Tom lay on the biobed, staring blankly at the ceiling of sickbay. He'd been awakened some time ago by a particularly bizarre fever dream. In it, B'Elanna had given birth, but to a baby-sized chunk of leola root instead of an actual baby. He then found himself running through Voyager's corridors with it, wrapped in a blanket decorated with tiny batleths, trying to keep Neelix from putting their leola-baby into his latest soufflé. He was now too achy (and frankly, too weirded out) to go back to sleep; he also lacked the energy to suffer through the lecture he was sure to receive if the Doc discovered he was awake again. Lying very still seemed to be the safest option.
He heard the doors to sickbay slide open, and the quick, confident step of the Captain. "Doctor, I'm glad you called me. There's something I need to clear with you…" As she stepped into the office, her voice became muffled and he couldn't make out the rest of her words. He could definitely detect annoyance in the Doctor's reply, but it wasn't clear exactly what he was annoyed about.
He must have dozed off after that, because the next thing he was aware of was the Captain's voice. "Tom?"
"Captain!" his eyes flew open and he made an attempt to sit up.
"I'm sorry," she said gently, "The Doctor thought you were awake."
"I was! I mean, I am." He fell back against the pillow. Sitting up was a lot of effort right now. "Sort of."
"I can come back later," she smiled at him.
"No, please," Tom said, "Stay. I could use the company."
"All right," she said as she pulled a chair nearer to his bedside. "Then we need to have a talk. Given your current health status, I wasn't expecting you to cause me any trouble today, Mister Paris," she said, with what he hoped was mock sternness.
"Captain?" Tom was confused, and not a little concerned.
"The Doctor seems to think your delayed recovery is in large part due to ideas I'm putting in your head, not to mention my historically poor example of how a patient should behave." The gentle smile returned. "When I suggested you contact the families of the people that died at Caldik Prime, I didn't mean it had to be today. "
Tom sighed in response. "I know. But once you put the thought in my head, I couldn't seem to let go of it. I don't know why I haven't written them before. It's the least that I owe them." He let out a self-deprecating laugh, "Too much of a coward, I guess."
Janeway put a finger under his chin, and forced his blue eyes to meet her grey ones, "There is not a person on this ship that would agree with that assessment, Tom Paris. Writing those letters, even if it took ten years, was a very brave thing to do."
"I don't know. I just hope it was the right thing to do. That I'm not opening up old wounds. Maybe they've all moved on, made peace with what happened. And here I come, swooping in to make the pain fresh again, just to make myself feel better."
"Maybe," Janeway admitted. "Or maybe they'll appreciate that you still feel sorrow and remorse for what happened. That you are doing what you can to honor the lives of their family members; by using your second chance to help people and make a real difference. Either way, Tom, there's nothing you can do to control their responses to your letters. All you can do is reach out like you did, and continue being the best officer you can be. And one of the best officers I've ever had the pleasure to serve with."
Tom suddenly found the blanket very interesting. "Thanks," he whispered.
He watched as she placed her small hands over his larger ones. "And for what it's worth, Lieutenant, I'm proud of you for writing those letters. And for quite a bit more."
After a long while, he looked up at her again and spoke, his voice low and rough. "It's worth a lot more than I could ever say, Captain."
Janeway blinked rapidly and cleared her throat, "Computer, what's the current time?"
"The time is 16:59," the computer replied.
"That means the festivities are about to start," her tone upbeat.
"Festivities?" Tom asked, "Is Neelix throwing a party to celebrate that something other than his cooking made the crew throw up?"
"No," Janeway replied, as she tried, and failed, to look disapproving. "This is just a small affair." The door slid open to admit Harry, Neelix and Naomi. "And you're the guest of honor."
The three new arrivals gathered around his biobed, effusive in their greetings. All of them looked far more lively than the last time Tom had seen them. And far more lively than he currently felt himself, at that. "We're just waiting for one more," the Captain said; she then called out, "Doctor! Perhaps you'd like to join us as well?"
"Oh, I'm invited to this impromptu soiree of yours, Captain?" the Doctor replied archly. "I thought my only role here was to recommend against it, so you could once again completely disregard my medical advice." Despite his words, the Doctor efficiently made room for himself at Tom's bedside.
"Try to tone down the wet blanket parameters of your programming, Doctor," the Captain frowned at him, "At least the for the duration of our little ceremony here."
The Doctor's likely ill-advised retort was destined never to be heard, as at that exact moment the Chief Engineer chose to make her arrival, "Sorry! I know I'm a little late."
"What happened to 'the pregnancy won't slow me down a bit,' Maquis?" Harry Kim smirked at the petite half Klingon.
"Watch it, Starfleet, or I'll show you exactly how slow my fist isn't when I'm punching you in the jaw," B'Elanna growled in reply. Her expression completely altered as she gazed down at her recumbent husband. "Hi, Tom," she said affectionately, as she took his hand in hers.
"Hi," he murmured, then looked at the people gathered around him. "Does someone want to tell me what's going on?"
"Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris, as captain of the USS Voyager and your commanding officer," Kathryn Janeway intoned, "I would like to inform you that I have officially entered a commendation in your service record, for the outstanding dedication and leadership you showed during the recent medical crisis. Despite medicine not being your chosen field, your aptitude and abilities saved many lives this week, as well as prevented a serious outbreak from spreading throughout the entire ship. As of this morning's data transmission, I have also nominated you for consideration for a Leonard McCoy Humanitarian Award, for outstanding achievement by a member of the medical support team."
"Captain," Tom stammered as his already flushed cheeks turned a bright pink, "I don't know what to say…"
"It's very unlikely you'll get the award, Mr. Paris. I was just reviewing the preliminary nomination lists an hour ago, and given the impressive accomplishments of an Andorian nurse on Maranga IV…"
"Doctor!" the Captain barked, "Now is not the time!"
The Doctor had the good sense to appear slightly abashed, but not to stop talking. "It would be nice if someone thought to nominate me, in the doctor category of course, considering how much…" He trailed off in face of the trademark Janeway Look, trained full force in his direction. "As you were saying, Captain," he said meekly.
"As I was saying," the Captain repeated firmly, "I wanted to officially recognize everything you did this week for the crew of Voyager, Tom. But some of us thought a little informal acknowledgment might be appreciated as well. Mr. Kim, if you would?"
"It would be my honor, Captain!" Harry replied jauntily. "Naomi, that's your cue!"
"Yes sir!" Naomi began to bang her hands against the biobed, in a reasonable facsimile of a drum roll.
"On behalf of all the people that vomited on you during the recent medical crisis-," Harry started.
"As well as those that helped you clean up the vomit!" Neelix continued.
"We'd like to present you with this token of our appreciation and affection. Neelix?" Harry nudged the cheerful Talaxian, who brought a small kidney shaped object out from behind his back and handed it to Tom.
Tom turned it over in his hands, confused. "Um, guys? This is an emesis basin."
"That's not just any emesis basin!" Harry said indignantly. "We had it engraved!"
Tom turned it again, and noticed some words written inside the bowl:
For Lieutenant JG Thomas Eugene Paris
The Best Damn (pilot) Nurse in Two Quadrants
And for the first time in what felt like a very long time, Tom found himself laughing out loud.
Author's Note: I am super annoyed, as I have just discovered you can't use strikethrough on this website. Grrr. If you want to see how I intended to have the "engraving" look, then you can look at this same story on Archive of Our Own. One more chapter to go!