Title: Through Hell and Darker Places
Author: Briana L. Wright
Rating: R
Codes: P/T past tense, C/T; AU
Author's notes: Inspired by the film, "Monster's Ball". No infringement intended. THANK YOU! to Angela Drews for encouragement & praises. God bless.
SUMMARY: Tom Paris is incarcerated for hijacking the Delta Flyer on a renegade mission. B'Elanna is left to raise their son, Demitri. This story assumes that B'Elanna and Chakotay are still serving together on Voyager, while Tom is being held at Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco. Tom and B'Elanna are no longer married as a result of his imprisonment. Be warned of two character deaths via murder and suicide.

 

Another month, another visit.

B'Elanna Torres never looked forward to day she wasted once a month for her ex-husband. It had been a year since the court martial that triggered a series of events that changed their lives. She had always feared Tom's disregard for authority would get him in trouble, but never to the extent that it did. Everyday thereafter had been marred by his negligence. If she had found his rebellious qualities attractive before, she admitted it now in shame. His lack of responsibility ruined his career and thus, tarnished her own reputation as an officer by association. She was still B'Elanna Torres, the brilliant engineer, but she was also the brilliant engineer who fell in love and married the now convicted prisoner, Thomas Eugene Paris. They'd also shared a son.

Tom (as was becoming of disregard for responsibility) had left the duty of explaining his absence to B'Elanna. What she left out, of course, was how he had failed them both. How he had left her alone to raise their son, and left her to deal with the embarrassment of his actions. Amazingly, in spite of her own bitterness, she found herself having to watch everything she said, at the risk of having her son mimic her resentment. She didn't want Demitri to hate his father the way she had hated hers. Some legacies were best laid to rest.

The visit was no different from the previous others. B'Elanna took her seat opposite him, as usual. There were never any soft words of comfort to offer during their visits--very few, if any, expressions of affection. Just idle...empty...conversation.

A very thin, stubble-faced Tom Paris spoke to the small brown-haired boy seated across from him. "Hey, sport."

"He has a name," Torres said sternly.

He watched as B'Elanna consoled their son, Demitri, who was clinging to his mother nervously. His eyes narrowed. "You never change, B'Elanna," he strained his voice. "My son, on the other hand, seems to think I'm a complete stranger."

"For God's sake, Tom, he's only five years old. You can't honestly expect him to hold onto what little memories he has forever." Demitri was still apprehensive at her side.

Paris anxiously got up and began to pace. The sight frightened the boy, making him grip Torres tighter.

B'Elanna glanced at the chronometer impatiently. "We should get going." Any excuse that would get them away from Paris was worth using--even if it was lame. Tom gave an annoyed sigh. Again, his son was watching him in fear. He tried to smile again.

But Demitri seemed to frown at the affection almost in offense. He turned away.

The guard came soon after, escorted them out, and that was it--as it typically was.

Just like the month before, Paris didn't even bother to count the days for when they would be back.

 

Back in their quarters, B'Elanna lay Demitri down for a nap. Once he was settled, she took a seat on the couch in the living room. She gave into her exhaustion, letting her weight sink into the cushions. Every trip ended with her feeling tired and emotionally drained. The only reason she continued to spare the ten minutes a day each month (if even that) was for the sake of her son. Of course, judging by his behavior from earlier, she knew she was only using him as an excuse.

Demitri would be six in another month. Tom's incarceration was set for up to five years. By then, the boy would be old enough to know the difference between right and wrong, and could be told the truth. He could choose if he wanted to see his father or not. That was the easiest way to cut of their connection to him completely, Torres surmised. It was the coward's way out, but a way out nonetheless.

A photograph of Demitri as a baby was on the small coffee table next to her. It was one of her favorites. He was sitting shirtless in a puddle of water, grinning. Every detail there complimented B'Elanna's genes, even the faintest cranial ridges. His temperament was the only thing missing from his inheritance. Looking at the image of joy before her, she was inspired. His smile gave her hope. His love was her strength.

And with that, B'Elanna Torres smiled her first smile of the day.

 

The following month's visit took place a few days before Demitri's birthday. Tom had--to B'Elanna's confusion--requested a photo of Demitri prior to their arrival. She complied, but reminded him. "You should have something for him. He's still your son. Jail time doesn't get you out of birthdays."

