Summary: Wish fulfillment--in the loosest sense of the term.

Author Notes: Thanks to Ben for the new quote. Like it much. To Kat, Ann, Queco, Robin, Sorcha, and Stephane, for being saintly and giving me little jabs when I seem to slack off. I get my real life back when I finish this.

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So this is my new freedom

It's funny

I don't remember being chained

But nothing seems to make sense anymore

--Savage Garden

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

B'Elanna checked the power relays on the back panel in the Bridge of the Delta Flyer for the fifth time before she threw down the tricorder in disgust.

"There's nothing wrong, Seven. I've checked every square inch, and I'm not seeing any problems with the power flow."

Seven glanced up from the pilot's seat, where she was performing the diagnostics, then glanced down at the readings. She frowned.

"The discrepancy is gone," Seven said shortly. She tapped in a few more commands, then turned to face B'Elanna. "There is no longer an error reading, Lieutenant."

They'd been running pre-flight diagnostics on the Flyer for the last two hours. It was one of the many, many, sadly many little things that always seemed to go wrong--a power relay here, a diagnostic program there, a millisecond delay in computer processing of information that would have Tom throwing a fit if he knew--which he did, he always did. Tiny inconsequential little problems that when all put together jacked themselves up to one real problem. And after several hours of running diagnostic by diagnostic, repairing relay after program after relay, B'Elanna had actually thought she saw a light at the end of the tunnel.

Except for that stupid diagnostic that kept tossing up error readings like a Vulcan quoting logic. Damn, damn, *damn*.

"Let me see the log," B'Elanna told her sharply, and Seven quickly surrendered the pilot's seat. With a muted curse, she checked the logs quickly, fingers dancing over the keys with a speed that even the former Borg found impressive.

"You're right," she said grudgingly. "There was an error, but it's not showing up now, even in the logs. Hmm." She tapped a few more commands in, and Seven watched in fascination as B'Elanna suddenly pulled up a display of computer code. Seven had neither pride or humility regarding her own intelligence, knew it was superior to that of many on the ship. B'Elanna, however, was not among them. She had an instinctive understanding of the ship, and the Delta Flyer, that Seven did not, no matter how much pure knowledge Seven possessed. The Captain had once referred to B'Elanna's abilities as genius, a spark of pure creativity that allowed B'Elanna to see beyond the information given, see a pattern where there was none, create a new pattern when necessary. "This could have something to do with Harry's repairs of the primary diagnostics. Let me run secondaries again and check."

More than once, Seven had caught herself envying B'Elanna that gift. That genius.

An odd expression suddenly changed B'Elanna's face, and Seven saw the slim brown hand hover over the screen for a minute.

"Did you find something, Lieutenant?"

B'Elanna blinked, looking up, eyes a little unfocused.

"Huh?"

"You paused. Did you find something?"

B'Elanna gave the screen a glance, then shook her head.

"No. Nothing. It could have been an echo from one of our previous scans--are you sure you saw something, Seven?"

The expression on the Borg's face was quite enough to assure the engineer that Seven was not usually given to flights of fancy. B'Elanna forced down a completely unprofessional giggle.

This diagnostic error, however, was damned annoying.

After a few more moments of perusal, she cleared the screen with a rough swipe of her hand, her face reflecting her frustration.

Frustration with the diagnostics, with the damned holodeck power drains that just refused to go away--with sitting in a small bridge across from Seven Paris, with her cool expression and her new name and her doubtlessly blissfully happy life right now with Tom.

All those things she didn't need, and was it so much to ask, really, that she not have to see this?

"I don't see anything now, the diagnostics check out fine." She stood up, picking up her tricorder, and walked to the door, turning slightly to see Seven still looking down at the useless PADD. "Tell Tom to watch for power fluctuations on the right warp nacelle, but it may have just been a glitch. In any case, I don't think we have to worry--Tom won't be doing any fancy flying."

"You can tell me yourself."

B'Elanna turned around to see Tom come in, carrying a small travel bag.

There was something about her luck. He couldn't have waited five more minutes. Just long enough to escape to engineering. Long enough not to have to see, yet again, all that sheer joy in togetherness right in front of her, as if they were flaunting--and Kahless, she knew they weren't.

Somehow, that made it worse.

"Power fluctuations?" He nodded at Seven briefly as she rose, and B'Elanna was surprised to see the Borg pause momentarily, before approaching him

"I will run a system check from engineering on the primary diagnostics," Seven said, glancing down at her PADD. Then at Tom. "Have a good trip, Tom." A smile accompanied this, but to B'Elanna's eye it looked strained. There were rumors--but B'Elanna had made it a personal mission never to hear them.

She'd be damned if she was going to even think about how the newlyweds were coping with post-marital stress. Turning back to the screen, she made the changes in her tricorder, turning to see Seven and Tom had separated.

"I'll see you when I get back." He put his bag down on the inactive engineering station. Seven went to the door.

To B'Elanna's unending horror, Seven then left her alone.

With Tom. Kahless and God.

"Where are the power fluctuations?" Tom asked, then found the entry B'Elanna had marked on the PADD still laying on the pilot's chair. "Oh. That's unusual. Where did it show up?"

B'Elanna unfortunately was against the wall where the conduit was found. She opened the panel reluctantly as Tom crouched behind her, and pointed out the problem. Tom skimmed his tricorder over it, frowning thoughtfully at the readings. His arm brushed her back, and the sudden contact wanted to make her jump. She bit her lip as he moved a little closer, the tricorder almost brushing her cheek. She could feel the heat of his body against her back, through the material of both their uniforms.

