CHAPTER ONE One Year Later

            Jesus...  Paris stared at the closed door, trying to formulate a coherent thought.  What could you really say in a situation like this?

            Tal Celes, Megan Delaney, Ken Dalby, Mortimer Harren, Jenny Delaney... the poor bastards.  They made it home to the Alpha Quadrant and spent two years pulling their lives back together just to die of a latent, undetected pathogen from the Delta Quadrant.

            Tom liked all of them... the sweet Tal Celes girl, the spunky Delaney sisters, the raucous Ken Dalby... hell, even Mortimer Harren improved after Janeway hauled him out on the Delta Flyer and whipped him into shape.  And in the course of one week they all kick the bucket.  Right before the reunion, too.  If that wasn't a tragedy, Tom Paris didn't know what was.

            He jolted his feet when the door slid open, sudden tension in his frame.  "Mr. Paris?" the Doctor called from the doorway.

            Tom looked on intently as B'Elanna emerged from behind the hologram, clutching Miral.  She smiled, and he felt his body relax.

            The Doctor beamed.  "You'll be pleased to know that neither Mrs. Torres nor Ms. Paris are infected.  Now, if you'll please come with me..."

            Paris shot a relieved glance towards his wife, and B'Elanna smiled tightly in return.  They had both been shaken by the news.  Anyone on Voyager could have caught this virus.  These poor guys had gone about their business, put the Delta Quadrant behind them, and never realized their plight until it was too late.  Paris applauded the Doctor for taking advantage of the reunion to ensure the well-being of the former Voyager crew.

            B'Elanna squeezed his hand as he walked past her, and he gave her a reassuring smile.

            "B'Elanna, why don't you go back to the reception?" he said smoothly.  "I'm sure everything--"

            "I'm staying here," Torres cut in, determination flinting her eyes.  "The crew can wait."  She pointedly sat down against the wall, smoothing her slacks out with one hand before plopping Miral on her lap.

            Paris smiled his thanks, and winked once at the giggling Miral, then turned and walked into the examination room.  The Doctor tapped the door closed, and smiled at Tom as he began to wave the tricorder.

            "You needn't worry, Mr. Paris.  I have yet to discover any infected crewmembers tonight," the Doctor said cheerfully.

            Paris shook his head.  "I just can't believe it, Doc.  How could they go to medical exams for two years without anyone noticing they had this virus?"

            The Doctor bristled a little defensively.  "You have to remember, Mr. Paris, tricorders can't detect everything.  These crewmen showed no signs of illness as late as an hour before their deaths."

            Tom's brow furrowed.  "If tricorders can't detect it, why bother scanning us?"

            The Doctor scowled at him.  "Mr. Paris, questions like that from the ships medic will not help reassure the Voyager crew.  Besides, one can never be too careful."

            Tom sat there in silence, allowing the Doctor to complete his work.   After a moment, the Doctor's eyes slipped up from the tricorder.  "You'll be pleased to know," the Doctor said, giving Paris a slightly condescending smile,  "That you're perfectly healthy."

            "That's a relief."

            "Do you know, Mr. Paris," the Doctor said, folding up the tricorder,  "if Commander Chakotay has arrived yet?  I'd like to scan him tonight.  He's the only crewmember I've missed."

            "I wouldn't know," Paris said slowly.  "B'Elanna and I haven't been to the reception yet.  We came straight here.  Was he even planning on coming?"

            "He wasn't planning to, but he may have changed his mind after the events of last week, especially now that the cap--the Admiral declined her invitation," the Doctor said wryly.

            "She did?" Tom asked, puzzled.  He rose to his feet, straightening his turtleneck.  "Why?"

            "I understand she had a previous engagement."

            "Typical."  Tom's eyes flashed with more than a little irritation.  "Previous engagement.  Same crap she's been saying all year.  You'd think the mighty Admiral could clear her busy schedule this time.  She could do at least that much for Jenny and the others."

            The Doctor gazed at him a moment, and Paris knew he was debating his response.  The EMH seemed to discard his first impulse, because Tom saw him briefly shake his head and turn away.  "I'm sure she was as distraught as anyone else over this." 

            "Oh, come on, Doc.  You know Admirals.  They get in power, they forget their friends.  Just look at my father."

            "I highly doubt that's the case, Mr. Paris," the Doctor replied a little uncertainly.  "She's been to see me a few times.  She was as friendly as ever."

            "For social visits?" Tom asked, surprised.