To Torres' relief, he had done as she asked. Tom had concocted what appeared to be a cupcake with a single candle on top.

"Happy Birthday, Demi."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. Due in part to the use of the nickname, partly because she was convinced he was being sincere. Demitri eyed Paris before blowing out the candle. "Thank you," he said politely.

Tom asked what he wished for. The boy looked nervously to B'Elanna. She reassured him with a squeeze of her hand. "I wished...you could come home," he lied. Torres was quiet. Paris said nothing.

A buzzer interrupted the uneasy silence. Tom stood. "It's my son's birthday, you bastards!" His fists hit the table.

Demitri easily found his mother's hand as she stood to leave. "Excellent, Tom. You sure know how to leave an impression. Goodbye." The guard secured the door on their way out.

Some time later, Tom preoccupied himself the photograph B'Elanna had left. He stared at for awhile, absently tracing the border with his finger. If there was one person he still felt gave him the slightest meaning, it was his son. Demitri was still a baby, but there would be more birthdays. He would grow into a man. In prison he obviously couldn't control the boy's upbringing, but he wasn't without influences in the outside world. There were contacts beyond that kept him in touch with Voyager. Tom learned long ago that under extreme circumstances, extreme measures needed to be taken. And since B'Elanna wasn't exactly an open book of information, he took the initiative to stay informed. As much as was possible from within maximum security.

The eyes of his son in the picture only met his with merriment. Oddly, nostalgia and bitterness settled in the longer he continued to stare at it. Such feelings he controlled most times. He accepted--only after the first month of solitary confinement--the reality of his present situation. He couldn't change what had already been done, and he couldn't win back either heart he had once possessed.

Tom fell asleep with Demitri's picture at his side.

 

That evening while Demitri was sleeping, B'Elanna returned to the storage box where she kept her old photos. She'd stayed up instead of going to bed herself. She found that old ghosts were keeping her awake. Since Tom's imprisonment, B'Elanna surrounded herself with those of her son, so it hadn't been hard to find one to give away. She kept the few others that featured herself among members of the crew near the bottom. They were dated at the time of Chakotay's birthday party a year before last. It was possibly the last time she had been genuinely happy.

She came to one of her with Chakotay. B'Elanna stared at it sadly, suddenly feeling as though she'd missed his companionship more than she realized. The last time they'd talked was after her divorce was finalized. She made little time for anything else outside of the demands of her son and Engineering.

The door chimed. She set the photo aside on the table next to her bed. "Come."

It was Chakotay who entered. He found B'Elanna sitting on the floor amidst an array of scattered pictures. "Reminiscing?" he asked, walking towards her.

"You know I'm not one for nostalgia."

He knew better. "You're not. That's why you keep everything in boxes." It was statement of fact, not an accusation.

She looked up from her pile. Damn his intuition, she thought. She momentarily resigned from her browsing. "It's been a long time, Chakotay. A long time since I opened these."

"I know. I was here when you first put them away. I told you not to do it alone. But you insist on ignoring my advice."

Chakotay knelt down beside her. With a gentle hand to her chin, he drew her face towards him again. "Fortunately, I find your stubbornness endearing." The warmth offered by his smile made her do the same.

She returned to her browsing until she found another photo that triggered her memory. "Do you remember this one?" B'Elanna handed it to him. It featured a very pregnant Torres beside Chakotay.

"Your baby shower. Of course. You were a little more than moody that day."

B'Elanna raised an eyebrow. "You try carrying a child for nine months. I earned my right to bitch."

"Apparently it also earned you the right to be complimented. Everyone kept saying how beautiful you were."

"If by beautiful," she chuckled, "you mean I looked like a swollen cow." Chakotay shook his head. "Okay, then. A beautiful, swollen cow." He grinned at her. B'Elanna jabbed him playfully in the arm.

"Any particular reason you chose now to revisit these?" Chakotay asked, massaging his arm. That'll bruise.

"I opened the box earlier so I could find one to give to Tom."

"You went to the prison today?"

