Summary: Set roughly in an Alternate History/Universe sixth season. Question is--what would you do?

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but this is way too soap-opera-ish for the show to do, so I'm dragging out my melodrama and trying it for them. I'm not making money, I'm not doing anything very cruel, so avoid visiting your lawyer, huh? The story, Anna Zephyr, and Joseph Stein, are mine.

Archiving: ASC, all others ask

Author Notes: Deliberate echoes of Course: Oblivion herein--I was trying for sentimentality, 'kay, so give me credit for knowing it!

Dedication: To the brave betas--and were they brave! Ann, Kat, Queco, Sorcha, Robin, and Stephane, who went through double betas, long discussions on motivation, and general jenn-grumpiness when, as usual, they were right. To the members of PTF and P7C, who got me motivated to try something new.

Finally, to Melanie, of To Tell the Truth fame, who wrote Protestations of Innocence and started me thinking.

Feedback is always appreciated mightily, so feel free to leave your thoughts--good, bad, and in between.

Thanks to Mary Elizabeth for the quote--you're right, it works perfectly.

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For so it falls out

That what we have we prize not to the worth

Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost,

Why then we rack the value, then we find

The virtue that possession would not show us

Whiles it was ours. (4.1.228-233)

Much Ado About Nothing

************************************

B'Elanna heard the computer telling her to get up.

It didn't speak, as some wake-up calls did. It blared out an alarm to wake the dead (B'Elanna slept heavy), and brought her straight up in bed most mornings, ears ringing long enough to get her to the shower and ready to face a new day.

She burrowed her head under her pillow and closed her eyes tight. Maybe the damned computer was wrong--maybe it was yesterday--or last week. Or last month.

Or last year.

Today was Tom's wedding day.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. She shouldn't be getting up to attend his wedding. Unless she was in it, that is.

Which she wasn't.

Not exactly inspiring, to say the least.

Slowly, she got up and made her way to the sonic showers, tossing her pajamas on the floor, not really caring where they landed. Flicking her fingers over the light-switch to bring it on, shaking her head slightly before touching the controls on and stepping in, closing her eyes as she leaned against the cool tile wall.

This would be a long day.

* * * * *

"Seven, wake up."

Seven had no desire to wake up. She buried her head beneath the pillow, throwing one arm over her face, and curled up tighter.

"For goodness sake, Seven…" then the voice broke into laughter. "What happened to perfection?"

"I have seventy-five minutes before I am required to report to Captain Janeway to discuss the day's events," she answered, head still turned away. "I require three minutes to take a shower, ten minutes to get dressed, and five minutes to ingest a nutritional supplement. I do not need to get up yet."

Something was held in proximity to her almost buried nose. One blue eye opened and then widened.

"You prepared breakfast." She sat up, meeting the eyes of her lover with surprise. "I did not expect this."

Though perhaps she should have.

"If you expected everything I did, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it? Up you go." He pulled the pillow away playfully. "This is probably the last time we're going to be alone until late tonight, at the earliest."

"Human customs," she said, sitting up. "Tom, I don't--strawberries?" Her voice changed. No one ever tired of watching Seven's humanity express itself, Tom least of all. He spent a great deal of his free time plotting for just this reaction. Grinning, he put the tray over her lap and sat down across from her, watching her arrange the sheet efficiently over her legs.

"Why did you bring the meal to the bed, Tom? It would be more efficient to consume nutrition at the table."

"Sometimes the point is not to be efficient, but to have fun." He flashed her another smile. "Besides, this *is* more efficient. Less unnecessary movement."

"As usual, your logic is curious." She picked up one of the strawberries. She had a definite weakness for berries, and Tom capitalized on it whenever possible. "What is this?" She pointed at the plate beside the fruit, where several round breads were in evidence. Tom rarely chose the same breakfast twice, unlike Seven. If left to herself, she would ingest the exact same messhall standard food every day without ever considering the attractions of variety. So on those days he replicated breakfast for them, he would always choose something a little unusual for her. And she had never, since the first time he'd done that, objected.

After all, that first time had been strawberries. Carefully dipped in the chocolate he'd smeared across her bare stomach and breasts.

Seven still felt an unaccustomed heat suffuse her skin when she remembered that.

"Bagels." He picked one up, splitting it carefully and spreading cream cheese and jam from the little jars beside the plate, then held it to her lips. Delicately, she bit off a piece, and caught the jam at the corner of her mouth with one finger. Blue eyes met his appreciatively.

"Like?" He sounded smug. Seven's ocular implant jumped a centimeter, but he could see the corner of her mouth twitch.

"It is acceptable."

"Be still, my heart." He handed the bagel to her and began to fix one for himself. "Have you tried on the dress?"

She nodded as she took another bite, but restrained herself from answering until she swallowed.

"Yesterday Ensign Zephyr finished the alterations. The fit is acceptable." She picked up a strawberry. "According to custom, you are not permitted to see me before the wedding, correct?"

"Well, sort of not directly before, once you have the dress on. Which one did you go with, anyway?" He took a quick bite. "The Captain refused to tell me."

Seven shook her head.

"I was informed that you were to be--surprised--at my choice." She picked up another piece of fruit. "The Captain wishes to see you this morning."

"I know. I remember." He finished the bagel and picked up a strawberry.

"You have a curious ability to forget when an event or appointment does not suit you," Seven observed.

"Three snide remarks in one morning. I'm impressed. You're learning, Seven." He finished off his breakfast and brushed a kiss on her temple before standing up. "I'm going to take a shower. Care to join me? After all, it will be our last shower in these quarters."

"I doubt any 'showering' would get done if I chose to join you," she answered, but a definite grin, though small, turned her mouth. Tom laughed, shrugged, and went into the bathroom.

If anyone had told Tom a year ago that he would be marrying Seven of Nine, he would never have believed them. Even seven months ago, when Seven had coolly stated she wished to change the nature of their relationship from casual to serious, he probably would have wondered if the person in question was ill. But just a month ago, he had proposed to her, finally beating her to the punch (she'd been the aggressive one in their relationship, an interesting change for Tom, and certainly not unpleasant) and today, to the never ending shock of the crew, he would be married to the one woman on Voyager that no one had ever expected would choose to carry on a relationship.

Dropping his robe on the floor, he got in the sonic shower and set it to start, then closed his eyes. And was pleasantly surprised when someone else touched the sonic controls off, and hot water from the shower caught him unaware. Seven liked water showers when she was in certain moods. He opened one eye, flashing her a cocky smile.

