Author's Note: This is a canon-consistent work, and takes place in season 7 - sometime after Lineage. It's a completed story of eleven chapters that I'll be posting in installments every few days or so. All the standard disclaimers apply. A non-standard one - I read that book with all the Voyager crew back stories years ago, so used some names, etc from there. But I don't remember it all that well (and didn't like it all that much) so parts of my story may not match up with the book. Lastly, some the plot was a wee bit inspired by a great early episode of MASH called "Carry on Hawkeye." Rated T for language. I've got a mouth like a sailor.
Chapter 1
Tom Paris settled in at the controls of the Delta Flyer, and started his pre-flight check. His very pregnant wife put her hands on his shoulders for a quick squeeze, and kissed the top of his head. "Put us down carefully, Flyboy. The baby and I are counting on you," she said as she moved to the back of the craft.
"Are we all set for takeoff, Mr Paris?" Captain Kathryn Janeway was seated at the station just behind him.
"I just have to finish pre-flight, Captain," Tom replied, as he ran through his mental checklist.
"We don't have time for that," Janeway said dismissively, "We need to go now. There's an ion storm coming."
"Captain, it will only take another minute, I don't think-"
"I expected more of you, Lieutenant," Janeway glowered at him, "than to question my orders. You do remember what happened last time?"
Tom swiveled around to look at his CO. "Captain, that's not what I meant! I just…" He faltered in the face of her steely eyed gaze and turned back to his post. "Preparing for immediate departure, Captain."
"That's all that I ask, Lieutenant," she said sternly. Her tone changed completely when she turned to address his wife, "B'Elanna! I hear Caldik Prime is lovely this time of year!"
"Me, too, Captain," B'Elanna agreed readily, "I just hope nothing happens to ruin our picnic!"
"I wouldn't count on it, ladies." Tom heard a gruff voice behind him. "Tom here has a reputation for some pretty crappy piloting."
Tom twisted his head to look at the bear-like man looming over him. "Bruno," he whispered.
"Oh don't give me that look, Tommy boy. You know I'm right!" he slapped Tom hard on the back, and took a seat on the nav console so he could stare down the pilot. "I can't wait to see how you fuck up this time."
"Mr. Paris! What are you doing? We're about to hit that ion storm!" the Captain called out urgently.
Tom quickly returned his attention back to the conn, only to find that the entire panel had gone dark. "B'Elanna! What's happening? I've lost navigation, helm control, everything!"
"You should have finished the pre-flight, Flyboy," a woman's voice hissed at him.
"Odile?" Tom swiveled around to stare at the angry French woman at the engineering station B'Elanna had occupied a moment earlier.
"Looks like we're going to crash, Tom. Again." A red-haired man said in a resigned tone from the Captain's recent seat, nodding towards the front of the craft. Tom looked back at the view screen only to see ground rushing up to meet them.
And then he awoke with a gasp.
In reality it took less than a full second for him to sit up, but it felt like an eternity before Tom was able to overcome the feeling that an unseen force pinned him to the bed. He took several shaking breaths before turning to look at the bed's other occupant.
She was still asleep. Tom was grateful. B'Elanna was about 24 weeks along in her pregnancy now; though she was loathe to admit it, her regular work load (which was about twice that of everyone else, with the exception of the Captain) was taking its toll. Every night this week she had fallen asleep reading engineering reports in bed, thoroughly exhausted. The last thing he wanted was for his nightmare to disturb her rest.
No stranger to bad dreams, Tom knew it would be an hour or more before he would be able to sleep again, if he was able to return to bed at all. He extricated himself carefully from the blankets and moved into the sitting area of their quarters, calling softly for 20% illumination. As he got a glass of water, he puzzled over his latest dream, even as the images became muddled and his heart rate slowed. It wasn't an unfamiliar theme, of course, but the timing was odd. He typically only had nightmares now when he was under a lot of stress, and lately things had been as routine as they ever got in the Delta Quadrant.
A sudden thought occurred to him, and his nearly full glass fell to the carpet with a dull thud. He stumbled over to the couch and activated the monitor on the coffee table with shaking fingers. He stared intently at the screen as it flickered back to life, and studied the stardate noted at the header. It took him several moments before he could focus his thoughts enough to translate the numbers to the corresponding Earth standard date.
When he finally did, he buried his face in his hands and wept.