Author's note: While this is not a shipper fic, I like to think of it as the first step into a friendship.

Legal B.S.: Star Trek: Voyager and its canon elements belong to Paramount/CBS. The song sung by Carey is "The Skye Boat Song" and uses the Robert Louis Stevenson poem verses for the lyrics, though the version used was tweaked by the one and only Bear McCreary.

Timeframe: Between "Tuvix" and "Resolutions".

Thanks: to purpledog and LauraRoslin for beta services!

Hush, Little Naomi

"Naomi, please settle down." Samantha Wildman raised her voice to be heard over her infant daughter's wailing as she paced the living area of her quarters. She shifted Naomi to her other shoulder, wincing as little fingers fisted in her hair.

This was the third night in a row Naomi had refused to sleep and spent the entire night up crying; due to her Ktarian genes, she had already begun teething. And it was getting worse with every passing night. On the first night, she'd rushed Naomi to sickbay, assuming the worst. After five minutes, the Doctor pronounced that nothing was wrong except the obvious and sent her off with the caustic remark that, teething or no teething, she had better start getting used to sleepless nights because there would be a lot of them in her future. Last night, one of the Delaney sisters had commed her three times in an hour to complain—loudly—that some people had to work alpha shift in the morning and that Naomi needed to stop keeping the entire deck awake. That morning, she'd been treated to glares from the Delaneys and Ensign Kaplan in the mess hall, as well as loudly whispered comments about how, if the problem continued, they would have to file official complaints because maybe that was what it would take to put a stop to the problem.

The gossip merely irritated her; the threat to report her was worrisome. Commander Chakotay seemed nice enough, but that was on duty. She'd never dealt with him otherwise and had no idea what to expect if he were to call her in for a reprimand. On one hand, what could be done? After all, it wasn't as if they could transfer her off of Voyager. But even if the first officer decided that the complaints weren't enough for any sort of a formal reprimand on her record, the complainers could still make the next seventy years hell.

The echo of the door chime increased Naomi's howling to a fever pitch. Crossing to the door, Sam swallowed back a sob of frustration and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. No doubt it was the Delaneys or Kaplan, coming to yell at her in person. Or had they followed through with their threat to file an official complaint? Was it Commander Chakotay on the other side?

But when the door slid open, the last person she expected to find on the other side was Joe Carey.

"Lieutenant Carey, I...what can I do for you?" She winced again when Naomi yanked at the handful of hair that she was holding.

"Sounds like a bit of colic." He gestured to the flailing bundle of blankets in her arms.

"It's not colic—it's teething. Ktarian babies teeth much earlier than human babies do." Sam sighed in frustration and reached up to attempt to pry tiny fingers out of her hair. "I'm sorry she woke you up."

Carey smiled. "You didn't. I'm on gamma shift this week, actually. I was on my way back to engineering—just finishing up the weekly relay maintenance. So I thought I'd stop by and see if I could offer a hand."

"Thank God," she muttered, waving him inside. At the engineer's baffled look, she hastened to add, "That you're not here to complain about the noise. I understand it's irritating and frustrating, but at least you understand that babies will sometimes cry and it's difficult to calm them down."

"I can see both sides." Carey shrugged a shoulder and set his tool case next to the door. "Yes, it is irritating to be kept up by a crying child. But it doesn't mean that the parent isn't doing their best to try to help the child. And that's something that certain people on this ship aren't going to understand unless and until they have their own children, should they choose to do so." He gestured to Naomi. "Would you mind—if I tried?"

Sam blinked in surprise at the unexpected offer. "I...if you'd like."

"I would." A smile crept across his face as she passed Naomi into his arms; it faded a moment later. "It's been a few years, though."

Naomi, for her part, protested the new movement with an increase in volume.

"All right, little miss." Carey addressed the red-faced infant in a mock stern tone. "What's all this fussing about, huh?"

The strange voice startled the baby enough to silence her for several seconds as she stared at the equally unfamiliar face. Then she screwed up her face and resumed her bawling.

"Hey now, sure and you're gonna wear yourself out if you keep this up." Carey patted Naomi's back with one hand while cradling her with the other, keeping up a running dialogue that Sam could just make out over her daughter's fussing. "You're not only worryin' your ma, you're likely to give your own self a great big headache."