"Glad you could make it." He stepped back a little, giving her space to join him.

"You did tell me we would not have time alone until later this evening."

He grabbed her arm, pulling her toward him, watching in amusement as she sputtered when the water hit her face, and leaned to kiss her. She slid an arm around his neck, then deliberately overbalanced them both, and he leaned back against the wall, pulling her off her feet, then turning them both so she was braced against the wall. Long legs encircled his waist, and a delicious mouth brushed his, followed by a low gasp.

A wonderful way to start the day.

* * * * *

B'Elanna arrived at her shift for engineering to see Harry, no surprise, seated at a workstation. She walked over, tapping him lightly on the shoulder, and he turned around, tossing her a distracted grin before touching the workstation into a pause.

"Hey."

"Hey," she answered, looking over his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Harry stretched his back, and B'Elanna's eyebrows jumped at the sound of vertebrae popping.

"The Captain asked me to re-write some of our diagnostic algorithms," Harry answered, and B'Elanna watched as he absently rubbed the small of his back. "So I--"

"Decided to get a head start?" she finished, and pushed his hand out of the way to gently rub the offending spot. Harry sighed softly, and she tried to control the smirk that threatened to spread across her face.

"Something like that," Harry answered, and B'Elanna glanced up to see his eyes close. "I finished most of the primaries last night, they just need to be checked and run to make sure I didn't miss anything."

"I can't see how you would, but I'll help you check them tomorrow," she answered, and she heard what could have been a groan when her fingers apparently found the most troubling spot. She grinned a little as he flexed his back carefully.

"That's good, Maquis."

"It should be--I've practiced enough," she answered shortly, then let her hands crawl up his spine to find the remainder of the aches. "How long have you been down here, anyway?"

Under her hands, Harry stiffened, and B'Elanna instantly pulled back, looking curiously at her friend.

"Wrong question?"

Harry shook his head.

"Just for awhile--"

"Since--say, around five or so?" she offered, and watched him flush. "Why did you get up so early--" it hit like a phaser to the head, and she felt her teeth clench briefly before she managed a quiet "--oh."

Harry swiveled around, and she refused to acknowledge the sympathy in the large brown eyes.

"B'Elanna--"

"Not you too!" She slapped him on the shoulder, none too gently, and then picked up the PADD she'd left on her workstation with a copy of the day's activities on it. "You, Chakotay--thank God the Captain didn't take it into her head to become suddenly sympathetic! I'm fine, Harry--I've known about this for awhile. And its been over between Tom and I for a long time."

If she tried really hard, she could believe it too. Hopefully, Harry would take everything at face value.

"Okay, sorry." He sounded a little hurt. Too damned bad. She wasn't in the mood to pander to anyone's feelings.

"Fine. When will you be done with those?"

Harry glanced down at the forgotten diagnostic programs.

"In a couple of hours I report to the Bridge. Why?"

She tapped a few commands into her station and turned to face him.

"I want to upload them this afternoon and begin beta-testing to see if they work. It'll give my staff something to do."

Harry nodded, but apparently had the sense not to push. B'Elanna watched him for a moment, then turned to glance back down at her console, opening up the gamma shift logs to see what had happened the night before.

And determined, set herself to read. To her surprise, there was some actual work to be done--Holodeck 2 was experiencing some sort of power drain.

{Thank Kahless.} She called to Carey to oversee Engineering and found her tool kit. {Work. Real work.}

As she left, she could feel Harry's eyes on her. And ignored him.

* * * * *

"Tom!" Captain Janeway stood up from her ready-room table and walked over to embrace the tall young man as he came in. "How are you feeling? Cold feet?"

"I've officially been asked that eight times since I left my quarters, and I came straight here. Soon, even Seven's going to be asking," he answered with a pathetic expression, following her to the couch and sitting down. "My feet are at their normal temperature, as usual. My nerves, on the other hand, are a little shaky."

"Coffee?" She turned to the replicator.

"Please."

Janeway grinned as she picked up the two cups and handed him one, before sinking down on the couch beside him.

"Nervousness is to be expected, Tom. You’ve never been married before. It would make anyone a little nervous," she laughed. "I know you've been excited about this for weeks. Harry was worried you'd pilot us into an asteroid yesterday." She tilted her head to give him a wise smile. "Too much anticipation, Tom?"

Blue eyes narrowed playfully.

"Hmmm. Let *Harry* get his rear at the Conn for a couple of days in an asteroid field." A smile dawned on his face, "Isn't it time for a little cross-training, Captain?"

Captain Janeway laughed and sipped her coffee.

"Is everything ready?"

"Seven already transported most of our stuff to our new quarters this morning before I left, so there really isn't much else to do." He leaned back, taking a drink of his coffee as the blue eyes grew distant. A small, wistful smile turned his mouth. Janeway wondered what he was thinking of.

Or maybe she could guess. She hid a smirk behind her own cup.

"I know we went over this last week, but do you have any last-minute questions?"

Tom shook his head.

"No, not really. Seven could probably do both our parts with her eidetic memory. I'm sure she'll prompt me if it becomes necessary." He didn't even try to hide his smile then.

The Captain regarded her Chief Conn Officer with a speculative look.

"You know, Tom, when you and Seven came to tell me you wanted to get married, I was surprised. And uncertain. It seemed very sudden."

He nodded.

"It was sudden. But--well, we didn't want to waste any more time than necessary. Seven was ready to be married then and there, do you remember that?" He laughed softly at the memory.

Janeway grinned reluctantly.

"Oh, yes, I do remember that--"

* * * * *

"Explain."

Seven stood in the center of the Captain's quarters, watching her with barely leashed impatience. Captain Janeway gave a pleading look to Tom, who merely shrugged, trying not to laugh.

"Seven, marriage is a very serious undertaking--"

"Lieutenant Paris and I have been involved in a monogamous sexual relationship for seven months, three weeks and six days. I do not see why I must wait a further month to enter into a formal contract."

Janeway blinked. {Contract?} Apparently having read her face, Tom sighed.

"When I asked her, she had already researched the concept. According to Starfleet protocol, it *is* a contract." He leaned back on the arm of a chair to watch his fiancée exercise her stubbornness, then glanced at her hand, where the ring he'd given her that evening was winking. A small dark sapphire, flat against the plain gold band, enough so it wouldn't break regulations. She'd approved of his practicality.

"Tom, do you have a preference on the date?" Janeway asked Tom. He grinned.