"Yeah, I did," B'Elanna said without effort. She continued to go through more photographs. Chakotay watched as she absently shuffled through the box. He had missed out on an opportunity such as this one before. There she was, almost quite literally, digging up her past. "Old habits die hard," he said softly. B'Elanna came across an image of Demitri. "Yeah. And sometimes they reincarnate themselves." Chakotay regarded the picture for a moment. The only thing he saw was a happy young boy with his mother's eyes and determined chin.

B'Elanna turned to him suddenly very serious. "He deserves normality, Chakotay. A single mother and imprisoned father isn't what I'd call a stable home life."

"Circumstances notwithstanding, he's done just fine. And so have you."

B'Elanna's eyes fell on the picture again. Chakotay saw her purse her lips. He knew that sign well. She used it when trying to suppress emotion.

Almost instantly, a few stray tears fell on the photograph. He placed a gentle hand to her back. "You both deserve better." He used his shirt to wipe the moisture from her eyes, then that from the picture.

"Here. You keep it," she sniffled. "I never gave you one." B'Elanna gathered the rest of the photos and returned them to the box. Chakotay helped her put it back in the closet.

"Will you be okay?" He put a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah. I think I'll be all right," she assured him. Something in her eyes told Chakotay otherwise, but he didn't pursue it.

"I'll come by to check in on you tomorrow. In the meantime, you should get some rest."

"Thanks, Chakotay. I'm glad you stopped by."

He kissed her sweetly on the cheek before leaving.

 

The following night, Chakotay met B'Elanna in her quarters as he promised. With some persuading, he had helped Demitri finish a model project for school. B'Elanna noted bitter sweetly that his choice had been the Delta Flyer.

She was finishing off the dishes from dinner when she told her son, "Go get ready for bed, Demitri."

"Yes, Mom." Demitri climbed out of his chair, pushed it in, then went straight to his bedroom.

Chakotay was amused by what he'd seen. "How did a kid of Tom Paris turn out to be so obedient?"

"Discipline."

"I see." He said through a smirk. "That's ironic coming from you, don't you think?"

"Very funny. The past is the past." B'Elanna waved her hand, dismissing it.

He stood and joined her at the kitchen sink. "You know what they say: With age comes wisdom." B'Elanna laughed. "Something like that."

Chakotay was about to say something else when Demitri rushed to B'Elanna's side and attached himself to her leg. "You have to tuck me in now."

She ruffled his hair. "I'll be right there."

"Pleeeeease?" he begged impatiently.

She relented, letting Demitri lead the way. B'Elanna gave her old friend an apologetic glance.

 

Demitri's bedroom was dark, except for a stream of light that came in from the kitchen. B'Elanna pulled the covers up to his chin, then whisked her fingers through his hair. "I love you, Mom."

She kissed his cheek.

"Don't forget my prayers," he reminded.

Together, they recited: "'Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.'" Owen Paris had taught it to him, and ever since, Demitri insisted on saying it every night before going to sleep. Though at first she believed it to have morbid implications, B'Elanna respected the faith and became accustomed to the prayer night after night. "Goodnight, Demitri."

"Mommy?" he called as she turned to leave.

"Yeah?"

"Is Chakotay going to stay with us for a long time?"

She grinned. "Probably so."

"Good," Demitri said.

"Go to sleep."

She returned to the kitchen to find the counter had been cleared of the dishes she had left. Everything else was spotless, including the table, which now held a fresh bouquet of purple flowers in the center. B'Elanna took a seat next to Chakotay in the living room. She gave him an amused look. "Thanks. If you keep coming over here, I might get used to this."

"You should. It's not like I have a child to care for after a long shift." He flashed one of his famous grins her way.

B'Elanna exhaled a deep sigh of exhaustion. Her eyes were darker than usual and her shoulders sank as if she were carrying a heavy burden. Aside from fatigue, Chakotay suspected something else was weighing her.

"You've been considering something," he said.

B'Elanna folded her arms as she settled into the chair more comfortably. "I don't think I'm going to see Tom next month. I feel like I owe it to Demitri, but every visit is so..." She trailed off, unable to properly explain. Chakotay nodded, understanding. "You were there when it fell apart. Tom and I didn't end on the best of terms. Aside from his being in prison, I haven't done anything deliberate to keep Demitri away from Tom."

He sensed something more. "And yet...?"

"Demitri wants nothing to do with him. Whenever we visit, he never leaves my side. it's almost like he's afraid of him. "

"Maybe he is."

