Some dinner parties are more memorable than others. That night in the Captain's quarters is one I'll never forget. Don't think the others will, either.

It had been B'Elanna's idea. She said it was because we'd all had such a good time at Seven's gourmet dinner weeks before and she wanted to try again. Personally, I think she wanted to ease some of the tension that lingered between the Captain and Chakotay since we returned from Quarra.

Beneath the warrior's exterior, my wife is an incurable romantic.

If she had asked me (which she didn't), I would have reminded her that a little tension between those two is a good sign. It means they're going through one of their phases when they're totally aware of one another. It's only when they don't seem to notice each other that I wonder if they've lost whatever it is they have between them. But she didn't ask, and since I am a doting and responsible husband these days – and since her aim with hurled bric-a-brac seems to have improved with pregnancy – I didn't mention it.

Sometimes discretion really is the better part of valor.

So, B'Elanna suggested the dinner and the Captain and the Commander agreed without hesitation. These days, they are both as protective of her as her parents would have been. Should have been, if they'd just looked past their own selfishness.

I swear, our daughter will never have cause to make a statement like that. Never.

Anyway, we decided on an informal potluck with no uniforms, no rules and absolutely no work-related discussions. Strictly R & R. B'Elanna's blood pressure had been a little high, so all she had to do was turn big brown eyes on the command team and say, "Please. I think it would do me a world of good," and voila! the dinner was on.

She can be devious, my bride. I have to remember that.

The evening would have been remarkable for that alone, but things really took off when Neelix interrupted the salad course. We were laughing over something, I don't remember what, when the door chime sounded and he came in with his hands behind his back and a shit-eating grin nearly splitting his face. "Sorry to interrupt, but Harry said these were important."

He whipped his hands around and displayed four padds.

"Mail call already?" the Captain asked. "I didn't expect anything until tomorrow."

"These were marked priority," Neelix replied. Then he distributed one padd to each of us. "I certainly hope it's all good news." I would have bet a month's rations that he wanted to be invited to hear our letters, but when the invitation didn't come he left graciously and quickly.

We were all surprised. Chakotay rarely received personal mail, B'Elanna never, and in any case, 'priority' personal mail was almost never good news. We looked at each other uneasily.

"We'd better read them," the Captain said at last. "Otherwise, we'll just rush through the rest of the meal."

Mine was from my father, and I read no further than the address heading. Truthfully, I hadn't heard from him since I wrote about my marriage and the baby, and I was more than a little afraid of his reaction. I stared at it for a long time, trying to decide, and then I looked up at almost the exact moment B'Elanna did. One glance was enough to tell me that whatever was on her padd had rattled her, badly.

Before I could ask her about it, Chaktoay said, "Oh, gods," in a strangled voice that captured our attention. I couldn't remember the last time I had heard that much raw emotion from him.

"What is it?" the Captain asked, concerned.

His hands shook visibly and he was staring at the padd. "Shaya. Shaya is alive."

This meant nothing to me, but B'Elanna said, "Your sister? Your little sister?"

"How is that possible?" the Captain asked. "I thought she was killed when the Cardassians attacked your home."

All the blood had left his face. "She says there was a ground assault before they destroyed the planet, and they took prisoners, mostly young women. She –" he caught a ragged breath, then continued, "- she was taken to Cardassia Prime. The Federation didn't find out about her and the others until after the War. She just got back to Earth last month."

"That's wonderful," I said, without thinking.

He looked at me with such anger that I felt as if he'd slugged me. "Wonderful? Do you know what the Cardassians do to female prisoners? Do you have any idea how they used her?"

Jumping to his feet, he hurled the padd in the general vicinity of my head. Fortunately, my skills at avoiding flying objects have been well honed in recent years. A simple dodge, and the padd flew by, colliding with the bulkhead and crashing to the deck.

For a moment, we all seemed frozen: Chakotay, standing with his fists clenched, looking ready to rip my throat out; B'Elanna, sitting with tears in her eyes, and Captain Janeway, pale but more composed than any of us.

"Yes. I know exactly what Cardassians do to female prisoners."