"Up to her. Though you know, Seven, there aren't many weddings on Voyager." He glanced quickly at Captain Janeway, and her almost imperceptible nod followed. "It would be a good opportunity for the crew to get together and celebrate something. Neelix, you know, will want to provide a celebration. And Naomi Wildman, I'm sure, would love to be part of the wedding."

Naomi was Seven's weakest point, besides Tom. Her expression softened just a little.

"What kind of celebration?" she asked.

Janeway breathed a sigh of slightly amused relief. It was early, she hadn't had her coffee--and Seven was not someone easily handled early in the morning. She wondered how Tom managed.

{Or if he even does.} She tried and failed to control her smirk.

"There are many kinds, depending on your species--" the Captain began.

"Human." Seven was firm.

"All right, a human wedding. There are many different forms--" she broke off when Seven turned on Tom.

"In the database, there was a human wedding that required that the female wear a long dress. A white dress. Is this customary?"

Both Tom and Janeway blinked.

"Uh, yeah…but you don't have to--" Tom began.

"That one, then." She looked satisfied. Janeway took a moment to wonder on Seven's preference. Somehow, a formal dress did not seem to fit with the former Borg.

"In a month," Janeway said. Seven turned back to the Captain.

"Why? Explain."

"To give everyone time to find gifts, for Neelix to plan out--Seven, one month."

Take the hard line. Occasionally, that worked. Seven glanced back at Tom. He nodded carelessly.

"That's fine with me. It will give us time furnish our new quarters. In other words, no more cargo bay for regeneration, we can move the unit into the new rooms. That work for you, Seven?" He studied her set face for a moment. "Besides, Neelix will want that much time to plan the entire thing. You want it to be perfect, correct?"

When all else failed, appeal to her desire for perfection. Her mouth tightened slightly, then she slowly nodded.

"That is acceptable." She gave them both a look that passed for acceptance, and Tom watched Janeway's expression melt. Seven was, in some ways, her daughter.

"Seven, could I talk to Tom privately?" Janeway asked.

Seven blinked.

"Of course. I am late for my shift in Astrometrics." She walked to the door, and Tom straightened quickly. The old-fashioned good manners had taken awhile to explain to the former Borg, but she had grown accustomed to it and touched his outstretched hand briefly. That was as close to public demonstrations of affection as the Captain had ever seen Seven initiate, and her eyes, against her own inclinations, grew misty.

They made such a wonderful couple.

Janeway watched Toms eyes follow Seven out of the room, and the door closed before she spoke again.

"You asked Seven to marry you?"

He nodded, taking the seat beside her on the couch at her gesture. The blue eyes met hers without a trace of guile.

"Yes, last night." He waited. She tapped her fingers on the arm of the couch discordantly.

"Tom, its been less than a year since you and B'Elanna broke off your relationship, and you were together for over a year. Are you sure--"

"That I'm not using Seven as a substitute?" He shook his head. "I'm not, Captain. I know that. Seven knows that. We talked about it, you know, especially at the beginning."

She twisted one leg beneath her and turned to face him, supporting her head with one hand.

"I want you both to be happy. I can't say I didn't expect something like this," she confessed with a little grin. "Seven came to talk to me three days ago about courtship behavior. She was curious, as the male seems to give a ring to the female when asking for marriage, if she should perhaps do the same when she asked you."

Tom's grinned a little, leaning back. Janeway had never seen him so relaxed.

"I knew it." He held up one hand. On the ring finger, the thin gold band was evident. "She gave it to me this evening. I thought she might ask, so beat her to it." Idly, he twirled the ring. "Wedding. A long dress. I can even guess where she looked for her information. Gods. Neelix is going to be ecstatic."

"Harry won the betting pool," Janeway said mischievously. Tom laughed, and as she watched him, she tried to remember the man he had been before Voyager--and then man he had been before Seven.

Janeway had never consciously noted the differences between Tom in this relationship and in his relationship with B'Elanna, but there was a difference. While happy with B'Elanna, he had never been this secure. Seven was not one to leave anything to uncertainty. She made her feelings perfectly clear from the beginning.

Not for the first time, and it wouldn't be for the last, Janeway wondered what had drawn such different people together. Yet very much the same, in so many ways.

She suspected Tom sometimes wondered how it came about himself.

And Seven…she still felt some wonder when she looked at the former Borg. Seven's natural reserve was still in evidence, but not nearly at the level it had been before she'd begun seeing Tom. A great deal of that had to do with Tom's completely congenial nature, which she had begun to emulate. She had learned the art of making conversation, something Janeway hadn't believed possible. She was willing to try things that once she would have considered irrelevant. Holodeck games. Captain Proton had become a favorite since Tom had upgraded her character to a more--aggressive co-star. She went more often to social functions on board the ship, and worked better with others. She had been known to smile and laugh publicly on occasion.

But what had really made the difference, as far as Janeway could tell, was Tom's complete acceptance of her. He didn't care that she had once been a Borg. He never tried to change her, merely attempted to expand her interests, introduce her to the different aspects of humanity on the ship, letting her absorb the social and cultural customs of her species and those of other species at her own pace. When she had decided to join Starfleet, Tom had spent days drilling her in protocol from the manual (he had it memorized, Janeway knew), from the chain of command to departmental specialties and functions that had never entered her work sphere before.

He had given her the only thing she truly lacked--someone to constantly support her no matter what she decided to do, someone completely willing to understand her. And Seven had given Tom the same thing.

In retrospect, Janeway wasn't surprised.

"When are you going to make a shipwide announcement?"

"You mean the gossip mill might actually let me decide when? I'll leave it up to Neelix. Seven will tell Doc, I get Harry." Tom took another drink of his coffee. "He's the best man, after all."

"And B'Elanna?"

Tom's expression changed instantly. The easy openness was gone. Some things didn't change completely.

The end of their relationship had not been easy.

Janeway didn't think it would be easy for either of them. Especially B'Elanna. She sighed. Life on Voyager, the SS Fishbowl.

* * * * *

For some reason, and she wasn't sure why, B'Elanna left the holodeck and instead of returning to Engineering, went to Astrometrics.

Actually, there was a reason, and B'Elanna had pounced on it when Sue Nicoletti had commed her with some problem in the sensor grid. B'Elanna had taken one look at the readings and could see the root had to be from Astrometrics. With the report in one hand, B'Elanna left the holodeck as soon as she'd finished the diagnostics and made her way to Seven's domain.

Call it space-accident fascination, then--or just plain stupid. She no longer cared. She went to the door of Astrometrics and as it opened saw Seven was already at work.

