Rating: PG
Synopsis: Tom reflects about the events of Coda in a holodeck recreation of the Zanja that runs through most of San Bernadino County, California.
Dedication: For my mother who told me never to play in the Zanja (I did anyway)
Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything except the story idea.
Tom knelt down and placed his hand on the hot soil before him. The red clay relented only slightly under his touch. His gaze was drawn to the deep crevasse carved into the earth before him. The chasm's jagged sides giving way to a meandering stream that flowed down from the mountains to this spot and beyond carrying water to the orange groves that surrounded him.
Rows of trees stretched out before and behind him. Their branches sagging towards the ground under the burden of their fruit. The majority of them stood a few feet taller than he, and each covered with lush, forest green leaves.
In the distance, the Rocky Mountains towered above the fields, reaching towards the heavens. The tops of each were covered with snow that resembled great white top hats. Three mountains, larger than the rest, were centered between the old carriage bridge to the north and the small elementary school to his south. They were called The Triplets.
The middle mountain, the largest of the The Triplets, bore a large letter R. Painted white stones, placed high on the giant's side gave landmark to the growing community that rested at its base, the town called Redlands.
The area of town Tom was in, the crevasse, and the stream that flowed through it were are all called Zanja by the locals. The great maw, itself, was born not of natural phenomena but the work of the Native Americans of the area. Scores of bronze backs labored in the relentless heat of the California desert to form it. Blood and tears, death and illness meant nothing to the Spanish settlers that forced the natives to work under deplorable conditions. The dead were left to rot on the sides of the miniature canyon while their family labored on around them. Once the project was complete, the orange trees in the area thrived from the newly found irrigation. Life in the face of death.
Years later, communities would spring up in the area. Orange trees were cleared out to make room for housing. Children grew and attended school on the banks of the Zanja. Few took the time to notice the 'river' that eventually grew into litter more than a stream. Those that moved in during the mid 20th century planted a row of oleanders to block the view of what they thought of as an eyesore.
Now, Tom couldn't help but feel drawn toward this sight. The crew of Voyager was not unlike the tribe that labored on. Every day is a battle to survive. The unexpected was routine, and nearly every corner of space contained hostile aliens. The Delta Quadrant had become their oppressor. She, not unlike the land, seemingly stretched on without end.
Soft footfalls drew Tom from his revelry. They approached slowly, with purposeful steps, but stopped a few inches behind him. A warm hand covered his shoulder. Looking up against the blazing sun, a slender figure silhouetted in black leaned down towards him. Before she knelt down by his side, he knew who she was.
"Captain," he said, smiling.
"Interesting choice of locale," she said, motioning towards the orange trees that surrounded them.
"California, the early 19Th. century...Redlands to be precise. It was named after the red clay just below the top soil," Tom answered her unasked question.
"That would explain the R on the mountain side," she said, laughing lightly.
"Well, that was poetic license. The R didn't come until many years later."
"How ever did you hear about this place?"
"My parents brought me here one year for summer break. We had family that lived nearby that we hadn't seen in some time, and my mom insisted that we come.
"From the moment that the transport stopped, I felt drawn here, mainly because my mom said not to go anywhere near this place.."
"And, of course, you couldn't do what you were told," Kathryn laughed. Tom smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"You know me all too well, Captain," he said, turning to study her.
Her hair fell lose at her back. The highlights catch the sunlight and danced in its reflection. Her utilitarian, 24th uniform seemed out of place here. She shifted slightly under his interspective glance.
"Don't leave me in suspense," she chided.
"One night, about three days after we had arrived, I snuck out of the house and walked over here. It had been raining off and on all day and the Zanja was nearly half full. I climbed down the side and started swimming.
"The water was that high?"
"The Zanja is as much as ten feet deep in some spots, especially here because we are at the base of the mountains."
Kathryn finally sat down beside him, drawing her knees towards her chest. Her glance went to the trench's opening. From this distance, she could still hear the sound of the small stream gurgling through the rocks and fauna that grew along the sides. Tom took her silence as a cue to continue.
