**** **** **** ****
Chapter Two
Dr. Euran Bree'aje heard the younger man's words and then - after grasping their meaning - could only
hear the sound of his own heartbeat for several moments. He grasped Tom's arm in a steady grip.
"You said you remember....what exactly? How much?"
Tom came out of the reverie into which he'd slipped, wincing at the hope and anxiety he heard in his older
companion's words.
"I'm sorry," he began again. "Not much. I don't remember any more about myself. But I remember ...."
Tom's gaze went back to the patients that filled the infirmary tent, feeling a slight chill at the images he saw
and also remembered.
Euran watched him very closely. "Yes?"
"I remember treating the patients. I remember..." Tom stopped again, his repetitive words catching in his
throat. Actually, he'd rather not repeat what he'd remembered. The doctor had told him how vicious this
plague really was - but only his own regained memory could bring the truth of that viciousness home to
him. He remembered treating patients...but not curing them. Not one.
He met Euran's at once sympathetic eyes and knew he needn't worry about finishing the explanation he'd
begun. Doctor Bree'aje had worked with this sickness, as well. He understood...only too well.
The small portion of memory that Tom had regained was less than the doctor would have liked...but
enough to give him hope. "Tom, you realize what an important step this is towards moving on from the
accident, don't you? You're starting to remember again...to remember your life here."
"Euran..."
"At least you can no longer deny the fact that you are, indeed, the doctor that I've been telling you that you
are. You've even remembered for yourself having treated your patients."
"Well, yes..." Tom looked - and was - puzzled. He did remember...but why didn't that make him feel any
better about his doubts?
"Tom. I know you still don't remember your life...and I can tell you still don't believe you're going to
remember that the things that I've told you are true. But doesn't remembering a little of it - just a little -
make you want to give it a chance?" Euran's words were pleading. "Give it a chance, Tom. Give yourself a
chance. You may not remember your life, but it's a good life, and it needs you. They need you. They need
the doctor who's given them hope, and they're never going to get him back if you don't stop refusing to
even try and accept your memory as it comes back to you."
Tom looked back at the sea of prone bodies before him.
"Won't you atleast try?"
Tom looked at the nearest patient's sleeping profile - it was the small face of a girl of about 8 or 9 years old.
He imagined what her eyes must have looked like healthy - bright and inquisitive; the bright aqua that was
characteristic of their species. He knew what those eyes would look like now - dull and sad; a pale, pale
blue - almost gray. Unbidden, images came to mind of other men, women, and children he'd seen afflicted
with this little girl's sickness - of their eyes, open and lifeless - devoid of all color and all consciousness.
And he realized he'd give anything not to see those eyes in the pretty little face of this child who he didn't
even know.
"Yes, I'll try."
**** **** **** ****
Outside her ready room's viewport, the stars twinkled bright and clear; the purple-atmosphered planet
around which they were in orbit, hovered nearby. Kathryn Janeway stared out at the quiet view before
her...and tried to remove the expression of frustrated dismay from her face. However, it was not easy to do
so.
It had now been a week since Lieutenant Paris and Ensign Darber had gone missing - and at the moment
she felt no closer to finding them than she had at the moment she had realized something had gone wrong.
That M-class planet they'd gone to explore had revealed nothing. And so they had gone to the next closest
such planet in the vicinity...and then headed towards the next.
It was hard not to feel as though the search were a futile effort. After all, as far as they knew, their crewmen
could be anywhere in the universe...and it was a big universe. Too big to search planet by planet with any
real hope of success.