"You should consider taking someone with you. I have no idea how you convinced the Captain to let you go out alone on this mission."

Tom shrugged, she felt the movement against her shoulder.

"It's not complicated--pick up a few samples, come back in two days." Silence. "Besides, I like the idea of the downtime alone."

B'Elanna shook her head sharply.

"Well, I can't find anything. I guess I'll just have to watch it when I go out." But he didn't click the tricorder closed, instead continued studying it, and his elbow touched her cheek as he moved the tricorder again and shift a little closer to see the readings.

B'Elanna opened her mouth to tell him to wait until Seven finished the diagnostics, until she could run a few from engineering. Instead, she took in a breath, and could smell him. Feel the warmth of his body only inches from her back, the accidental brush of his hand against her hair.

He might as well have been touching her bare skin--and *damn* him that he could still do that to her.

"Move, Tom." Her voice cracked.

"Hmmm?" He looked at her in surprise. Before she could stop herself, she pushed him back, almost knocking him from his crouch, moving as quickly as the limited dimensions of the Delta Flyer would allow toward the pilot's seat. Quickly, she downloaded the secondary diagnostic scans, not really thinking about it, needing something to do. Even though her head was bent, she could feel his eyes on her.

"B'Elanna?" Uncertainty.

"It's nothing," she said quickly, and realized she was backing away from him. She stopped herself, taking a breath. "Have a great trip. I'll see you when you get back."

Disbelief was etched into his face.

"Something's wrong."

"I need to get out of here." She bit her lip. {That sounded comforting.} "I have some scans to run in engineering of the computer diagnostic program. I want to see if this error was related to program errors." She waved the tricorder for emphasis, forcing herself not to babble, to sound professional.

Tom watched her.

"Seven's running them." He paused, watching her with an expression she couldn't interpret. "That's not it. You're a terrible liar."

She clenched one hand, and the tricorder lost its precarious perch and hit the floor. She felt it roll against her boot.

"Leave it alone. Please, Tom."

And he might have, if B'Elanna had simply left. Before he could say anything, she crouched to pick up the tricorder from the floor and began to walk by him. A hand on her arm stopped her.

Luck. Damned, damned bad luck, waited one second too long--let him get his equilibrium under him--

"Tell me what's bothering you. We're friends--"

"No, we're *not*!" She caught her breath at the bitterness of her words.

"Since when?" His voice reflected his shock.

"Tom--"

"What the hell is the matter?"

She closed her mouth over the sharp reply waiting at the tip of her tongue...

"You married Seven." She gritted her teeth together; the words had escaped. {What the hell is wrong with me?}

Stress. It was stress with all the diagnostics, and the wedding, and Harry's near-frantic level of activity--stress, because no way in hell would she let him know, let him see--no way in *hell*--

Tom didn't move. She wasn't even sure he breathed. She slumped against his grip for a moment, gathering her thoughts, or trying to, anyway--they moved frantically in her mind, refusing to pause and let her examine them, chart a course out of here, come up with a plan.

"B'Elanna--"

"Let me go." That was the only thing she was sure of. Get out of here, now, before he could say another word, before her control broke. His grip increased suddenly, turning her so she had to face him.

Look down at his hand. See the wedding ring.

"You don't mean--"

"Leave it fucking alone! When the hell did you get into this 'let's talk about our feelings' crap? Leave it alone, just stop!" She jerked her arm away, breathing too fast, too hard. {I've gotta go. Get out. Now.}

She moved to the door, but her feet seemed to stop of their own accord.

"B'Elanna." And he might have been ready to say something else, she didn't know, turned around--{this isn't happening}--saw Tom watching her. Behind Tom, Q grinned, draped neatly across the engineering station, feet up, looking smug as all hell. Her eyes widened.

"Tell him the truth, B'Elanna. Tell him--everything."

With Tom married, and so damned happy, and that's all it had taken, forget the ex, move on with the ex-Borg--

Kahless knew, she wanted to.

"You married her. You slept with her. How the hell did you think I would feel, seeing that, seeing you fall in love with someone else?" She took two steps toward the immobile pilot, meeting dazed blue eyes. "Did you think it would be easy, when I know its my fault that it turned out like this?" Her hand swept out angrily, and his eyes followed the motion. "That if I hadn't--" Her breath caught.

"Doesn't it feel good to finally let go, B'Elanna?" Q's voice was filled with glee. She watched over Tom's shoulder as he leaned back in the seat, hands neatly crossed over his stomach--grinning. "Tell him, B'Elanna. Like you should have a long time ago."

"I'm not glad you're happy with her, Tom. I'm not glad that you found the love of your life and it wasn't me. So leave me the hell alone!" And she found the strength to turn on her heel, tricorder forgotten in one fisted hand, getting out the open door without incident, and only then pausing, once Shuttlebay metal was underneath her feet.

She lowered her head, breathing fast, blinking away the dizziness that threatened to make her lose her balance, staring at the cool metal of the floor.

Q appeared only a few feet away. Polished boots, pants without a crease, command red, smiling at her.

"What the hell is wrong with me?"

"You really aren't open enough about your feelings, B'Elanna. That was a lovely first effort at openness. In any case, if you're curious, that is one extremely upset helmboy in there." Q chucked merrily as he motioned vaguely in the direction of the Delta Flyer. B'Elanna followed his hand, staring at the ship.

