It isn't that Tom is worried, he's just concerned. He wakes up earlier than usual to check the internal sensors. Janeway is still asleep; her heart rate is steady and she isn't moving around. The internal sensors can monitor the smallest amount of movement, record any sound, can analyze the air quality and humidity of any room on Voyager, but they can't tell Tom what he really wants to know.
What does a woman with no memory dream about?
He had trouble falling asleep and now he continues what kept him up so late. He lies in bed and thinks about the Captain's situation. He tries to imagine himself in this situation, how he might react if he'd woken up with a clean slate. Probably not as well as the Captain, he'd wager. After so much time in prison and the Maquis, it's hard not to give into the instinct to shoot first and ask questions later.
Janeway has been collected and calm, approaching the situation like a scientist gathering data.
The computer alerts him when she wakes up – starts moving around her quarters. When she moves, he does too. He takes a sonic shower and replicates a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice. When he's dressed and fed, he makes his way to her door and rings them chime. It takes a moment for her to open the door. She doesn't call for his entrance and so when the doors part, she's standing there in clean clothes with wet hair. She doesn't wear a uniform and her face is clean of make-up.
"Good morning," she says. "I'm still…"
"Say no more," he says. "I was just wondering how you were this morning."
"Come in," she says, stepping aside. "Just let me…"
She escapes back into the bathroom and he sits down on the sofa. He can hear her, picking something up and setting it down again, or the water running into the basin. When she comes out, her hair is dry but not quite as styled as usual.
"So, Mr. Paris," she says, sounding remarkably like herself. "We have a Borg crew member?"
"Uh, yes ma'am," he says.
"I find it somewhat suspicious you didn't mention that earlier," she says.
"I wasn't hiding anything," he says. "I just though I'd ease you into the situation."
"Is the Borg hostile?" Janeway asks.
"Not in the strictest sense," Tom says. Janeway recognizes a joke even if she doesn't get the punch line and rolls her eyes.
"Can I meet it?"
"You can meet her," Tom says. "Seven used to be a member of the collective, but now she's human, just like you and me."
"Right," Janeway says. "You're right. She… has had quite the tumultuous life on this ship, hasn't she?"
"You could say that," Tom says. "But don't make all your judgments from reading logs and service records." She doesn't respond to his gentle reprimand but gives him a knowing look. "Are you hungry?"
"No," she says. "If you and the Doctor think that immersing myself in my old life will help me recover my memory, then I'd like to continue on that."
"You're the boss," he says.
"So it would seem," she says.
Tom tries to explain Seven but does such a poor job of it that Janeway just waves his words away as they walk down the corridor. To be perfectly honest, Tom doesn't know Seven all that well. He knows her as a colleague, but they are not friends. The person who knows Seven best is Janeway herself. It used to be, anyhow.
"I'll make my own judgments," she says. They arrive at astrometrics where Seven is already on duty. When they enter, she looks over her shoulder at Tom and the Captain.
"Good morning," she says, though her tone suggests that her words are a formality at best.
"Captain Janeway," Tom says, "This is Seven of Nine."
Seven turns to face them and Tom watches Janeway look her over. No computer file or headshot can prepare someone for Seven in the flesh. She is beautiful and tall, and her choice of outfit leaves little to the imagination.
"I take it your memory has not returned," Seven says.
"No," Janeway says. "Not yet."
"Would you like me to explain the function of the astrometrics lab?" Seven asks.
"I understand the lab just fine," Janeway says only slightly indignantly. "The Doctor seems to think getting to know the crew will help me."
"Seven," Tom says. "Maybe reminding the Captain of some of the time you spent together will be the most helpful."
Seven is quiet while she seems to consider the suggestion. Finally, she says, "On alternating Sundays, we play hover ball."
"Well," Tom says with a laugh. "That ought to do it. Are the memories just flooding back in?"
"I don't remember your sarcasm, but I'm not surprised by it," Janeway says to Tom. He holds up his hands in defeat.
"Perhaps when I am off-duty we can speak more about our previous activities," Seven offers. While it sounds like she is dismissing the pair, Tom knows that her offer to continue later is genuine. Seven is austere, but Tom believes she does have some affection for the Captain.
"You do have a doctor's appointment in a few minutes," Tom says.
"All right," Janeway says.
"What did you think of Seven?" Tom asks on the way.
"I had this… this hope that when I saw her things would just… fall back into place," Janeway says.