B'Elanna's frowned. "How can a child understand resentment when he doesn't even know what the word means?"

"I don't think it's as complex as that," Chakotay said plainly. "Children just have a better sense of who's good and who's bad, especially at Demitri's age. It's not impossible to think--even if you haven't done anything directly--that Demitri is afraid of Tom. There must be something about Tom that bothers him. Have you tried talking to him about it?"

She shook her head. "No. No, I haven't."

"I could--"

"No," B'Elanna cut him off. "It's all right. I can make the time."

They exchanged silence for a minute or two. Chakotay, who had a few things weighing on his mind as well, waited for her to speak again. When she didn't, he regarded her carefully before asking: "B'Elanna, why do you blame yourself for what happened?"

Torres looked up suddenly as though surprised. His eyes were sincere; his gaze, unwavering. There was no point in denying the obvious. She shook her head sadly. "Habit, I guess. I thought that things would change--stupid as I was. I thought, if he could change me, then why couldn't I change him?"

"I know he tried. But then, day and night, he was 'making repairs'. The more time he spent with that damn ship, I knew--I knew--something was bound to go wrong. I should've trusted my instincts. I should've told the captain when I had the chance."

"You weren't wrong for wanting to be loyal to your husband," Chakotay said. "I was shocked, too. I wanted to believe as much as you, that he had finally found some peace in his life. He surprised us all."

"But I should've known better, Chakotay. I was his wife...I knew him better than anyone else."

Chakotay shook his head in disagreement. "Tom Paris' conscience was not your responsibility, B'Elanna. Wife or not."

"It's my fault. I created this hell," she insisted. She stood up from the table and turned away from him. "Do you know how many nights I spent hoping by some grace of God that he would see the light? That he would realize just what he left behind? Do you know how hard it was to tell my son that his father wasn't coming back?" Her voice shook with emotion. Her eyes were burning with tears she was trying to hold back.

"How could I?" Chakotay asked. "You wouldn't let me. I realize things weren't easy, but whether you knew it or not, there were other people around you who were hurting. Tom was our loss, too. He was a valued member of this crew. A pilot, a colleague. A friend. He wasn't just a number."

Meeting his stern expression, she resigned from her protests.

"Listen to me. The only thing you're guilty of, B'Elanna Torres, is wanting happiness for yourself. That is not a crime. Letting yourself suffer for your husband's selfishness is useless. It wasn't you in that ship. You couldn't save him. He made his choice. That is his burden and his alone, not yours."

He gently persuaded her into his embrace. B'Elanna surrendered her burdens with her sobs, letting him hold her again as she wept. "I didn't mean to shut you out," she mumbled as he stroked her hair. "I didn't. I'm sorry."

He began to rock her gently. "I know."

 

After she'd fallen asleep on the sofa, Chakotay carried her to her bedroom. He carefully settled her into bed, then found a chair nearby and sat. He watched her gentle breathing until it lulled him to sleep. He was still by her side at dawn. By the time she awoke, B'Elanna had made her decision. Chakotay would replace her at Tom's next prison visit.

 

The chronometer in Paris' cell read 1600 just as the guard on duty entered. "You have visitors," he announced. It was different from their usual escort. Nevertheless, Tom rose from his bed and followed him.

He was surprised to find Chakotay seated next to Demitri. "Hello, Tom."

Paris sat. "Where's B'Elanna?"

"She had other things to attend to."

He eyed Chakotay suspiciously. "Why didn't she inform the prison she wasn't coming?"

"She didn't think you would mind. Besides, your son is the one here to see you, not me."

Tom saw that Demitri had grown a little since his last visit. He was taller. And his eyes were darker than what he remembered. He looked...older. It was shocking to see so much of B'Elanna in him.

"Hi, Son."

"Hi, Dad."

"How's your mom?" Demitri folded his hands in front of him and twiddled his thumbs absently. "You know."

"Yeah. I guess."

Chakotay observed the interaction between the younger Paris and his father. So B'Elanna's suspicions had been right. Tom might as well been a stranger. Monthly visits couldn't possibly nurture the bond of father and son that Tom and Demitri were obviously lacking. With each visit, he imagined, Demitri would grow more and more disinterested.

"Tell him about your project, Demitri," Chakotay suggested.

