The first thing Tom noticed was a steady beeping sound. It wouldn't stop, and it was irritating as hell. He would have gotten up to turn it off, if only he could make his eyes open. And then he remembered: he was in sickbay. The beeping was a biobed cardiac monitor. The quarantine! The Doc was probably going to kill him when he discovered that Tom was sleeping on the job. But despite the looming threat of yet another lecture from the hologram, Tom simply couldn't make his eyelids lift. He was just too damn tired.

The next thing he noticed was a quiet moaning. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place who it was. Harry? No, that wasn't right.

"Tom? Are you awake? Can you hear me?" That voice he knew. That was B'Elanna. The thought of seeing the woman he loved was a lot more motivating than that of being yelled at by the angry Doctor, and it was enough to make his eyes blink open. The lights were dimmed, but he could make out his wife's worried face hovering over him.

"Hey there," she said, smiling at him. "Welcome back."

Tom's brow furrowed. There was something he was forgetting, something important. But everything felt so heavy, and he was warm, and the bed was soft, and it had been a really, really long time since he'd had a good night's sleep. Just as he was about to slip back into unconsciousness, it hit him. "B'Elanna," he croaked, fear edging his voice, "You can't be here! The virus, the baby…"

"Shhh, parmaqqay," she murmured, stroking his hair, "Everything's all right. You don't have to worry. The quarantine is over."

Over? How was that possible? The last thing he knew there were 30 odd dying crewmembers between here and the mess hall. He had just placed the chest tube in Naomi, and Mariah… "How? What happened?" he asked her. God, it hurt to talk. "Mariah? Harry?" That was all he managed to get out before he started coughing. Crap. That hurt more than the talking did. But he needed to know what was going on.

"Calm down, Tom," B'Elanna scolded him gently as she placed a straw at his lips. "Drink this, stop trying to talk, and I promise I'll tell you everything. OK?" He nodded in response, and started to sip at the watered down juice she offered him. It felt ridiculously good on his parched throat.

B'Elanna then told him all that he had missed in the past three days. (Three days?!) Tom's aching joints and heavy chest had already clued him into the fact that the Doctor's prototype vaccine had not been completely effective. B'Elanna explained it had only slowed down the rate of viral replication in his immune system to the point that the incubation period had been extended by several days. His lack of sleep had compounded the virus' symptoms, and after a protracted bout of vomiting, apparently he had fainted and given himself a concussion when he hit his head on the toilet. (Great. The Doc will never let me live that down.) Harry and the others had all been long released from sickbay, and many of them had even returned to light duty.

He had a suspicion he wasn't going to like the answer, but he asked B'Elanna anyway, "Can I get out of here soon?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Paris." Damn. The Doctor had heard him and was heading their way. "Unfortunately, the extended incubation period caused by the vaccine resulted in a particularly aggressive strain of the virus. Despite the fact that you became ill only after I developed the treatment, we very nearly lost you. Blood loss and a concussion that didn't get immediate attention haven't done you any favors either. And the lack of sleep! Your poor nutrition habits! Really, Mr. Paris, you must realize that as an organic life form you need to set limits for yourself. You mustn't think the admittedly high expectations I have for my own performance apply to you."

Tom gaped at him. "But you… Every time I tried to… You never…"

"What is wrong with you, Lieutenant?" The Doctor took out his tricorder. "Your head injury appears to be healing adequately. You shouldn't be experiencing language deficiencies."

Tom looked to his wife for assistance as he continued to sputter inarticulately. "Not worth it, Tom," she patted his hand knowingly. "Best to just let it go."

"Try to get him to take more fluids, B'Elanna. And then encourage him to go back to sleep. He has a lot of it to catch up on." The Doctor snapped his tricorder shut and started to walk back to his office. "I'm going to shut down briefly for a much overdue defragmentation. Be sure to reactivate me when you leave. "

"Doc, wait," Tom called out to him. When the Doctor stopped and turned back towards the bed, he continued, "I want to apologize again. About Mariah. I should have recognized I was too tired to be working alone. I'm just glad you were able to fix my mistake, and she's OK now."

The Doctor looked perplexed for a short moment, then his face cleared. "Of course. You wouldn't know yet."

