Be Careful What You Wish For

by Barbara Watson

  "B'Elanna, are you awake?" His voice was soft and tired, but hopeful. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

  "Tom," she croaked as she looked up at him. Yikes, it sounded like she hadn't spoken in a while, either. "What's going on? Where are we?"

  He watched her struggling to rise and grabbed the pillow he had been resting on to elevate her, just enough to give her a glimpse of her surroundings. "Don't try to sit up yet," he said softly. "You've had a rough time."

  Absentmindedly, in what had become a habit for the past few months, she ran her hand across her belly, only to have her mind make ten instantaneous connections. Still fat, was the first thought, leading quickly to 'oh gods, the baby,' to 'we were in the transwarp conduit,' to 'something went wrong,' and on and on. Her husband struggled to anticipate the places her mind was wandering and began to answer her unspoken questions.

  "The baby's fine, B'Elanna. So are you." She breathed a little easier. "Engineering was protected from most of the structural collapse, but you had a pretty bad concussion. You'll be okay, though." He paused long enough to change his tone to kid her gently. "Looks like I'm not the only one in this family with a hard head," he gently joked, getting the smile he had been wanting to see for so long. He let himself enjoy her grin for a moment before he continued. After what he was about to say, it might be a while before he saw it again. "We made it most of the way home before the plasma relays blew and the singularity collapsed." He swallowed hard before going on. "The ship was practically torn apart."

  Tom was trying to figure out how much he should tell her. He wouldn't lie, he had promised himself. But how much to offer? He decided on a small diversion. "We were detected by the crew of a Federation vessel on a deep space scientific exploration. They called for help, and we were rescued by this Starfleet scout ship a few days later. We're in the Beta Quadrant, on our way to Starbase 32, with Voyager--or what's left of her--in tow."

  "Where is everyone else? What...."

  He gently put his finger over her lips. "I'll answer all of your questions. I promise. Just as soon as I have the doctor look you over."

  B'Elanna knew Tom wanted her to hold off on her questions, but there was one more thing she needed to know. "How long have I been out?" she asked. "Five days," he said softly. "The five longest days of my life." He leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead, then went to find the doctor. 'Okay, Paris' he told himself. 'Now you can start breathing again.'

  Tom walked quickly to the adjacent bay, and found Dr. Ryan at Samantha Wildman's bedside. Sam had deep tissue burns across most of her back where she had bent over to shield Naomi from an exploding sickbay panel, and Dr. Ryan, the Resnick's short, blond CMO was tending her gently. Sam's skin and muscles were regenerated, but she would require monitoring for at least four more days to make sure her nerve pathways were reconnecting.

  When Voyager had entered the singularity, Naomi had been under the Doc's care for a mild case of the flu. The captain had assigned Ensign Wildman to sickbay duty both to assist the Doctor in Tom's absence and to be near her daughter in case the worst were to happen. It was good, Tom thought, that Sam had been there. As the ship's systems began to fail and before she lost consciousness, Samantha had the presence of mind to download the Doc's program into his mobile emitter and had shoved it into her uniform. He was beamed to the Resnick along with her when she was rescued. Tom was particularly grateful for that now.

  "Dr. Ryan," he interrupted. "My wife is awake."

  "That's good news, Lieutenant." She turned to smile at him as she entered the last notes in Sam's chart. "I'll be right there to examine her."

  "Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like our Doc to take a look at her first. With B'Elanna's unique physiology and his experience with her pregnancy, I'd just feel better...."

  "Of course," she offered. "I think you know where to find him." Her voice trailed off, and they exchanged a knowing look.

  "Thanks," Tom replied. "I'm sure I do."

  Tom wasn't the only Voyager crewmember keeping vigil in the Resnick's medical bays. Seven couldn't be pried from Icheb's side, even after she knew he would recover fully from his serious injuries. When they transferred the boy to quarters, Seven went with him. Tom hadn't seen her since, nor did he expect to.

