The Mention that I Miss
"It's not the power I feel deprived of, it's the mention that I miss." -Geoffrey, The Lion in Winter
Chapter 1: Surprising things
Captain Janeway sat in the mess hall drinking the newest 'coffee substitute' Neelix had concocted. It was awful, but not nearly as awful as the previous two had been. She drank it with a grimace, watching her crew, subtly, from the corner table that she occupied.
Harry and B'Elanna sat two tables from her, and had bid her hello when she came in. They may have offered her a seat if she'd hadn't a stack of PADDs and an expression that clearly conveyed that she was there for coffee and nothing else. That was half an hour ago, and Torres and Kim were now finished with their meal, chatting in low voices about Torres' latest pet engineering project. Tom Paris entered, procuring a tray before he stopped briefly to say hello to the two. He didn't sit with them, which was unusual. Instead, he sat two tables down, in the opposite direction from Janeway, settling into a seat across from Tuvok. Janeway observed it all silently, her face pensive, before forcing her eyes back to the report in front of her.
It had been two months since the Delta Flyer had encountered the temporal anomaly and Tom had experienced an alternate timeline. Physically, he was fine, Janeway knew. She read the Doctor's reports with great interest, and had seen Tom in Sickbay twice; once right after they had returned to Voyager, and then again when he was discharged to his quarters.
As the Doctor explained, Paris was physically unharmed. Physically unchanged. The only medical evidence of his experience was the additional two and half years of memories his brain had stored.
When she now looked down at her PADD in the mess hall, she didn't see Tuvok's security update. Instead, the bleak images of Tom's report on his experience flashed before her. Voyager marred in two-years of battle, dragged into the civil war of a race they'd barely encountered in her own timeline. A race that she may have opened up trade relations with if the anomaly hadn't stopped them in their tracks. Her vessel damaged over and over, the exhausting cycle of repairs and triage becoming the pace of everyday life. The loss of two dozen crewmembers, including Tuvok and Harry, in the first wave of attacks. The loss of Chakotay less than a year later. And, finally, her own death. Tom had assumed command of Voyager two months before he was dragged back to their timeline. Before Janeway and Seven had managed to back the Flyer off from the anomaly that had engulfed the front of the ship, including the pilot's seat, for only a few minutes.
When she'd taken Tom on the scouting mission on the Flyer, he'd only been released from the brig three weeks earlier, part of his punishment for his stunt with the Moneans. He seemed to be taking his demotion well, but they had both been avoiding each other socially. Their characteristic banter no longer filled the bridge when they shared shifts. He was polite and so was she, but when he looked at her, their was a distance in his eyes.
Now, she thought of the look on the pilot's face when he'd woken up on the floor of the Flyer. His vital signs were thready at first, but quickly leveled off. He'd opened his eyes, and the distance in them was gone, replaced by a heartbreaking kind of surprise, a profound disbelief- like he was seeing a ghost. Janeway realized, later, that he had been. He'd grabbed her hand then and breathed her name. Her first name.
Inwardly, she'd panicked, knowing something wasn't right. She'd indicated for Seven to get them the hell back to Voyager. They'd beamed Tom directly to Sickbay as soon as they were in range.
On shift, Paris was different. But it was in ways that were difficult to pinpoint. He seemed kinder, more sincere. He was very rarely flippant. At the same time, he was more reserved, his words sparer. The silence that pervaded the bridge after his release from the brig continued, though it was different in character. It had shifted from a palpable tension to a comfortable quiet. Still, whenever Tuvok made a comment on human emotions or Chakotay informed them of Neelix's latest attempt to boost morale, Janeway's eyes looked to her helmsman. But he rarely commented.
Now, watching him in the mess hall over her PADD, Paris' face didn't seem pained or uncomfortable. He talked with Tuvok as both men worked on their meals. His eyes crinkled as he chuckled at something that Tuvok said, but it was a friendly laugh rather than one of mockery. He seemed content, at home.
Janeway willed away her thoughts, focusing again on the work in front of her.
. . . . .
Dressed in civilian clothes, Janeway and Chakotay navigated the corridors to the turbolift. He'd met her at her quarters- she was running late- and they were finally on their way to dinner. As they walked, she sighed. They both knew that she would rather be doing work, that the only reason she hadn't cancelled on him was because of the guilt he would make her feel. Despite himself, Chakotay suppressed a smirk.
