She took a moment and thought again of the book she had just been reading. About how then-Captain James Kirk regularly broke every directive regarding fraternization—not only with members of his crew, but with women from alien races as well. Hadn’t she just been convincing herself that her circumstances—like Kirk’s times—had been very different from today’s normal Starfleet life. Couldn’t she make one more exception to her closely-held Starfleet principles. When she looked up into Chakotay’s eyes, she knew the answer.
“I wouldn’t let you out that door if you tried,” she said sincerely, the pain showing in her eyes. He smiled, sweetly, then leaned in to kiss her.
They spent the rest of the night sitting on her couch, hands entwined, talking though the accident, what went wrong, the friends they’d lost, their pain, and their next steps. After several hours, Kathryn fell soundly asleep in Chakotay’s arms, curled up in a bundle on her sofa. He had a decision to make, now. It wasn’t difficult; he shifted his weight slightly, just enough to wriggle his arms out of his uniform jacket. With great difficulty because of his injuries, he kicked-off his boots, and leaned back to make himself more comfortable. As if she had done it all of her life, Kathryn then instinctively rolled over to rest her head on his chest. He moved his arm around her shoulder, pulled her to him tightly, and stroked her hair until he dozed off.
For the rest of the night, in the worst of circumstances, hidden-away from their crew and with the weight of the world on both their shoulders, the woman who was the captain and the man who remained her first officer held each other and slept.
~*~*~*~*~
Seven of Nine wasn’t doing as well. She had spent the rest of her day avoiding everyone on board. She had taken her talk with B’Elanna seriously, and suspected the engineer’s evaluation was correct. There probably was some physiological component to her increasingly bad mood, but that didn’t make it any easier to cope with. She knew that the Doctor could probably help her, but—somehow—he was the last person she wanted to see right now. Still, it was getting late and she knew she needed to regenerate. She tried slipping in through the biolab, hoping the doctor would be occupied with caring for Commander Chakotay.
She hadn’t realized the first officer had already been released. Still, she was almost about to step into her alcove before the EMH noticed her. “Seven,” he said softly but firmly. “I think we need to talk.” He was walking toward her across his office. She tried ignoring him, and moved to activate the regeneration cycle. He put his hand across the panel, blocking her access. “Don’t make me order you to comply.” She knew his role as Chief Medical Officer afforded him certain authority over the crew where matters of health were concerned. In this case, resistance was, in fact, futile.
“Fine,” she said under her breath. There was no need to disturb Icheb’s regeneration, she reasoned, noticing the young man resting peacefully in the alcove next to hers. She stepped past the doctor and into his office.
Normally, Seven would have preferred to stand, but she once again found herself on the verge of physical exhaustion, so she took the seat across from the doctor’s desk. She was surprised when he didn’t scan her before sitting down himself. Instead, he keyed in a series of commands on his computer terminal and turned the screen to face her.
“These are the readings I took of you this morning. Your neurotransmitter levels are significantly lower than normal, and your body is showing signs of extreme fatigue as a result. I’d like to give you something to correct the imbalance. It will make you feel better.”
She nodded. “I know. I spoke to Lieutenant Torres this afternoon. She shares your diagnosis of my condition.” She paused. “I’m not sure...,” she wasn’t sure how to say this. “I don’t know if I want to ‘feel better’ just yet. I see the rest of the crew going about their work. They seem totally unaffected by what has happened, by how...irreparable this situation is. Somehow it seems wrong—disrespectful—to just get over it and move on.”
“Seven, I’m not suggesting that you ignore your grief.” He was speaking very softly, trying to be patient with her as she went through these unfamiliar emotions. “On the contrary, you need to experience all these feelings in order to get past them. But your body isn’t able to help you take the next steps. The treatment I’m proposing won’t take away your pain or your sense of loss. It will just help you cope with them.”
“I don’t think you’re capable of understanding how overwhelming these feelings are. You just can’t know what it’s like. You’re...” Even as she was saying it, the implications of her comment didn’t sink in to her.
The Doctor inferred her meaning, however. “Only a hologram,” he said matter-of-factly. It was something he’d never thought he would hear from her. Of all the crew, Seven had accepted his sentience without question, had championed his rights as an individual, and had never treated him as anything less than ‘human.’ Yet she was right. He’d never know the way one’s body chemistry could turn on itself. He could never be sure that his personality subroutines experienced emotions in the same ways as an organic heart and brain might. But he understood pain, he was sure. He was feeling it right now.
“Well, I suppose you’re right. But I assure you, Seven, I can understand how it feels to lose close friends, to watch them die and have to wonder if there wasn’t something you could have done to save them. I know what it’s like to know you’ll never see them again, never see your life the same way in light of their loss. I even know what it feels like to see someone you care for—deeply—in pain right before your eyes. And to wonder why she won’t let you help.”