"Then, the storm picked up. It wasn't until the current grew too strong that I noticed I was being swept down stream. I fought the water as hard as I could, but I started to get tired. My muscles aches and burned so badly I had to stop. I knew there was no way I could climb up the sides because the incline was too steep the further I went. My head started to be pulled under the surface for longer and longer periods of time..." Tom's voice trailed off as a far away expression colored his eyes.
"How did you escape?" She asked, finally.
"That's the part I never could remember. I heard chanting near the river and a woman's voice. She told me that I respected the land and that it wasn't meant to be. I closed my eyes as I felt two powerful hands grip onto my body. Next thing I knew, I was on the side of the bank," he shrugged.
He turned his gaze towards Kathryn, and smiled again. Her expression was easily readable...disbelief.
"You mean a ghost swept out of no where and pulled your from the water?"
"The Zanja has long been considered a vortex of those that died digging it."
Kathryn leaned back onto her elbows and gave him an incredulous look. "I never saw you as the type of person that believed in that sort of thing."
Tom shrugged again, and turned to gaze at her. "Nearly dying does funny things to a person, Captain. They start to realize what how precious every second is, and try to cram everything you can into as little time as necessary."
"I suppose your right, Tom. It does change everything."
Through the magic of the holodeck, twilight had nearly set in. The last remnants of the sun were slowly sinking behind The Triplets. The sky was painted in hues of pink, orange, blue, and purple. The moon and stars began to fight their way to the surface to cast their own illuminance over the pair still seated on the red clay.
Twilight not only brought cooler temperatures, but cooling breezes that would spread the scent of orange blossoms to the surrounding areas. The sound of smudge pots, which protected the trees from insects, was barely audible against that of the stream nearby.
"So, what drew you here? It seems like the type of memory you wouldn't want to relive."
"I come here to think about my life...where I've been and where I am going...things that I should have done or shouldn't have. Every time I come here, I see myself as that little boy that was nearly drowning and the strong hands that lifted me up out of the water. She gave me another chance for life, and, for that, I owe her everything."
Kathryn reached out and placed her hand on his knee in an act of comfort. Tom favored her with a smile.
"It was a long time ago, Captain. You don't have to worry about me."
She laughed lightly. "Worrying about all my crew is part of the job description." Kathryn couldn't help but smile at him.
"It's a two way street," he said, quietly.
Kathryn raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She waited for him to continue.
Tom ran a hand through his hair. He'd been expecting this conversation for some time now. In truth, he had been procrastinating for fear he might end up pushing her away. Most, if not all, the crew expected him to be the 'court' jester. As of late, his heart hadn't been in it. Events, circumstances had forced him to delve into emotions that he had long held at bay. Thoughts, feelings, dreams that all had been squirreled away in the far recesses of his mind were foisted to the surface of his conscious thought. He thought of her as more than a friend, but had no right to foist his emotions upon an already unrelenting pile that she dealt with every day.
Kathryn watched his face register a handful of different emotions. She marveled at the thought that she had come to know him so well she could read his body language. Something was troubling him, and had been for some time. The usual banter on the bridge had been lackluster as of late, and the mischievous smile he held in his eyes as he told yet another story was all but gone. In fact, his stories were almost as rare as his smiles. However, she didn't react until she noticed him eating alone, away from Harry and B'Elanna for the fourth or fifth time this week.
"There are certain things I've come to depend on over the years...," he started, letting his voice trail off, uncertain of his next move.
Kathryn placed her hand on his arm, but remained silent. Never had she never seen him so introspective. She regarded his face. Dark circles had formed under his eyes that rivaled her own. He looked rather gaunt. Both subtle clues that he wasn't coping with something, but what? She turned to look at the scenery before her gaze turned into a stare.
"When you were on that planet's surface, I could hear the fear in Chakotay's voice. He kept crying out your name, begging you not to die...," he started. "I just couldn't picture this ship without you on the bridge."
"Tom, I made a promise to see this ship home. I have no intentions of just leaving you all, and, in case you hadn't noticed, it is pretty hard to separate me from my ship," she said, smiling at her own quip.