Time seemed to slow for Tom as he waited for the Doctor to continue. Wouldn't know what? Did I misunderstand? Did Mariah not make it?

"You didn't make any mistakes, Mr. Paris. Ms. Henley's potassium level was normal as you initially reported. The reaction she had to the antipyretic was in fact the key to developing the cure. You inadvertently saved the day, in a manner of speaking. Actually, I must admit, your performance during the quarantine was entirely adequate. For the most part." The Doctor turned away again, and continued back to his office.

"High praise," B'Elanna snorted, "Try not to get a big head now."

Tom gripped her arm. "Is she really OK B'Elanna? Mariah? You would tell me if she wasn't, right? If something had happened?"

B'Elanna looked at him with concern. "Tom, she's fine. The Doctor said as much. We wouldn't lie to you about something like that." She studied his face for a moment. "What's going on?"

Tom swallowed hard, and found he couldn't meet his wife's eyes. "There's something we should talk about. Something I meant to tell you before the outbreak started."

At that moment, the doors to sickbay slid open and admitted the Captain. She walked over to the biobed and lay her hand on B'Elanna's shoulder, giving Tom a kind smile. "I'm sorry to interrupt, B'Elanna. I wouldn't have if it wasn't important."

"What happened?" the engineer asked warily.

"There's a feedback error from the EPS relays that's altering the deuterium levels before they reach the antimatter chamber. Lt. Carey has been working on it with Seven of Nine, but they've hit an impasse. We'll be stuck at impulse soon if we don't address it," the Captain told her.

"Damn it! I fixed that last night!" B'Elanna slammed her fists hard enough into the side of Tom's bed that even in his fever induced torpor, he flinched a little. She then closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly through her mouth. "Fine. It's fine," she said calmly, opening her eyes again. "I can be there in ten minutes, Captain."

"Hey," Tom said softly, taking her hand. "Go now. It's OK. I'm OK. This can wait."

"It's been waiting, Tom," she said to him. "I want to be here for you if you need me."

"The Doc made it pretty clear I'm not going anywhere. You know where to find me when you're done. Go take care of the ship." He patted the bed. "Now I know why she feels sluggish."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes at him, "You cannot feel how fast the ship is going. It is simply not possible, no matter how many times you claim it is." She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I'll be here."

Tom and the Captain watched her as she passed through the sickbay doors into the corridor. "I'm sorry I had to take her from you, Tom. I wouldn't have if there was another option."

He forced a smile, "It's OK, Captain. Duty calls, right?"

"Will my company do instead?"

"You don't have to stay. I'm sure you're busy."

"Not so busy I can't make a little time for my favorite pilot." She sat down on the stool B'Elanna had occupied a few moments ago. "I'm glad to see you awake and feeling better, Tom. We've all been worried about you."

"Thank you. I'm sure I'll be back on duty in a few days," he said quietly.

Janeway considered him a moment. "B'Elanna seems to be taking Tuvok's anger management lessons to heart. I think even a year ago that outburst would have turned into a full blown warp core breach."

"Yup."

"Neelix and I are planning on getting married next week. I've decided it's time to settle down. Stop focusing so much on my career. Maybe have a few kids before it's too late."

"Of course, " Tom said automatically. He jerked his head up to look at her. "Wait, what?"

She smiled at him. "Just wanted to make sure you were listening. Are you all right, Tom? You seem a little down."

He forced another smile. "I'm fine, Captain. In fact, I just got good news. I thought I had messed something up, made a medical error. During the quarantine? But it turns out I didn't. Henley's fine. What happened to her was just a fluke."

Janeway studied his face intently. "That is good news."

Much later on, when Tom replayed this conversation in his head, he came up with a multitude of reasons that might have explained what happened next. His fever. Residual effects of sleep deprivation. The emotional roller coaster he'd been riding all week. The fact that the Doc was pumping half the pharmacy into him. But ultimately, the only thing he knew for sure was that he was eternally grateful to whatever god one happened to believe in that the Doctor had just deactivated himself and didn't see anything. Because to his everlasting shame, what happened next was Tom Paris collapsed into a fetal position in front of his commanding officer and started crying. Not just any crying - but the sort of loud, ugly, hysterical sobs that make most people start staring at their shoes and desperately try to come up with a reason to escape.