  Neelix had taken custody of Naomi as soon as they were rescued, and was helping the child deal with the trauma she had witnessed too close up. Naomi was a smart girl, Tom knew, and she would get through this with enough love and some counseling. Too often with the rest of the crew, however, there was no one left to hover over, expectantly praying for a recovery. They had lost so many. The names started flooding his mind.... 'Stop it, Tom.' He forced himself to focus.

  As expected, the Doctor was standing his own kind of vigil next to those in the intensive care bay. He spent most of his time hovering over the unconscious woman in the first bed. The monitors above her head hadn't changed in days, yet the Doctor checked them meticulously every few seconds. Tom took some comfort in knowing that the captain would probably survive, a comfort that didn't seem to come so easily to his holographic friend. Her coma was induced, Tom knew from his medical training, to help heal her synaptic pathways as quickly as possible.

  Janeway was one of several survivors with catastrophic injuries. Chakotay was in even worse shape. He had suffered a crushing spinal injury, and was on the verge of systemic organ failure when he was found and rescued by the Resnick's captain. Key body systems had been deprived of blood and oxygen for long enough that the tissue damage was severe. The doctor had repaired the physical injuries, but there was some question about the commander's long-term prognosis. All they could do was provide life-support and wait.

  Still, the Doc never tired of standing by, waiting to come to the rescue. Perhaps because there was so little he had been able to do to save the others. Tom knocked on the doorframe so as not to startle him.

  "Doc, I've got some great news." Could a hologram look exhausted? This one did. "I could use some great news, Mr. Paris, though I'm a little surprised to see you here. What can I do for you?"

  "B'Elanna's awake." Ah-ha, the Doctor thought. That explains it. "She's asking me a lot of questions that I'm afraid to answer until you've checked her over."

  Impressed that his medic hadn't tried to evaluate his wife himself, the doctor placed the captain's chart down on the tray and indicated for the Resnick's nurse to take over. "Fine. Let's go check out my favorite patient."

  Tom quirked, "So now she's your favorite patient, Doc? That's a switch."

  Characteristically the Doctor retorted, "Not Lieutenant Torres, the little warrior she's carrying around with her."

  Tom smiled. Of course, Doc would be particularly protective of this little patient--though his choice of descriptives brought back some memories that Tom could have done without right now. They walked together back to the ward where the pilot's wife now slept again--this time slightly less peacefully.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  Admiral Paris received the news thirty-nine hours after leaving Earth. There had been survivors, though the ship had taken heavy casualties. Half the bridge crew was dead before help arrived. Total losses had been almost fifty--a third of the complement--and there were many serious injuries, including Captain Janeway, who was in emergency surgery. The Maquis first officer had been gravely injured and was not expected to survive. Lt. Commander Tuvok was confirmed to be among the deceased. Names of survivors were being compiled as their status was determined and injuries triaged.

  Owen didn't ask--he knew he didn't have to. For reasons he'd rather forget, everyone in Starfleet was well aware that the Admiral's son was on that ship. They would tell him as soon as they knew. Still, he was sure Tom would have been on the bridge at the helm for this maneuver. Janeway would have needed her best pilot, and Owen understood too well that it had to be Tom.

  It had now been almost four days without an update. "Paris to the Bridge." The young officer on duty looked a little fearful; he couldn't pass alon
g news he didn't have, and the Admiral was known for being less than patient when things weren't going his way. "I'd like to speak with Voyager's senior surviving officer as soon as we're in communications range."

  The young man nodded. "Yes, Admiral. I estimate achieving communications at 1930 hours."

  Owen switched off the display, after checking the time. 0916. The last ten years had gone by so quickly. He feared the next ten hours would last forever. He tried to keep focused as he turned back to his console. He wouldn't write her now. After all, there wasn't anything to say. Not yet.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  Tom was almost glad to see that his wife had drifted back to sleep. He hadn't liked leaving her alone, even for the few seconds it had taken him to get the Doctor. He was equally glad to see those dark eyes pop open as he took her hand. "B'Elanna, are you still with me?"

