Disclaimer: I don't own any of this yatter yatter yatter... what's all this sweat about, none of the Paramount people made the effort to read any of the fanfiction that was being written out there, or they would have gotten SOME ideas on how NOT to mess everything up the way they did...
Summary: Every true J/Cer has a post-Endgame-fix-it-all-fic in her/his head. Some of us actually write it down. Nastiness warning, especially in the opening scenes.
Review: What can I say that hasn't been said before - yes, please! Let me know what you like, what you don't, any suggestions you may have... only remember, this is fanfiction and I do it for fun. I try to keep the characters in character, but there may be slight inaccuracies, since I haven't seen all the episodes. (I didn't need to to see that J/C was meant to be, but that's another story...) And yes, Chakotay will be in the story soon enough, I promise. This is only chapter one...
Chaper 1: This is not happening
"Has anyone seen the captain?"
There were about half a dozen people on Voyagers bridge, and none of them belonged to the crew that had finally reached the Alpha Quadrant two weeks ago. Most of them, maquis and Starfleet, had gone through a first set of interviews and questionings and had subsequently been granted shore leaves which most of them were using to visit their families and travel around, getting settled down again, reacquainting themselves with their home. The people working on Voyager were mainly repair and maintenance crews, although it didn't look to Tom as if they were actually *repairing* anything. After all, each and every one of the consoles that were spread around in their single components had been very much functional when Voyager arrived. He didn't see much sense in pulling apart things that had been working all right in the first place. But right now his concern was another.
"You know - captain Janeway? About this tall, reddish-brown hair, coffee-addicted, people drop dead where she walks?"
A tall guy with a bland face emerged from behind Harrys station. Only it wasn't Harrys anymore, of course. It was just ops.
"Captain Janeway?"
Tom had to repress the urge to grab the man by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. What kind of morons where they letting take care of Voyager? He couldn't believe the captain would allow this...
Tom clenched his fists until he felt the fingernails dig into his flesh and took a deep breath. It wasn't this guys fault, *he* had no reason to feel worried about the captain, why should he? He was just doing his job.
"Yes, captain Janeway", Tom repeated slowly and deliberately. "I am looking for her, have you seen her? The ship's computer is off-line and can't tell me if she's on board."
"Most of it will be offline for at least two more hours, because we still have to-"
Maybe the guy needed a punch after all, Tom decided.
"Look, I don't fucking care about the computer! I just want to know where the captain is! Can you tell me? Is that to much to ask? WHERE-IS-THE-CAPTAIN?"
"She said she would be in her quarters", the big guy replied, totally unruffled by Tom's outburst.
"Thank you!"
After sounding the chime three times and receiving no answer, Tom started pounding on the door.
"Captain! Captain, open up! It's me, Tom!" This was ridiculous, of course. If she didn't answer, it meant she wasn't in there. Then why was he so sure that she was, and that something was terribly wrong? And the computer was offline, he couldn't override the security codes...
"Captain!!"
Suddenly, the door slid open. Tom hadn't heard a sound. As eager as he had been to get into the room and see if everything was all right, now he hesitated on the threshold, gripped by a horrible, sickening fear.
Inside, it was dark. "Captain?"
Silence. For some reason, Tom hesitated to order the computer to turn on the lights. He had the feeling he wouldn't want to see whatever there was to see. And then he heard the moaning and saw the slight form sprawled on the floor in front of the sofa.
"Oh my God, no... Computer, lights!! Lights!! Dammit!!"
It would have been better if the lights hadn't worked. He wouldn't have had to see her, her hair plastered to her face, her uniform bespattered with blood, her eyes closed. There were glass splinters all over the place, and dark pool of blood on both sides of her body.
Tom's rational mind refused to believe what he was seeing, the evidence before his very eyes, the deep cuts that zigzagged the captain's wrists. But, even as he desperately thumped his breast, before he remembered that he wasn't wearing his uniform and had no communicator, even as he picked her up and ran down the corridor with her in his arms, he knew what she had done, knew it with the same instinct that told him she was in her quarters, with the same instinct that had set him looking for her on Voyager, although she had no business being there and no one had seen her or heard from her for the past week. Oh God please, let sickbay be operational! If I can only stop the bleeding, and then I'll have to do a transfusion, for how long has she been there, oh God, what if I have to put her in a shuttle and fly her down, will she make it, oh please, please, this can't be happening...