"That wasn't me." {It was stress, and he'll brush it under the carpet and nothing will have changed except I just tossed my pride right out the damned airlock--what the hell is wrong with me?}

"That was more you than you are. Nice temper. Pity you seem completely incapable of controlling it. I almost feel sorry for him."

B'Elanna didn't think, she acted. One hand flew out, coming in sharp contact with his jaw. Like any human, he staggered, holding his mouth. She liked the look of shock on his face.

"Interesting. Pain." He stroked his face with one hand. "Not pleasant."

"He's about to go on a mission!" she shot back. "He shouldn't be upset."

"He'll live, B'Elanna." Q circled her. "Cathartic, isn't it, to just tell him finally?"

It didn't feel cathartic. It felt dirty. She scrubbed her hands on her tunic, almost dropping her tricorder.

"Leave me alone. Go torture someone else."

"But I haven't fulfilled your wish, B'Elanna. Turn around, look at the Delta Flyer." And like a magician on a stage, he bowed, waving an arm at the ship.

Champagne glass, anger--Tom and Seven.

"No." She wasn't even sure she spoke the aloud.

Her eyes followed his motion, and she turned, eyes automatically raking the exterior. Something caught her attention.

Small. Nothing any other crewmember might have noticed, even Tom or Seven. But not B'Elanna, who was an engineer to the soles of her feet, trained by Maquis desperation and Voyager necessity to look for and find all the signs, all the problems that could arise.

The hull was heating up. She looked at the tricorder still in her hand. Her eyes widened.

"The power relay," she breathed, staring at the readings. "It's breaking. Tom's starting the engines."

* * * * *

Tom didn't even notice his commbadge hit the floor as he swung around from the slamming door.

As well as a sliding door with shock absorbers slammed anyway. It was the thought that counted.

And he could walk on water.

He walked to the pilot's seat, staring down at the controls, then began the pre-flight sequence.

Though, to be fair--

Yeah, this would have come up in their concerted efforts to stay away from each other.

He took a deep breath, trying to put it from his mind.

"Quick thought--who would you choose?"

Tom spun in the seat, staring at the materialization of a Starfleet officer in the middle of the Delta Flyer.

"What the hell--" He reached for his commbadge and saw the--being, officer--picked it up off the floor. One hand tossed it into the air lightly, and Tom watched, fascinated, as it flipped over and over until it fell back down, landing in the palm of the being's hand.

"Make it quick. Just say a name, helmboy." The green eyed man smiled a little. "Who would you choose?"

"What the--"

"You said that. I interrupted you. You don't have much time. Say a name."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Q." He grinned. "I'm doing a favor for a friend of yours. Small thing, but hey, I like to be kind. Choose. One or the other."

"I'm married."

And God, did that sound weak.

"Who do you still think about at night?"

Tom took a breath. Swallowed a memory before it could surface.

"Who did you want even when you hated her? Who did you trust so much that when she betrayed you, you could never forgive it? Whose name do you still have to bite back during--*those* moments?" Q grinned with happy malice, eyes narrowing.

"You wouldn't know." Tom drew in a deep breath, trying to stop the racing of his heart. Memories he didn't need anymore, parts of himself he'd moved beyond--

Q's smirk grew, and Tom turned away, staring at the walls of the shuttle, eyes closing. Trying to breathe through the intensity that a single memory can bring.

"I know by your reaction to the question. One word, Tom. Say her name."

* * * * *

"Yes, it is. Clever, hmmm? A micro-fissure in the casing. Almost undetectable until it starts to stress. That baby is about to explode."

B'Elanna didn't pay Q any attention. She hit her commbadge, trying to keep her voice steady as she spoke, dropping her tricorder to the floor of the shuttlebay with a metallic scrape of metal on metal that hurt to hear.

"Torres to Paris. Please respond."

"He dropped his communicator when you left. He didn't even notice, he was so upset." Q laughed softly, and B'Elanna began to move to the Flyer. Q placed a hand neatly on her chest, and there she was, sprawled on the floor of the Shuttlebay, staring up into green eyes that smiled at her.

She couldn't move.

"What are you *doing*? It's going to explode!"

"Giving you your wish, B'Elanna. Changing everything."

"You'll kill him." Her voice was a whisper. She stared at the Delta Flyer as Tom engaged the engines, a pre-flight sequence she had seen a hundred times. He didn't know. She hadn't had time to tell him not to go. "If that relay breaks, it could overload the relays, causing system-wide failure. There could be an warp core breach!"

"That could be a problem, couldn't it?"

She watched the hull begin to buckle The metal heat up. She felt the relay snap as if it were a part of her own body and winced.

"No." A thready whisper. She hit her communicator with one shaking hand.

"Torres to Seven! Seven, answer me!"

Nothing. Not even the static of an open channel. Her hand fell limp to her side

"Communications are being interfered with by the beta-energy being generated in the meltdown of that conduit and anti-matter leakage," Q said cheerfully. "Be happy, B'Elanna, I'm giving you your wish."

"This isn't what I want, you fucking bastard! Make it stop!"

Q laughed happily, the sound melding with the creak of buckling metal and the hiss of--

"You never specified how it was to be done, B'Elanna."

"Make it stop! Get him out of there! I don't want this, I don't want him like this!" She couldn't tear her eyes from the Delta Flyer. {You're a pilot, Tom--you feel something wrong, I know you do. Get out of there. Please, Tom, get out, get out now.}

"Then why did you say 'yes'?"

