We're an hour from Earth. Just two days after Kathryn contacted Admiral Paris from Dorvan, the Virginia was in range to transport us aboard. We've been staying in quarters larger than the shelter I built. The captain and crew have been very gracious. Dinners and activities were mentioned without officially requesting our presence, leaving me an out if I wasn't up to it. I spent some time in sickbay visiting with Dr. Toshon when Kathryn wanted to tour the science and stellar cartography labs. It was a compromise. I knew I would tire too quickly if I went with her. She didn't want to leave me alone in our quarters.
I've had a couple of bad headaches, but less intense than they were in the beginning. Walks in the corridors helped me somewhat get used to the new environment. I still can't judge distances. I have to concentrate to see as a whole face the features of new people I meet. Navigating a new space is nearly impossible without her arm to guide me. Even so, the voice of less-than-me has faded to a whisper. I'm not sure who I am yet, but the darkness continues to retreat in her light.
We're waiting in our quarters, bags ready, until it's time to depart. My head lies against the back of the sofa, eyes closed. I need to rest them before I'm bombarded with the sights of San Francisco. For three days, I've wanted to ask her. Kept delaying. The approach of Earth, Starfleet Headquarters, her job as an admiral, means I can't put it off. We're together day and night. We still share a bed, though we're not intimate. She sleeps in my arms, we touch when we sit side-by-side, we've kissed. No one knows that we're more to each other than we were two weeks ago. Just as I have yet to define who more of me is, we've yet to define this more of us.
I feel for her hand beside mine on the sofa. Kathryn? What are we? I mean, what will we be on Earth, among Starfleet and people we know? Together? Silence. I feel her body shift on the cushion as she turns toward me. Delicate hands on my face. I open my eyes and see her waiting for me to look at her. The fine brandy slide of her answer burns into my soul. I love you, too, Kathryn. I feel her soft lips on mine.
Still, I need to know. What if I don't get any better? What if I can't be what you need? No, of course not. I do know you better. I know you don't consider me less than the man I was. But what if you always have to take care of me? You deserve a companion, not a charge. The commander you knew on Voyager is gone, and I may never be him again. I'm supposed to take care of you, to be whatever you need me to be, to protect you. Instead, I can't even walk across a room without your help. Her fingertips trace my tattoo, caress my temples. Kathryn, I want so much to give you everything, to be everything for you. I pull her into my arms as I cling to her words: together we are everything.
I hear the door chime and open my eyes again as I loosen my hold around her. We stand up, and I see a brief smile before she slips into rank and calls for entry. Captain Nichae has come himself to lead us to the transporter room. The Doctor will meet us on the surface. Doc insisted. I take Kathryn's arm and we walk with the captain, an ensign following with our bags. There's a lot more activity in the corridors as the crew gets ready to depart for shore leave. They stand aside as we approach and pass, but my eyes don't process fast enough. I get a feeling of impending collision. That I'm about to be jostled or run over. I grip her arm tighter and fight to reign in my panic. I'm able to force myself to focus on what I can see, ignore the rest.
The transporter room is much quieter, and I relax my clenched jaw. She thanks Captain Nichae, compliments him on what a fine ship and crew the Virginia is, and leads me up to the platform. She makes sure I'm steady on the pad before stepping to the one beside me, and the ensign positions our bags. We're in San Francisco.
We've been transported to HQ instead of a public terminal. My eyes slowly focus around me, and I can vaguely see Doc, Tom Paris and B'Elanna, and Admiral Paris. Quicker than I can register movement, B'Elanna has me in a tight hug. I'm okay. I'm glad to be on Earth again. How's Miral? Hi, Tom.
Doc is already scanning me, checking the neural monitor and glasses and lamenting barbaric medical practices. I'm scheduled for a complete work up with him in the morning, but he wants to make sure the devices are working properly. He says my blood pressure is elevated. I'm not surprised, Doc. Too much activity on the ship. I get overwhelmed. I'm fine, though. I hear Tom tell Kathryn the apartment is ready. I turn to her as she thanks him. I see her look at me, and then see that adorable mischievous grin. She says she's too old for stairs. She asked Tom and B'Elanna to find a single-level apartment and move her things. I have to laugh. I know she moved for me.
I thank Admiral Paris for finding a ship so quickly. He apologizes again for Starfleet's decision not to let the Doctor travel to Dorvan. He thinks it's high time another hearing be called to grant Doc rights as an individual and not property. I hope the admiral is sincere and can push the subject. Not just because Doc might have been able to do something for me sooner. It's disheartening to know a friend is being mistreated.