  She squinted her eyes in the 'what a dumb question' look he knew so well. "I'm afraid you may be stuck with me for a while longer," she sighed. She must be feeling better if she was teasing him, he thought, and she was. Seeing Tom's face the moment she awoke had spared her the anxious tension many of her crewmates had experienced, waiting to learn the status of their loved ones. Hers was walking and talking and--other than the dark circles under his eyes and the uncombed hair, he seemed unhurt. And he had already told her that their baby was fine. Part of her mind deliberately stopped her from thinking beyond these victories. There was bad news on its way, she could see it in Tom's eyes. For a moment, she was content to let him tell her in his own way, enjoying what she knew might be the last chance to imagine that the rest of her friends were alright.

  "Let's dispense with the most important information first, shall we," said the Doctor, running the scanner over B'Elanna's belly. "Fetal heart tones are strong and regular. Normal gestational development. Lieutenants, I'd say we should be welcoming my goddaughter in just a few weeks." He smiled the classic Doctor smile. He wished he felt as chipper as he had made himself sound. "Now, to the mother.... There is still some mild intracranial swelling. Nothing that won't resolve itself with some bed rest and excellent nursing care. Luckily, I know a skilled medic I can recommend." He glanced in Tom's direction. "I can release you in a few hours, assuming you agree to stay in bed and avoid excessive stress."

  "I don't seem to have anywhere to go," B'Elanna almost whispered. Gods, this was going to be hard. Keeping busy was how she coped with things. "But I need to know what happened...."

  "Doc," Tom asked, "maybe you could stick around for a minute while I try to answer some of her questions?"

  "Of course," the EMH replied softly, taking just a few steps back to give the couple some measure of privacy. He moved to get a better view of the biomonitor, and began to check her readings. He'd want to sedate her if the answers she received made her condition worsen.

  "How many?" she asked.

  Tom knew and answered. "Forty-seven died in the accident. We lost three more during treatment. Almost everyone else had some kind of injury. Sixty were seriously wounded, including Captain Janeway. The Doc has been treating them here on the Resnick, and thinks they're going to pull through with time."

  He thought he'd tell her the good news next. "Almost everyone who was in engineering made it through just fine. Joe Carey, Sue, Seven." That was pretty much the extent of the good news. "Icheb was pretty bad off, but he's doing a lot better. Seven won't let him out of her sight, now." He took a breath and glanced at the Doctor. "Neelix is taking care of Naomi.... Sam was burned pretty badly, but she's in the next room and she's gonna be alright. She even rescued the Doc." He forced himself to smile. There was only so long he could put this off.

  "Chakotay...?" she whispered.

  Tom's eyes darted away, but he forced himself to look back to her. "When we were thrown out of the conduit, our structural integrity field destabilized and the bridge was crushed. It collapsed around us. I guess I was protected by a piece of the superstructure, but the conduits above it snapped and crashed onto the upper decks. The captain was pinned under a piece of the ceiling. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was Chakotay diving over the railing, trying to get to her." He paused to let his wife take it in. "He's hurt pretty badly. We're not sure if he'll make it."

  B'Elanna's eyes had started to tear halfway through Tom's story. She knew it was bad news by the gentle way he was telling it. When she heard the words, though, she breathed a small sigh of relief. He was alive. Chakotay had been her friend, her mentor, her surrogate brother. He had stood with her on her wedding day, a little shocked from the sudden climax to what had been a four year mating dance, but still happy for her and Tom. He had saved her life once, many years ago, just before he recruited her into the Maquis--and had handed her a new one when he agreed to join Janeway's crew and demanded she be made chief engineer. Almost every good thing in her life had started with Chakotay. He would have to recover. She'd will him back to health. She looked back at Tom, who was squeezing her hands, only to realize there was more.

  Tom glanced up at the bioreadings then over to the doctor. The EMH nodded silently, giving him permission to go on. Better get this over with right away, Tom thought, so she could begin to work through it. He wiped a tear from B'Elanna's face before he began, and took a deep breath.