She could tell that the worry and the uncertainty were starting to wear on them all. Chakotay, as the ship's
unofficial counselor, had been inundated with requests for his services by the friends and co-workers of
Joseph Darber. And she knew that Tuvok had worked with both officers. You could even say (though
Kathryn had to smile imagining what Tuvok would have to say about this) that Tuvok and Tom were good
friends. But, of course, Tuvok, at his most Vulcan, could hardly be expected to admit that he 'missed' the
absent members of their little family. Which would mean that he would also refuse to admit...if she called
him on it...that that brief look of concern she thought she'd seen in his eyes when they'd learned their
officers weren't on the last planet had ever existed. But she wouldn't call him on it. He'd probably explain it
away as frustration with the fact that there wasn't even the slightest trace of Paris and Darber for them to go
by. Which was probably true, too. To think that Paris and Darber had simply disappeared into thin air
would be illogical...and Vulcans hate that.
As for herself, Captain Janeway wasn't sure whether she should be angry with the universe (for hiding her
officers from her) or angry with herself for such a thing even happening. She was their captain; the self-
appointed matriarch of their clan, and with the affection she felt for her officers, as members of that clan, it
was hard not to take it personally when something happened to one of them. This was particularly true in
reference to Tom Paris, with whom she'd formed a friendship during their seven years of service together.
They shared a lot in common, she and Tom - both being the children of Admirals; both being proteges, in
one way or another - of Admiral Owen Paris. And they shared an important working relationship as well -
the relationship between a starship captain and her pilot. If something did happen to Tom and Joseph, she
would feel the loss quite personally, indeed.
The waiting was gruesome. That morning they'd been waiting for the slightest sign that the new Delta Flyer
hadn't just vanished, taking its crew with it. Now Kathryn curled up on her couch and rested her chin in her
hands, thinking how just this morning she'd thought she'd give anything just to have that waiting over...to
finally have that sign. But she'd been wrong, because seven hours ago they'd found that sign - they'd found
the wreckage of a spacecraft that had been so utterly blown apart it was unrecognizable as being the Flyer
or anything else. Something about the atmosphere of that planet they were in orbit of kept their scanners
from being able to recognize the wreckage as being from the Flyer or not, as well. And so now they were
waiting, not for a sign of their crewmen, but for a sign that this was not their crewmen's shuttle - and for the
results of a scan of the planet below. And this brand of waiting was much, much worse.
Kathryn drew herself up, checking her chronometer and learning that she had fifteen minutes until the
senior staff meeting was scheduled to begin. Looking past her chronometer, and back out at the stars, she
thought about that morning on the bridge, when Ensign Kim had reported he'd picked up something - not
knowing exactly what - just ahead of them before the planet. She'd ordered "On screen" without even
thinking about it, but when the image of that wreckage had appeared...well, you could have cut the silence
that permeated that bridge with a knife. To see those pieces of hull and twisted metal and to think that Paris
and Darber were in there when it came apart...it didn't bear thinking about.
And yet Kathryn Janeway did think about it...because she was thinking about Ensign Kim and Lieutenant
Torres-Paris, and she knew that they were undoubtedly thinking of nothing else. Harry Kim's relationship
to Tom could better be categorized as brotherhood than friendship, and Janeway wasn't sure whether she
should be pleased or concerned that it was he, as her Opps officer, who was in charge of analyzing the
debris they'd found and scanning the planet below. As Tom's best friend, he'd be more dedicated than most
to finding the missing crewmen...and Kathryn guessed that doing something helpful and constructive would
be much more preferable to Harry than simply sitting back and worrying. But still, if there was bad news to
be found in that wreckage out there, then Harry would be the one to find it, and Kathryn would hate having
to live with the fact that she'd been the one to put him in his unenviable position, having given him his
assignment.
