Every day we run these simulations. Truth be told, I am getting of tired of them.
Tom is at the helm, I am at tactical. Usually we are on Voyager's bridge, but sometimes we try things out in a shuttle. He is trying to be the best pilot he can possibly be. And I admire that. He is doing this to keep everyone safe. To give them the best chance at getting home. But there is more to it than that. These simulations keep him sharp, focused. They keep him sane.
Maneuver after maneuver. Scenario after scenario. Day after day. As we continue, we become somehow attuned to each other. I follow his lead effortlessly in this tactical dance we have perfected.
Mind-numbingly small modifications are made to Voyager's real controls. I know that each one could potentially save the ship from destruction in a crunch. And that is what really matters. At least to him it does. Me, I am just doing my job.
Over these months I have watched him. In a way, I realize, I have helped him to develop, mature and grow. He has done the same for me.
Occasionally, others from the crew join us. Tuvok, B'Elanna Torres, Commander Chakotay are all consulted from time to time. Once, Captain Janeway even made an appearance. She lavished Tom with praise. Apparently our efforts had made a big difference during the last battle. He turned a wonderful shade of rouge.
Tom is a complicated man with an odd sense of humor. He has spoken to me at times, when we are waiting for a new scenario to load or when he needs to take a break. I know about his transgressions. His incarceration. I know of his love-hate relationship with his father and I understand it is more about love and acceptance than hate.
He knows little about me though, there is little to tell. My name is Francesca, the same as his great aunt. He calls me Frannie. No one else does and I am not sure how I feel about it.
Our tactical sessions start to occur less and less frequently. Lately I have only been consulted after a new piece of alien technology has been acquired or used against Voyager. But that is okay, the scenarios were not challenging me anymore anyway.
He must miss our time together though because we have started exploring other programs. He has taken me to Sandrine's, turns out I am a pretty good pool player. I got to play Constance Goodheart, what a strange experience that was. I have helped him restore an old car or two. Then there was the night that he took me to walk on the bank of the river. He told me about B'Elanna and how much he truly, deeply loved her. I think he will ask her to marry him soon, when the time is right. I do not know her well, but she would be a fool to say no. When he speaks of her I feel a happiness I cannot quite make sense of.
For the last two months I have helped him with a new program he is developing, it is called "Fair Haven" and it is simply beautiful. It takes us a long time to get it perfect. No detail has been spared. It is flawless; except for the backwards harp on the sign, but I cannot bring myself to point out his error.
As our work on Fair Haven draws to a close, Tom has begun developing a very special character. His name is Michael Sullivan. He is a gentle soul, wise but unassuming. Salt of the Earth. He is perfect and he is for me. Michael is the best gift, the only one I have ever been given.
For a few short days Michael makes me happier than I have ever been. And then, early one morning I realize he is not in our bed. I come downstairs to find him with the Captain. I greet her and I see jealousy, shame and sorrow in her eyes.
I know this is the end. I will be no more. A rare emotion overcomes me. Hope. I hope that Tom never forgets me.
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