"Project?"

"I made a model of the Delta Flyer for school." His eyes never left the table.

A proud smile came to his face. "I built that ship."

"I know," Demitri said. He turned to Chakotay, who smiled. "Chakotay told me. He helped me."

Paris' pride dwindled some at the mention of that name. His whole body stiffened. He felt Chakotay's eyes on him, and he knew why he was watching him. Tom did his best to suppress the sudden rush of resentment. "He did, did he? That's great."

He failed. The sarcasm in his voice he meant for Chakotay to hear. There was silence between them. The tension was almost palpable. A welcome distraction came when they heard the door unlatch. The prison guard informed them that their time was up. Chakotay told Demitri to wait for him in the lobby for a few minutes, and he obeyed.

Once he was sure his son was out of ear-shot, Tom approached Chakotay. "Stay away from my son, you hear me?"

"What are you talking about?"

He stood from his chair and paced within the minimal space he had. "I said, stay the hell away from my son. I'm not an idiot, Chakotay. You've been around for more than just school work. He trusts you."

"And I suppose that's wrong because he would rather trust me than you?"

"You're damn right it is," Tom spat. "I'm his father."

"I don't know how you can even call yourself that, Paris. You don't know the first thing about being a father. If you did, you wouldn't be here right now." Tom's eyes shot daggers at Chakotay.

"You son of a bitch. Who the hell gave you the right to interfere with my family in the first place, huh? You think that because you helped put me here that it's okay to just take them away from me? Is this your way of getting revenge? I disobey your orders, and you move in on my family, is that it? Think you can waltz into the picture and take my place just like that?"

"You disobeyed me," Chakotay said, straining his voice, "and you endangered your wife and son at the expense of YOUR recklessness. You were selfish and greedy, and the court saw it. Not only did you disgrace yourself as an officer, but as a human being. They had every right to take you away from them because you didn't deserve the privilege!"

Suddenly Tom's fist connected with Chakotay's jaw.

He didn't retaliate. Chakotay was already worrying that Demitri could have been witnessing them not far away. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Don't think for one minute, flyboy, that just because you're in here I couldn't beat the living shit out of you. I could do it right here in front of the guards and still get away with it."

"Oh, I'm sure you could," Tom said, glaring. "And I'm sure B'Elanna would be so impressed. No wonder she put you up to coming here. I bet she wanted to make sure I was taken care of. You can have her for all I give a shit." Chakotay yelled for the guard, hoping he would get there before his fist found a place in Tom's face.

Two guards entered the room; one cuffed Paris while the other waited to escort the Commander out. "You tell my son I said goodbye." As Chakotay turned to leave, Tom called him. "One more thing..." He paused at the door.

A self-satisfied grin spread across Tom's face. "Enjoy fucking my wife. I know I did."

He lunged for Paris, but the guard held him back. "Go to Hell, Paris."

"Not unless I see you first," he winked.

 

It was a long walk back to his cell, or so Tom remembered. He barely heard the guard say something about being reprimanded for provoking a visitor when he sat down on his bed.

Despite his concealed demeanor, he was anxious over B'Elanna. His contacts were taking longer these days to return his calls. Was she alone, or would Chakotay be there? Demitri's slightest mention of Chakotay had triggered years worth of idle hostility. He had always held contempt for him, even as a Maquis.

But why this new sensation of jealousy? It's not as if his insecurity was anything new, especially over B'Elanna. There were times when he suspected something more, even after they were married. If Chakotay was assisting with school projects today, what next? It was pointless to care. He'd already told Chakotay he didn't.

And yet, Tom felt his anger brewing. He had already lost everything, but to lose it to Chakotay? Chakotay, his former Maquis captain. Chakotay his superior officer. Chakotay, the one who had glared at him at his court martial, and had been at B'Elanna's side. His pride couldn't stand it. How convenient that he'd always had the upper hand, Tom thought.

He turned over on his bed. More than likely, he'd be exiled to live out the rest of his days in prison. Even if he could get parole, there wouldn't be anything worth returning to. Eventually, his brooding put him to sleep.

 

Restless and bitter, he tossed.