It was the longest two minute run in Tom Paris' life.
Summary: Every true J/Cer has a post-Endgame-fix-it-all-fic in her/his head. Some of us actually write it down. Nastiness warning, especially in the opening scenes.
Review: What can I say that hasn't been said before - yes, please! Let me know what you like, what you don't, any suggestions you may have... only remember, this is fanfiction and I do it for fun. I try to keep the characters in character, but there may be slight inaccuracies, since I haven't seen all the episodes. (I didn't need to to see that J/C was meant to be, but that's another story...) And yes, Chakotay will be in the story soon enough, I promise. This is only chapter one...
Chaper 1: This is not happening
"Has anyone seen the captain?"
There were about half a dozen people on Voyagers bridge, and none of them belonged to the crew that had finally reached the Alpha Quadrant two weeks ago. Most of them, maquis and Starfleet, had gone through a first set of interviews and questionings and had subsequently been granted shore leaves which most of them were using to visit their families and travel around, getting settled down again, reacquainting themselves with their home. The people working on Voyager were mainly repair and maintenance crews, although it didn't look to Tom as if they were actually *repairing* anything. After all, each and every one of the consoles that were spread around in their single components had been very much functional when Voyager arrived. He didn't see much sense in pulling apart things that had been working all right in the first place. But right now his concern was another.
"You know - captain Janeway? About this tall, reddish-brown hair, coffee-addicted, people drop dead where she walks?"
A tall guy with a bland face emerged from behind Harrys station. Only it wasn't Harrys anymore, of course. It was just ops.
"Captain Janeway?"
Tom had to repress the urge to grab the man by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. What kind of morons where they letting take care of Voyager? He couldn't believe the captain would allow this...
Tom clenched his fists until he felt the fingernails dig into his flesh and took a deep breath. It wasn't this guys fault, *he* had no reason to feel worried about the captain, why should he? He was just doing his job.
"Yes, captain Janeway", Tom repeated slowly and deliberately. "I am looking for her, have you seen her? The ship's computer is off-line and can't tell me if she's on board."
"Most of it will be offline for at least two more hours, because we still have to-"
Maybe the guy needed a punch after all, Tom decided.
"Look, I don't fucking care about the computer! I just want to know where the captain is! Can you tell me? Is that to much to ask? WHERE-IS-THE-CAPTAIN?"
"She said she would be in her quarters", the big guy replied, totally unruffled by Tom's outburst.
"Thank you!"
After sounding the chime three times and receiving no answer, Tom started pounding on the door.
"Captain! Captain, open up! It's me, Tom!" This was ridiculous, of course. If she didn't answer, it meant she wasn't in there. Then why was he so sure that she was, and that something was terribly wrong? And the computer was offline, he couldn't override the security codes...
"Captain!!"
Suddenly, the door slid open. Tom hadn't heard a sound. As eager as he had been to get into the room and see if everything was all right, now he hesitated on the threshold, gripped by a horrible, sickening fear.
Inside, it was dark. "Captain?"
Silence. For some reason, Tom hesitated to order the computer to turn on the lights. He had the feeling he wouldn't want to see whatever there was to see. And then he heard the moaning and saw the slight form sprawled on the floor in front of the sofa.
"Oh my God, no... Computer, lights!! Lights!! Dammit!!"
It would have been better if the lights hadn't worked. He wouldn't have had to see her, her hair plastered to her face, her uniform bespattered with blood, her eyes closed. There were glass splinters all over the place, and dark pool of blood on both sides of her body.
Tom's rational mind refused to believe what he was seeing, the evidence before his very eyes, the deep cuts that zigzagged the captain's wrists. But, even as he desperately thumped his breast, before he remembered that he wasn't wearing his uniform and had no communicator, even as he picked her up and ran down the corridor with her in his arms, he knew what she had done, knew it with the same instinct that told him she was in her quarters, with the same instinct that had set him looking for her on Voyager, although she had no business being there and no one had seen her or heard from her for the past week. Oh God please, let sickbay be operational! If I can only stop the bleeding, and then I'll have to do a transfusion, for how long has she been there, oh God, what if I have to put her in a shuttle and fly her down, will she make it, oh please, please, this can't be happening...
It was the longest two minute run in Tom Paris' life.