A headache was already forming. She absently rubbed her ridges, watching Seven adjust yet another console before turning her attention back to the main viewscreen.

"Lieutenant Torres." Seven turned around, her usually impassive face creasing in a slight frown, though B'Elanna knew it wasn't at her. Something in Astrometrics, apparently, wasn't functioning at peak efficiency.

"Ensign," she answered. Though Seven accepted the title, she had refused both Captain Janeway's and Tom's suggestions she take up her birth name, Annika Hansen. Janeway had pressed the point longer than Tom had. B'Elanna remembered that. He'd simply grinned.

Ensign Seven of Nine. Well, not for long, not after today, at least. She'd be Ensign Paris. Wife of Tom, Lieutenant Paris.

Just great. B'Elanna felt the stab of pain in the center of her head that always signaled a migraine and clenched her hands into fists at her sides.

"Is something wrong, Lieutenant?" Seven looked mildly concerned. Seven noticing something as subtle as emotions was one of the many things that had changed about the former Borg.

"No. Just--" {Why am I here? Am I that much of a masochist, that I have to come see the happy bride before the wedding? Maybe just kill her and toss her body in the warp core? This can't be happening.} She glanced down at Seven's hand, the plain ring that decorated her finger. The dark blue that matched Seven's eyes perfectly.

B'Elanna remembered six weeks before, when Tom had purchased it, in a trade station when he'd gone with her, Harry, and Neelix to negotiate for some deuterium. He'd seen a sample on the armband of a native and asked about it.

She remembered watching his face as he bartered for it. Remembered Harry's expression from the glance she had stolen of his face.

The announcement Tom had made only two weeks later had not been a surprise to either of them. Shock, yes, but not a surprise.

"There are some inconsistencies reported through the sensors that seem to have originated here," B'Elanna answered coolly, handing the other woman the PADD.

"I have found similar problems, and Ensign Kim reported that Ops--" she stopped, and

B'Elanna heard the door open behind her and just *knew* who it was showing up. Just by the sight of the smile that curved Seven's mouth.

She always smiled when she saw Tom. B'Elanna's headache jumped a notch.

"Hey, B'Elanna," he said, brushing her shoulder with his hand. Tom was very tactile, a lot like Janeway, in fact. But his eyes were on Seven, and he only had two steps to go before he slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her lightly. "Seven, what are you doing here? Never mind, don't tell me. Inefficiency."

"There seems to be a fluctuation in the sensor grid. Harry informed me last night of the problem, and I wished to check on it before the wedding. Lieutenant Torres was reporting similar problems from engineering." B'Elanna noted Seven didn't even spare her a glance.

Tom took the tricorder from her and grinned, before ducking beneath one of the exposed panels.

"I'll help you finish up."

B'Elanna somehow managed to excuse herself. She doubted they would have noticed her leave otherwise. In the hall, as the door closed, she heard Seven laugh.

She wondered what Tom had said to inspire that.

If Seven's smiles were rare and usually reserved only for Tom, her laughter was almost unheard. Well, by the crew, anyway. B'Elanna leaned against the corridor wall and took a deep breath.

If it were not, she wouldn't have such a searing memory of the moment, the second, she knew it was truly over.

For good.

* * * * *

"B'Elanna!" said Harry, greeting her as he approached the table. The food in front of B'Elanna was uninspiring. It was relief to find an excuse to put her fork down, instead of throwing it at Neelix.

"Hey, Starfleet. Where's Tom?" She and Tom began to repair their friendship only recently, via Harry's unflagging efforts. Though she'd noticed that Harry had begun looking at Tom oddly, at least for the past two days.

And God, she wanted that friendship fixed. She picked up her fork to stab at a vegetable that seemed threatening in its color, and then looked back up at Harry.

Harry shrugged, setting his tray down on the table.

"Seven called him down to Astrometrics for something or other after shift. I think some of the power couplings were damaged during our run-in with the Del'Mar a few weeks ago." Harry poked his main dish tentatively. "Is this any good?"

B'Elanna frowned, considering that.

"She didn't call engineering," she told Harry. Then looked down at her dinner. {It's not like I don't have something better to do.} Decisively, she put down her fork, standing up. "I'll go check and see if they need anything."

Harry looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead shook his head, turning his attention to the plate. B'Elanna, after a curious glance at him, picked up her tray to leave.

B'Elanna went over a list of her duties today as she went to Seven's Sanctum (as her engineering crew called it), ticking off what had to be done before the end of shift--and a long sonic shower--maybe some time on the holodeck--

The door opened into Astrometrics, and B'Elanna stopped short at the sound of Seven's voice.

"Lieutenant Paris." Seven's voice was cool, but B'Elanna detected a hint of uncertainty. B'Elanna let the door slide closed behind her, not really thinking. Seven, standing by the main board, shifted from one foot to the other. Not quite nervous, not quite relaxed.

B'Elanna could almost swear she looked uncomfortable.

"Are the power levels still unstable?" She could see Tom's legs poking out from beneath a console. A discarded relay lay on the floor near his feet.

"No, Lieutenant. They are running at peak efficiency. I wish to ask you something of a personal nature."

B'Elanna watched Tom close up the panel and slide nimbly from under it, brushing his hands off on his uniform trousers.

"Shoot," he said. Seven's face turned into a slight frown, and Tom grinned and quickly corrected himself.

"Old Earth slang, Seven. What is it you want to ask me?"

"Are you free for dinner tonight?"

B'Elanna's back stiffened.

She'd noticed that Tom had begun spending more time with Seven. As very possibly the most social person on the ship, Tom had taken an interest in Seven's lack of social skills and her relative isolation from the crew. Hell, he'd been doing that from almost the day she arrived. He knew what it was like to be the outcast on board ship. Harry, at the beginning, had done the same, though B'Elanna had noticed that Harry had been spending progressively less time with the former Borg.

That fact came to mind now. Harry had been spending more time with B'Elanna recently, and for that matter had been far more quiet.

And that look in the Messhall.

Now she knew why.

B'Elanna knew this wasn't for a lesson in social deportment. So did Tom. He blinked, utterly silenced for perhaps the first time in his life. Absently, he leaned against the console, staring at the former Borg.

"Dinner?"

"Yes."

Tom regarded her for a few more seconds. B'Elanna could almost see his thoughts whirl behind the blue eyes.

"Seven, let me just make sure--are you asking me on a date?" His voice was edged with disbelief.