Doc has finished his brief exam and grumbling, and Kathryn moves back to my side. I take her arm and tell the Doctor I'll see him in the morning. Tom picks up our bags, and we follow him to a hover car. He and B'Elanna will take us to the apartment. It's after sunset, and my sight is confused by all the lights and movement of the city. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. Kathryn must sense my distress, because she takes my hand in hers in the car. I'm okay. I'll be glad to get somewhere everything doesn't move so fast. I think I hear B'Elanna turn in the front seat. I wonder if she knows. She would pick up before anyone that things between Kathryn and I are different. Kathryn loves me. The thought strengthens me.
We exit the car in front of a tall building. I try to look up, but the edges blur against the night sky. I see lights from windows, an impression of beige. Beige or gray? Gray. Ah, thank you. The monitor is working, but I still sway when I look up more than three or four levels. Kathryn's arm closes around my back, hand on my shoulder. I lower my head. Her delicate touch on my cheeks turns my head to her. Yes, concentrate on her face. Blue eyes cobalt in the night. Soft skin, lips. I place my hands over hers. Thank you. I'm okay now. A slight headache. No, it's not bad. I try to smile for her. I pull her hand to my lips and kiss the palm. Only then do I remember Tom and B'Elanna are watching. Her smile says she remembers, too. She doesn't care.
We enter the building and the turbolift, and follow Tom to the apartment. I see shadows of doorways, numbers that I don't try to read, light cells along the hallway. I do make out the numbers of the door Tom opens. 2133. Commit to memory my new home. Rather, our new home. The headache is intensifying by the second, and I'm tired. Kathryn, I think I need the meds. She tells Tom to take the bags to the master bedroom and find the hypospray in the smallest case. I fall onto the bed, close my eyes, and rub my pounding forehead. The weight of her beside me, hand on my side. I hear Tom unzipping the bag. In a few seconds, the hiss and mild sting of the hypospray against my neck. She tells him to bring water and a damp cloth. She's seen the beads of sweat forming on my brow.
The pain builds behind my eyes even with the medication. I feel the cool cloth gently wipe my brow, my neck. My hand finds her back and wraps around to her hip, holding on against the precipice of darkness. I hear B'Elanna's voice of concern, Tom asking if he should call for Doc. Slowly, the gripping pain begins to diminish. No, don't call Doc. It's getting better. Kathryn's delicate fingers caress my hair, pulling me back from the cliff. Yes, sleep. The bed is soft. She kisses my forehead, and I feel her hip slide from my arm as I drift off.
Where am I? I sit up, fighting to remember. I hear voices and then recall I'm in the new apartment. I make my way to the shadow of the door and into the den. Kathryn sits on a dark blue couch. Blurs of Tom and B'Elanna sit in blue and brown chairs. I concentrate on Kathryn's form and walk to her, settling close beside her on the couch. How long? Only 20 minutes. I turn to our guests. I'm glad you guys are still here. It's better, thank you. The headaches come and go. Too much strain today. Tell me what you've been doing. They talk about being new parents, how much their daughter has grown, their work. Subconsciously, I take Kathryn's hand and hold it resting on my thigh. She feels the sudden twitch when I realize what I've done. She squeezes my hand, and I understand it's okay. My heart soars.
Kathryn offers to fix salads for everyone. Yes, I could eat. Thank you. B'Elanna wants me to rest. No, please stay. I've missed seeing you both. Tom follows Kathryn to the kitchen, and B'Elanna moves to the couch. I smile, knowing she's going to ask. She first wants to know about my sight. I can see you, the colors of the chairs. Things begin to blur past that. The glasses control the amount of light so my optic nerves aren't overloaded. Two weeks trapped in my shelter on Dorvan. I wasn't at first, but I'm glad she came. And here's the question I've been waiting for. Yes, I love her. A squeeze on my arm. It feels right, B'Elanna. Dealing with my condition has been hard, and I'm holding out hope that Doc can help me. But, Kathryn and I finally feel right.
Kathryn returns. I stand up and take her arm to be led to the table. The distance is too unclear to risk on my own yet. When we reach it, I see a polished, dark wood table with six comfortably padded high-backed chairs. Kathryn seats me at the end. She's to my right, and Tom and B'Elanna to my left. I'm still tired, but I enjoy the dinner with friends. I lean back in my chair and listen to their conversation as I study each face. So familiar to me after seven of the toughest, most rewarding years of my life traveling the galaxy with them. In their presence, I feel like I can still be that man. There was one thing missing during those years, but that's now firmly in my grasp. Her.