Tom turned from the mountain tops that had held his gaze and looked towards her.
"It's more than just than just your presence on the bridge. This mission to get us home, this ship, the crew- they are all yours. Not Tuvok's and certainly not Chakotay's. The idea of making it back to the Alpha Quadrant without you... "
Kathryn knit her brow in confusion, and motioned for him to continue.
"You've made this ship more like a home than anywhere else I have ever lived. What other captain would allow half the jokes and stories I tell on the bridge? Can you imagine someone as stiff as my father at one of Neelix's parties? And what Captain knows her crew so well that she always knows when someone needs a sounding board."
"Tom, I'm touched," she said, her voice shaking.
"Let me guess, flattery will get me no where," he said, trying to defuse the serious tone the conversation had taken on.
Silence passed between the pair as they watched twilight turn into night. Tom reached for his lantern and turned it on. The flame burned brightly along the width of the wick, sending off a acrid smell. Black stains spread across the glass globe as Tom encapsulated the burning wick.
From their vantage point, far from the farm houses and quarters of the orange farmers, the stars were perfectly clear. Kathryn found herself drawn to stare into the inky depths of the sky to locate each of the constellations that she had once taken for granted.
"It's your turn, Captain," Tom said finally.
"I'm not sure what you mean," she said, staring blankly at him.
"Let's just say I've come to be able to read you pretty well, and I know when something is bothering you."
"I suppose it's just a matter of thinking about recent events. Nothing I can't sort out on my own."
Tom turned towards her. The face that he had so well learned was shrouded in a mask of darkness and light that was cast from the single flame's radiance.
"Do you really want to know why I come here?" Tom said in a distant voice. Not waiting for Kathryn to answer, he plunged ahead. "I come here because, during the time that I spent here, I found a special kind of peace that I never found again. I've worked out more problems here than at Sandrine's, but I suppose it's just easier to see me as a drunk in a bar," he said, bitterly.
"I never saw you like that," Kathryn said honestly. Her eyes locked on to his to measure how much he believed her.
"Oh, come on, I saw the way you looked at me when we first met. I made your skin crawl."
"Actually, I was thinking what a waste. Besides, that Tom Paris is long since gone. You are a talented officer that has proven himself time and again. I've come to rely on you for more than your piloting skills and quick wit."
"Oh?"
"What I say stays here?" She said, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course," he said, sitting up. The Captain was full of surprises tonight.
"My experience made me take note of the people in my life. I suppose it's only natural that the majority of things that I have done I regret. But their remained an overlaying message throughout every single person on this ship; they have all changed for the better. Harry is more assertive- surer of himself. Seven is becoming an unique individual. The Doctor's program has expanded well beyond his original parameters. But the one person that has changed the most, the person I have come to depend on the most, despite my early instinct,... is you."
Kathryn watched as Tom turned several shades of crimson. "You asked for it," she said, laughing.
"I suppose I did."
Another, shorter silence passed between them. Again, Tom broke it "Know what I would have missed most?"
"Hmm?"
"The sound of your laughter."
He watched her face sober for a moment. "I've always prided myself on being able to make you laugh. Harry tries, but his jokes are corny. And Tuvok...don't get me started on him. He and Chakotay are way too serious."
"You always have been able to do that- make me laugh. Not to mention irritate me, scare me half to death, and sweet talk me into more outlandish schemes than I care to remember."
"Oh come on, Captain, admit it, you liked playing Arachnia."
"It had its moments..."
"You know, chapter 37 is coming up... The Rise of Arachnia."
"Oh no, Mr. Paris, you will have to find someone else," Kathryn said, standing.
"But, Captain, you're the queen. No one else will be able to fill your costume."
Kathryn Janeway moved towards the exit, and, just before the doors shut behind her, yelled out to her helmsmen, "Meet you here tomorrow, 1700 hours."
Tom stayed by the mouth of the Zanja for a while longer reflecting on the idea that The Lady of the Zanja had, once again, lifted him up from the depths of the great maw.
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