He glanced at his arm to make sure he was wearing his mobile emitter. He was feeling the need for a quick exit, and he didn’t want to have to stop to transfer his program. It would make him feel even more like a walking database and less like a man. He was too close to those feelings at the moment without the extra reminder.
“I could help you though this, Seven, as your physician and as your friend. Frankly—I was hoping we could be there for each other.” His voice got quiet before he continued. “Let me know if you change your mind.” He stood up and rounded the desk.
“Doctor...” she called after him, but he didn’t turn back. The sickbay doors closed quietly behind him.
He wasn’t even sure where he was going. There was no holodeck to escape to, no patients to tend. He didn’t even have quarters to retreat to. He just knew he had to get out of that sickbay, and to put some distance between himself and Seven. There was only one way he could think of to feel useful. He entered the turbolift and called for Deck 11.
Tom wasn’t sorry to end his day third in command. Not only was he totally unsure he ever wanted such a big responsibility, his ‘demotion’ meant the captain and Chakotay were on the road to a full recovery. All he cared about now was enjoying a quiet dinner and a long night’s sleep with B’Elanna by his side. He was putting the finishing touches on his big surprise when his wife came home.
The computer lab never looked so romantic. Tom had fashioned a dining table out of a large cargo container, and had salvaged some of the few surviving flowers from the airponics bay. Their dinner was a bit nicer than most of the crew were enjoying, since the engineering staff had each chipped in extra replicator rations to feed Voyager’s expectant mother. It was nothing fancy, but it was better than emergency provisions. He turned when he heard the doors open.
The effort and trouble he had taken—on top of all Tom had been forced to deal with during this insane and difficult day—took B’Elanna’s breath away. She stood just inside the door, shaking her head and smiling. “When did you have time to do all of this?” she asked. “Or is commanding Voyager easier than I thought?”
Tom smiled. “Icheb helped me rescue some things from our quarters. The rest—well, it was worth it just to see that look on your face.”
She smiled back at him. “What look?”
He walked toward her and pulled her into his arms. “I just haven’t s
een you smile in a few days. I missed it. I’ve missed our ‘normal’ lives. I wanted to give you back a little of that.”
Her expression turned wistful. “Thank you,” she said as she leaned into his embrace. She pulled back slightly and began to laugh, “Although, I don’t think you and I have ever led ‘normal lives.’”
He smiled. “Okay, you’ve got me there. But I’ve loved the last few months. Coming home to you every night, sharing what happened during our day, falling asleep next to you. I’ve loved...”
She finished his sentence as she often did these days, “...being married.”
He smiled. “Being married to you.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle, “Who’d have believed it: Tom Paris, so easily domesticated!”
He was getting that intense and devious look in his eyes, and she loved where that was likely to lead. “I guess I just needed to find the right wife...” He leaned in to kiss her, with that perfect mix of passion and tenderness.
There was only so long she could let that kind of contact continue before she’d want more than just a kiss. That would have to wait until after dinner, she thought, keeping her promises to her doctor about her nutrition. Trying to distract them both from the mutual impulse, B’Elanna broke away from his embrace and decided to change the subject. “Dinner looks wonderful. I’m really hungry.”
Tom knew both he and B’Elanna had an appetite for more than just supper, but he also knew she had to take care of herself and the baby first. “Well, then let’s eat.”
He escorted her to the table and helped her onto one of the lab stools. Less than elegant dining chairs, but they would do. As B’Elanna began to nibble her salad, Tom remembered he had news to share. “I forgot to tell you. The Doc released Chakotay from sickbay.” She almost jumped back up out of her seat. “B’Elanna, sit down and eat. You can see him tomorrow. I don’t think he’d appreciate the company right now, anyway.”
She looked confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tom tried to avoid smiling as he answered, “I dropped him off at the captain’s cabin a few hours ago. I told him to let me know if he wanted me to fix up quarters for him. Let’s just say he hasn’t called, and I’m not expecting him to.”
B’Elanna could only smile at that thought. She hoped it was true. Certainly, after all they had been through—and were likely to face in the coming days—her friends had earned a little mutual comfort and privacy. “Tom, you didn’t tell...” He interrupted.
“Nobody knows but you and me. And I don’t plan on telling anyone.”
At that, the enunciator sounded. Tom hoped to get rid of whoever was calling so late, and stood to walk to the door to make the point in person. The look on the face of his visitor changed his mind. “Doc? Is something wrong.”
“I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d check on Lieutenant Torres and my goddaughter. One can’t be too careful in the last weeks of pregnancy.”
His story was obviously a pretense, but his friends didn’t care. Something was upsetting him, Tom could tell. “Sure, Doc, come on in.” The doctor walked into the lab and stood there awkwardly.
B’Elanna spun her stool around to face him. “Isn’t a medical tricorder usually necessary for a physical examination?” she asked. The Doctor’s hands were empty. He looked as flustered as he felt. She decided to give him an out. “If you’re here to spy on me, you’ll be happy to see I’m eating a nutritious meal then heading right to bed. I have a live-in medic, Doctor. You don’t need to worry.”