Her mouth went dry.

"No." She couldn't even hear herself.

"All or nothing, B'Elanna. You wanted Seven to lose, you to win. The only way you win is if she is burned right down to the ground, or you'll never have your chance. After all, she never told her husband he would never live long enough to be honorable in her eyes."

B'Elanna turned on him, eyes wide.

"I never said that!" {Did I?}

"Would you like me to repeat what you told him? {'You're one to talk about honesty, flyboy. You're certainly not famous for your ability to tell the truth, are you?'} "

B'Elanna closed her eyes. He was using her voice, with all its bitter inflection, her desire to hurt him.

She could almost hear Tom's voice beside her ear now, his response

Q touched her chin, forcing her to face him, stare up into eyes that suddenly seemed more blue than green.

"That's not how it happened. I didn't--"

"{'And how did you get your job at the Conn anyway? Penance to Janeway? A little extra-curricular activity to show your skill? I should know just how good you are at that, helmboy. Should I compare notes with her?'}" Q's eyes gleamed. She could see his smirk widen.

"Shut up!" She found her feet, taking a halting step toward him as he stepped away, watching her with a smirk--wanted to kill him. Maybe you couldn't kill Qs, but she wanted to try. Her fingers wanted to dig deep into his throat, rip it out, feel the blood coating her hands--dear God, she had never wanted anything more in her life.

"{'Why did I think I could have a mature, stable relationship with you, anyway? I want someone I know will be there for me, as you never are. Never have been. Never will be.'}"

"Stop it!"

"And the coup de grace, don't forget that, B'Elanna. The part that made him leave your quarters wishing he was dead, because no one and nothing in his life had ever hurt him the way you did. Not his father, not those years after Caldik Prime, not a single thing.

"{'You've sold yourself before. Go fuck someone willing to pay. That's your area of expertise, isn't it, Paris? You learned that on the streets--go use it on someone who gives a damn.'} "

And Tom's answer, ringing in her head, over the sound of her own harsh breathing, over the sound of metal buckling under stress

"And that little indiscretion with Harry Kim."

There are some things, she knew, could never be forgiven or forgotten. Not when they're said like that, not when you're aiming to cause maximum damage--not when you want to see someone else hurt like you do--and not when your aim is that good, that true--hitting the bulls-eye with every damned word.

She closed her eyes, trying to breath through the shock, put together a coherent plan of what to do--she was an engineer, damn it, planning was in her blood...

B'Elanna felt Q's hand on the back of her neck, lightly caressing with the tips of his fingers.

"Remembering is a bitch, isn't it, B'Elanna? Wouldn't it be nice to forget?"

* * * * *

"Get out."

"This ship is about to explode. Big boom, helmboy." The man took a seat in the engineer's station, arms crossed languorously over his chest. "If you don't tell me, I'll have to guess. Not that it will make a damned bit of difference in the outcome, but I've been watching you, and I'm curious, you see."

"Explode? What the--"

"You're very repetitious. Can't you do any better?" He shook his head. "I'm doing a favor for someone, and I thought I would get your input. Eleven seconds, Tom Paris."

And it came together. Tom moved to the console, pulling up the diagnostic program B'Elanna had been working on, knowing what to look for with that flash of inspiration that only comes when it is too late to do a damned thing about it.

"Oh my God," he breathed, staring down at the readings. "No one caught it."

"Interesting, hmmm? Of course, I have to keep their identity a secret." Tom spun to watch the being shift to put his feet up on the station console, leaning back comfortably in the seat. Smiling. "You have only six seconds now, Tom Paris. Make yourself comfortable. I'm about to grant someone their wish."

* * * * *

The explosion was imprinted on B'Elanna's retinas, burning into her brain. She hit the deck on her knees, both hands going out to catch herself too late. Her head came in sharp contact with the cool metal floor.

"Ouch. That must have hurt." He didn't sound very sympathetic.

Slowly, she lifted her head, trying to see beyond the glare, beyond the blood running into her eyes.

"Your temper, B'Elanna." She could feel him circle her, like a professor lecturing to a particularly dense class. "You don't even remember what the original fight was about, do you?" He didn't give her time to remember. "Of course not. But he does. He remembers everything. And he still thinks about it, remembers what you said. Even the lovely Seven couldn't drive that hurt away." Q took a moment. "And she *is* unique, isn't she? That must have been a hell of a lot of hurt, don't you think?"

"I'll kill you," she whispered. "I'll find a way, Q, and I'll kill you. I'll do it with my bare hands, I'll watch you die and I'll enjoy every minute of it."

He moved closer to her, meeting her shell-shocked eyes with glinting green. One hand reached out to wipe the blood away, and she jerked from the touch. His fingers brushed her hair back, the sticky strands trying to cling to her forehead.

"He forgave you, didn't he?" A gentle voice, almost kind. He crouched to look in her eyes. "Because of Seven, because she eased the hurt, because she never judged him on his past. You owe the Borg Tom's friendship, isn't that just beautiful irony, B'Elanna? She made him believe that he was more than what you told him he was. That he was more than a quick fuck in the night, someone to play with and toss aside when finished. That he was someone who mattered, who was worthy of trust, affection--a lifetime commitment."

B'Elanna's wanted to scream. Her throat had closed over, making it difficult to breathe. But not to hear.