Seven nodded sharply. Over time, B'Elanna had learned to read the most subtle signs of confusion in the Borg, and sudden sharp movements always indicated nervousness. Seven's clear blue eyes were fixed on Tom, her hands folded neatly behind her. Only B'Elanna saw how tightly they were clenched together.

Seven was nervous. That had to be a first.

For a moment, he didn't say anything.

{He's going to say no.}

"All right. Any place in particular?" His head was slightly tilted, and a smile turned his mouth, a smile that B'Elanna recognized.

She felt her stomach drop.

"I reserved two hours on Holodeck One for 2000 hours tonight, if that is acceptable, Lieutenant." Seven relaxed visibly.

Trust Seven to use rank even during a time like this.

"Okay."

They looked at each other for a long time, in an awkward silence that was achingly familiar to B'Elanna. She edged back to the door. Tom slowly crossed the room, coming to stand near Seven. From where B'Elanna stood, she could see the way he was looking at the younger woman.

"Umm…Seven, you know, you can use my name."

They were nearly of a height. Seven nodded slowly, meeting his eyes. She had no idea how to be shy, B'Elanna realized. No idea at all.

"I will see you there, then," Seven answered. "Tom." He nodded briefly.

"I'll see you then."

B'Elanna, by this time, was already walking down the corridor. Hands clenched at her sides. She heard footsteps behind her.

"B'Elanna?"

She twirled on her foot, eyes narrowed. She saw Tom stop short, blinking at the suddenness of her movement.

"Can't keep your pants zipped for even a few months, huh, helmboy?" she spat. {Whoa. Where the hell did that come from?}

Tom stiffened, but didn't do what he once would have done, which was stop and give an explanation. Instead, to her surprise, he simply turned around on his heel and walked the other way. She stared at his retreating figure in utter shock.

Tom had never done that before. Never.

Harry met her in the hall, carrying a PADD. She almost ran him down. He stopped her with one hand to her shoulder.

"B'Elanna?"

B'Elanna turned on him, shrugging off his hand with uncharacteristic vehemence.

"What?"

The snap in her voice made Harry back off quickly.

"What--what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" She bit down on her lip, taking the time to calm herself. Not that it helped. "Nothing's wrong. Nothing unexpected, anyway," she snarled, walking by Harry. He jogged to catch up.

"What happened?"

She stopped again, giving Harry a hard look. Then turned herself fully toward him, meeting the brown eyes with hers, raising her head.

"Seven asked Tom on a date. He said yes."

Harry, for some reason, did not look surprised. Or really pleased, either. She studied the carefully blank expression on his face.

*Very* carefully blank. Harry was terrible at masking his emotions.

"I'd wondered if she would end up doing it or not," he answered, eyes a little unfocused. B'Elanna felt rooted to the spot. "She asked for my help to design a holoprogram she could use for a date."

"You knew?" Her low voice cut through Harry's introspection. He looked down at B'Elanna, as if he had just remembered she was there.

"I guessed, from the amount of time they spend together." Belatedly, he seemed to recognize her expression. "You don't like the idea?"

"I don't care. It's pure Tom Paris, anyway, can't go a day without trying to get some woman in his bed," B'Elanna shot, and turned to walk down the corridor.

She refused to believe it.

"I don't understand what you mean, B'Elanna." He caught her arm and she stopped short, jerking away with a little too much effort that almost sent her careening into the other wall. She caught herself quickly, turning on him, bitter words on the tip of her tongue--

{Remember what happened the last time you let your temper get out of hand?} She drew in a breath.

"You know exactly what I mean!" She bit her lip, controlling her temper with an effort. "He--and Seven--" She couldn't get the words out.

"Oh. Him and Seven. You're mad about that. Because he is interested in someone else?" His voice was neutral. B'Elanna felt a sudden, impulsive desire just to slap him, get *something* out of him--something--anything--

"Yes!" Not what she had meant to say, and she backtracked, knowing it was useless but doing it anyway. "No, not that. But he's already up to his old tricks, sleeping around--"

{Do I actually believe what I am saying? Or is it the fact that you know you'll never get that chance to make up?} She scrubbed the thought away, blinking hard to forestall even a suggestion of tears. {He won't make me cry.}

"Seven's the first date he's had since you broke up with him, B'Elanna. He hasn't seen anyone else, socially or otherwise." She could see him watching her face as she tried to contain her fury, and the hurt she wouldn't admit to. "They get along well, spend a lot of time together, they have similar interests."

"Assimilation?" she answered bitterly.

"Captain Proton, actually," he said softly, and B'Elanna saw his eyes grow distant again. "She's Constance Goodheart in the scenarios. Kicks robot ass regularly. Ever since the Void, actually."

B'Elanna shivered suddenly, remembering. {That long ago?}

"And Seven is endlessly trying to improve the Flyer. I wondered if perhaps--" he stopped. Shook his head. That look again, that B'Elanna recognized, even if she didn't want to. Because she could feel it on her own face.

Oddly, it was comforting to know she wasn't alone in this.

"You don't like it either," B'Elanna stated. His mouth tightened.

"I don't know. And it doesn't matter anyway, Seven has made her choice." Harry looked at B'Elanna, and she thought she saw resentment there. {Just like you made yours}, he seemed to say. She turned away, walking to the turbolift. Bit back the angry growls, because it *didn't* matter who Tom's latest bedmate was, it was his choice, damn it, it had nothing to do with her.

Or maybe it did.

"Engineering." She growled, leaning back against the turbolift wall. Staring at the closed doors, teeth clenched, hands fisted--

That thought didn't comfort her much as she stormed into Engineering.

Well, maybe a little

* * * * *

"You know, in every dimension, you always lose him."

B'Elanna spun around, blinking at the walls of her office. No one.

"Its funny. Somehow, you always find each other, and every time, you lose him to someone else. Kes, Seven--a Bajoran named Ro Laren. Sue Nicoletti. Megan Delaney--and don't even ask how that one happened. You always lose him, and I never understand that."

"Who's there?" B'Elanna hit her commbadge. Nothing.

And then she wasn't alone. A man sat in the chair across from her desk, dressed in a Starfleet uniform. Command issue. He grinned at her, leaning back a little, observing her through green eyes. Short black hair framed a handsome face, if you liked the kind that possessed a semi-permanent sneer. She didn't.

"Who the hell are you?" She hit her commbadge again. "Torres to Security."

"Q."

B'Elanna stared at him. He didn't look like any of the Q she had met. Not that she had any intention of waiting for introductions.