As for B'Elanna Torres-Paris...well, Captain Janeway had a feeling that if she checked the replicator logs at
the end of the month she'd see a lot of activity in B'Elanna and Tom's account - replacements for all the
things B'Elanna was undoubtedly hurling around their quarters in angry abandon. Of course, those logs
might not be as full as they once were whenever B'Elanna got worried about or angry with Paris - she'd
become a bit more patient and reserved in her 'delicate condition'. And then Kathryn almost laughed,
despite the situation, at her use of the term 'delicate condition' to describe B'Elanna's pregnancy. She truly
loved the young woman...but it was hard to think of someone as 'delicate' when you knew they'd beaten a
Vulcan under the influence of pon-farr in hand-to-hand combat, fair and square. Then Kathryn's humor
became tempered as she hoped that her volatile Chief Engineer stayed angry. B'Elanna angry was B'Elanna
hopeful; it was B'Elanna expecting Tom to come home so she could severely threaten his life for keeping
her worried...and then pull him into a passionate embrace so she could tell him never to do it again. But if
B'Elanna wasn't angry...well, it could be a sign that she'd stopped hoping. And it had only been a week - but
it had been a long week; one empty of any lead on Tom's whereabouts, and any reason to hope that one
would be forthcoming. It's easy to give up hope under circumstances like those. And Kathryn didn't want
B'Elanna giving up hope. She knew that she and Tom loved each other with a passion just as volatile as
their tempers. If Tom were to be lost to them....it would break B'Elanna's heart in a way Kathryn didn't
think could heal. And, sure, as Starfleet officers, she knew the day could come that they would have to face
that situation...'But, God, how I don't want today to be that day!' she thought to herself.
Janeway checked her chronometer again and was about to leave for the staff meeting when her commbadge
chirped. She hesitated only a moment before responding.
"Yes?"
"Captain," came over the computer in Tuvok's voice, "Mr. Kim has finished his analysis of the debris. He
will report his findings at the staff meeting."
Kathryn gave a little start. 'So this is it; the moment of truth.' For once she was almost sorry to hear Tuvok's
voice, whose monotone did not betray his emotions as a human's voice would. She wanted to know what to
expect - good news or bad?
"Very well, Commander. I will be right there. Janeway, out."
A knot of tension and anticipation was building in the Captain's stomach, and as she straightened her
uniform she resisted the urge to rub her belly, as though trying to massage it away. Instead she took a deep
breath, squared her shoulders, and headed for the meeting.
She prayed that by this time tomorrow she'd still be in her ready room waiting for answers...and not dressed
in formal attire, performing a funeral service.
Chapter Two
Dr. Euran Bree'aje heard the younger man's words and then - after grasping their meaning - could only
hear the sound of his own heartbeat for several moments. He grasped Tom's arm in a steady grip.
"You said you remember....what exactly? How much?"
Tom came out of the reverie into which he'd slipped, wincing at the hope and anxiety he heard in his older
companion's words.
"I'm sorry," he began again. "Not much. I don't remember any more about myself. But I remember ...."
Tom's gaze went back to the patients that filled the infirmary tent, feeling a slight chill at the images he saw
and also remembered.
Euran watched him very closely. "Yes?"
"I remember treating the patients. I remember..." Tom stopped again, his repetitive words catching in his
throat. Actually, he'd rather not repeat what he'd remembered. The doctor had told him how vicious this
plague really was - but only his own regained memory could bring the truth of that viciousness home to
him. He remembered treating patients...but not curing them. Not one.
He met Euran's at once sympathetic eyes and knew he needn't worry about finishing the explanation he'd
begun. Doctor Bree'aje had worked with this sickness, as well. He understood...only too well.
The small portion of memory that Tom had regained was less than the doctor would have liked...but
enough to give him hope. "Tom, you realize what an important step this is towards moving on from the
accident, don't you? You're starting to remember again...to remember your life here."
"Euran..."
"At least you can no longer deny the fact that you are, indeed, the doctor that I've been telling you that you
are. You've even remembered for yourself having treated your patients."
"Well, yes..." Tom looked - and was - puzzled. He did remember...but why didn't that make him feel any
better about his doubts?
"Tom. I know you still don't remember your life...and I can tell you still don't believe you're going to
remember that the things that I've told you are true. But doesn't remembering a little of it - just a little -
make you want to give it a chance?" Euran's words were pleading. "Give it a chance, Tom. Give yourself a
chance. You may not remember your life, but it's a good life, and it needs you. They need you. They need
the doctor who's given them hope, and they're never going to get him back if you don't stop refusing to
even try and accept your memory as it comes back to you."