"He loved you more than anyone in his life, he told you everything there was to know about him. And you know what else, B'Elanna Torres? He'll never love anyone that way again, even Seven, not with that kind of trust. You took a lot of things away from him that night, didn't you?"

She closed her eyes, her mind forcing the image into her head, or maybe Q was doing it, she didn't know. How he had looked when he left her quarters. Not just anger, though that was there, or hurt--stunned, unbelieving shock. A pain that couldn't ever be completely healed.

"I didn't mean it." Her voice was a whisper.

"B'Elanna, maybe you should get up now."

She braced her hands on the ground, standing up shakily, and took two stumbling steps forward. She turned to the Delta Flyer, staring in appalled shock at the flares of fire. {Antimatter explosion any second--I've got to get him out of there, I've got to get the Flyer out of the ship.}

"Communications work, B'Elanna, at forty feet away from the Flyer--I'd say near the Shuttlebay controls. Perhaps you should get him out of there and then call Sickbay. He needs medical attention." Q was gone.

But she didn't have time to think about that. She stumbled a few feet, toward the Flyer, choking on the smoke, desperately slapping her commbadge. Still nothing.

She couldn't see anything inside, and ducked beneath an overhanging metal beam. Tom lay on the floor, blood covering the side of his face. She knelt, checking for a pulse.

There was nothing.

He was dying.

{Concussion, possible brain damage, broken arm.} Her mind rolled it like a litany. {I'll get him out of here. He'll be fine, I just have to get him to Sickbay. He'll be fine.}

Because if she believed for one second that he wouldn't be, she wouldn't bother moving.

She needed to get an emergency beam-out, but it wouldn't work in here, she knew that much. {But it will work by the console, if I move quickly enough.} She braced herself and lifted up his unbroken arm and gently pulled his limp body over her shoulders. The weight briefly staggered her, before she got her balance. Choking, almost blind, she found the hatch, ducking Tom beneath the metal beam somehow, out the door.

And Kahless, it seemed a long way to that console. Stumbling, she finally deposited her burden on the floor, checking his pulse again, knowing it wouldn't do any good, then hitting her commbadge.

"Computer, lock onto this commbadge, initiate site-to-site transport, medical emergency, shuttlebay to Sickbay. Fucking hell, do it!" She pressed her commbadge onto his uniform then backed away, running for the controls to open the Shuttlebay doors. He disappeared in a shimmer of light. Desperately, she hit every panel. Nothing was working.

"Computer, get those doors open!" As if the damned thing would listen to her. She hit a manual override series, saw it go into effect. She didn't have time to initiate force fields before decompression, and there wasn't time to get to the door. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a breath, then hit the comm on the shuttlebay controls.

"Torres to the Bridge. Get shields up *now*. Imminent warp core breach off starboard bow, the Delta Flyer." She did the calculations automatically, praying there was enough time. "In fifteen seconds." And closed the channel, staring at the opening doors.

"Computer, lock on to my lifesigns and initiate site to site transport, Shuttlebay to Sickbay, authorization Torres Alpha One. Energize, damn it!"

She thought she felt the beams as they took her apart, though that was impossible. And before she dematerialized, she stared at the Flyer as it was dragged out into space--seconds.

* * * * *

"The microfissure was undetectable?" asked Captain Janeway, glancing between B'Elanna and Seven.

"The original diagnostic scans picked it up once," B'Elanna said softly. "But the secondary scans did not. After we ran both again, neither did."

Janeway nodded slowly, gaze darting between the two women.

"The fissure was difficult to locate," Seven said coolly. Pure Borg. "We had a hypothesis that the diagnostic program itself was at fault--"

"I had that hypothesis," B'Elanna interrupted, startling both women with her intensity. Janeway turned her full attention on her chief engineer. "It was my mistake. I should have told him to delay launch until I had tracked down the problem, and I didn't."

Seven's ocular implant jumped, but no other expression changed her face.

"There was no reason to suspect that there was anything wrong, Lieutenant. Your tricorder scans and the secondary scans came back negative." Seven's voice was so flat it could have been part of the wall.

"In any case, B'Elanna, it is rare that something as small as a microfissure ruptures, causing an explosion in the power conduit that leads to a warp breach," Janeway said, sensing the tension in B'Elanna but unable to account for it. While she might take these accidents personally, she was reacting with a restrained intensity the Captain didn't recognize.

{But then, Tom was the one hurt. Maybe--}

"Next--the salvaging of the remains of the Delta Flyer. Has it been completed?" She folded her hands on the desk, trying to give the impression of cool command mode--they didn't need to see her worry.

"It still needs to be irradiated, Captain," B'Elanna answered, staring down at her PADD. "Carey and Nicoletti are working on it, but we've retrieved most of the remains. We'll know more about the explosion--"

:::Doctor to Janeway.:::

"Janeway here." Seven and B'Elanna both straightened, eyes on the Captain. "What do you have for me, Doctor?"

B'Elanna could almost read the look in the blue eyes. The 'It had better be good news, Doctor.' {He can probably feel that look in Sickbay. No wonder he isn't using a visual.}

:::Lieutenant Paris has awakened. I require the presence of yourself and Lieutenant Torres in Sickbay immediately." The Doctor sounded--odd. Seven stiffened.

"Am I not to come, Doctor?" Her voice was laced with ice.

:::Seven.::: Apparently, he hadn't known she was with the Captain. :::Not now, Seven. Please wait. Doctor out.::: He made his escape. B'Elanna glanced at Seven, then Janeway, mouth slightly agape.

