************** "B'Elanna Paris, Cadet First Class, the degree in Engineering Science, cum laude," she heard her name at last. As she rose to approach the podium, it was to a resounding applause. All her other commendations were listed as she stepped up, to have her degree conferred, her heart bursting with joy. She had done it. Satisfied herself that, even though she didn't have to, she wanted to be a fully qualified engineer, to be a full commissioned officer should she apply for it. Even if she starts with being Ensign Paris. She didn't mind. Because she knew that she would be equal to any engineer worth his salt. She finished top of her class with honours, she completed an important paper on quantum mechanics, completed her thesis on warp core design efficiency with honours. Her father-in-law who had been her promoter had no doubt that she would be successful. "You are, after all, a Paris," he said proudly. She turned to face the audience as she walked back to her seat. She looked at Tom, and thought her heart would burst, at the pride she saw there. The love so clear in his blue eyes. He gave her his completely engaging smile and nodded lightly. It was to her family she turned afterwards, where they all congregated outside on the lawns of the Academy. Tom was the first to congratulate her, hugging her fiercely, then he kissed her. At length he let her go, after predictably, Elizabeth demanded she be kissed too. "Sweetheart, go to them, your family. For these moments you belong to them," he whispered seductively in her ear. "Tonight, you are mine," came his undisguised promise. She felt the heat rise in her as he pressed his hips against her. "There, that should whet your appetite," he said in that maddeningly provocative voice of his. How, B'Elanna wondered would she be able to concentrate in the next few hours of celebrations? She knew he was paying her back for the time he carried her down the corridors of Voyager, inciting his ardour so that he warned he might embarrass himself right there. When she went to her mother-in-law, her son pitched himself into her arms, placing a smacking kiss on her forehead. He was happy to be in her arms again. But he couldn't be still for a single second. Everyone who looked after Owen junior, wished for the moment he would fall asleep. He seemed even more active than what Elizabeth had been at the same age. She wondered idly whether he would have his father's disposition for crazy stunts. She was congratulated by everybody, and when she stood in front of Kathryn Janeway and her husband Chakotay, all she said as they took her hand was: "It went well." They were photographed, one of her full senior Academy class already in her possession, which would join the display of photos on the large, low table they installed in the lounge for that purpose. She was photographed with Tom and the children, another photo to add to their growing collection. It was she, and not Tom, who kept this going. "It's tradition, Tom," she assured him as he looked with long-suffering eyes at her, telling her to indulge herself, she's the ruler of the house. Once he looked at her enquiringly when she placed a photograph of her mother on the table. "I'm still committed to finding her, Tom, if you still are." "Sweetheart, don't ever doubt that." He hugged her fiercely then. It was Elizabeth who stared compellingly at this photo every time, of a proud Klingon woman dressed in battle costume. She asked many questions about her "other Grandma" which they patiently answered for her. Owen Paris was so proud of her, he told his cronies of B'Elanna's papers, her honours thesis, her work on warp core design. She smiled to herself, thinking how he used to brag about Tom. God willing he'd be doing that about his grandchildren. Already his eldest grandson, Hamish McClaren, Caitlin's son, is distinguishing himself at junior school. The poor boy has to deliver his reports dutifully to Grandpa. He doesn't mind. He loves to pit his incisive science mind against his much more experienced grandfather, and lately B'Elanna. He gravitated towards her as soon as he became aware of her own expertise in science and engineering. She really loves this almost too quiet boy, who, if he had been living in mid-twentieth century would have been wearing spectacles. Later that afternoon they said a tearful goodbye to the children, who seemed unfazed by their parents' concern. "We'll be fine here by Grandma and Grandpa Daddy," Elizabeth, looking suddenly grown up, assured Tom. "Look, Owen isn't even worried," she continued." "Yes, Mama," she gave one of her long-suffering sighs, "I'll make sure Grandma doesn't forget to put Owen junior's transmitter on at night." They virtually chased them away, so reluctant she and Tom were at leaving them for two whole weeks. They'd be communicating every night before the children's bedtime. They left for Palings, with a growing