Epilogue

Admiral Own Paris came after the service was over, watched every other family member leave the park grounds that now held the Voyager memorial. Only when he believed they were all gone did he walk to that memorial and stand staring at it, seeing his son's untitled name settled in the last row, as if it had been an afterthought. That was how Tom had been thought of for seven years now, the after thought, the one person to be avoided, if possible, of the Paris family. The Admiral wondered, not for the last time, where things had gone wrong.

His wife was currently living out of their home. They were not divorced. Julie had simply said she needed time away and she had made a promise to come back, which was the only hope Owen now had to hold on too. Before Voyager's disappearance there had been hope that Tom could change his life around.

The day, now two years ago, Admiral Burns had shown up to let the Paris's know about Voyager's lost had shattered that hope. They had not even known that Janeway had been ordered to take Tom along as an observer. He was not supposed to be on that doomed ship! Burns also had told Paris that there was a hearing in the works, now put on hold due to Tom's disappearance, which may have contrived his early release from prison. Hope lost. For good this time.

Thomas E. Paris. The name stared accusingly back at the name's sire. And for the hundredth time since he had learned that there were no more chances left for Tom, or for Owen, the Admiral wished he could cry like his wife did, even two years after their loss. Broken by losing his son, by losing the last vestiges of respect from his daughters and separated from his heart broken wife, he still could not shed tears. He had to keep strong and never show weakness.

Tom had mockingly referred to his father as the only "Vulcan without pointed ears". This moniker had been bestowed in a fit of teenage angst. It had been used numerous times afterwards. Owen wished he could hear Tom spit the words once more.

"Admiral Paris." A calm and collected voice interrupted his reverie. The tall Starfleet Admiral had to blink to reorient himself to the now. He turned and found a Vulcan couple waiting for him to collect himself just a few feet away. The early afternoon son gleamed off their deeply bronzed skin. They were in civilian clothes. He did not think that they belonged to either of the two Vulcans lost with Voyager. The faces of the other families were etched into his memory.

When the man saw that the Admiral had given them his attention he stepped forward and held out his hand. "I am Governor Corvik; this is my wife, M'tel." He introduced. "We came to pay our respects to your son." They were here for Tom.

Then the name sunk in. Despite its contrary views on the Prime Directive, the Independent System was held in high respect. Corvik was allowed his eccentricities, since he had built a thriving and peaceful government. How had Tom even met such a man?

"Thank you. I was unaware that Tom knew anyone from the Independents." The Admiral said quietly.

"Tom lived with us for a year." M'tel answered. "Prior to his arrest he came to visit us every six months."

Owen had not seen his son since Caldik Prime. He cautiously studied the respected Governor. "I see." He said, far too stiff for his own liking. It was his own fault that Tom had fled to the outer planet systems rather than face the judgment of home. "How did you meet?"

"Tom was in need after helping out some friends of his. Because of the ill repute he was held in at the time, I took him into my own home to protect him. He became a welcome member of the household, even if he did make my children wonder at our suppression of emotion." The Vulcan Governor answered.

"May I ask why, in the face of his reputation, that you would welcome him to your home?" The Admiral asked.

"I will be honored to tell you. It is the reason I intruded in your thoughts." Corvik answered. "Perhaps we should sit."

They found the nearest bench and sat down. Corvik fixed dark eyes on Owen. "Is a man who would live with dishonor to do an honorable thing to be respected more than a man who would refuse the stigma of apparent dishonor even to save lives?"

The Admiral considered the question. Then he slowly nodded. "Yes."

"Then your son was a great man. He wished to tell you himself, but was unable to. I had desired to share this with you last year, but was unable to come at that time. Tom was a man worth knowing. When I first knew him I was unsettled by his ill-timed humor, and his zealous desire to enjoy what life had, even in the face of numerous betrayals. I came to respect him. He taught me that Vulcan logic is not superior to Terran wit. Perhaps I cannot allow myself the freedom of emotions that he would but he did show me that even Logic can be taken too far."

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Admiral Own Paris did not return to his empty home after a long afternoon learning about the merits of his son. He tracked down his wife, caught her at the end of her work shift in the public library, and dragged her to a private dining hall.

They spoke for long hours. They cried together. They laughed over once forgotten memories of their son as a rambunctious child. When the dining hall closed, they went home together.

Seventy thousand light years away Tom Paris left B'lanna Torres at her door, wondering if her sudden foray into the world of flirting was a door opening to let him in to her heart. He was suddenly reminded of his parents' beloved story of their long courtship. The only love Tom had never doubted was that of his parents for each other. Perhaps, with slow steps, he might find that with the gorgeous Chief Engineer.