"Get the hell out."

He chuckled, leaning forward, resting his elbows on her desk. Flashed her a sunny smile.

"But B'Elanna--may I call you B'Elanna?--I'm here to give you what you want."

She hit the security button on the workstation. Nothing. {Damn it.}

"Get out of here!" {And how the hell do you throw an omnipotent begin out of your office, anyway?}

That was one of the things they must teach you in upper level Academy courses. Along with appropriately witty repartee--God knew, the Captain could do it.

Q grinned again and leaned back in her chair, arms genially crossed behind his head. Perfectly relaxed, and too damned amused for her taste.

"Do you always--what is the human term?--look gift horses in the mouth? I’m offering you what you want--Tom Paris, for some reason. Who knows why, but there it is." He sat up straighter, watching her. "I can get rid of that Borg for you."

B'Elanna turned away, going to the door and punched the release. Nothing. She glared at Q.

"Let me out of here. I'm not interested in your games, Q." Somehow, her voice remained steady. In control.

She wanted to put her hand through his chest. {As if I could hurt a Q.}

He sighed dramatically, and both booted feet were braced on her desk as he made himself more comfortable.

"It's not a game, B'Elanna. It's a--gift." His fingers flickered slightly in her direction. "For you."

"Why would you want to give me a gift? I don't want anything you could offer."

He chuckled.

"You sure about that?" The green eyes were speculative. "Humans are interesting. I like to watch them. Most of my kind do."

"Manipulate them."

"That too." A careless grin lit his face up again. "But in this case, my interests and yours coincide." He stood up, approaching her. Looked directly into the furious eyes. "I can fix this, B'Elanna. All of it. Like it never happened." He snapped his fingers casually in the air, and B'Elanna tore her gaze from them to look into those eyes...

And he stared back. For a moment…

"No."

Q smirked.

"Think about it, B'Elanna Torres. Not may people get the chance to change the past. To re-make it in their own image. Perhaps I should give you more time to consider my offer."

And he was gone. B'Elanna hit her communicator with one shaking hand, turning to the door that now opened on command.

"Torres to Kim." {Let him answer, please.}

:::Kim here. What's wrong, B'Elanna?:::

She breathed out, shaking her head, and began to tell him. The words caught in her throat, and she swallowed to clear it.

"Nothing, Starfleet. My communicator seemed to be malfunctioning. Torres out."

Her hand closed the channel even as she wondered what she had said.

She sat down at her desk, pulling up different PADDs to review. One, she recognized, as Harry's report on the diagnostic program overhaul. She pulled it up, forcing her attention to it...{Something to do.}

She shook her head.

"Chief?"

B'Elanna looked up to see Sue Nicoletti at the door, carrying--yes, yet another PADD. The young woman hesitated, before B'Elanna waved her in with an irritable growl.

"What?"

"The holodeck experienced another power drain, but Carey thinks he located the problem." She extended the PADD and B'Elanna took it, glancing over the readings. Her mouth tightened.

"I should have guessed. Is this the program that Tom and Seven chose for their honeymoon?"

Sue nodded warily, and B'Elanna handed the PADD back.

"All right--tell Carey to ignore future power drains there, just log them. I'll try to find out why that program takes so much power every time it's initialized--{I guess Tom must have been working on it this morning}--after the newlyweds get back, of course."

{I'm actually tempted to order a diagnostic now. God, I'm selfish.} She sighed and motioned Nicoletti away. "Has Harry started uploading the reprogrammed diagnostics yet?"

Sue shook her head.

"You and Vorik oversee it. I want to try and get them integrated by tomorrow." B'Elanna rubbed her forehead and leaned back. "Dismissed."

B'Elanna heard rather than saw Sue Nicoletti leave. She kept her eyes closed, staring into nothing.

Wishing that something--*anything*--would happen to distract her.

{Maybe the holodeck will malfunction again.} A little smile turned her lips despite her attempt to stop it. {Now that's just malicious.}

Somehow, right at that moment, she didn't care.

* * * * *

Tom stood in his former quarters for the last time. Seven had lived here with him for several months, but he'd never thought of these as his and hers. Just his.

The bed was stripped, the workstation quiet and dark. Slowly, he walked into the bathroom, noting its emptiness, then to the living room, looking around it for a long moment.

So much had happened here. He sat on the couch, closing his eyes, clearing his mind.

He could guess, and the thought turned the corners of his mouth up in amusement. Unpacking efficiently, before getting dressed. He was going to Harry's as soon as he was done here...

He didn't know.

And he wondered again why he had felt the need to come back here.

Natural. Very natural. He felt sweat break out on his palms and rubbed them on his uniform trousers.

A wry thought.

He looked around the room again, thinking.

{--"That's not a fair question, Seven."--} He remembered his own anger. Her cool reasoning.

That had been their first and last fight.

Tom shook his head. And wondered, not for the first time, what the quiet Riga had done after he left the ship. There had been something in his face--

Maybe. Perhaps. And that old stand-by, what if.

Perhaps the last time he had considered breaking the rules he had come to live by. Starfleet. His new life.

He couldn't remember now what had stopped him when he walked down to the shuttlebay. The Delta Flyer had been in the middle of repairs to its warp assembly--and he remembered his regret as he left. Remembered B'Elanna's glance up at him, cursory, before returning to the diagnostics of the engine.

The worst part was, he didn't know.

Tom got up, shaking his head briefly, clearing the thoughts.

"All right, Tommy boy, let's get ready. Harry's probably wondering what the hell you're doing now."

Tom didn't give the room another look.

"Computer, turn off illumination."

And he walked out the door.

* * * * *

In her quarters, she picked up the wedding invitation again. Studied it. Paper. Black ink, probably replicated onto each invitation. Her fingers traced the names.

She'd thought she was resigned to this. She'd had a month to recover from the shock. The anger. The hurt.

Tom had moved on. She'd always known it would happen. He'd get tired of her--

One moment of rage, fed by her own insecurity. Her anger at everyone when they'd found out about her recreational pursuits in the holodeck--the ones with no safeties. Tom and Chakotay had broken into them, discovered what she had been doing.

He'd come to talk to her about it.

One moment was all it had taken.

It had been days before she had been able to find a way to talk to him, to apologize. But one look at his face told her something she had never expected. He'd accepted her apology with the same congeniality he was famous for. And he'd walked away. Just like that. Never looked back, never cared.

Well, maybe he cared.

She stopped the thought even as it appeared. Pushed it out of her mind.