"Captain?"

"Seven, check with Harry on that diagnostic program. He rewrote the original, he might be able to offer a clue on why the secondary failed." Janeway leaned forward a little, touching Seven's cool hand "I'll keep you informed." Then the Captain nodded shortly at B'Elanna, who rose slowly and followed the her out of the room. Seven didn't look at either one of them, rising to stand at the window, staring out into space. B'Elanna glanced at the ensign's hands to see them clenched tightly around a PADD.

"Why would he want me?" B'Elanna asked as they approached the turbolift. The Captain didn't answer, but her mouth was tight. {She knows something. What the hell is going on?}

* * * * *

Harry almost jumped when Seven approached him at Ops.

"Ensign Kim," she stated, extending to him a PADD. "I require your assistance."

Blinking, Harry took it from her with one not-quite steady hand.

"What is it, Seven?"

"The diagnostic program," she answered. "You wrote it, correct?"

Harry nodded slowly, giving it a cursory glance, then looked back up to her face.

"Yeah, about two weeks ago, to repair the problems with the old one." He could hear the shaking in his voice and took a breath, letting it out slowly. "Seven, I'm sorry about Tom. Is he--?"

"I do not know his condition, Ensign. The Doctor stated that he came out of surgery with no complications early this morning." Harry noted the absolute blankness of her voice and decided that she probably didn't want to speak of it further.

Hell, he knew he didn't want to speak of it further. He pressed the PADD to the console of his station, running his tongue over suddenly dry lips.

"Do you--do you think the diagnostic program was at fault?" Somehow, he kept his voice even this time.

"I do not know. I wish to examine it for possible errors in the original code or see if the interaction between it and your repairs is at fault." She met his eyes coolly, no trace of an expression on her face. "I was told by the Captain that you would assist me."

Harry looked back down at the PADD, then slowly nodded. Somehow, he had no idea how, he managed to control the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

"All right. Let's get down to engineering and I'll ask B'El--"

"Lieutenant Torres is with the Captain in consultation over Lieutenant Paris' condition," Seven responded. If possible, her voice became even more devoid of emotion.

"Why?" {Why would the Doctor want B'Elanna down there and not Seven?}

"The Doctor did not say." Seven picked up the PADD and turned to the turbolift, then back to Harry, who still stood frozen by his station. "Are you joining me, Ensign?"

Harry shook his head briefly, clearing his head, and signaled for his back up to take over, then followed Seven to Engineering.

* * * * *

In Sickbay, the Doctor was waiting by the door, but before he could speak, Tom walked toward them, leaving Sam Wildman and Crewman Dalby standing by the biobed, tricorders in hand, looking torn between relief and--was that worry?

"Hey." The blue eyes rested for an eternal moment on B'Elanna first, a little smile turning his mouth. "Captain." He straightened, coming to a stop.

The Doctor gave Tom a dirty look.

"Go back to the biobed unless you want to be restrained, Mr. Paris. Captain, Lieutenant Torres, please join me in my office."

Tom gave him a sideways glance of mocking indignation, but gamely returned to the bed, where Sam began to run another scan. B'Elanna saw him grit his teeth at the third pass of a tricorder over his head. Something was different. His eyes darted back to her almost as soon as the tricorder was removed from his line of sight, and she looked away quickly, following the Doctor to his office. Carefully, the Doctor closed the door, going so far as to initiate a privacy lock.

"Doctor?" Classic Janeway impatience for the Doctor to Get To The Point.

He sat down. To both women's fascination, he began to play with the PADD in front of him.

"The good news is, the brain injuries he received have not impaired either his cognitive or motor functions."

Janeway relaxed slightly. Her eyes never left the Doc, however.

"The bad news?"

"His memory centers were affected."

"His memory? How much did he lose?" Janeway's voice was sharp.

"All of the last two years. His last memory, in fact, is the day we removed the biological testing apparatus from his body. When the crew became--I think these were your words, Captain--lab rats."

B'Elanna sucked in a sharp breath. The Doctor gave her a short, understanding nod.

"That is why you are here, Lieutenant Torres. He insisted on calling you. In his current state, I thought it best to comply with his wishes. He was--quite adamant."

B'Elanna could imagine.

"Have you told him?" The Captain's voice was low, but B'Elanna heard the shock reverberating through it.

"No. He will need to be told, however." The Doctor glanced at B'Elanna. "Seven will need to be informed, as well. He knows something is wrong, but as yet I have put him off. He will figure it out, however. I would rather he heard it from people he trusts."

B'Elanna choked.

"Lieutenant?"

B'Elanna shook his head.

"Is everything all right, B'Elanna?" The smoky blue eyes were filled with concern. B'Elanna shook her head again, eyes wide. The small hands were clasped so tightly on the arms of the chair the brown knuckles had turned white.

"Yes." B'Elanna closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "I can't be here."

"B'Elanna--" the Captain began.

"I can't be!" B'Elanna stood up, backing to the door. Neither the Doctor nor Janeway had ever seen her move like that, like a trapped animal. "He doesn't remember--he--we--Tom and I--he's married to Seven! Get *her* down here!"

"Lieutenant-" the Doctor began.

Blindly, B'Elanna got the door open. Before she took two steps, Tom caught her arm.

"B'Elanna?"

He looked down at her, the smile fading into concern.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the biobed?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm. For him. For herself, because if she didn't get control she was going to start screaming and wouldn't be able to stop.

