In the last few chapters, Harry Kim accidentally journeyed from 2393 to 2377, stole Borg technology to return himself to the right year, and came home to find a son he'd never seen before – that everyone else seemed to remember. After a few minutes of looking at Andrew, it washed over him that he'd always had a son…
Chapter 11: Earth, San Francisco, Torres-Paris Family Residence, 2390
"Seriously? Come on!" Miral Paris scowled at her parents.
They were sitting on the couch, arms around each other, kissing lightly and murmuring to each other. B'Elanna and L'Naan had just returned from B'Elanna's first diplomatic mission to Qo'noS, and Tom wanted to show his wife how much he'd missed her.
Miral marched down the hall and burst into L'Naan's room.
"Hey! Ever hear of knocking?"
"Did you see them?" Miral demanded of her little sister.
"Who?"
"Mom and Dad?"
"I think they're in the living room."
Miral led her sister down the hall by the hand and pointed to their parents on the sofa.
"So what?" L'Naan asked.
Miral rolled her eyes. "Don't you think that's disgusting?" she said loud enough for her parents to hear. "In the middle of the living room?"
"I think it's kind of cute. They really like each other."
"Hello!" Miral yelled impatiently at her parents. "We are home!"
Tom looked over B'Elanna's shoulder. "Do you need something?" he asked, innocently batting his eyelashes at her.
"Can't you do that somewhere else?"
"We could," Tom said slowly, "but it wouldn't be as much fun." He looked at B'Elanna, and they snickered.
This only further enraged Miral. "I'd like to know if Harry and Libby make out in front of Andrew!" she called over her shoulder as she tromped toward the front door.
"So would I!" Tom called back. "Let me know what you find out."
Kim Family Residence
Miral rapped on the front door impatiently, continuously, until Libby Kim finally opened it. "Miral?" she asked with surprise. "What are you doing here, sweetheart? Your mother called me to say you'd left home without telling them where you were going. She thought you were heading this way."
Miral pushed past her into the living room. "Is Andrew home? I need to talk to him."
Libby closed the front door. "Yes, he's home," she said slowly, "but first tell me why you're so upset."
Miral put her hands on her hips with a sigh. "Libby, it's a teenage thing. You wouldn't understand."
Libby stared at the headstrong girl for a moment, biting her lip. She resisted the urge to smile, opting instead to kiss Miral on the forehead. "He's in his room."
"Thank you," Miral called as she headed toward Andrew's room.
His door was open, so Miral entered without knocking. She plopped down on his mattress with an exaggerated groan and relayed the afternoon's events to her friend.
"What's the big deal?" Andrew wondered. "I mean, it's not like you saw them having sex."
Miral snorted. "I can hear them often enough."
"How often?" he asked with some curiosity. Miral glared at him, signaling that she wouldn't dignify his question with an answer.
"You have normal parents," she told him. "You have no idea what it's like to live with Tom and B'Elanna."
"Okay, then," Andrew said patiently, taking a seat on the bed next to her, "tell me what it's like living with Tom and B'Elanna."
"They're just so – so – hot-blooded. All the time."
"What is your problem?" he demanded. "Why does this bother you so much?"
Miral looked away from him. "I don't know," she mumbled. "It just does."
"You're being ridiculous. And selfish."
"Selfish? How can you say that I'm the one who's being selfish?"
"You're always angry that your parents don't act the way you want them to. Remember when your mom became the liaison to the Klingon Empire, and you were mad because you wanted her to stay in Starfleet?"
"Oh yeah," Miral remembered. "That was stupid of me. I like living on Earth better than on the Enterprise."
"And remember when your dad installed the holosuite in your house? You were mad for a week because you thought it was childish."
"Well, come on, Andrew," she argued. "How many people have a holosuite in their own house?"
"Not many," he agreed, "but your dad likes writing holoprograms. So what? I'm sure he doesn't like a lot of things you do."
"Like what?" she demanded.
"Like how you always tell him you don't want flying lessons. How you'd rather study fashion instead."
Miral twirled a strand of hair in her fingers while she contemplated. "I still don't see how it's okay for them to act like sex-crazed teenagers. They're not young, Andrew. They're really old."
"What makes you think they're acting like sex-crazed teenagers?" he challenged. "Is that how you act?" She didn't answer. A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Are you sex-crazed?"
"I don't know," she said quickly, looking down and blushing. "Are you?"
Although he'd started the conversation, Andrew began to blush as well. "Um…."