B'Elanna shook the thoughts out of her head, turning to the bathroom.

One hour until the wedding. One hour.

One five minute stretch of time had ruined their relationship for good. There had been nothing she could say or do that could remove the memory of those words. Nothing. She stepped into the sonic shower, turning it on.

{Change the past.} Something wet brushed her cheeks gently, and she impatiently wiped it away.

Not now.

* * * * *

The messhall was simply decorated, chairs placed in neat rows, seen to by Sam Wildman and Sue Nicoletti that afternoon. Flowers were arranged on the far table where the buffet was set out, under Neelix's loving supervision, and the music being played over the ship's comm had been set up by Vorik and Ayala. At the far end of the room, Tom, Captain Janeway, and Harry waited as the guests consumed champagne and generally drifted around in anticipation of the ceremony.

"Cold feet, Tom?" asked Harry playfully, knowing Tom had heard that too many times to count. Tom glared, but the look was muted.

"Maybe the temperature is too low in here," suggested the Captain, giving Harry a wink. "Should I adjust environmental controls, Tom?"

She covered a smirk at the look of undiluted dislike, replaced instantly by humor. She clapped him on the shoulder.

"Your last moments of freedom, Tom."

"Not a moment too soon," he answered, smiling a little. He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, and she stopped the laugh before it could escape her lips. "The Doc said he would warn me when she is ready, in case I need medical assistance when I see her." He grinned now, eyes sparkling. "The cake looks nice. The replicator outdid itself on that one."

They had reached a compromise regarding the food. Neelix would make the buffet, with traditional wedding dishes (Tom had spent the last week "creating" traditional wedding dishes in the database for the Talaxian to find) while the replicator would do the cake. This suited Tom just fine.

"I programmed it myself," Janeway answered. "I should think it would be perfect. Ah, Chakotay," spying her first officer, brilliant in his dress uniform, "I was wondering when you would show."

He smiled at her, but she noticed the smile fade when it settled on Tom. Luckily, Tom was too distracted by the arriving guests who came over to give congratulations to notice. She took his arm, leading him away a little, while Harry set himself to make sure Tom didn't get himself worked up into a fit of nervous energy.

"Anything wrong?" She searched the solemn brown eyes.

"She wouldn't come," he said finally, almost on a sigh, and she touched his hand sympathetically.

"It would be hard for her, Chakotay, to see Tom marry someone else," she said softly. "Don't take it personally. She just needs to be alone right now."

Chakotay nodded shortly, eyes down, then he lifted them and smiled. It was an effort, but he managed.

"This is a wedding. We should celebrate, because I can say with certainty that we will eventually get home."

One red eyebrow arched suspiciously.

"Why?"

"Tom marrying Seven is the single most unlikely event I have ever heard. Getting home now has much better odds."

Janeway couldn't help it--she laughed. Tom turned to look at her, and grinned before turning back to talk to Harry. Megan Delaney and Anna Zephyr had both gone to help Seven dress (she probably didn't need it, but she'd decided on a traditional wedding ceremony, and to Tom's surprise, she meant it. She had to be checking his twentieth century database, there was no other explanation. But if that was what Seven wanted, he was all for it).

He took a deep breath just as his communicator chirped and he coughed the breath out, hitting his badge quickly.

"Paris here."

:::She's ready.::: The Doctor sounded excited. Tom supposed the Doctor had never expected to be asked to be father of the bride. He'd been immensely flattered.

"Great. Paris out." Tom began to take deep breaths. Harry slapped him lightly on the shoulder as Tom turned to the Captain, signaling her that Seven was coming. The other guests seemed to sense the coming event and began to take their seats. Tom straightened his uniform and turned to the door.

"Relax, Tom."

"This is as relaxed as I get, Harry." But he grinned, and Janeway saw Tom fingering the edge of his uniform impatiently. He'd never been able to stand still. Then his eyes went to the doors as they opened.

A little earlier than expected.

B'Elanna, a little pale in a garnet-red, walked in, Carey trailing just beside and behind her. No mystery who had gone to have a talk with her. All around the room, conversation quieted for a moment, then quickly resumed, almost desperate to make up for that moment of silence. B'Elanna didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were on Tom.

Janeway, moving to her place, caught the entrance and glanced quickly at Chakotay, who began to walk toward B'Elanna, but she reached Tom first. Raising herself on her tiptoes, she gave him a brief hug, which he quickly returned.

"Congratulations, Tom," she said. Her voice was steady and the large brown eyes were serene. A smile turned the corners of her mouth.

"Thanks. I'm glad you came." His returning smile was warm and sincere. Janeway watched this, a little touched, a little surprised. Things had been strained between them for a long time. She truly hadn't expected for B'Elanna to come.

B'Elanna nodded shortly, disengaging herself, stepping back. The smile hadn't changed. Tom absently shook Carey's hand, but Janeway noted that the blue eyes stayed on B'Elanna.

Maybe a moment too long for Janeway's taste.

She shook her head, glancing at the doors, then went to take her position behind Tom.

"So am I." After giving Harry and the flustered Chakotay a smile, she went to sit down. Tom's eyes followed her until she was seated by Carey. Chakotay was taking his seat, and Kathryn Janeway felt the anticipation tighten in her stomach.

She was about to perform a marriage, the first on Voyager.

The doors opened, and on cue the music began.

{Perfect.}

She smiled and readied herself for the big event

Naomi Wildman came in first in, of all things, a little white dress. Like most girls her age, she was torn between pride and disgust (probably because of the dress, Tom thought with amusement) and dropped flower petals on her short walk before coming to stand beside Tom. Tom wondered where Seven had gotten the time to work on all these little details. A twentieth century wedding in the twenty-fourth century. By a former Borg.

Janeway, also observing this, began to wonder if Chakotay's observation was correct after all.

Then Seven appeared. Time stopped.

Her blond hair was artlessly loose around her shoulders, curling slightly. The dress--Tom's mouth went dry.

It was plain white, the bodice cut square and low, sleeveless, with a long skirt that just reached the floor. The Doctor seemed to have trouble looking away. So did everyone in the room. She carried a small bouquet of red roses wrapped in white ribbon. The hand on the Doctor's arm trembled slightly, but what kept everyone's attention was the smile on Seven's face. A small smile, but of pure, honest delight. No one had ever seen her smile like that before, even Tom, whose eyes were fixed on the beautiful woman coming up the short aisle. Then she stood beside him, and the Doctor gave him her hand, and he stared at it a moment before taking it.