They entered the lift, and as the doors were closing, the Commander suddenly held them. When the doors re-opened, Paris slid on, nodding at Chakotay in appreciation, and then greeting the Captain.
"Babysitting Naomi?" Chakotay asked, smiling at Tom. Paris didn't live on Deck Three. None of the senior staff did except for the Captain. But Samantha Wildman did, and Tom was Naomi's favorite babysitter, after Neelix.
Tom nodded, a rueful expression on his face.
"I was covering for Neelix. But now I need to get back to the report I was working on. Playing with Naomi is not a task that can be combined with other things."
Janeway's lips pursed. It was Tom's day off tomorrow, and department reports weren't due for another two days. Why was he going off to do work instead of rushing to spend time with B'Elanna, or going to the holodeck with Harry? Chakotay chuckled beside her, opening his mouth to reply as the lift stopped on another deck. When B'Elanna got on, Chakotay fell silent, eyeing Tom and then the engineer.
Janeway watched her XO watching them.
B'Elanna nodded to Janeway and Chakotay before looking at Tom.
"How was Naomi?"
"Full of energy," Tom replied to the Klingon, trying to sound cheerful.
B'Elanna snorted, smiling a little.
"That kid will really take it out of you." B'Elanna didn't look at Tom as she commented.
Tom nodded and when the lift stopped, he got off with a wave. B'Elanna was at the front of the lift, looking forward. There was a moment of silence.
"You have to stop that, Chakotay." B'Elanna's voice betrayed frustration as well as affection. She was ignoring the fact that the Captain was also in the turbolift. But, then, B'Elanna long ago assumed that anything the Commander knew, the Captain knew as well.
"What?" Chakotay's voice was surprised.
B'Elanna exhaled forcefully.
"The looks of sympathy. The staring." The engineer paused. "It's fine. We're. . . It's fine." B'Elanna didn't speak with her characteristic confidence, and Janeway felt both her interest and her concern grow.
"I'm sorry," Chakotay breathed, shaking his head. "I don't mean to."
"I know." B'Elanna still didn't turn around. "But it doesn't help."
Chakotay patted the younger woman on the back as the lift doors opened on the deck that contained the holodecks.
"I'm sorry," he said again softly, lingering in the lift after Janeway exited in front of him.
B'Elanna waved him on.
"What was that all about?" Janeway asked, when they were far enough way from the lift. Chakotay looked at her with a mix of surprise and hesitancy. He realized she didn't know that Tom and B'Elanna had broken up.
"They aren't together anymore."
She stopped walking, her face betraying her dismay.
"Since when?"
"Two weeks after. . . " Chakotay's voice trailed off, and Janeway's mind whirred.
"But they seem fine with one another."
She realized as she said it that it wasn't quite accurate. There had been a shift about two months ago, a decrease in familiarity between the two. Janeway wasn't sure if they were making an effort to separate their personal and professional lives more, or if they were struggling after Tom's experience. She hadn't wanted to think about it too much, but she still hadn't considered the possibility that they'd called it quits. There were no uncomfortable moments in staff meetings, no public arguments. She'd witnessed a dozen passing exchanges between them in the last few weeks, and they were all friendly.
Chakotay shrugged.
"I don't think it ended in fireworks and threats. They still want to be friends."
"What happened?" The concern in her voice was evident, but Chakotay didn't respond, shifting uncomfortably beside her.
She looked at him, crossing her arms.
"It's not my story to tell."
He looked apologetic, and she realized he was right.
As they walked toward the holodeck, Chakotay knew he'd lost his friend for the evening. Janeway would be there in body, but her mind would be off re-examining the last two months worth off data she had on Tom and B'Elanna. He sighed.
. . . . . .
At Naomi's birthday party, Tom sat next to the girl as she opened presents, held her hand as she led him around the room. He then chatted cheerfully with Harry, Chakotay, and Samantha. Even with Seven and the Doctor. But his conversations with everyone were short, and as soon as everyone was occupied, he slipped out of the holodeck.
Janeway watched him. It was the third time she'd witnessed something like this in the last three months. Moving from her chair, she got up to follow him.