Their friend stammered to cover, “Yes, well...it’s good to see you’re following my instructions.” He couldn’t think of any other excuses to stay. “Well, I guess I’ll be going then.” He made no move to leave, however.
Tom wondered what was really going on, and was tired enough to get straight to the point. “Is something wrong, Doc?”
“I guess I’m just.... Well, I’ve released all of my patients, and with the main computer in such questionable condition, I’m hesitant to transfer my program out of the mobile emitter. So, I’m stuck online for the time being, and I guess I just wanted some company.” It was difficult for him to admit this to anyone, much less to Tom Paris. The Doctor and Tom had actually grown to like and respect each other during their years working closely in sickbay. But one of the parameters of their friendship was their ongoing banter, where each pretended to have little regard for the other. It kept the relationship light and comfortable, which is how they both preferred it. An admission of loneliness was an invitation for sarcasm the Doctor just didn’t feel up to at the moment. He was surprised when it never came.
“What about Seven? Isn’t she still staying in sickbay?” B’Elanna’s question was pointed. She wanted to know if her conversation that afternoon had helped.
From the look on the Doctor’s face, she guessed not. He didn’t seem to want to answer. “You know, if I’m interrupting you two...”
Tom Paris was more sensitive than most people gave him credit for. At least these days. He could tell the Doctor wanted to talk with B’Elanna, and that he was in the way. Despite the fact that his dinner and his wife were both rapidly cooling down, he decided to give them a few minutes alone. “Actually, I was just on my way to pick up something from our quarters. Why don’t you keep B’Elanna company until I get back?” He smiled at his wife, then headed out the door.
“He’s a lousy liar,” the doctor said, dryly.
“But he’s a good friend,” B’Elanna replied. “I think he thought this would be easier for you if he wasn’t here.” She motioned to Tom’s empty chair. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what’s going on.”
He took her suggestion, but wasn’t sure how to begin. “B’Elanna, I’m worried about her. She’s not eating, she’s withdrawn, lethargic. She doesn’t have any interest in things she used to care about—her work, music...”
“You.” B’Elanna interjected.
He nodded his head before he continued. “I know I could help her, but she won’t let me. Not as her doctor or as her friend. I just couldn’t stand to watch her do this to herself. So I left.” He looked solemnly up at her. “Now, I’m not sure what to do. I know it’s not the same situation, but you’ve been there before, B’Elanna. If you could go back and change how Tom reacted to you back then, what would you have him do differently?”
Torres smiled. She took total responsibility for the way she had behaved during her own depression, and she knew Tom hadn’t realized exactly what was happening to her at the time. But she had thought about the answer to the Doctor’s question before. Tom had asked her the same thing as soon as she had recovered. “I’d ask him to be more persistent. I’d have him be there, even when I told him to get out. I’d make sure he knew it wasn’t his fault, that I was rejecting myself, not him. And I’d tell him to hold onto me—to us, even when I couldn’t.” She smiled softly at her friend. “That’s what I’d do.”
She leaned over and touched his hand. “Go back and tell her you’re not going anywhere. And mean it. Then just stay close. She’ll find you when she’s ready.”
The Doctor smiled, sadly, hoping his friend was right.
He stood outside the sickbay doors for a full ten minutes, trying to get up the courage to go back in. His fear almost got the better of him. Then he heard it, softly, though the bulkhead: music.
He walked in gently, not knowing what to expect. The lights were dimmed, and it took a second for his visual subroutines to adjust. For a moment, he thought the room was empty. Then he saw her, sitting on the floor against the back wall of the surgical bay, her knees pulled closely to her chest. Her head was down, resting on her crossed arms.
The Doctor walked over and sat down beside her. For a moment, they just rested there, silently, listening to the song.
Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?
He reached over and put his hand on Seven’s arm, half expecting her to pull away. She didn’t. Instead she raised her head,
still avoiding his gaze, and said softly, “I have injured you. I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t help but smile to himself. “I’ll be fine. But I’m not going to leave again. I’m going to help you through this, Seven, whether you want my help or not.” He reached over and turned her face toward him. Only then could he see the tears. This was a good sign.
She found the courage to look into his eyes. “We’ll help each other,” she said softly, then leaned her weight into his shoulder, and rested her face on his chest. She was silent—not so much as a sob—but he could feel her tears dampening his uniform, and he stroked her hair as she cried. He knew then that she’d be alright. They’d be alright.
It was almost an hour later that he felt her drift off to sleep. He would have recommended a full night of regeneration, but this would have to do. He moved her gently to a biobed, and prepared the hypospray: a mild sedative and an antidepressant. Then he kissed her softly on the forehead, and watched over her as she slept.
Be Careful What You Wish For Page 23