B'Elanna and I both gaped at her; neither of us had known that about her. Apparently Chakotay did, because he didn't look surprised as he turned to her. Somehow, though, her quiet tone had reached him more effectively than anything B'Elanna or I could have said.

She went to him, and took both his hands. "She must be a remarkably strong person to have survived it."

The big man hesitated, still wanting to be angry. It showed in the set of his shoulders, the tenseness of his jaw. Then, suddenly, there were tears in his eyes and all that anger evaporated. "She was so beautiful," he said, as if he were trying to explain something very complicated. "She was so full of life."

"Of course she was," B'Elanna half-laughed, half-sobbed. "You always said I remind you of her."

He looked over his shoulder at her and almost smiled. "She's alive. She's really alive." Then in a movement that was practically convulsive, he jerked the Captain into an embrace so tight I wondered how she could breathe. The thing was, she was holding him just as tightly.

I learned more about their relationship in that moment than in the seven years before. B'Elanna was watching them, too, with something that looked a lot like satisfaction.

By the time they let go of each other, all four of us were misty-eyed. The silence suddenly became awkward, and I tried to fill it. "I think this calls for a toast."

"Wait," B'Elanna said, and lifted the padd in her hand. "I want to tell you about my news."

"Of course," the Captain said, and returned to her seat. Chakotay sat down as well.

B'Elanna reached across the corner of the table and handed me the padd. "Would you read it, Tom? It's from my mother."

I swallowed, even as the other two perked up. "Your mother? Oh, B'Elanna," the Captain said in a tone that said more than her words: Oh, B'Elanna, you've waited so long. Oh, B'Elanna, how wonderful.

Oh, Miral, I thought, if you hurt her, I'll hound you all the way to Grethor and rip out your heart.

I took the padd from her, but with my left hand I grabbed her right and held on. "My daughter," I read aloud, "by the time you get this, I will be dead."

I stopped, even as I heard the Captain gasp. I looked up and saw that both of the others were looking at B'Elanna compassionately. I started to ask if she really wanted me to go on, but she squeezed my hand and nodded her consent.

So I continued. "In the last days of the Dominion War, even old warhorses like me were accepted into service. I was present for the final glorious assault on Cardassia. But I was wounded there, a wound which refused to heal and which is killing me at last.

"I nearly died last year. As I lay unconscious, I dreamed that we met on the Barge of the Dead, and that you took my place on the trip to Grethor."

I stopped as a shiver run down my spine. That was exactly what had happened to B'Elanna last year. It hadn't been just an hallucination after all.

The letter continued, "I cannot say whether it was only a fever-induced dream or a true vision, but I cannot depart this life without telling you this: You made me proud, daughter, with your courage and determination. You are a true warrior."

My wife bit her lip and gripped my hand so tightly I thought she might break a finger or two. It didn't matter. I saw the way her eyes were shining.

"They tell me you have married a human," I went on. "It is not what I wanted for you, but I hope you are happy. I hope he is a stronger man than John."

"He is," my wife murmured.

I pretended I didn't hear. It was hard. "I hope you are a wiser woman than I. For I am not wise, B'Elanna, not at all. If I were wise, I would not be dying alone and wondering if the child who was the light of my life will mourn my passing.

"Remember who you are. You are a warrior and the child of warriors, but you are also a dreamer and the child of dreamers. It is only now that I see this does not diminish you, but ennobles you.

"Be strong. Remember me.

"Your mother, Miral."

Again, we all sat still and silent. Then B'Elanna, wet-eyed, smiled radiantly. "She loved me, you see? She did love me after all."

Chakotay left his chair to pull her into his arms for a hug that was nearly as strong as the one he had given the Captain before. I wasn't jealous. Much. It would have been like being jealous of her brother.

Then the Captain came around and hugged her, too. I hesitated; B'Elanna is pretty firm in her rule against Public Displays of Affection. But this, I decided, was a special occasion, and besides, it wasn't public; we were with family. I got up and held her, and was rewarded when she clung to me with all her strength.