            A pause, then,  "Medical exams."

            Tom smirked at that, but his expression faded into a thoughtful look as he said,  "Maybe it's for the best.  B'Elanna's not too thrilled with her right now, and frankly, neither am I.  Apart from her recent high horse, the way she's been acting is downright miserable."

            "For example..." the Doctor prodded, his interest piqued despite himself.

            "For example, the number she did on Chakotay.  I don't know what she said to the big guy, but you should have seen him after the last reunion-- he was a mess.  He won't even talk about her now.  I don't think he could even stand to be in the same room as her."

            "Well, whatever the nature of the 'number' she did on him, I'm sure it's not our place to speculate," the Doctor said with a short, tight smile before reaching out and switching off his scanning equipment with a few brusque taps.

            Paris was gazing at him in disbelief.  "What's happened to you, Doc?  You used to love sticking your nose in other people's business!"

            "I like to think I've transcended idle gossip."

            Paris stood up, and they walked towards the door together.

            "Really?  And how have you done that?"

            The Doctor beamed proudly.  "Mr. Paris, on Voyager I was the one who heard about the gossip.  On Earth, I'm the one who makes the gossip.  Perhaps you've heard about my... recent involvement with a certain former Borg drone?"

            Paris suddenly understood and slapped the Doctor on the shoulder.  "You old dog!   You're shacking up with the woman of your dreams?  Join the club!"

            The Doctor's chest puffed out with pride.  "I'm happy to say, I have already done more than simply... 'join your club.'  You see, we're engaged.  We're planning to announce it tonight."

            Paris blinked once, surprised.  Then a grin broke across his face.  "Well, congratulations!  That's great.  I know B'Elanna will be thrilled."

            He put his hand out to stop the Doctor before he could open the door.  "Listen, Doc, while we're on the subject..." he lowered his voice.  "Can you not mention the Chakotay thing around B'Elanna? She gets pretty steamed up on the subject."  

            "I will certainly keep it in mind," the Doctor replied conspiratorially.  Tom flashed him a smile, and they walked out the door together.

*          *          *

            After dropping Miral off in child care, they went to the reception.  It was in full swing by the time they arrived, or as close as it would get under the grim circumstances.  Most of the crew stood around in small groups, speaking in hushed voices with bleak expressions on their faces.

            God.  Is this how it's going to be? B'Elanna wondered.  Every year, as more and more of the crew died of old age, or disease, or whatever blow fate should deliver, would they gather here like a funeral procession?  Seven years in the Delta Quadrant had forged a bond stronger than friendship, a bond, in many cases, stronger than blood, between the survivors of Voyager's journey.  Any two random crewmembers who had served in entirely different sectors of the ship, in entirely different places in the command structure, would still be intimately acquainted simply due to circumstance.

            Tal Celes wouldn't be happy.  The Bajorans believe in celebrating life, not mourning it.

            It had made a lot of sense when B'Elanna had heard it.  Who had said that to her?

            Seska.  It was Seska.  B'Elanna fought back a laugh.  Everything she knew of Bajorans she learned from a Cardassian.

            She absently took a glass of champagne from a waiter as he stopped by their group.  Tom had one in his hand as well, and she knew the Doctor had a subroutine that made a champagne glass appear from an extension of his arm.  In fact, she'd programmed it.

            "Well," Tom said softly, frowning into his champagne briefly before raising it.  "Here's to Megan, Jenny, Tal, Mortimer, and Ken.  Friends beloved, friends departed.  May they rest in peace."

            "Here here," B'Elanna murmered, and clinked glasses with him.

            The Doctor paused before following suit to add,  "And to all our other friends who, for whatever reason, aren't with us here today."

            "I'll toast to that," B'Elanna said tartly, and she clinked her glass with his.

            Just then, she heard a familiar voice, "I hope you're not counting me among those other friends."

            B'Elanna whirled around, a grin lighting her face.  Chakotay was smiling back at her, and she pulled him into a giant hug.  "Here you are!" she growled.  "We thought you'd forgotten us!"

            "Never," he replied crisply, slapping her heavily on the back.  They pulled back, and she marveled at how tan he'd become.

            "Where the hell have you been hiding, Chakotay?  We've been trying to hail you for the last few months," Tom said jubilantly, reaching forward to grasp Chakotay's hand for a firm handshake.

            "All about, actually," Chakotay replied, pulling back to shake hands with the Doctor.  "I took a sabbatical from my job at the university.  I've been at some digs, just exploring some of the more familiar Alpha Quadrant cultures from a Delta Quadrant perspective."