His stride down the corridor was swift but not panicked. Her shorter legs struggled to catch him, reaching him just before he got on the turbolift.
"Leaving so soon, Mr. Paris?"
She realized she didn't us his rank now if she could help it. It was an uncomfortable reality; one she wasn't sure she could rectify. Technically, he was still the same officer who'd disobeyed her four months earlier. But in every meaningful way, he wasn't. He was a man who'd fought for almost three years to keep his ship going in the worst of times. Who'd become an XO, and then taken over command entirely. Calling him 'Ensign' seemed the worst kind of blow, and the title burned in her throat the few times she used it.
Tom never registered any reaction to the use of his rank, and she wasn't sure if this made it better or worse.
He turned around, greeting her with a small smile. For a moment, he looked as though he'd been caught. But then, just as quickly, the look was gone, replaced by an unreadable expression. It wasn't the demeanor of glibness he wore early on their journey, but a patient expression that looked remarkably like a command mask.
"Afraid so, Captain. I guess a party without a pool table or an open bar is kind of a bust to me." He tried to plaster a smirk onto his face, but it seemed out of place. Like Chakotay doing an imitation of Tom.
She crossed her arms, a signal that she wasn't buying it. Tom was a smart man. They could stand here playing games, or she could cut to the chase, saving them both some time.
"Play a game of nine ball with me?"
She leaned against the wall of the corridor, a casual stance. She wasn't ordering him, wasn't acting in official capacity. she could tell by the way he looked at her that he didn't want to agree, but she also knew that he wouldn't decline her.
"Of course, Captain." His voice was bright with a cheer she was sure he didn't feel.
In Sandrine's, she deleted some of the characters, but not all of them. She suspected this might be easier if there was, at least, the illusion that they weren't alone; if they were without the pressure of being the only two people in the room. He called for music, something she never remembered him doing in Sandrine's, as he walked to the bar. He ordered himself a beer and a black coffee for Janeway, handing her the mug as she selected her cue stick. She ordered a shot of whiskey to go in it and expected Tom to be surprised.
He wasn't, and poured the shot into her coffee for her before dropping the shot glass back on the bar with a soft clink.
They were well into their second game before either of them said anything. She was letting him get comfortable, gauging his reactions to her. His face told her he knew as much, but he didn't shift uncomfortably under the scrutiny.
"I owe you an apology, Tom."
He was lining up his shot, and she was perched on one of the bar stools they'd dragged over to the pool table.
"For beating me at pool?" He made the shot and stood up, eyeing the table. "Hardly. You've been beating me for years now. It's our routine."
She ignored the attempt to stall the conversation, picking her next words carefully.
"After the temporal anomaly, you seemed fine. And I wanted to believe that, because it was easier for me." He leaned over the cue ball, not looking at her as she spoke. "But you're not fine. And I should have noticed it sooner." She closed her eyes briefly. "Maybe I did notice it, and pretended I didn't."
He missed the bank shot he was attempting, looking up at her ruefully. It looked like he was out of practice. He moved away from the table, his face was honest as he slumped onto the bar stool next to her.
"Sometimes I am fine." He sipped his beer. "And sometimes I'm not. And when I'm not, I kick myself. Because I'm on a ship that isn't being constantly attacked, a ship where my friends are still alive. And I think I should just feel happy. Grateful."
He sighed as he finished his admission, and Janeway turned her face to him. She hadn't expected him to open up so quickly and struggled to catch up to the pace of the conversation.
"But you don't feel happy?"
"Oh, I do. I look at Harry and Chakotay. At Tuvok." He paused. "At you. And I feel grateful down to my bones."
She smiled softly, remembering how Tom had hugged Harry when the young man had first come to see his friend in Sickbay. Janeway was there and saw the tears streaming down her helmsman's face. She was there, too, when Chakotay came in just after Harry. Tom had hugged him as well. The Commander had frozen in place, looking at Janeway with surprise over Tom's shoulder. Chakotay hadn't been informed of the nature of Tom's memories. Also, he and Tom had never been the best of friends.
"And when you don't feel grateful? When you don't feel relief?" She was still looking at him, watching his thought process pass over his face.
He wasn't deciding what to tell her. He was deciding how to explain.