anticipation at being uninterrupted for a fortnight. **************************** They were seated on a spread in a secluded part of the woods on which the property of Palings stood. Lounging against a tree on a small embankment leading a body's length away to a brook, they were quiet. They have been here a week, enjoying every minute of their vacation. They spoke every night with the children, just before their bedtime. Elizabeth, ever the chatterbox, would regale them of Owen's antics, and how she controls him. Owen smiled, surprising them with his second tooth. Tom was sitting, his back against the tree, holding B'Elanna who was seated between his spread legs. His hands covering her breasts possessively. Her head rested back against his shoulder. "B'Elanna." "Hmmm...?" "I was thinking, where haven't we made love so far?" "We've covered every part of the house, inside and outside," she said, walking neatly into his trap. He began rubbing her nipples through the thin fabric of the silky top she was wearing. Already she could feel the heat growing between her legs as Tom used his lips to push away the hair from her neck, and nip gently on her earlobes. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his warn breath fanning her skin. Her breathing became shallow, as his was becoming erratic. All the time he stroked her nipples until they stood erect under his fingers. "I want you," he whispered against her ear, the tingling sensation of his lips against her, arousing her, her skin becoming quickly sensitised. Ready to quiver under his touch. "You may have me," she answered as she dug her nails into his thigh, trailing her fingers down the length, scoring his skin right through his trousers. It had the desired effect as he suddenly pitched her on her back, rolled her halfway down the embankment, to the edge of the water running in the brook. "My version of *From here to Eternity*" he muttered as he kissed her nipples through the now wet top, exposing her breasts. She might as well have been naked, the nipples pert and erect through the fabric. "Mine," he said as he took one nipple in his mouth, finding the covering fabric so erotic, and sucked, and kept on sucking. His other hand was on the other breast, his thumb and forefinger squeezing and rolling the nipple between then. She moaned. "I just love it when you do that," she muttered. "Don't stop." "Not on your life, sweetheart." He hooked his finger into the waist band of her pants, and slowly eased it down her legs. "We don't need this... and this," he mumbled as he removed her incredibly lacy and erotic panty. She wriggled herself out of it the rest of the way. Pulling his T-shirt over his head, he then divested himself of his trousers. He took his time first looking at her naked body. Well, almost naked. Her wet silky top hid nothing as it clung to her breasts. Tom looked, his eyes smouldering. She knew it excited him when he did that, thinking of everything he would be doing to her body. As he did now. He lay between her legs, their bodies now halfway in the water. With his hands cupping her face, he kissed her, her mouth opening under his. It was a burning, searing touch, which enveloped her, her centre pulsating with need, already so wet and ready. But Tom took his time, his mouth locked to hers. She had her hands on his buttocks, kneading the firm flesh, willing him to hurry. Pressing herself into him. He moaned when she did that. "I want you, Tom. Love me." She could feel his hard member pressing into her stomach, and felt an electric sensation going through her. She allowed the feeling to to course through her whole body, her breast heaving against his chest, her breathing coming in erratic gasps. She growled as he slid himself so he could suck at her breasts again. She shivered a little as she went further into the cold water, but Tom seemed bent on pleasuring her. He mouth was everywhere, her skin burning at his touch. His tongue dipped lazily into her navel, and she let out a deep growl, a sign that she's had enough of pleasantries. She pressed his head towards her centre, spreading her legs wider, waiting for him to tastes her there. By this time he was lying almost fully in the water. He gave a sigh as his mouth grazed the damp curls of her mount, kissing, pressing his lips against the folds of her vulva, his tongue licking the folds open, dipping into her sheath. She groaned with pleasure as he continued sucking and nipping the swollen folds. Her hands held his head, and she pushed into his mouth, willing him to plunge deeper into her. "Oh...more, Tom..." Then he unsheathed the swollen clit, pink and erect, and closing his eyes, took her in his mouth, his tongue flicking over and over the nub. She was nearing her climax, could feel it as every muscle in her body strained as wave upon wave of ecstasy flooded her body. She writhed out of control as she lifted herself and pressed