Perfect.

His voice was husky, pitched for her ears alone, filled with wonder. Janeway blinked back tears when she heard it, even knowing it was not meant for her ears.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

The blue eyes darkened and her hand tightened in his before she turned with him to the Captain. Even Chakotay was affected. Harry stepped back, and the Captain began the ceremony.

"It is not often a Starship Captain is given the honor of performing a wedding ceremony. It is my pleasure to join Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris and Seven of Nine in matrimony. They have memorized their vows and would like to speak them now." She motioned to Tom, who took the ring from Harry with a shaking hand.

"I, Thomas Eugene Paris, promise to love, honor, and cherish you, Seven, for as long as I live." He took a deep breath, glancing down at their joined hands for a moment. "You've changed me, in more ways than I can count. I have no idea why you chose me, but I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it." Carefully, he slid the ring on her finger, then lifted it briefly to brush a kiss to her knuckles, before lowering the hand. Seven's smile never faltered as she reached for the ring Harry handed her. Her hands weren't steady, either, it was noted by all. She looked into Tom's eyes.

"I, Seven, promise to love, honor, and cherish you, Thomas Paris, for as long as I live." She paused, a break in composure that made Tom's hand tighten on her fingers. "You offered me friendship when few would, offered me your trust and your support, unconditionally and openly. I will never understand what you saw in me then that merited that friendship, nor what you see now that made you offer to join your life with mine. I can only hope that I prove worthy of that faith and--and I will do everything in my power to assure you never regret it." She slipped the ring on, fingers lacing with Tom's, eyes never leaving his.

Janeway stepped forward, placing her hand over theirs, getting their attention.

"With the power given to me by the United Federation of Planets as a Starship Captain, I now officially declare you husband and wife." She paused deliberately, and Tom gave her a significant look. "You may kiss the bride, Mr. Paris."

"Thanks," he said softly, then Seven stepped forward and took his face between her hands. Her smile hadn't diminished, and she drew his head down. The crew burst into cheers at the enthusiasm both participants showed in their seal of union, and Janeway wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.

"So, B'Elanna, still not interested in my offer?"

B'Elanna didn't answer. She stared at the couple, unable to see anything else. Q laughed softly, leaning over her shoulder. She wondered if the rest of the crew could see him.

She didn't think so. And, Kahless, did she wish he'd find someone else to goad.

"A gift, B'Elanna Torres. All you have to do is say yes, and this ends." His breath brushed her cheek, as delicate as a caress. "Say yes, and I can fix this for you. He'll be yours. All's fair in love and war, right?"

Janeway embraced Seven, then Tom, wiping her eyes distractedly.

B'Elanna couldn't remember Tom ever looking that happy. {Did I ever make him that happy? Did he ever look at me like that?}

Her eyes burned. She felt Carey touch her arm, concerned, and she pushed his hand away. Seven had drawn back, and Tom had her hand against his chest. He grinned at something Chakotay said to him, pulling Seven to his side gently so Chakotay could hear her reply that sent the First Officer into laughter. His hand never freed hers. She saw him caressing Seven's long fingers.

Seven was smiling.

"Do you want him, B'Elanna? Together, we can make sure that Borg bitch loses him. She took him, didn't she? You didn't have time to get over your anger, it's her fault. She stole him, B'Elanna. Stole your *mate*. No one supported you, did they? But they supported Seven when she took him. Supported Seven when she claimed something that belonged to *you*."

Seven accepted Harry's embrace, then turned back to Tom, as the other crew came up to congratulate them. Tuvok offered both a few words, and Neelix, practically bubbling over with enthusiasm, handed them champagne glasses as everyone began to clear the chairs from the center of the room.

She realized she was standing by the buffet table. Having no idea when she had moved, how she had gotten there. Harry lightly tapped his champagne glass, getting the attention of the room and stepped up on a chair to speak.

"May I be the first, as the best man, to offer a toast to the new couple. Tom, you don't deserve her." Laughter as Harry, grinning like an idiot, continued. B'Elanna wanted to knock the chair out from under him. If he'd been closer, it might have been tempting. "But be that as it may, I wish you both the best, Tom and Seven Paris. May you live in interesting times."

"Isn't that a Chinese curse?" Tom asked, frowning comically. More laughter broke out all over the room. Harry bowed low, almost knocking over his glass, and stepped down. The music started again, and Tom took Seven in his arms. He leaned down, maybe to whisper something in Seven's ear, maybe just to nip her earlobe. She looked up at him, and that breathtaking smile was back. He leaned down to brush his lips across hers.

"Love and war, B'Elanna. You can do this, with one word. Start everything."

Seven took Tom's hand, raising it to her shoulder, brushing her cheek against it. It was the most public demonstration of affection B'Elanna had ever seen Seven initiate. Tom grinned.

The champagne glass stem shattered in her hand. Glass splintered into her fingers, skin growing sticky with blood.

"Well, B'Elanna?" Q whispered in her ear. "Say yes, and everything changes. You get your mate back. She loses what she never should have dared take. Say yes, B'Elanna."

"She didn't give you the time you needed, B'Elanna. She moved in and took him. She didn't have the right, B'Elanna. She wanted him and took him, she didn't care about your feelings, did she? Did she?"

"Maybe, B'Elanna. But would he have been so willing if he'd known how you felt? You didn't have time to tell him, did you? Only a few weeks after that unfortunate incident, she took him. She didn't let you find the time to fix everything. It's her fault, B'Elanna."

{She didn't let me.} B'Elanna's anger crystallized in her stomach, clenching it. Blood dripped sluggishly down her wrist, tangling with the bracelet Chakotay had given her so long ago she couldn't name the date.

"She caused this. Who cares if it hurts her? She hurt you. She deserves to hurt."

"Yes, B'Elanna. Just like that. I can make everything right, all you have to do is say yes. Say yes, B'Elanna. Say it."

Seven whispered something to Tom, then, hesitantly, moved closer, resting her head against his shoulder. He leaned his cheek against her hair, eyes closing.

Nothing in her life had prepared B'Elanna to see that. Nothing.

"One word, B'Elanna. Say it."

Eyes fixed on them, B'Elanna heard her own voice, as if from a distance. It was low, throbbing with hurt and rage--at herself, at Tom, but focusing on Seven, the woman who had won. It shook her, drowned out the sharp pain in her fingers, the fierce grief of losing. She wanted Seven to hurt, she deserved it, she had taken Tom…

"Yes."

End Part I

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To One Word Part II: Be Careful...

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