"It's easier with Chakotay and Harry." She wasn't sure where he was going, but listened patiently. "I'm just happy they're not dead. But it's not as though, other than remembering them dying, I have memories that cloud our relationship."
She still didn't quite understand, but she was beginning to follow his meaning.
"B'Elanna?" she asked, and he nodded a confirmation.
"In that timeline, B'Elanna broke up with me a year after we were dragged into the war. I had been Voyager's First Officer for two months, we were both exhausted." He drank his beer again and she sipped her Irish coffee, her eyes watching him over her cup. "We were all exhausted. I don't think she had anything left to give." He shook his head at the memory. "She ended it, but we were still close friends. We'd all lost so much; all we had left was each other. Those of us who were still alive. . . we clung to one another."
Paris' eyes became filled with pain. Janeway touched his arm lightly.
"When you woke up back here, in this timeline, you'd already moved past your relationship?" Her voice was low. She didn't want to push him and waited for the first sign that she should back off.
His face was open, his eyes pained.
"I just. . . Don't have those feelings anymore. I thought maybe they'd come back. But after two weeks. . ." He cleared his throat. "It just wasn't fair to her."
Ending things with B'Elanna had been crushing for him. He wasn't in love with her the way she was with him, but he did love her, did care about her. He remembered holding her at the funerals. And then sharing long looks of pain and regret when there was no longer time to mark the passing of the piling dead. He could still see her face when she'd aided him with reports and duty rosters, conduit residue smeared across her forehead as she tried to help him with the administration of their damaged ship. The pain of their shared losses constantly etched across her features, its shadow far darker than the dirt and grime.
Tom wasn't in love with B'Elanna anymore, but he would lay down his life for her. He would have died a thousand deaths, if only to make that pain leave her face.
"You ended it?" Janeway's voice drew him back to the present, chasing away the ghosts of things that hadn't actually happened.
Tom looked at her, willing her to understand. She looked back at him with sympathy and compassion. He exhaled slowly, beginning to nod.
"You and B'Elanna seem to be doing okay, all things considered. I know it's going to be awkward for a while, but you'll bounce back."
He realized she was interpreting his troubles to be about B'Elanna only. It was an out, he knew. But it was suddenly one he didn't want to take. It felt good to talk about all of it, to finally air this pain with someone on the ship.
"This isn't just about B'Elanna."
She looked at him, telling him to go on.
"I have memories, experiences that didn't happen, about a lot of people. My relationships with friends, colleagues, are different than I remember them. It's like I woke up and my whole life changed." He looked toward the pool table instead of at her, his mouth inching up at one corner. "I remember the Doctor finally picking a name. Seven of Nine learning to be sarcastic." Janeway's eyebrows shot up at this, and Paris added darkly, "that was a real treat, let me tell you."
She chuckled, and his face became serious again.
"I remember a dozen late night conversations with Neelix in the mess hall, talking about the crew. Talking about the resilience of the human spirit." He willed himself to be brave. "I remember the hundreds of hours you and I spent working together; the friendship we formed."
Despite herself, Janeway's mouth fell open. She hadn't expected this. Perhaps she'd assumed that she was in the same category as Harry and Chakotay- the 'just glad you're alive' classification. But that was a thoughtless error. Unlike the others who died in that timeline, Tom had over two years of memories of her that hadn't actually happened. She schooled her features, willing her discomfort not to show.
"You were my XO for sixteen months, right?"
He nodded.
"We must have spent a great deal of time together."
It was a lame observation on her part, she knew, and one that he'd already noted moments earlier.
"We became friends. You trusted me," he offered, simply.
"We were already friends. And I've always trusted you."
Her grey eyes searched his blue ones, and his expression became difficult to read as he gazed at the pool table in front of them. He swallowed the retort that as much she'd liked him, as much as he respected her, they weren't friends before. They weren't friends now.
"Not in the same way," he pronounced, shaking his head. "We shared meals. We shared our thoughts, our feelings. I called you by your first name."
A look of understanding began to spread across her face.
"I became your best friend."
"And I became yours." He smiled, but it was a sad smile. "It wasn't as though either of us had many friends left."
They sat in silence for some time, both staring forward. Eventually, she looked at him and her face was open.
"You miss the Kathryn Janeway from that timeline- the one you became close with."
It wasn't a question so much as a hypothesis. His eyes narrowed as he decided how to answer.