"Have you ever…?" she asked softly, suddenly finding the courage to look him directly in the eyes.
He held her gaze while he shook his head. "No. Have you?"
Miral shook her head. "Do you think about it?"
"Yeah. All the time," he admitted in a quiet voice. "You?"
"Yeah." She paused. "But I think it has to be someone special, you know?"
"Yeah." Andrew tossed his shoulders, as if shaking off the discussion. "Maybe that's how your parents feel – like they're each other's someone special."
"Andrew," Miral admonished, "don't be disgusting."
Torres-Paris Family Residence
A knock on their door stopped Tom and B'Elanna mid-conversation as they prepared for bed. Miral poked her head in and asked for permission to enter. B'Elanna nodded, if a little stiffly, and Tom sat back and watched, wondering how they would perform this particular dance of pride together.
It was Miral who took the lead. "I just want to apologize for earlier," she said in an achingly soft voice as she perched on the corner of their bed. Unlike B'Elanna, Tom melted instantly at that voice. Miral fidgeted with the seam of their blanket, and it reminded Tom of B'Elanna's own tendency to express anxiety through her fingers. "I guess I was being a little childish."
Tom watched B'Elanna's expression shift from surprise to satisfaction to maternal concern. "Okay," she said slowly.
"It's none of my business how you express your feelings for each other," Miral continued. Tom wondered how long B'Elanna would let the tortured apology drag out. "Um, I guess it's just a little weird when none of my friends' parents act like that."
B'Elanna looked to Tom for support, but he just cocked his head to the side with a slight raise of the eyebrow as if to say, "Well, she's making an effort."
"Okay," his wife said again. "You know, I never really saw my parents showing much affection for each other, so I guess I can imagine how strange it would be. I'm sorry if we make you feel uncomfortable."
Tom thought it was perhaps time to cut in. He climbed swiftly across the bed to Miral, put an arm around her shoulder, and planted a big, sloppy kiss on her cheek. "It's because we love each other so much," he declared as he tackled her to the bed and tickled her between the ribs. "And we love you, too."
Miral shrieked as he tickled her. "Da-ad! I'm too old!" She shrieked again, unable to escape him. "Mom, help!"
B'Elanna hurled a pillow at him, but Tom used it to squarely hit her on the head. She fended him off with her arms until she was able to wrestle it from his grasp. "Hold him down!" she ordered Miral.
Miral pushed her father down and reached for another pillow. She and B'Elanna bashed Tom repeatedly while he laughed uncontrollably, unable to stop them.
"What in the name of Kahless!"
The three stopped simultaneously and looked toward the door, where L'Naan was standing in her pajamas with her hands on her hips.
"Some of us are trying to sleep," she informed them testily. "Hey!" Her tirade was interrupted as her father hit her directly in the face with a flying pillow. L'Naan picked it up and leapt onto the bed. A major battle ensued.
About ten minutes later, in the middle of a silent truce, B'Elanna dared to ask, "Miral, what caused the change of heart?"
"Oh," she said absently, "Andrew."
"Oh, Andrew," Tom mimicked in falsetto. He dodged another sailing pillow.
Before the pillow fight could resume at full strength, B'Elanna moved to the open bedroom door, encouraging Miral and L'Naan to leave. They obediently filed out, each pausing in turn to kiss her on the cheek. Then she closed the door behind them and climbed back into bed with Tom. "What are you smiling at?"
Tom was casually lying on his side, his legs crossed, his head propped up on an elbow. He looked at her, eyes wide but still smiling. She regarded him curiously as she climbed under the covers.
"Tom, what?"
"I love my three girls," he said happily.
B'Elanna resisted the urge to hit him one last time with her pillow.
"Tell us a story, Mom," L'Naan demanded, stretching her feet out under the dinner table. "Tell us about when we were little."
B'Elanna thought for a moment. "Well, there was the time you and Miral and a few other children on the Enterprise decided to escape from school and hide in the Jeffries tubes."
"I remember that!" Miral declared excitedly.
"How long were we hidden?" L'Naan asked.
"Oh, about five minutes," B'Elanna told her. "Little kids forget about things like internal sensors."
L'Naan looked disappointed.
"Come on, Mom," Miral urged. "Tell us a good one."
"Yeah," L'Naan added, "Tell me about…me being born."
Miral rolled her eyes. "Who wants to hear about that?"
L'Naan was unruffled by her sister's judgment. "Well, everyone knows about your birth. It's a Delta Quadrant legend. But that doesn't mean it's more important than mine."