That night he dreamt of returning home, to walk into his former quarters and find the happy family that was once there. Demitri greeted him with open arms at the door. He could hear B'Elanna's laughter in the distance. With Demitri in tow, he followed the sound of her voice into the bedroom. Tom found her in bed alone, and still as beautiful as he remembered. Tears came to his eyes as he walked toward her, already anticipating the warmth of her kiss.

Suddenly, he heard a noise behind him. He turned his head, but found nothing there. When he turned again, the scene was different. Everything had gone quiet, and he sensed something was wrong. He called for Demitri, but received no answer.

Then he saw them--Chakotay and B'Elanna--in a fit of passion. Tom watched B'Elanna arch her back as Chakotay explored her visibly perspiring body with his mouth. Her thighs (visibly marred with bite marks) kept him in a vice grip. He met her submission with eager kisses down her neck, onto her shoulders and chest. When his lips found hers, Tom heard the moan of ecstasy that rose from her throat.

A jealous rage ripped through him, but when he tried to step forward to intervene, he couldn't. He was paralyzed by some force, unable to move or even speak. His fists tensed, but the air around him seemed to restraint his offense. Words gathered in his throat, but he couldn't find the breath the scream them, shout them.

That was when B'Elanna turned to look at Tom. It was as if she'd sensed his helplessness. She stared at him intently. Her expression began to change. Slowly, the corners of her mouth curled until it transformed in a taunting smile.

A scream miraculously escaped his mouth--

And he woke up.

 

Tom sat up and anxiously glanced around the room. He was still in his cell. The chronometer told him it was still late, and likely dark. He ordered the lights.

On the small table next to him, he found Demitri's picture. He stared at it intently for the longest time, trying to replace the previous imagery that filled his head. The same that was stirring the bitterness, anger and rage inside of him. But the more he stared at Demitri, the blurrier he became. His lifetime was made of a collection of blurs and smudges, in fact, of careless ambition and countless mistakes. Countless mistakes. He needed to get out. He needed to erase the past. Tom stood, his eyes never leaving his son's portrait.

Chakotay can have my wife, he thought, but he can't have my son.

Paris pressed the call button in his cell for the guard. "I have to use the bathroom." He quickly grabbed something out of his drawer and put it in the waistband of his pants. Seconds later, the guard on duty appeared and escorted him to the bathroom. "Five minutes," he warned, watching Tom go in.

Above the single stall was a vent large enough to fit Tom's build. Tom stood on the toilet and took a small tool out from its hiding place. Very carefully he unhinged the gate over the vent, then placed it off to the side. He jumped up and climbed upward into the vent that would lead him to freedom. Some high-security prison, Paris thought on his way out.

Shortly after, the alarm for his escape went off. Within fifteen minutes, Tom Paris was gone from the complex, headed for Voyager.

 

"Was Demitri okay with you yesterday?"

"He was fine. Tom is another story."

They walked down the corridor. "What happened? What did he say to you?" Chakotay's jaw tightened. He didn't answer her.

She shook her head. "I should've known better. He never could get along with you in close quarters." Chakotay stepped into the turbo lift after her. "Hostility aside, I think it's more than that. He confronted me about you, about Demitri. Said that I had something to gain by having been the one who put him in prison."

B'Elanna's voice rose. "He threatened you?"

"It was implied."

Torres spat a curse in Klingon.

"B'Elanna, there was something maniacal about him yesterday. Maybe this sounds ridiculous, but I think we might have reason to worry about him harming you or Demitri." They walked out of the turbolift and into the corridor.

"It's not as if he hasn't had the opportunity." That shocked him. "What do you mean?"

"I know Tom could've escaped from San Francisco easily if he wanted to. He gave up on coming back a long time ago."

"Did you ever mention this to the captain?"

The two entered her cabin. "Of course. But that was months ago. Demitri, I'm home."

Chakotay stood behind her. "Demitri?" He took in the surroundings. Nothing looked as if it had been disturbed.

B'Elanna called for Demitri again, but still there was no answer. They went into the kitchen--nothing. "Computer," B'Elanna said, "Locate Demitri Paris."

"Demitri Paris is on Deck Twelve, Section Eight." Their quarters. Her heart clenched.

Chakotay checked the bathroom and B'Elanna's room. Still nothing. That only left Demitri's room.

He noticed the lighting had been reduced. It was late in the evening, but not quite his usual bedtime. "Demitri? Computer, increase lights by thirty-percent." Nothing could've prepared him for what he saw next.