"Why Seven?" Tom asks.
"My personal logs," she says. "I speak about her like a daughter, almost."
"Are you disappointed?" Tom asks.
"It would be too easy, right?" she says, dryly. "Like flipping a switch."
Tom pauses to let Janeway walk into sickbay first. The Doctor wastes no time in ordering Janeway onto a bio bed.
"This will take some time," the Doctor says. "I'll contact you when I'm finished."
"I'll be on the bridge," Tom says. Chakotay is in the ready room, waiting for his report. It's strange to see Chakotay sitting behind her desk. He looks too bulky for the desk, and the vase of flowers that Neelix keeps fresh on the ledge behind the desk is too feminine.
"How is she?" Chakotay says.
"She's fine," Tom says. Chakotay looks unconvinced. "Her memory hasn't returned, but she's taking it in stride. She seems calm and patient."
"And you don't think that's unusual?" Chakotay says. It's a small joke, but he's being partly serious.
"Maybe this is just Kathryn Janeway without the baggage," Tom offers.
"You knew her before Voyager, didn't you?" Chakotay asks.
"Um," Tom scratches the back of his head uncomfortably. "Officially, no."
"Officially?"
"Meeting someone at Starfleet social functions and meeting someone on duty are two separate things, you know that," Tom says. "And the Captain was the favorite of my father and my father and I never truly got along, so…"
"So what you're saying is that when she recruited you to Voyager, you both just pretended like you were perfect strangers?" Chakotay asked, his brow furrowed.
"The etiquette rules for Starfleet families are complex… what matters, Chakotay, is that memory aside, the Captain is healthy."
"I was thinking, maybe if you went back a little further – told her about her life before Voyager, it might help her to remember."
Tom shakes his head.
"I'm happy to play nursemaid for the next fifty years, but I'm not the man for that job, I promise you," Tom says. Chakotay narrows his eyes slightly, but doesn't push. "The Doctor should have a report for you by the end of the shift."
And when the Doctor gives his report, he declares her fit for duty.
"She doesn't remember her mother's name, let alone command codes," Chakotay says. "Shouldn't we wait for her memory to return before we put her back on duty?"
"Her memory could return tomorrow or in five years or never at all," the Doctor says. "But it's your call."
Tom has been sitting in on the meeting and has remained quiet until now.
"We're just going to let Kathryn Janeway sit and rot for fifty years?" Tom asks.
"It's not Kathryn Janeway, exactly," Chakotay points out.
"It's still her mind. It's still her, Chakotay, she's just… incomplete," Tom argues. "We can teach her command codes and the names of the crew. I can get her ready."
"You can't teach someone to be Captain if you've never been Captain yourself," Chakotay says.
"Who knows her best?" Tom offers. "We'll get the people who know her best together and give her a crash course in herself!"
"That isn't a bad idea," the Doctor says.
"I know her best," Chakotay declares.
"Tuvok has known her longest," Tom says. "And Seven knows a piece of her the rest of us don't."
Chakotay cannot argue this, so he concedes in silence.
"I think the entire senior staff is a place to start," the Doctor says.
"Fine," Chakotay says. "Bring me a list."
Tom doesn't say so, but he knows the most about her life before Voyager. He knows about the life of a Starfleet family – the sacrifices one makes when one's father is part of the brass. The social functions that are mandatory, the expectation that one will enroll in the academy and excel.
Janeway eats dinner with Tom in the mess and listens to this new plan. She wears her hair tucked behind her ears and in each ear is a small gold hoop. Perhaps he has seen Janeway wear earrings in passing at one of Neelix's holiday parties, but never casually like this. Outside of wedding rings and other cultural pieces, jewelry is against uniform regulations so most people just don't bother.
"Do you not think I should be consulted in plans regarding my well-being?" she asks. She seems as even keeled as ever, but Tom sees the Captain in this statement.
"If you have objections, of course, we can reconsider," Tom says. "And besides, I'm telling you now."
"I'd like to see the list," she says, reaching for the PADD. He hands it over and she reads the names. It's a short list, comprised of her bridge staff, B'Elanna, Seven, and Neelix.
"I guess I don't have very many friends," she comments.
"It's lonely at the top," Tom says.
"Who would you say knows me the best?" she asks. This is a tricky question and Tom hesitates for too long. "So it isn't you?"
"You think it would be me?" he asks, surprised.