Tom looked back at the sea of prone bodies before him.
"Won't you atleast try?"
Tom looked at the nearest patient's sleeping profile - it was the small face of a girl of about 8 or 9 years old.
He imagined what her eyes must have looked like healthy - bright and inquisitive; the bright aqua that was
characteristic of their species. He knew what those eyes would look like now - dull and sad; a pale, pale
blue - almost gray. Unbidden, images came to mind of other men, women, and children he'd seen afflicted
with this little girl's sickness - of their eyes, open and lifeless - devoid of all color and all consciousness.
And he realized he'd give anything not to see those eyes in the pretty little face of this child who he didn't
even know.
"Yes, I'll try."
**** **** **** ****
Outside her ready room's viewport, the stars twinkled bright and clear; the purple-atmosphered planet
around which they were in orbit, hovered nearby. Kathryn Janeway stared out at the quiet view before
her...and tried to remove the expression of frustrated dismay from her face. However, it was not easy to do
so.
It had now been a week since Lieutenant Paris and Ensign Darber had gone missing - and at the moment
she felt no closer to finding them than she had at the moment she had realized something had gone wrong.
That M-class planet they'd gone to explore had revealed nothing. And so they had gone to the next closest
such planet in the vicinity...and then headed towards the next.
It was hard not to feel as though the search were a futile effort. After all, as far as they knew, their crewmen
could be anywhere in the universe...and it was a big universe. Too big to search planet by planet with any
real hope of success.
She could tell that the worry and the uncertainty were starting to wear on them all. Chakotay, as the ship's
unofficial counselor, had been inundated with requests for his services by the friends and co-workers of
Joseph Darber. And she knew that Tuvok had worked with both officers. You could even say (though
Kathryn had to smile imagining what Tuvok would have to say about this) that Tuvok and Tom were good
friends. But, of course, Tuvok, at his most Vulcan, could hardly be expected to admit that he 'missed' the
absent members of their little family. Which would mean that he would also refuse to admit...if she called
him on it...that that brief look of concern she thought she'd seen in his eyes when they'd learned their
officers weren't on the last planet had ever existed. But she wouldn't call him on it. He'd probably explain it
away as frustration with the fact that there wasn't even the slightest trace of Paris and Darber for them to go
by. Which was probably true, too. To think that Paris and Darber had simply disappeared into thin air
would be illogical...and Vulcans hate that.
As for herself, Captain Janeway wasn't sure whether she should be angry with the universe (for hiding her
officers from her) or angry with herself for such a thing even happening. She was their captain; the self-
appointed matriarch of their clan, and with the affection she felt for her officers, as members of that clan, it
was hard not to take it personally when something happened to one of them. This was particularly true in
reference to Tom Paris, with whom she'd formed a friendship during their seven years of service together.
They shared a lot in common, she and Tom - both being the children of Admirals; both being proteges, in
one way or another - of Admiral Owen Paris. And they shared an important working relationship as well -
the relationship between a starship captain and her pilot. If something did happen to Tom and Joseph, she
would feel the loss quite personally, indeed.
The waiting was gruesome. That morning they'd been waiting for the slightest sign that the new Delta Flyer
hadn't just vanished, taking its crew with it. Now Kathryn curled up on her couch and rested her chin in her
hands, thinking how just this morning she'd thought she'd give anything just to have that waiting over...to
finally have that sign. But she'd been wrong, because seven hours ago they'd found that sign - they'd found
the wreckage of a spacecraft that had been so utterly blown apart it was unrecognizable as being the Flyer
or anything else. Something about the atmosphere of that planet they were in orbit of kept their scanners
from being able to recognize the wreckage as being from the Flyer or not, as well. And so now they were
waiting, not for a sign of their crewmen, but for a sign that this was not their crewmen's shuttle - and for the
results of a scan of the planet below. And this brand of waiting was much, much worse.