Starbase 174, Private Quarters of Torres-Paris Family, 2380
"Tell me about your day."
B'Elanna pulled off her boots and swung her feet up on the sofa. "You know I can't."
"Oh, come on," Tom said, taking her feet into his lap and rubbing them. He watched her eyes close in contentment. "What about spousal privilege?"
"No way," B'Elanna said. "Anything you find out about the new design will affect your flight simulations."
"This has nothing to do with my duties. I just care about my wife and want to hear about her day."
B'Elanna snorted. "Oh, yeah, right." She relaxed against the sofa. "That feels nice."
"Good," Tom said, still massaging. "Now, just so I can prepare Starfleet's pilots best, should we anticipate additional attitude stability at impulse?"
"Tom," she warned, eyes flying open. She sat up suddenly. "Where's our daughter?"
"On the holodeck with Gefen. Martis said she'd bring her back after dinner."
"Dinner. I'm starving," she realized. She lifted her feet from Tom's lap and rose. "What should we eat?"
"I'm not hungry, but I'll sit with you."
B'Elanna turned to the replicator. "One small garden salad." The specified dish materialized, and she brought it to the table. Before she could even take her fork to the first bite, Tom stole a small tomato and plopped it into his mouth. "I thought you weren't hungry."
"I'm not," he said, pilfering a cucumber slice.
"Tom, I can replicate more food."
"No, no, it's fine," he said, swiping one last tomato and then raising his hands in surrender. "Want to hear about my day?"
"Sure. Anything heroic happen today?"
"Well, actually," he began, settling back in his chair with his hands behind his head, "we were pushing the new propulsion system through the simulations of spatial anomalies, and we hit a glitch when we –"
"Forget it," she interrupted. "You want to know what we're planning for maneuverability controls at sublight speeds, and I can't tell you."
Tom sighed. "It would be a lot easier to do my job if I know what you were planning."
"It'd be a lot easier to live with you, too," she pointed out, "but that doesn't change my orders."
"What could you possibly be working on that is such a secret? Quantum slipstream, transwarp, cloaking technology, neural interfacing – it's all been common knowledge for years."
B'Elanna continued eating, saying nothing.
"Come on, B'Elanna. What's the fun of working together if we can't talk about our work?"
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant. You know, we have worked together for years, and you've never complained before about it not being any fun."
"Because when we were on Voyager, we were a team."
B'Elanna put her fork down forcefully. "Tom, enough. Orders are orders. It's just for this one ship design."
"Okay, okay."
"Let's talk about something else. Chakotay said he'd watch Miral on Friday night if we wanted a night to ourselves."
"How about a moonlight picnic on Samoa?"
"I don't know," she teased. "Anything to do there?"
"Funny."
"As I recall," she continued, "you prefer active holoprograms."
Tom grinned. "It'll be plenty active, believe me." To his delight, B'Elanna smiled back. But he knew what she was referring to – that stupid period in their dating history when he only wanted to go skiing and rock climbing while she wanted to lie half-naked on beaches together. Why he ever thought he should win that fight was beyond him. Things had become a lot more fun when he started letting B'Elanna pick the programs. "I don't know what I was ever thinking."
B'Elanna resumed eating. "Neither did I, but you came around."
"I was an idiot. Making you go skiing, when you don't like the cold, when I could have been looking at you in your swimwear. I'm lucky you stayed with me."
"Yes, you are." She speared a piece of cucumber and held her fork out for him. He leaned forward to eat it. "It's protomatter."
"Excuse me?"
"Protomatter micro-chain reactions. The new propulsion design."
Tom raised his eyebrows. "That sounds –"
"Very dangerous, very unstable, but –"
"Very effective," he finished.
"If we get it right," B'Elanna said with a tip of her head. "Apparently, the Cardassians are experimenting with the same technology, and Starfleet doesn't want to end up racing them to get the design into service. That's why it's been classified."
Tom's forehead wrinkled as he asked, "Why are you telling me this? Aren't orders orders?"
B'Elanna shrugged. "Spousal privilege. Now, about Friday…"
"Mom," Miral interrupted impatiently, "what does this have to do with anything?"
L'Naan, however, had other concerns. "Protomatter micro-chain reactions? That was your big secret? That technology never even made it out of research stages. The testing phases always ended up causing –"
"I'm aware," B'Elanna reminded her gently. "I was on the design team, remember? Keep listening."