Fortunately, Kathryn Janeway, by any metric, was not most people.

It took several minutes of her rubbing his back and making soothing noises before Tom found he was able to calm down and start breathing normally again. When he was hit with the full realization of what he had just done, he pulled the thermal blanket over his head and started to moan.

"Tom? Tom, come out from under the blanket."

"Please go away. Sir. Ma'am. Captain. Please?"

"No." The blanket twitched. "Don't make me order you, Lieutenant."

Tom sighed, and pulled the blanket off his face. He regarded Janeway with a sidelong glance. "This is the most humiliating moment of my life. And Abby McColgan once gave me a wedgie in front of my whole class when I was 9."

The Captain gave him a look that suggested her patience was approaching its limit. "Maybe you need to stop trying to change the subject and just tell me what's got you so upset, Tom. It's clear you need to get it off your chest. Everyone is recovering from the virus. From what I hear, your performance during the quarantine was exemplary. So what exactly is troubling you?"

"Ten years ago," he mumbled.

"You're going to have to be more specific," she said, hands on her hips.

"Two days before the outbreak started. It was the anniversary. Ten years ago…" he trailed off.

Janeway's expression softened, "Caldik Prime."

Tom nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"I'm sorry, Tom. That must have been a difficult day for you. And the outbreak hasn't really given you any time to process it."

"It wasn't," he replied.

"What do you mean, 'It wasn't'?" she asked, confused.

"It wasn't a difficult day. I went to my duty shift. Played hover ball with Chakotay. Had a nice dinner with B'Elanna and put together a swing for the baby. It was a perfectly pleasant day." Tom felt his face grow hot. "I forgot."

He couldn't bear to look at her after his admission. After a moment, he felt the Captain put her hand on his arm. "Oh, Tom," she said with compassion.

"What does that say about me?" he blurted out. "Every year since the accident - after the Hirogen took over the ship, when I was stuck on that planet with Tuvok, even when I was in prison - I did… something. I had a drink in their honor, or at least took a moment to think about them. But this year…" He stopped for fear of losing control again.

"Forgetting an anniversary is not the same as forgetting them, Tom," she said kindly. "I think you're being a little hard on yourself."

"Maybe I haven't been hard enough. I killed them, Captain. I was too tired, and too hungover, and too fucking arrogant, and I killed my friends. And now I get to fly a starship, and have a happy marriage, and a family? I don't deserve any of that. Especially when I can't even be bothered to remember them on the day they died."

"Tom, that's ridiculous. You're not the same person that caused that accident. You've earned everything you have now," she said.

"You don't understand," he snapped. "You don't know what it's like to live with something like this."

Janeway raised an eyebrow at this. "Believe it or not, Mr. Paris, I do have some idea what it feels like to be responsible for the deaths of other people."

Tom met her eyes then, ashamed. "I'm sorry, Captain. That was an idiotic thing to say."

"You're still running a fever, Lieutenant. I'll forgive you this time," she said dryly. Janeway gave him a sympathetic look. "You made a mistake, Tom; a terrible mistake, with terrible consequences. But it was an accident. You didn't mean for them to die. And you can't punish yourself forever for it. Your friends wouldn't want that."

"Maybe their families would," he said softly.

"Have you ever asked them?"

Tom looked at her, startled.

"Maybe it's time to reach out to them. Send them letters in the datastream."

"I...I wouldn't know what to say," he admitted.

"Tell them you're sorry. Tell them how much you still think about their loved ones," she said, then smiled at him. "You've never had much of a problem with words, Tom. I'm pretty sure you'll think of something."

Tom was still considering his response when the Doctor rematerialized at his bedside. "Mr. Paris! Why are you still awake?" he demanded, before noticing his patient's current visitor. "My apologies, Captain. I was expecting Lt. Torres to be here. Regardless, Mr. Paris is still early on in his convalescence. He really should be resting."

"Of course, Doctor," she said, then turned back to Tom. "I'll let you get some sleep. But give my suggestion some thought. It might just give you some of the closure you need."

And Tom did give it some thought, as the Doctor tsk'd over his elevated cortisol levels and adjusted the blankets and lighting. Wondering what he could possibly say to the families of his dead friends was in fact all he could think about, as the sedative the Doctor gave him took effect and he drifted off to sleep.