"When have I ever listened to orders?" he asked with a cocky smile, which disappeared when he looked in her eyes. "B'Ela. What's wrong?"

She began to shake, and he took her by the shoulders gently, trying to maintain eye contact.

"Tom." The Captain slowly approached, attention obviously torn between them, the Doctor only a step behind. "B'Elanna. Come into the office."

Tom glanced down at B'Elanna, then to the Captain.

"What's going on, Captain?" His fingers tightened on B'Elanna's shoulders. He looked down again. "You changed your hair. When did you do that?" He touched one curling strand. "You said you hated it when it curled." Eyes flew back up to meet Janeway's. "Captain?" Just underneath the annoyance was a hint of something else--B'Elanna gritted her teeth against it, against the sudden fear she could smell, as familiar as his scent was to her.

"Please, Tom, come in the office." Slowly, Janeway reached them. B'Elanna felt Tom's hands tighten even more, and she looked up. He wasn't looking at Janeway, he was looking at her, and the wide blue eyes--the way he was looking at her--

He nodded slowly, but didn't let go of B'Elanna. One hand still on her shoulder, he led her in with him, sitting her in the nearest chair. He never glanced at the Doctor, instead crouched so he could look into her face, keeping the contact between them with his fingers on her arm.

"Are you okay?" His voice was pitched for her ears alone.

B'Elanna tried to take a breath. Tried to stop the pounding of her heart.

"I'm fine." She bit her lip, finding control of her voice, finding even a smile to paste on, keep him calm. "Sit down, Tom. Please."

He nodded, blue eyes flickering up to Janeway, then took a seat.

"I need to leave," B'Elanna said softly. "I need to go now. They'll--they'll explain everything, Tom."

"I want you to stay." His voice changed. Tom's not-exactly-legendary patience was ending. "What's going on, Captain?" B'Elanna watched him swivel around, gaze darting first to the Captain, then the Doctor.

Then to her.

"I need to leave." B'Elanna repeated and stood up, but her legs almost wouldn't hold her. She grabbed the chair arm for support. She felt Tom catch her, pressing her back in the chair. She couldn't find enough air.

A glass of water was pressed into her hand. She took it, taking a long swallow, trying not to choke when her throat closed over.

"Tell me what's wrong." Tom was beside her again. He'd always been so concerned for her, she remembered that. At the beginning, when they'd still been giddy that they had actually gone through with it. When they'd barely been able to keep their hands off each other for any length of time.

Those were memories she didn't need to dredge up. Memories he still had.

She didn't think the Captain understood that.

Worse, B'Elanna felt comforted when he touched her, and she knew that was wrong. So damned wrong. This was Seven's husband.

She looked up sharply, expecting to see Q. Nowhere in evidence. That thought had been all her.

"Captain." Tom straightened, looking at the Captain. B'Elanna kept her head down, unconsciously leaning into Tom's hand as he stroked her shoulder.

Slowly, the Captain began to speak.

* * * * *

She got out, no idea how she had managed, and leaned her bent head against the corridor wall. Tried to even her breathing that was coming too fast, making her lightheaded.

"Well, B'Elanna, I did what you asked!" The childishly happy voice made B'Elanna's teeth ache.

Q didn't appear. But the tenor voice echoed in the silence of the hall.

"This isn't happening," she whispered.

"I gave you what you wanted. Aren't you happy?" Q appeared now, in Starfleet gold this time, smiling with such good cheer she wanted to put a fist through his mouth. If she hadn't been shaking so badly, she would have.

"You took his life." Her voice was a whisper.

"I gave you exactly what you wanted. He doesn't remember anything about Seven or that little spat you and he had. He doesn't remember a lot of things. When you went through your unfortunate holodeck incidents; Steth, the alien bodysnatcher. The Hirogen fantasy life." His voice dropped mockingly. "That cute little night with Harry Kim. Nothing. Everything that eventually broke you two apart, all gone." He clapped his hands together sharply, parting them with a flourish, a magician making a life disappear.

"Give it back to him!" B'Elanna lifted her head, pinning him with her eyes. Q laughed in delight.

"No. Only one wish. Human custom, right?" He giggled, leaning against the opposite wall. "So what do you want to do now?"

She stared at Q with hatred etched so clearly on her face it sent him into another gale of laughing.

"Nothing." She ground out the words with some difficulty. "He--he has--a wife--"

"That he doesn't care about. You think he'll go back to her? Give a good damn about *her*? He hardly knew her then. But he knows you. He's in love with you. It's a happy time for him. Are you going to take *that* away too?"

B'Elanna lifted her head sharply, mouth opening in shock.

"I didn't--"

"You know you did." Q's smile hadn't faded. He slowly circled her, his voice too close to her ear. She couldn't escape it as it ground into her brain. "You took his future. His life. His very new joy with his extremely beautiful wife. You ignored the diagnostic, didn't you? It showed up in the code. Did you see it?"

B'Elanna drew in a breath, trying to choke it through her closing throat.

"No..."

"In the Flyer--you saw the discrepancy and you erased it."

"No I didn't!" She felt her hands flatten against her thighs. "I would never do that! I checked everything, I checked the code--Seven checked the codes--"

"Are you sure?"

B'Elanna stared at him, mouth open, trying to get the words out.

"I watched, B'Elanna." He'd stepped closer, smile fading. "You erased the discrepancy when you closed down the diagnostic. Seven would have found it, given enough time. Saw that you overlooked it."