One and a half year old Miral Paris ran as best as she could up and down the beach. B'Elanna watched, amused, as she leaned back on her hands in the sand. Tom passed her a tropical drink with a slice of pineapple on the rim, which she accepted and sipped. Then, finally, she said, "You know, running after Miral wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I said an active program. I thought Chakotay was baby-sitting."
Tom smirked, sipping his own drink. "I know, but it's kind of nice, isn't it?"
"Chasing the kid over sex on the beach?"
"Come on, B'Elanna. This is the life. I have a gorgeous daughter, and I get to work with my even more beautiful wife – when she's not being secretive." Tom squinted as he turned to look at her, as the sun was behind her shoulder. He caught her staring out at the crashing waves, unaware and unguarded. He loved how she looked when she felt completely at ease, but it was rare to catch her like that. In his line of vision, he also saw Miral venturing too close to the water, and though it was a holographic ocean, his parental instincts propelled him to his feet before he could think about it. He caught Miral when she was ankle-deep in the water, and he lifted her to his hip as he waded deeper into the crashing waves.
B'Elanna's tranquil face morphed into a smile of delight as she watched them. Tom and Miral splashed, laughing, for a few minutes before they came wading out. Miral landed with a wet plop in B'Elanna's lap, and Tom threw himself down on the sand next to her. He shook out his wet hair, flicking salty water onto B'Elanna's cheek. She wiped it away without complaint and put her arms around Miral.
"I think it's time," she said seriously, looking out at the waves again.
Tom lay on his side, squinting at her again. "Time for what?"
"Time to talk about having another."
That made Tom sit up. His large palm caressed the back of Miral's head. "Do you think we're ready?"
B'Elanna nodded. "Ready to start trying, yes." She angled her neck to look down at Miral. "Another daughter like you."
"Or a son."
"You'd probably like to have a son, huh?"
Tom's smile was as earnest as could be as he said, "Nah, I hope it's another girl."
"I was conceived on the holodeck?" L'Naan asked in disbelief. "In front of Miral?"
"No, you tribble," Miral snapped at her. "She just said I was one and a half. I'm three years older than you. Do the math."
"Do not call your sister a tribble," B'Elanna scolded. Then to L'Naan she said, "You were conceived a year later, but that was the day we decided we were ready for you."
"So where was I actually conceived?"
"Ew, I do not want to know," Miral interrupted.
"And I am not going to tell you." B'Elanna patted L'Naan's knee, vaguely aware that it was a gesture she'd picked up from Tom. "All you need to know is that we wanted you very much."
"And probably worked very hard to get her," Miral added sarcastically.
B'Elanna glared at her. "I thought you were done addressing my sex life. Stop thinking about it," she said forcefully.
"Hard to stop thinking about it when it wakes me up at two in the morning." Miral quickly escaped to her bedroom before her mother could reprimand her further for her impertinence.
B'Elanna closed her eyes, but the feeling of a small, warm hand on her own quelled her aggression. She looked at the hand, then at L'Naan, and smiled wryly. "L'Naan, promise me that when you're her age, you won't act like that."
"Mom," she said quietly, in a voice B'Elanna knew immediately meant the child was going to tell her mother a truth she probably wouldn't like, "you woke me up last night, too."
B'Elanna did not favor one daughter over the other, at least not consciously. She recognized, though, that her responses to them were different. If Miral had said it, she would have bristled. But these days they rubbed each other the wrong way no matter what. L'Naan, however, was a different story. A model of good behavior, it was remarkable she had even been spawned from Tom and B'Elanna's genes. And here she was, at the tender age of nine, sitting calmly and patiently through another fight between her sister and mother, offering advice beyond her years in the most polite manner.
"That loud, huh?" B'Elanna was mortified to be having the conversation in the first place.
L'Naan nodded. "You always are, but I think – I think it bothers Miral more now because of Andrew."
"Andrew?" B'Elanna repeated in disbelief. "I don't see the connection."
"Don't tell her I told you, but Andrew kissed Imani, and Miral is really jealous."
Things began to make a little more sense to B'Elanna.
"Wait, wait, stop," she panted, pushing Tom away. "The girls."
"What?" Tom asked groggily with confusion.
"The girls. They told me they can hear us."
Tom considered this for a moment. "So, what are we supposed to do, B'Elanna? Stop having sex?" One look at her face, and he saw how serious she was. He lay back on his pillow. "You're really upset by this?"