So there we were, all misty-eyed again and suddenly shy with one another. There's nothing like a little naked emotion to make friends feel suddenly exposed. Finally I looked at the Captain. "Okay, it's your turn. But be warned, if you make my wife cry again, I may have to mutiny."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to pull them back in. Dropping the word 'mutiny' into a conversation with your C.O. is not exactly a bright career move. I could actually see the words float by, as if they were typed on an antique ticker-tape, and for one crazy second, I thought I could pull them back. Then I realized it was just an illusion and I was stuck with the consequences of my rapid wit.

But she just smiled. "It's nothing as spectacular as what we've heard. My sister had a baby. Daniel Edward. She says he looks like me." Then she cocked her head at me. "I believe you’re the only one left."

Busted. "I haven't read it yet. It's from my father."

B'Elanna moved her hands to my shoulders and squeezed. "Quit stalling, Helmboy."

How could I argue with that? Each of them had shared something deeply personal with me; how could I not return that favor. I went back to my seat and picked up the padd and cleared my throat, prepared to improvise if the message veered into any disapproval of my marriage.

"It's from my dad," I explained. "He's not exactly a scintillating writer."

"Of course not," Chakotay said, smiling. "He's an admiral."

He meant it as a joke, so I laughed and shrugged, but he didn't know how true his statement was. My father was first, last and always an admiral.

"Thomas," I read out loud. He always calls me Thomas, never just Tom. "First, your mother and I send our heartiest congratulations on your marriage and impending fatherhood."

I stopped. For my father, this was emotional in the extreme. He's usually less forthcoming than Tuvok in his displays of feeling.

"From everything Captain Janeway tells us," I read, "your wife is an extraordinary woman who has turned her life around on Voyager, just as you have. We look forward to the day when we can meet her in person. Until then, please convey our best wishes to her."

This was more than I expected, more perhaps than I was prepared to cope with. I looked at B'Elanna. "Best wishes, sweetheart."

She slapped my hand. "Don't be sarcastic. He means it."

"Yes," I said slowly. "He does." I looked back to the letter. "I understand that your wife has received distressing news in this packet. Perhaps this will soften the blow. I have located her cousin, Elizabeth Torres-St. Clair. She is in the Diplomatic Corps, until recently assigned to QonoS. She is most eager to correspond with her cousin, and your wife can expect a letter from her in the next packet. I have also found –"

I stopped again. This was big. This was huge, and I wasn't sure how she would react. I reached for her hand before I began to read again. "I have also found her father, John Torres. He is anxious to correspond with his daughter, but in light of what you have told me, I am unwilling to make any commitments to him without the permission of Lt. Torres. Please let me know her reaction."

Her hand tightened over mine with enough force to make me wince. The osteogenerator would definitely be useful later. Her reaction, I knew, was one of complete ambivalence. As much as she hates the guy for running out on her and her mother, she wants to see him again just as much. It's going to take a while for her to sort through that.

I skimmed quickly over the little that was left. "That's pretty much it," I reported. "The rest is about my mother's prize rose."

"Well," the Captain said thickly, "I think that's more than enough for one night."

"Not quite," Chakotay said. He left the table and went to the replicator, returning in a moment with a fat white candle and a long, glowing punk. "This calls for a bit of a ceremony."

Leave it to him. He loves ceremonies and rituals.

Okay, he was right. We needed one just then.

He touched the red tip of the punk to the wick of the candle. "The flame of life is strong tonight. I light this candle in the name of Shaya, returned to life."

Then he handed the punk to the Captain. "For Daniel," she said, and touched the tip to the small flame. "May his life be filled with enough hardship to make him strong and enough pain to make him appreciate joy."

It was my turn. "For … my daughter. May she always know how much she is loved."

I handed the punk to B'Elanna. Her eyes were swimming, but the tears did not drop. "For my mother. For Miral. May you storm the gates of Sto-Vo-Kor."

Funny. It doesn't sound like much when I write it down, but at the time it felt big, somehow. It felt right. We finished our dinner with the fat white candle in the center of the table, burning for the people we had named and burning for us. There were more emotions, expressed in private later, at least for B'Elanna and I assume for Chakotay as well; I only hope that he had someone with him the way I was with B'Elanna. I may never be able to prove it, but I'd make book there was.