            "And quite a tan you picked up while you were at it, Commander," the Doctor noted smugly.  "You should really think about wearing more effective sun protection."

            Chakotay shot him a reproving glance, but a small smile tugged at his lips.  Paris quipped, "Same old doc!"

            "But truly, it's a pleasure to see you again, Chakotay," the Doctor added warmly.

            "It's good to see you, too, all of you.  I hadn't realized how much I missed familiar faces," Chakotay said, gazing around with pleasure.

            "I assume you've heard about our incident with the virus," the Doctor said.

            Chakotay's features darkened.  "I just heard a few days ago.  It's a shame."

            "It is indeed," the Doctor replied.  "I'd like to scan you before you leave, if you don't mind."

            Chakotay nodded once to that.  His mind appeared to be somewhere else.  B'Elanna noticed his dark eyes flitting around the reception.  "Who else is here?" he asked casually.

            "What, so we're not good enough company for you?" B'Elanna said wryly.  She punched him on the arm to tell him she was joking, and then added,  "Just about everyone.  There are a couple of people who couldn't make it--"

            "You needn't worry. Admiral Janeway was busy," the Doctor cut in.

            Chakotay's expression seemed to freeze on his face.  B'Elanna winced.  She knew it was what Chakotay had been asking, but the sheer lack of tact on the Doctor's part was staggering.

            Chakotay nodded coldly.  "Thank you, Doctor.  But I was thinking more along the lines of Seven of Nine, Harry, and Tuvok."

            That got the Doctor's attention.  A little disconcerted, he said,  "Mr. Tuvok is engaged on Vulcan.  Lieutenant Kim's ship is currently in the Beta Quadrant.  Seven of Nine goes by 'Annika' now... and my fiancĂ©e is off speaking with the Wildmans."

            Chakotay looked at him a beat, and B'Elanna couldn't tell what he was feeling.  He offered a neutral, "Congratulations."

            "Thank you," the Doctor said, humbly, perhaps realizing that his reaction had been unwarranted.

            Chakotay looked away distractedly, and then said,  "I think I'm going to go speak with some of the crew.  I'll come talk to you all later."

            They all smiled and nodded.  "Enjoy yourself, Chakotay," B'Elanna called.

            As soon as he was out of sight, she punched the Doctor, hard, on the arm.  She just wished he could feel pain.

            "What was that for?" the Doctor asked.  "I know I made a faux pas, so to speak, but I certainly wasn't going to tell him Annika--"

            "Not that," B'Elanna said, miffed.  "You made him use her as a cover.  You shouldn't have mentioned Janeway to him."

            The Doctor nodded, comprehending.  "I apologize.  I sensed that was a mistake the moment I said it."

            "Let's just be thankful she's not here tonight," Paris said.  "Imagine how awkward that would be.  The temperature dropped ten degrees when you simply mentioned her."

            "It's still dropping," Torres snarled.  "Just thinking about that woman right now makes me angry.  Let's not talk about her."

            "All right, she's not that bad, B'Elanna," Paris said reluctantly.  "So she turned down a few dinner invitations--"

            "A few?"  Torres demanded.  "She didn't bother to come see us all year.  Hell, she didn't even condescend to invite us to her wedding."

            The Doctor looked confused. "Wedding?  She told me she eloped."

            Torres looked at him with thinly veiled irritation.  "You obviously haven't been watching the news.  The outtakes were on every station."

            B'Elanna didn't miss the look of hurt on the Doctor's face.  He turned to Paris.  "Well... perhaps it was a closed affair.  What about your father?  If he was invited surely the invitation extended to--"

            Paris smirked.  "My father wasn't invited.  It seems he doesn't get along well with this Durant guy.  Janeway played the good little wife and made it abundantly clear that Owen Paris wasn't welcome."

            "That's horrible; I thought he and Admiral Janeway were close," the Doctor, apalled.

            "Well, they're not close anymore.  Whomever Durant likes and dislikes, she likes and dislikes.  And whoever opposes Durant's presidency, Durant most definitely doesn't like."  Paris raised his champagne glass and downed the rest with one swig. "My father doesn't think much of the man.  Now, he doesn't think much of Janeway, either."

            "Who would have thought she'd be so fickle," B'Elanna muttered.  "True colors, eh gentlemen?"

            They stood together in grim silence, polishing off their champagne.