"It's Miral," she said, staring up at the ceiling. "Lately she knows how to push all my buttons."
"Do you want me to have a talk with her?"
"No, L'Naan thinks she's just upset because Andrew is interested in some other girl."
"Really? Andrew's interested in girls?" Tom sounded proud.
"Not girls," she corrected. "A girl. And one who is not your daughter."
"So Miral likes him?"
"I don't know about that, but according to L'Naan, she is certainly jealous that someone else has captured his attention."
"And that's why she's lashing out at you for capturing my attention?"
B'Elanna frowned slightly. "Well, when you put it that way…"
Before she could finish her thought, however, Tom rolled on top of her. She opened her mouth to protest, but he just touched his fingers to her lips and said with a devilish smile, "Let's see how quiet we can be."
Western Montana
L'Naan was definitely right about the tension between Andrew and Miral. Usually on their camping trips, they did everything possible to get away from her, but this time she found herself seated between them at the campfire as they roasted marshmallows.
B'Elanna and Libby sat on the opposite side of the fire, drinking the last of the coffee they'd made after dinner. Their children's seating arrangement hadn't gone unnoticed, but it would have to wait until the three had gone off to bed to be discussed.
Harry made what seemed like a flimsy excuse to everyone – that he wanted to show Tom a book he was reading – and the two escaped to Tom and B'Elanna's tent.
As she watched them go, B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "They're worse than children. Why don't they just admit they need time alone together?"
Libby nodded in agreement with a smile on her face. "Something about Tom always turns Harry into a little boy." She took a sip of coffee. "They're cute together, though."
Inside the tent Tom and Harry sat down on top of the sleeping bags.
"What's on your mind, Har?" Tom asked knowingly. "You're the worst liar I've ever met. I know there's a reason you wanted to talk."
Harry shook his head as he wrapped his arms around his knees. "I just wanted to get away from everyone for a little bit. I haven't really talked to you in a few months."
"How are things?"
"I know it sounds trite," Harry said with a smile, "but really, really perfect. Libby and I are happy, and Andrew's doing well in school. Work is great. Libby's work is great. Her mom's in good health." He shook his head. "Sometimes I feel too lucky."
"You deserve it," Tom said sincerely. "I'm happy for you."
"What about you?" Harry wondered.
Tom's smiled shifted slightly. "My warriors are locking bat'leths a bit more than usual these days."
"Miral and B'Elanna?"
"How did you ever guess?" Tom asked sarcastically.
"Well, it could be that they've barely said two words to each other since we got here," Harry revealed. "Or it could be that I overheard Andrew talking to her the other day. Or it could be that I know Andrew kissed Imani, and I know Miral's jealous."
"You know way too much about your son's life."
Harry shrugged. "We Kims are a close-knit family."
So are we Parises, Tom thought with a little grumpiness. But he knew his friend hadn't meant any harm.
The two men looked up as B'Elanna entered the tent. Realizing she had interrupted something, she stopped unzipping her parka and froze mid-stoop with a knowing, "Oh."
Tom patted the space next to him on the sleeping bag. "Come here," he said. "I was telling Harry about the civil war that's taken over our house."
She decided it was okay to intrude and continued to remove her parka. She tossed it in a corner of the tent. "You mean me and your oldest daughter?"
"Yes," Tom said, patting the seat next to him again.
B'Elanna crawled over to him. She looked at Harry, his face easy and blissful, more so than she'd seen in a long time. He also looked eager, ready to spout words of wisdom in her direction. She supposed he deserved a chance to do so after having played little brother to her and Tom for so many years. "I see," she said slowly. "Did you ask him for advice on how to handle her?"
Harry piped up eagerly. "B'Elanna, I don't mean to pry, but raising a teenager can be difficult. You and Miral are a lot alike, and I'm sure that only leads to more tension between you. Andrew and I are a lot alike, too, but we're both pretty easygoing, I guess, which makes it easier."
"This is supposed to be helping?" she interrupted.
"If you'd be quiet and let me finish." She smiled at him as she held up her hands in surrender. He continued, and B'Elanna was satisfied that he was enjoying his moment in the spotlight. "I find that sometimes as a parent, you have to forget your own feelings. You can't be hurt by things your child does or says. You have to remember that, as far as your teenager is concerned, you aren't really a person. And then it's easier to handle problems."
Fortunately, Harry couldn't see B'Elanna's dubious facial expression as she turned to Tom with a look in her eyes that said, "Are you kidding me?"
End of Part Two