"A lot happened that changed us. Not all of it was for the better."
She realized that for the first time since he'd opened up that he was being deliberately vague. She didn't press.
"But I miss spending time with my friend. The person I had coffee with every morning. The person I taught to play darts when she could no longer beat me at pool."
"Don't tell me you finally started winning at pool and we had to change games."
She was trying to lighten his mood. Perhaps she was also trying to ebb her own uneasiness.
"Nope." He looked darkly amused. "We didn't have enough energy to power the holodecks anymore. I replicated a dartboard and we played whenever we were sick of going through damage reports." He turned his head, meeting her eyes for the first time since their conversation had addressed her. "It took six months, but eventually I got my tail kicked as badly at darts as I had at pool."
Janeway smiled. She had never really played darts. But she could imagine Tom teaching her. She could imagine learning to beat the pants off him, his face incredulous when she finally won.
They were silent for some time after he finished speaking, each occupied with their own thoughts and the drinks in their hands.
"I don't have any idea what to do now." It was the kind of admission Kathryn Janeway very rarely made.
It was the kind of admission Tom remembered hearing from her all too often.
"I know. I don't either." He forced himself to meet her gaze. "Here, now, you aren't my best friend. We don't have that kind of relationship, and I know that. I accept it. But I have memories of you telling me stories, of me making you laugh, that are as clear as day. I know things about you that you yourself haven't told me." He closed his eyes, no longer able to take the weight of her stare. "In a way, I feel like I know things about you that I don't have a right to."
There was a heaviness, a kind of guilt in his voice. Despite her own feelings, Janeway found it crushing.
"You have no reason to feel guilty," she rushed to say, but he still wasn't looking at her. "You didn't break into my personal logs or eavesdrop on a private conversation. You earned my confidences. It didn't happen in our timeline. But it did happen. You befriended someone, Tom, and she let you in."
She touched his arm again, and he finally met her eyes.
"You have no reason to feel guilty," she repeated.
He nodded his head, but his agreement was half-hearted. He slid off the bar stool.
"It's late, we should probably get going."
He held her drink as she slid off her own stool. She looked at the pool table wistfully.
"We never finished our game."
He shrugged.
"You were always going to win."
"And don't you ever forget it, Mr. Paris."
His mouth opened when she finished her statement, but before he said anything it closed again. She looked at him questioningly.
"You don't have to do that, you know."
She looked at him with confusion.
"You don't have to refrain from using my rank," he clarified.
His face was sincere, concern etched into his features. She wanted to cringe. Had she been that obvious? She was sure she hadn't. It occurred to her that Tom Paris could now read her as well as Chakotay or Tuvok. Perhaps better.
"Admittedly, I'm uncomfortable with it, Tom. But I'm not sure what to do about it either."
It was another admission she hadn't been prepared to make. Another admission that didn't surprise him.
"I'm still the same officer who disobeyed you not so long ago. I'm sill the same person you had to punish."
His voice was kind, reassuring. It made it that much worse for her.
"Are you?" she asked, searching his face.
His face stayed open, unflinching, even while she allowed herself to examine him.
"Because I don't think you are. And for you, it's hardly 'not so long ago.' "
He dropped his eyes from hers, rubbing his face with his hand. He was conceding.
"From to Lieutenant down to Ensign. And then from Ensign to Lieutenant and Lieutenant Commander. . . And now all the way back down to Ensign again."
He laughed as he finished, and she realized it was a genuine laugh. Tom had never really cared about rank, status. She smiled despite herself.
"Somewhere, my father is spinning in his chair at Starfleet Command."
When he delivered the punch line, she hesitated for a fraction of a second. But Tom's voice was free of bitterness, a serene smile on his face. Janeway laughed out loud as they walked toward the exit. She patted him on the arm.
"We should do this again soon," she said, as they left the holodeck.
Tom nodded in agreement, and they walked in companionable silence down the corridor.
. . . . .
After their time in the holodeck, Janeway and Paris didn't do anything together for another month. They saw each other socially, but were never alone. At the music recital in the mess mall, Tom slipped into the seat next to her and she favored him with a smile just as Harry began his solo. The banter on the bridge slowly returned, though Tom's jokes weren't nearly as off-color or as dark as they had been before.