We say goodbye to Tom and B'Elanna and promise to contact them after my visit with Doc. When the door closes, I put my arm around Kathryn and kiss the top of her head. Yes, I'm feeling good, but I do need to rest. I think I'll go to bed and listen to a book for a while. I'll help you unpack and do what needs to be done tomorrow if you want to read with me. I can tell from her voice it has been a long day for her, too. I follow her to the bedroom, able to do so without holding her arm. The open layout of the apartment and minimal furniture make it easier for me to navigate. I'm sure Tom took that into consideration when he found the place. It's comforting to go about our normal routine of taking turns in the master bathroom.
I prop against the headboard, pillow cushioning my back, while I wait for her. The shelter that I built on Dorvan was never intended to be my home. It always felt temporary. I can imagine a future here. A bright future, no matter whether my vision remains dim. For even my dim vision sees her as she approaches the bed. The halo of auburn locks, blue eyes, pink sheen of lips, pale skin, white satin gown. Vision of love. She slides under the sheet and tucks against my side, my arm draped behind her neck. We've been rereading Dante's Inferno, one of her favorite novels that she shared with me on Voyager. I hug her tighter as the words sound from the PADD: As little flowers, which the chill of night has bent and huddled, when the white sun strikes, grow straight and open fully on their stems, so did I, too, with my exhausted force.
When I wake, I'm lying on my side with her in my arms. I had thought everything would change. I'm so glad some things remain. The chronometer on the bedside table gradually comes into focus. 0530. This is the morning I finally see Doc. If anyone in the galaxy can help me, it'll be him. I've tried not to hope too high, but I've seen what he can accomplish. I try to gently slide my arm from under her head. She wakes immediately. I'm okay. No, no headache. Coffee sounds good. When she rises, I sit on the edge of the bed and concentrate on my surroundings. Finer details are becoming easier as long as they are close.
I hear her come from the bathroom and track her white gown as it disappears through the doorway. I feel lonely. I don't like that I can't see at least her outline wherever she goes as I could in the shelter. Then I chuckle to myself at the thought. I've sent her off to be assimilated by the Borg. I can handle sending her to the coffee pot. I complete my morning routine without difficulty. I'm pleased I can find my way to the table and the coffee cup waiting for me. Small miracles.
By 0700 hours, we're dressed and ready to see the Doctor. I hold her arm to be led down the hallway to the turbolift and to the public transporter. It will take me a while to learn my way since I can't see beyond a few feet. It's a little disturbing not to know how to get to your own home. In the daylight, I'm not so overwhelmed being outside in the city. The glasses don't block the thousands of pinpoints visible at night. With the sun on my face and the smell of sunshine at my side, I walk toward hope.
The Doctor is eager to see us this morning. He's reviewed my file sent from Dorvan, but he wants to retest everything. I sit on a biobed, Kathryn standing beside me, while he gets the equipment ready. I feel Kathryn squeeze my hand before moving away to wait. The lights are dimmed, my glasses and neural monitor removed, and Doc begins a running monologue on the anatomy of human sight as he works. I lose track of time, but at some point he sedates me for surgery.
The first thing I see when I'm brought around is Kathryn's face. Brighter, clearer. I feel glasses across the bridge of my nose, but not the ones I've been wearing. How long? Two hours. No, no pain. She helps me sit up and look around. I can see better. Not well, but better. I can make out objects at a greater distance before they begin to blur. Doc starts firing questions. I see more light. Yes, I can see you clearly. I can see more than a shadow of the door across the room, but it's blurry. He holds up a PADD and adjusts the size of the text, asking each time what can I read of it. I still have to concentrate to separate letters and words, but at least I can read at the larger sizes. When he puts the PADD down, I turn to Kathryn. I make out individual strands of her hair – red, brown, and gold. I can clearly see the buttons on her beige blouse, the little bow of her top lip, the arch of her eyebrows. I pick up her hand and follow the lines of her thin fingers, tiny wrinkles of the skin around her knuckles, the bone on the side of her small wrist. All the little details of her that my memory was filling in are now visible. Have I ever told you how beautiful you are? A soft smile lights her face.
I hear an ahem from Doc and turn toward him, Kathryn's hand in mine resting on my leg. A faint dizzy feeling hits me, and I realize the pressure of the monitor on my forehead is gone. He explains that during the surgery, he was able to speed the healing of the optic nerves, which increases the speed at which they relay signals. He will reattach the monitor before I leave to correct for the small dizziness that remains. He wants me back in two days for another surgery. The new glasses will allow more light and can be removed if I'm at home with the lights at no more than fifty percent. I may always have to wear shaded lenses in sunlight, but there's a possibility I could do without them eventually. I leave Starfleet Medical grasping Kathryn's hand instead of her arm.