Tom Paris was sitting next to Demitri's bed, while Demitri was in bed. The boy was covered in blood.

He spared Chakotay a glance. "Nice of you two to join us." Tom held his son's hand and stroked his hair nonchalantly. His hands, too, were covered in blood. B'Elanna's heart clenched at what she saw. The reality of brutal murder hit her as if her entire body had been thrown into warp ten.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Torres screamed. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON!!" She lunged for Paris, but Chakotay held her back. He tapped his badge. "Medical emergency! Beam Demitri Paris directly to sickbay! NOW!"

Anger ripped through her entire body. She wanted to rip out Tom's heart. She wanted him to choke on it. "Security! Intruder alert! Tom Paris is in Lt. Torres' quarters!" Within seconds officers bombarded her cabin, phasers pointed at Tom.

"YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH!" B'Elanna yelled again, "How COULD you? YOU SICK BASTARD! I'll kill you! I'LL KILL YOU!"

But Tom spared her the trouble. Still grinning maliciously, he took the knife he had used earlier and turned it on himself. The blade went right through his chest, into his heart. Blood spewed forth and drenched his clothes. Steadily, his breath became shorter and shorter; his body sagged against the wall. Until finally, his eyelids shut and he slumped onto the bed. The security team looked on in utter shock. One young lieutenant excused himself and vomited outside the corridor.

Chakotay was still bearing her weight against his own. "B'Elanna!" She couldn't hear him. It was though she had gone into a daze. "Transporter room, two to beam to sickbay!"

By the time they got there, it was too late. B'Elanna heard the Doctor pronounce Demitri dead.

"No..." The disbelief barely escaped her lips in a whisper. She shook her head repeatedly, still in shock. Chakotay carefully gathered her in his arms. Within moments, violent sobs shook her body as she watched the Doctor place a sheet over Demitri's lifeless body. Torres screamed in agony. The sound made his heart clench in his chest and his ears rang forever after with her cry.

 

Captain Janeway arrived minutes later. She paled as the Doctor recounted the events. Major blood loss. Scans revealed Tom had slit the boy's wrists, places in his neck...so he had died slowly, painfully. It took Kathryn a few moments to collect her own thoughts before going to Chakotay, still by B'Elanna's side. She knew Tom was capable of some diabolical things, but to kill his own flesh and blood? That was insane. The violence and cruelty of his crime disgusted and disturbed her.

She touched Chakotay on the shoulder, who held B'Elanna protectively. In this situation, her first instinct would have been to offer words of comfort, but there weren't any. So she settled for her second: justice. Kathryn left the two alone and returned to the Doctor, who was already issuing Demitri Paris' certificate of death.

In hushed tones, they spoke. "I will contact Starfleet headquarters first thing in the morning." She paused, taking a glance at the mutilated boy next to her and then to his father. "What I'd like to know is how the hell he got on this ship. Our shields should have detected an intruder. We could have saved Demitri..."

The Doctor understood the captain's contempt. After seeing the boy's wounds, he too, felt it. "I'm sure they did, Captain. It all just happened so quickly. What's done is done. I'll say this, though. The Tom Paris that did this was not the Tom Paris we knew."

Kathryn watched as B'Elanna went to her son's bedside. She removed the sheet enough to see his face. She was sobbing again as she caressed his cheek. Chakotay was at her side, sharing his sorrow. Tears began to gather in her own eyes. Hot, angry tears. "Why, Doctor? Why?"

Looking to the mourning Torres and Chakotay, he shook his head, not knowing what else to say.

 

"Captain Janeway. I'm sorry to be speaking to you under such unfortunate circumstances. Please send our sincerest condolences to Lieutenant Torres. Our prayers are with her in this time of tragedy."

Kathryn nodded. "Thank you, Admiral. I will."

The older woman on the screen continued, "I'm assured the prisoner Thomas Eugene Paris is securely in your custody, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir. But he's no longer living. Upon killing his son, he took his own life as well."

The admiral was silent, but her stoic expression betrayed her horror by the news. "I see. Then I will notify Admiral Paris immediately. He will rendezvous with you to collect his son's body. Again, extend our deepest sympathy to Miss Torres."