  "We lost a lot of friends, B'Elanna." His voice drifted off. Was he doing the right thing?

  "Tell, me," she insisted.

  There were almost too many to name. "Tabor. Mike Ayala. Megan and Jenny..." He forced himself to keep going. "Tuvok...." She closed her eyes. Tom's hesitated. Yet she knew he wasn't done.

  Suddenly, though she didn't know why, she knew what was coming before he said it--maybe from the tortured expression that was forming on her husband's face, maybe by process of elimination. She sucked in her breath. "Oh, gods, Tom--Harry?"

  Her husband's eyes closed tightly, and when they opened they were wet with tears. "Yeah," he forced out in a whisper. It was all he could say. He pulled her up into his arms, and they cried together over their losses.

  The Doctor glanced at the readings, and decided to let the couple mourn in private. While B'Elanna's adrenaline level was higher than he would have liked, neither she nor the baby were in any physical danger, and he knew that Tom wanted to avoid sedating his wife unless it became medically necessary. She had faced a similar loss only a few years ago, and had fallen into a severe depression at that time. Both Tom and the Doctor felt that shielding her from this pain might only trigger a similar reaction. She would have to feel and face up to it. It was a small measure of comfort that--this time--they wouldn't let her go through it alone.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  Scattered throughout the Resnick, what was left of Voyager's crew practiced their own private grieving rituals.

  Seven of Nine was exhausted and feeling more than a little queasy. Her regeneration chamber was likely one more piece of broken equipment on Voyager's devastated Deck 8, and the Resnick's captain had been dismissive of her request to salvage it from the damaged ship. Normally, she would have been more forceful and pressed the issue, but her priority now was tending to Icheb. Regeneration would have to wait.

  Since the very first day she had been stranded on Voyager and separated from the collective, Seven had experienced an enormous range of emotions. Her early days were lonely. She became combative, fighting Captain Janeway at every turn. She and Lieutenant Torres couldn't be in the same room for more than a minute without open warfare. She had even attacked Harry Kim in an attempt to contact and rejoin the collective.

  Over time, however, she found herself surprised at the compassion she was shown by most of the crew. Commander Chakotay had helped her adjust by giving her a regular duty shift and demanding the crew treat her with respect. Lieutenant Paris had gone out of his way to tell her he didn't hold her Borg past against her. She had the opportunity to work closely with Ensign Kim, and their relationship had progressed from awkward to intellectually stimulating to collegial. He had been her partner in con
structing the astrometrics lab, and--in the process--helped her find a unique way to contribute her expertise to her new captain and crew. Commander Tuvok, perhaps the most like her in temperament, had become a role model for her, and as good a friend as Seven allowed herself aboard Voyager. Even her battles with Lieutenant Torres had cooled to a kind of friendly rivalry and mutual respect.

  And she couldn't even find the words to describe her debt to Captain Janeway. To say the captain saved her life several times over was true even if clichéd. Everything Seven had or might become she owed to this woman, who had been her mentor, surrogate mother, and friend.

  She had found herself enjoying the company of her crewmates, and had just begun exploring concepts like friendship, humor, and cooperation. It had been a long and painful adjustment process, and she knew it wasn't over. Yet she had come to appreciate and respect these individuals.

  And she had only just begun exploring deeper connections. After spending so much time in scientific study of courtship and mating practices--almost earning a bloody nose from Lieutenant Torres in the process--Seven had come to believe she would never understand the complexities of romantic relationships. The odd mix of attraction, affection, combat, and chemistry was illogical and confounding. Yet she was surprised to find herself mimicking many of the behaviors she observed during her Paris/Torres study in her own relationship with the Doctor. They shared a deep friendship, mutual interests, a sly sense of humor, and an outsider's view of the world. They knew the most and least attractive parts of the other's personality, yet they appreciated and accepted the whole of the other's character. They fought for and with each other in ways that caused them to examine their own beliefs and prejudices. And they found comfort and acceptance in each other's company.