his head into her, screaming his name as she went over the edge and exploded into a ripping orgasm. He was fully in the shallow water. Only then he lifted his head, knelt between her legs and lifted her hips to him. His throbbing sex nudged her entrance, and in one swift move he sank deep into her. He looked at the passion which suffused her face, her head thrown back against the grass, her mouth open and gasping. "Do it now, Tom," she demanded. He started to move in her as she held on to his hands that were clasped at her hips. "God, B'Elanna, what you do to me," as he started pounding into her, their bodies moving now together, a frenzied, hard thrusting which had him panting. He could feel she was nearing the edge again, and then he thrust harder, until he gave one heaving thrust, and spilled his seed into her. The water rippling over his body did nothing to cool his passion as she screamed his name again in total abandon. Before he could relax though, she heaved herself to a sitting position, and with his pulsating sex still in her, pitched him over backwards into the water. "B'Elanna, what the heck - " "You did say you want to make love to me from here to eternity, stud." Only his head was above the water, the flat stones on the river bed, digging into his back. "So, tell me if I should let you go, Helm Boy." "Not on your life, Angel. "Fine, then lie still," she commanded as she straddled him, and started to move against his still rock hard sex. Bringing her mouth very close to his, she tantalised him with her tongue in his ear, then nipping his lobes, pressing his head down so that he was submerged for a second, spluttering as he came up for air. Right at that moment, she impaled herself down hard on him, making him groan with pleasure. She pressed him down again, going down with him, her teeth sinking into his jaw. She felt him buck under her as he tried to do two things at once. Keep himself from drowning, so to speak. Drowning in the pleasure she was giving him. Her sheath tightened convulsively aroung his erect sex, squeezing so tightly, then relaxing, then tightly again, until she could feel he was nearing his climax. Mindless of the rushing water around them, she rode him, saying: "Roll over Tom, I want you on top." At which he swiftly pitched her under him, and holding her head out of the water, pounded her till they were completely at one, their bodies now moving together in concert. Tom was gasping loudly as he felt him nearing the edge, holding off slightly to wait for her. He thrust, then raised himself high, his head thrown back, screaming loudly, his voice reverberating in the woods. He took both of them thunderously over. Then he collapsed on top of her, still holding her head above the water. He pulled her up against him, held her close, his hands on her hair, his lips against hers, and whispered: "I love you, B'Elanna Paris. My saving grace. You've done this with flying colours." That was when she bundled him in the water again, their lovemaking now turning into a playful cavorting in the water. They were finding their release of the last few month's tensions at last. ************************* They were lying in the huge bed of the room they use whenever they come to Palings. It was the early hours of the morning. They had made love the whole night, only dozing off two hours before. B'Elanna was fast asleep in Tom's arms, her face in his neck, her hand resting comfortably over his heart. His hand covered hers. He was slowly waking, ready to make love again as soon as she was ready. But her head was heavy against him. He sighed. They have all day, he decided. He was still thinking of planning the next days activities, when he heard the beep of an incoming message on their vid-com. He got up carefully, not wanting to wake her. He returned a few seconds later. "B'Elanna, honey, it's a message for you. Direct." He was shaking her gently. "What is it," she grumbled. When he answered she mumbled again: "No, you take the message, Tom." "Come, Angel. It's for you. And it's private." Tom picked her practically up from the bed, took her to the bathroom where he took a cold cloth to wipe the sleep from her face. "Okay, okay, I'm fine Tom," she complained. "I'll take the message. You can sit in. I don't want to hide anything from you." "Thanks for that vote of confidence, my sweet. Now come," he said in that sometimes peremptory tone of his. Seated in front of the vid-com, Tom stood next to her, holding her hand. Switching it on, B'Elanna was surprised to see Worf's face fill the screen. "Greetings, B'Elanna Paris." "Greetings, Captain Worf. To what do I owe this honour?" "I have been asked to inform you that your mother, Kor'ena Torres of the House of Kor'ek is dying, and that your presence is required at her deathbed." *************************** THE END Veronica would love some feedback. Veronica Jane Williams xkhoi@iafrica.com