"We'll be waiting, Admiral."

"Nachev out."

 

The following weeks brought further pain and depression for B'Elanna. The satisfaction of her ex-husband's death was brief. Though he was no longer a threat to her, his death could not bring life back to her son; it didn't squelch her heartache. Demitri's funeral and the clearing of his room thereafter, was equally torturing. The empty room was symbolic to the hollowness she felt within. Chakotay respectfully agreed to give B'Elanna space so she could have time to grieve on her own, despite his fear that prolonged solitude would only make things worse.

The nights he spent alone in his quarters were spent worrying about her, barely sparing himself a few hours to sleep. By the end of the month, Chakotay decided he couldn't further stand the hollow silence in his cabin.

He entered hers willfully one evening with the right password. He found B'Elanna curled in a fetal position in her bed.

"B'Elanna?" When she didn't answer, he went to her--not caring whether or not she was awake.

B'Elanna had heard him enter, but was too lost in her own reverie to say anything. Chakotay lie next to her, almost so that his body was spooning hers. Still, she didn't move. She was too tired, too depressed, in too much pain to acknowledge anything at all.

He knew she was still in mourning, but so was he. And he had reached a point where he didn't want to bear the sorrow alone. "I miss him," he said.

Suddenly the tears came on their own accord. Chakotay could hear her choke. "I want him back." A sob rose in her throat. "He should be here, right now. He should be here." He wrapped his arms around her from behind, holding her tight.

"He should be here." He rest his chin on her bare shoulder. "I know, B'Elanna." Suddenly he realized she wasn't wearing any clothes.

"I can't believe he's gone." Her voice shook with desperation. More tears wet her exhausted face. Chakotay held on for life, afraid if he let go, she would disappear into her despair forever. "I'm here now, B'Elanna. You have me. I promise." He held her to him, giving to her and himself the intimacy they'd been missing in the void of the past months.

 

Shortly, B'Elanna awoke from a nightmare. She reached out to him as a reaction. Her frightened touch was met by his solid form. Chakotay woke up, startled. He saw the anxiousness in B'Elanna's eyes. "What is it?" She was sitting up now.

He carefully drew her clenched hands away from her chest and took them into his own. Chakotay kissed them, gently. "It was only a dream. Only a dream, B'Elanna."

She relented against his affection, seeking comfort in the touch she had denied herself before. She surrendered to the protection and understanding this man offered. Her commander, her comrade--her best friend. Now her lover. "Chakotay." He met her eyes at the whisper of his name on her lips. Longing was building there, and at last, her tears had put him at her mercy.

Chakotay took her face in his hands and just stared, seeing his reflection in the depths of her profound eyes.

"I need you so much," she whispered. "I need you." Her breath was warm on his lips, only inches away. Her body was already closing in on the proximity of his. "I need you, Chakotay."

He kissed her sweetly at first. Then as she responded to him, he pursued her mouth again and again, wanting more of her. His flesh ached for hers; He wanted to touch every part until he found the ecstasy that was her soul. As he found himself exchanging desire and comfort with her into the early hours of the morning, he realized that he could not be complete without her. He had made her tragedy his own, and in mutual suffering, they had become survivors.

Pain vanished that night. Gone, but not forgotten. All that was left was a feeling of rebirth.

 

EPILOGUE
A year later

Torres carefully knelt down beside the soft green grass that surrounded her son's grave. She lovingly caressed the headstone. Delicate tears made their way down her cheek in memory. It was his seventh birthday today.

Chakotay knelt next to her, placing a bouquet of mixed wildflowers onto the grass. Hand in hand they said a prayer, sending their love and solace onto the boy whose life had been cut so short.

B'Elanna touched the cold stone once more, placing a kiss on top. Her other hand found her swollen belly and she looked to the engraved name, silently asking for a blessing. She and Chakotay watched as the sun sank beneath the horizon.

"Your sister is getting so big," Chakotay spoke to the headstone, smiling. "She should be here any day now." The wind gently rustled the bouquet.

"It's all right," he said. "I'm taking care good care of them." There was silence.

Chakotay muttered something in his native tongue. You are not forgotten. The wind was still. He and B'Elanna looked to the sky. They understood the sign. Demitri's spirit had found peace. He was finally at rest.

 

END