Still, Janeway didn't seek Paris out, and he pretended not to notice.
Now, walking toward the holodeck, Janeway's head ached. She'd promised Chakotay hours ago that she would talk to him about the personnel reviews she'd been putting off all week. It was evening, and she was surprised when the computer informed her that the Commander was on the holodeck. Chakotay wasn't normally a fan of holographic adventures, and the rare time he spent there was usually with her. When she got to the holodeck's entrance, she considered waiting. Chakotay hadn't engaged the privacy lock, but he was running a program she didn't recognize. She thought about comming him, but decided against it, entering with a deep sigh.
It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the light. She found herself enveloped by sunlight, surrounded by trees. It was warm, but not hot. There was a strong breeze, and she brushed the hair from her eyes as it moved around her face.
Twenty meters before her was a mountain. She shielded her eyes from the sun, looking at the dark figures she saw moving across it. Chakotay was about twenty-five meters up the face of the rock, and Paris was about five meters above him, looking down at the older man. Janeway looked around and recognized that they were in Yosemite. She took a deep breath of the fresh hair, and began moving forward, toward the mountain and the men.
She couldn't see their faces, but she could make out their movements. Tom perched serenely, his face angled down to the Commander. Chakotay slowly moved to catch up to Tom, his motions unsteady and reluctant. Janeway smiled.
Chakotay was many things, but she wouldn't list graceful among them. As she approached them, the wind carried their voices down to her. They'd yet to see her, and plowed forward in their conversation as Chakotay made his way up to where Tom was.
"That's ridiculous, Paris. You can't possibly think that."
Janeway heard the accusation in Chakotay's voice clearly, stopping in her tracks.
"I do think that. And so do a lot of people." Tom's voice was even, but it had a slightly smug tone to it.
"A lot of idiots, you mean."
Janeway cringed at Chakotay's words. She wasn't sure why, but these two had the ability to bring out the worst in each other. She really thought they were past this, especially after Tom's recent experience. Frustrated with both of them, she shook her head.
"Ad hominem attacks are hardly a valid way of making your point."
The logic of Tom's comment was juxtaposed by the increasing petulance in his voice. Chakotay reached for another hand hold, pulling himself up tentatively. He was only a body length below Tom now.
"Point taken." Chakotay stopped, resting for a bit where he was. "But still, I think there's no way in hell that B'Tol would have taken down Ikkina if they'd both qualified that year."
Tom was shaking his head before Chakotay even finished.
"Sure, the Klingon had weight on his side," the Commander continued. "But he was clumsy. Ikkina was graceful, moved around the ring like he was floating. No way B'Tol would have landed that many blows."
"You're championing the small but graceful over the big and clumsy? Are you sure that's the argument you want to make?"
The pilot's tone was seemingly innocent. Chakotay's laughter rang out loudly around them, soon echoed by Tom's.
Janeway, still ten meters from the base of the mountain face, smiled with relief. She'd misread the conversation entirely.
When Chakotay reached for the last hand hold to close the distance between himself and Paris, his right foot faltered. Tom anticipated Chakotay's movements before Chakotay had even thought to be afraid, and scrambled down beside the XO. Janeway couldn't see what happened next, exactly. First, Chakotay faltered, and then Tom was beside him, offering a hand. Chakotay took it, seemed to move to a more comfortable position.
And then. the next thing she knew, Tom was falling down the side of the mountain side, bumping hard against the rock face once before landing on the ground with a sickening thud.
Mentally, Janeway knew that holodeck safeties were on and Tom was fine. But physically, her body reacted. She found herself bolting to her where Tom lay, shouting his name. She crouched down beside him, examining his body as he lay still, his eyes closed. It was sickeningly familiar.
"Tom? Tom, are you okay?"
His eyes opened, and Tom looked at her with a mix of surprise and mirth.
"Just dandy, Captain. Except that your First Officer just killed me."
Tom sat up, looking at Chakotay, who was now joining Janeway at Paris' side. Tom's fall was a good excuse to tell the computer to get him the hell off that mountain.
"Sorry about that, Tom."Chakotay's face was sheepish. He was embarrassed that his error had resulted in this. He was even more embarrassed that the Captain had witnessed it.
Chakotay helped Tom to his feet, and the blonde man dusted himself off.