Kathryn drew herself up, checking her chronometer and learning that she had fifteen minutes until the
senior staff meeting was scheduled to begin. Looking past her chronometer, and back out at the stars, she
thought about that morning on the bridge, when Ensign Kim had reported he'd picked up something - not
knowing exactly what - just ahead of them before the planet. She'd ordered "On screen" without even
thinking about it, but when the image of that wreckage had appeared...well, you could have cut the silence
that permeated that bridge with a knife. To see those pieces of hull and twisted metal and to think that Paris
and Darber were in there when it came apart...it didn't bear thinking about.
And yet Kathryn Janeway did think about it...because she was thinking about Ensign Kim and Lieutenant
Torres-Paris, and she knew that they were undoubtedly thinking of nothing else. Harry Kim's relationship
to Tom could better be categorized as brotherhood than friendship, and Janeway wasn't sure whether she
should be pleased or concerned that it was he, as her Opps officer, who was in charge of analyzing the
debris they'd found and scanning the planet below. As Tom's best friend, he'd be more dedicated than most
to finding the missing crewmen...and Kathryn guessed that doing something helpful and constructive would
be much more preferable to Harry than simply sitting back and worrying. But still, if there was bad news to
be found in that wreckage out there, then Harry would be the one to find it, and Kathryn would hate having
to live with the fact that she'd been the one to put him in his unenviable position, having given him his
assignment.
As for B'Elanna Torres-Paris...well, Captain Janeway had a feeling that if she checked the replicator logs at
the end of the month she'd see a lot of activity in B'Elanna and Tom's account - replacements for all the
things B'Elanna was undoubtedly hurling around their quarters in angry abandon. Of course, those logs
might not be as full as they once were whenever B'Elanna got worried about or angry with Paris - she'd
become a bit more patient and reserved in her 'delicate condition'. And then Kathryn almost laughed,
despite the situation, at her use of the term 'delicate condition' to describe B'Elanna's pregnancy. She truly
loved the young woman...but it was hard to think of someone as 'delicate' when you knew they'd beaten a
Vulcan under the influence of pon-farr in hand-to-hand combat, fair and square. Then Kathryn's humor
became tempered as she hoped that her volatile Chief Engineer stayed angry. B'Elanna angry was B'Elanna
hopeful; it was B'Elanna expecting Tom to come home so she could severely threaten his life for keeping
her worried...and then pull him into a passionate embrace so she could tell him never to do it again. But if
B'Elanna wasn't angry...well, it could be a sign that she'd stopped hoping. And it had only been a week - but
it had been a long week; one empty of any lead on Tom's whereabouts, and any reason to hope that one
would be forthcoming. It's easy to give up hope under circumstances like those. And Kathryn didn't want
B'Elanna giving up hope. She knew that she and Tom loved each other with a passion just as volatile as
their tempers. If Tom were to be lost to them....it would break B'Elanna's heart in a way Kathryn didn't
think could heal. And, sure, as Starfleet officers, she knew the day could come that they would have to face
that situation...'But, God, how I don't want today to be that day!' she thought to herself.
Janeway checked her chronometer again and was about to leave for the staff meeting when her commbadge
chirped. She hesitated only a moment before responding.
"Yes?"
"Captain," came over the computer in Tuvok's voice, "Mr. Kim has finished his analysis of the debris. He
will report his findings at the staff meeting."
Kathryn gave a little start. 'So this is it; the moment of truth.' For once she was almost sorry to hear Tuvok's
voice, whose monotone did not betray his emotions as a human's voice would. She wanted to know what to
expect - good news or bad?
"Very well, Commander. I will be right there. Janeway, out."
A knot of tension and anticipation was building in the Captain's stomach, and as she straightened her
uniform she resisted the urge to rub her belly, as though trying to massage it away. Instead she took a deep
breath, squared her shoulders, and headed for the meeting.
She prayed that by this time tomorrow she'd still be in her ready room waiting for answers...and not dressed
in formal attire, performing a funeral service.