"Well, I don't think they'd let a perfect stranger guide me through my own life," she says. "And you don't seem… as uncomfortable around me as the others."
"No one is uncomfortable," Tom objects but he realizes he doesn't know if that's true or not. He doesn't see how people react to her when he isn't with her. He changes tactics. "Chakotay thinks I should tell you more about your life before Voyager."
"Does he," she says, resting her chin on her hand. "I've gone through my personal logs. I know about my family, my once engagement…" She trails off, wondering if she has inadvertently revealed too much but Tom doesn't seem surprised or filled with pity.
"I think," Tom says in a careful voice, "He meant that I should tell you about my father."
"Your father?" she asks, her interest piqued. "What does your family have to do with me?"
"Come on," Tom says. "There's something I should probably show you."
oooo
In the holodeck, he calls up two chairs that are comfortable but have sturdy backs. She sits in one and crosses her legs while he stands at the console and calls up the information he's looking for. Soon, there's a photograph projected onto the screen and he comes to sit in the other chair.
"Who is this?" she asks, finally when he doesn't seem willing to offer up the information. The picture is of a stoic looking man in uniform. She can see from his collar that he is an admiral.
"This is my father," Tom says. "Owen Paris."
"Friendly fellow," she says and it is an attempt at humor.
"He was your mentor," Tom says. She raises an eyebrow in surprise.
"I know that I served under him on the Al-Battani but I was a science office and not a bridge one."
"Your official file does not reflect the time you spent aboard the Icarus," Tom says. "It was a covert mission."
"Why do you know about it?" she asks.
"It ended poorly," he says. Before she has time to ask anymore questions, he calls out, "Next!" and the slide changes. In this picture Tom is standing next to his father in a cadet's uniform. Both men are considerably younger.
"He must have been very proud of you," she comments and he doesn't reply except to call for the next slide. It is a picture of Janeway as a cadet standing next to her own father. "Hard to believe I was ever that young."
"It's tradition to take a generational photo on these steps when one enters the academy," Tom says. The Golden Gate Bridge is in the background and they are standing on the steps of the Commons building. "You and I had very similar upbringings."
"Did you know me before we boarded this ship, Tom?" she asks.
"You were already a Lieutenant Commander when I joined Starfleet," Tom says. Janeway notices that he doesn't answer her question but doesn't press. In her few days of knowing Tom Paris, she has learned that he reveals things in his own time and in return, doesn't pressure her to move at a faster pace than with she is comfortable. He moves ahead a few slides to a picture of what is surely a celebration of some sort. On the table is a cake, the icing bright orange and pressed into the icing, a toy replica of a shuttle. The young man who stands behind the cake in the glow of the candles looks angry, or perhaps, disappointed. "Sixteen," he supplies before she has to ask.
It takes her a moment, but in the background of people she finally spots her younger self.
"So I was a friend of the family," she says.
"This was after the Icarus. You were serving in his office at Starfleet Headquarters and he sent you to my birthday party to represent him."
"Why couldn't he come himself?" she asks.
"You told me he got called away unexpectedly – not uncommon for an active admiral in the heart of war," Tom says. "But when I pressed for more information, the lie collapsed. My father was sitting in his office in San Francisco. Now I understand better – He couldn't face his family after being broken by the Cardassians but at the time, well, you were a poor substitute."
She understands now.
"Your family didn't like me," she says.
"There was a time when the Paris's and the Janeway's were friends, but the war damaged many things," Tom says. "And when you came to me about joining Voyager, you introduced yourself like we'd never met. You were offering me a clean slate and I decided to take it."
"And your father?" she asks. Tom turns his face back to the screen but she can see his expression darken, even in profile.
"Still the admiral," he says. "Some things never change."
Tom feels the light pressure of her hand on his forearm but then it is gone. He forces cheer back into himself and turns to her once more.
"The Doc says you're fit for duty," he says. "That's good news."
"I can't go on duty!" she says. "I don't know how to be the Captain of this ship."
"Maybe not, but we'll get you ready. Trust me, being the Captain is 40 percent experience and 60 percent attitude." He grins. "We're going to get you back on your feet, I promise."
"And if we come into contact with a hostile species?" she asks. "They'll see right away that I'm a fraud."
"That's ridiculous," he says. She frowns.
"Is that how you speak to your Captain?" she asks, her hands on her hips.
"See?" He grins. "It's going to be just fine."