"It's okay," Tom's voice was cheerful and full of sincerity. "But you might want to reconsider your point about the big and clumsy being easily defeated by the agile."
Chakotay's brow furrowed in thought. Janeway watched the exchange with interest, but said nothing.
"Maybe. But then Ikkina and B'Tol wouldn't have been climbing a mountain when they boxed."
Tom looked at Chakotay for a moment, and then began to laugh. Chakotay joined him, and they both shook with amusement before Chakotay turned expectantly to the Captain.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but I was looking for the Commander." She looked up at the mountain with a wry grin, craning her neck. "I didn't realize you were occupied."
"By all means, Captain. He's all yours," Tom said with a sweep of his arm. "I think I've had my fill of bonding time for the day anyway."
Chakotay managed to plaster a hurt expression on his face at Tom's words.
"What? You're done spending time with me after a little thing like my almost killing you? What a fairweather friend you are, Paris."
Paris winked at him, and Janeway looked on. She wondered as to when these two had become so comfortable with one another.
"Well, I'll let you two get to duty rosters or personnel reviews. Or whatever scintillating project you have ahead of you," Paris quipped as he nodded to both of them before heading for the holodeck's archway.
Chakotay chuckled.
"You know you miss it, Paris; the hours of mind-numbing forms, reading reports until you're bleary-eyed. Realizing it didn't mean a damn thing, because no one would have noticed if you hadn't read them."
Chakotay's tone was light even though his words were dark. They were the kind of jokes the Captain and the Commander normally made in private. Jests about the burdens of command, the pains of administration. Janeway realized, belatedly, that Tom was now in their private club, too.
Tom smiled at the Commander, and Chakotay called after him.
"We could trade next week. I could pilot, and you could do whatever it is that I do, exactly."
Tom paused. This joke was a private one. Chakotay was the only person Tom had told that he did rather miss his work as an XO. That he missed the challenges of worrying about the ship and her crew.
"We don't have enough shuttles left for you to be a pilot for a week," Tom retorted, waving as he left.
When the pilot was gone, Chakotay smiled at the door. Janeway looked at him quizzically.
"When did you start spending time with Tom?"
They stood where they were, not leaving the sunshine and fresh air.
"A few months ago. Not long after he and B'Elanna broke up, I guess."
She eyed him with interest, waiting for him to go on.
"Tom isn't the same person as before. We've laid to rest a lot of unpleasant feelings."
Chakotay shifted, for a moment visibly uncomfortable. This was the way he always behaved when he wanted to tell her something but didn't want to betray too much of another person's confidence.
"It's hard for him to be back to being the Chief Conn Officer when he's done so much more." He paused. "When he knows now that he's capable of so much more."
Janeway looked away from him, biting her lip slightly. She hadn't thought about any of this. She assumed Tom was relieved to be rid of the burdens of commanding an ailing ship. Happy that he was back at the helm, able to fly again. She saw the professional changes in him, but he hadn't seemed to chafe in his old position. She wondered what else she'd missed, feeling a stab of familiar guilt.
"I have a few ideas, where Tom's concerned."
She nodded, welcoming his suggestions.
"But Kathryn, you should really talk to him about this."
She looked at him, a tinge of embarrassment coloring her features. Chakotay knew she was avoiding Tom, and she knew that he knew it. But he'd never brought it up, and she assumed he was going to let her deal with the pilot in her own time. Perhaps he'd already begun dealing with it for her.
"Has he mentioned me?" Her face was pensive, and Chakotay's features softened.
"Not directly, no. But he's perceptive, especially when it comes to you."
Janeway frowned. She'd noticed.
"He knows that you're avoiding him. He's just. . . letting you."
The stab of guilt in her stomach came back, this time stronger.
"Well," she said, resolved, "that stops this week."
Chakotay nodded approvingly as they made their to the archway, walking in companionable silence.
"Ikkina, Chakotay?" she asked, when they were halfway to the turbolift.
He lifted his eyebrows confusion. Janeway shook her head, disapprovingly.
"B'Tol would have flattened Ikkina in under ten minutes. Ikkina was a smart fighter, but he had no heart. No inner fire."
Beside her, Chakotay chuckled.
Kathryn Janeway never ceased to surprise him.