"Surprised she hasn't done that already," Sam put in with a wry grimace. She knew that Carey had a family back in the Alpha Quadrant, but was left wondering what he could do that she hadn't tried already. When he began to pace back and forth, rocking Naomi and murmuring soothing words to her, she was tempted to roll her eyes. Did he think she hadn't tried that already for the past three nights? But if he wanted to try something so futile, that was up to him. Shaking her head, she moved towards the couch, intending to sit down for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours. At least he was giving her a much-needed break.

"'Sing me a song of a lass that is gone...'"

The words, sung in a melodic tenor, suddenly filled the room in counterpoint to the crying and Sam turned around in surprise. Carey's pace had changed to a measured, swaying stride that almost looked like dancing and it took Sam a long minute to realize that he was dancing after a fashion; every few steps, he would make a quarter turn and bounce a couple times on his toes. It wasn't much of a dance, but it was amusing to watch. And, she realized as he finished the song and began to repeat it, it was working the desired magic on the frustrated Naomi.

"'Billow and breeze, islands and seas...'" Carey shifted his hold on Naomi, one hand to stroke the wisps of strawberry blonde on her small head, the other caressing in light circles along her back. Naomi's howls were fading bit by bit to hiccupping sniffles. As he began to repeat it, his voice gradually softened to a lower octave, and he ended the second round in almost a whisper.

Naomi had fallen silent, but Sam couldn't tell if she was truly asleep until Carey nodded in response to her unspoken question. "Let's give her another minute, though." Looking up from the baby, he flashed her a grin. "Wee ones can be tricky; they'll fool you into thinking they're asleep and then you make the wrong move." He hummed for several moments more, then looked down and nodded again. "There we go."

Naomi uttered a faint murmur at the transfer back to her mother's arms, but did not stir, for which Sam was grateful.

"Thank you. I really appreciate this."

"Happy to help. And I miss having someone to sing to, actually." Sorrow flickered in Carey's hazel eyes as he reached out to caress the back of Naomi's head with a fingertip before sighing and stepping back.

"I bet they miss you just as much." Like she missed Greskrendtregk. And he didn't even know he had a daughter...likely never would, for that matter. At least Carey's sons had had their father, for however brief a time. Bitterness momentarily welled inside her before she pushed it away in annoyance. He had gone out of his way to help her with Naomi and here she was, resenting him for something so petty—what was the matter with her?

It must be the lack of sleep. Shaking off her uncharitable thoughts, she looked up from Naomi to meet his gaze. "Well, I really shouldn't impose on you any longer when you're on duty, Lieutenant. Thank you again."

Carey nodded as he crossed to the door, picking up his tool case. "You're very welcome. And I'll be on gamma shift the rest of the week, so if she needs another midnight serenade…." Keying the door open, he paused on the threshold to turn back and wink over his shoulder. "Feel free to give me a call."

His parting words brought a tired smile to her face. After he was gone, she carried Naomi into the bedroom, placing her into the anti-grav cradle and keying in the standard setting for an hour's light rocking. Slumping onto the bed's edge, she stared down into the cradle at her slumbering daughter in exhausted bewilderment. How could she be so peaceful now when she had been crying up a storm mere minutes ago? It was amazing. Even more amazing, all of the stress of the past few days had also faded away. But then she supposed she could thank Joe Carey for that as well. After the Doctor's scathing lecture and the derisive gossip in the messhall, having a sympathetic face stop by was a refreshing change.

Not bothering to change into her pajamas, Sam stretched out on the bed and tugged the comforter up to cover her shoulders. As her mind begin to drift, her thoughts inevitably settled on Carey and his kindness. They were two of a kind, both separated from their spouses—and the wistful longing in his voice when he'd alluded to his children had been obvious. She had no intention of imposing on his time if Naomi continued having these bouts but, if their schedules coincided in the future, lunch with a friendly face would be a welcome relief to them both.

Perhaps the rest of this journey wouldn't be so bad, now that she had made a friend. That thought warmed her as she finally drifted into a much-needed sleep.

[fin]