It could have been worse.
Captain Janeway plopped onto the utilitarian sofa in her temporary quarters and stretched her legs down its length. Three days earlier, Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant and Earth in a display of sturm and drang that would have put a Wagnerian opera to shame. Each period of daylight brought tormenting thoughts that segued into nighttime deliriums, each one vacillating between contentment and horror, jubilation and remorse. She knew that the days and weeks and months ahead would be filled with microscopic examinations of her every action over the past seven years. First and foremost would be that last series of events, allowing the alternate timeline Admiral Janeway to infect the Borg Queen followed by her own exploit of destroying the Borg transwarp corridor.
You got a lot of 'splainin' to do, Lucy!
She heaved herself upright and trudged over to the large window ten stories above ground level. In the early morning light, mists from the water below entwined with low clouds from the skies – all appeared endless and gray. Even the void of the Delta Quadrant held more promise than the dismal scene around her now. Just as during that eerie time when the starless space engulfed Voyager, she now chose only her thoughts to keep her company. But they were far from the best of companions: too many ghosts, too many memories, too many regrets.
Yet Voyager made it back to the Alpha Quadrant. Twenty-two of her original crew would never see their homes again while a similar number filled their spots – good people who had either been their original enemy or had joined them along their journey, some willingly, some not. She would be grilled multiple times about each and every person, the same questions coming in varying formats and contexts, until each being had been stripped bare of any semblance of dignity. Voyager and all aboard had done something no one else had ever done; how could any questions be asked about what was right and what was wrong?
The buzz from her monitor screen saved her from sinking deeper into her morbid thoughts. "Janeway here," she scowled as an image came into view.
"And a good morning to you, too, Captain," snapped Voyager's former EMH.
"Sorry, Doctor," she said as her voice softened with a sigh. "Guess you caught me off guard. What can I do for you?"
"I planned to ask you the same thing. As you know, most of my 'debriefings' by Starfleet are brief indeed, as they tend to believe all of my Delta Quadrant experiences are stored in my databanks and that I personally have little to contribute. I'm sure it's quite the opposite with you and I thought perhaps you need to – what is the word? – vent to a neutral person. I'm certain that in Starfleet's eyes, I'm as neutral as can be; why, to them, I'm practically nonexistent." His words became progressively more strident as he spoke.
A small smile crept across Janeway's face, softening the stern coldness of a few moments earlier. "Doctor, sometimes I think you have telepathic abilities. How did you know that I'm becoming my own worst enemy by trying to anticipate what all Starfleet will throw at us? I've just now been tossing about a couple of worst-case scenarios."
"It's this horrid, dreary weather that has surrounded us since we returned. As you can surmise, I have no experiential data for real cities on Earth and I don't like this introduction. Oh, yes – there was that time when Captain Braxton pulled us back to Earth of 1996 but that was even much like a holodeck experience. Remember – it was the first time that I had been out of sickbay or the holodeck. Anyway, I wish we could replace this perpetual San Francisco gloominess with a fun-filled holodeck program. It's even depressing my usual positive disposition!"
Janeway chuckled in spite of her self-imposed melancholy. By being his curmudgeon self, the EMH lightened her mood. "Oh, I agree! We certainly could use some sunshine, in whatever form it comes," she said. Her thoughts skipped around, bringing to mind so many times that the EMH's pomposity, although it could prove to be grating, by its very incongruity also made difficult situations more bearable. He hadn't lost his touch.
"So how do you want to do this?" Janeway continued. "Do you have an office? Are you now licensed as a counselor or psychologist? Do you want me to lie down on my sofa while you observe and take notes and say 'hmm' a lot?"
"Of course not. I'm here as a friend, not a doctor!" A grimace pinched his face. "Oh, dear. That didn't come out the way I meant it."
Janeway's laugh was full and lusty. "Now that's the EMH I've missed. Seriously, you know you're my friend."
"I should hope so," he harrumphed. "But over these past seven years, if there's one thing I've learned it's that you tend to barricade yourself from those who care for you the most, as if you are supposed to be this super hero who can never make any mistakes and when you do, you're ashamed – or afraid – to face those closest to you."
His comments immediately shifted Janeway into defensive mode. "Has someone put you up to this, Doctor?"
"No, I'm just following through with patterns I've seen in you in the past. I wouldn't be a good doctor if I weren't observant of my patients. And one thing I've noticed about you is that you are prone to second-guess yourself, to castigate yourself for things that you might have done differently. Something tells me that you are experiencing another round of this masochistic tendency."
Janeway sighed. "Guilty as charged. But I can't help myself, Doctor. I think anyone who has the slightest inkling of compassion and sense of duty would be going through the same thing!"
The former EMH shook his head. "Captain, what is done is done. You can't go back and change things, though the Admiral Janeway who came to us tried. But even she was cognizant of the fact that you had to accept the consequences of your actions and move forward."
"Even to the point of destroying yourself?" Janeway quipped.
"That was her decision. But you are you and you must live your own life and make your own choices. Who knows how things would have been for her if she followed your decisions?"
"But what about the rest of the crew? My decisions have affected them, too. I'm responsible for anything that could happen to them!"
"They aren't children," the doctor snipped. "They will make their own futures. You are the only person you need to be concerned about and even then, you shouldn't let things weigh down on you so heavily."
"But what if…"
"Captain, I won't allow you to say 'what if'. Those words indicate worry and worry isn't healthy. When you worry, you force yourself to live through an event twice: once before it happens and once when it happens. And in most cases, nothing turns out the way you predicted with your worrying anyway."
"But I must be proactive; I should prepare," she rationalized.
"Being prepared is completely different from worrying," the doctor continued. "Worrying is accepting an outcome that hasn't occurred. Preparation is like putting safety factors into place to prevent the worst from happening. It's like putting up a screen in front of a fireplace so sparks won't escape. But prevention is not about worrying about the outcome of an out-of-control fire. Yes, the thought is in the back of your mind but you can't let it consume your mind."
"I guess there's some sense in that," she agreed. "But…"
The doctor cut her off with a swipe of his hand and a stern shake of his head. "No more buts. I think it's time for you to get out and – what's the saying? – smell the roses. I know you're supposed to limit your association with any of the crew right now, but it won't hurt for you to get out and just do something pleasurable, like taking a walk through the rose garden that you like so much at Starfleet Academy."
"It's winter, Doctor."
"Then find an inside garden or go to a museum with a Monet exhibit. You know what I mean."
Janeway smiled; she did indeed. The two old friends mumbled their goodbyes and the image on the monitor disappeared.
Janeway felt one-hundred percent better. The EMH's usual chattiness had elevated her mood more than a dozen cups of coffee. Well, maybe not that much, because she now craved a big mug of her favorite brew.
She gazed out of the large window. A pale winter sun seemed to be pushing aside the gray clouds at long last and threads of silver and gold intertwined back and forth through the ever-widening openings.
She smiled. Oh yes – it could have been worse.