"You lying bastard." There was no heat in it. She couldn't find anything in her except shock.

"Check the log file." He sounded smug. "Don't worry, I didn't alter it. I didn't need to do much at all, did I? You did it all yourself."

He stepped back, smiling with endless good cheer again, as if someone had just given him the greatest gift in the world.

"You took everything away from him, with that little mistake. He won't be happy with Seven now, you know. Not now." Q tapped his fingers on the wall lightly, apparently delighted with the noise. "There is something to be said for corporeal existence. I like this sound."

"Change everything back." Her voice broke. Q shifted his weight onto one foot, regarding her with a tilted head and a smirk. "Fix this, Q!"

"No returns, exchanges, or refunds." He sounded like a Ferengi. "B'Elanna Torres, you recognize these words? 'Be careful what you wish for, Lieutenant.' " Her eyes closed. "You are responsible for what happened to him. You have a responsibility to him, don't you? Somehow, I don't think that will be such a hardship. Do you? After all, it was an accident, wasn't it?"

B'Elanna broke then. One fist upraised, she moved, almost too fast for the Q to get out of her way, winking into nonexistence. Her hand crashed into the wall, and she sank down on the corridor floor.

"Some things can't be changed, B'Elanna. Enjoy this new life, where Tom Paris never wanted anyone but you. Just like you wanted."

B'Elanna didn't move.

Cradled her hand gently, forehead pressed to cold metal, mind terribly blank as she heard Q's words over and over in her head.

* * * * *

"I'm married."

"Yes, Tom."

"To Seven of Nine."

"Yes, Tom."

They'd gone over it three times. He was looking at the ring on the desk, apparently his wedding ring, though he sure as hell didn't feel married.

B'Elanna had disappeared, he had no idea how or when. Maybe during the recitation of the wedding only two weeks before. He didn't blame her.

The Captain watched Tom pace.

"I lost two years."

Fourth time beginning. Janeway sat back, glancing at the Doctor.

"Yes. Two years."

He walked to the window that overlooked Sickbay.

"What else do I need to know about my life?" he said bitterly. He didn't need to turn around to know the Captain was looking worriedly at the Doctor. "Is this permanent?"

The Doctor didn't pretend to misunderstand. Tom thought he saw compassion in the brown eyes. {Trick of the light--that is a bad pun, Tommy boy. This can't be real.}

"Yes. Those memories were destroyed with that brain tissue. I salvaged all I could, but I'm afraid there is nothing I can do to restore what you lost. I'm sorry, Mr. Paris." And he sounded genuinely regretful. Not that Tom could give a good damn right then.

"I need to be alone." Tom turned around, eyes meeting Captain Janeway with challenge. Then the blue eyes flickered to the Doctor sharply, daring him to disagree.

"You can be released to your quarters." He didn't sound entirely unhappy with the idea either. Tom nodded.

"Your old quarters are still unassigned. You can go there. I'll activate the replicator for you," Janeway said softly. He started a little. She looked away.

{My old quarters. Old quarters, which means I have new quarters, which means I'm married--} She stood up, going to his side.

"If you need to talk, Tom--" she stopped, apparently seeing the look on his face. The hand she'd raised to touch his shoulder fell back.

"I just need to be alone, Captain. Thanks." She nodded quickly, and he walked to the door. Once there, he turned, frowning. Visibly searching for words.

"Someone needs to tell--to tell Seven," he said awkwardly. He shifted his feet a little.

"I will," the Captain said softly. "Don't worry."

He nodded and left. Both the Doctor and Captain Janeway stared at the door as it closed behind him.

* * * * *

Seven Paris had not moved from the window since Captain Janeway had broken the news. The long line of her back was straight, her arms crossed, head high, as she stared out at the stars.

"I understand, Captain."

"Do you?" Janeway said softly. She slowly approached Seven, keeping the small distance between them that Seven preferred when dealing with anyone when she was under stress. Interestingly enough, Janeway had noted that Seven was most likely to lapse into what the crew called "Borg" when she was upset. Not exactly unusual, but it made it difficult to offer comfort or support.

The silence was disconcerting. When Janeway had broken the news, she had noted the way Seven's long fingers dug into the PADD in her hand for a brief moment.

It couldn't be easy to be two weeks married and discover your husband didn't remember you.

"Tom no longer remembers anything of the last two years, including our marriage. It is understandable the Doctor would ask for the presence of Lieutenant Torres and yourself to explain the situation to him."

Janeway swallowed hard. She'd never forget the look on B'Elanna's face for as long as she lived. She bit her lip. This was almost unreal.

"What do you want to do, Seven?"

Seven turned then, her face utterly expressionless.

"My choices are limited, Captain."

"Seven--" Janeway trailed off, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't sound cliched to the former Borg. Seven was not one for small talk, for condolences--for anything the Captain knew how to do.

"May I see him?"

Janeway had to consider that carefully.

"I'm not sure that is a good idea right now, Seven." Seven's mouth tightened visibly. "He wanted to be alone, and the Doctor wishes to run a few more tests on Tom to make sure that all neural activity is normal and there won't be any other complications."

"Besides his memory." Only Seven could say that in a emotionless voice, and still make you want to cry for her. Janeway stood up, crossing to the younger woman, and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. The younger woman stiffened but didn't pull away. They both studied the stars outside.

There really wasn't much else to say.

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