Pt 1 Sleep of Death
Kathryn Janeway moved slowly down a corridor, one of Voyager's, not that the location was of any great significance. She was not going anywhere in particular. There were a great many more doorways than there seemed to be on Voyager, but she ignored them all, not certain of what she was searching for, if anything. Then she paused outside the holodeck. There was something inside that beckoned to her, and so she walked through the doors to her favourite haunt-
…the most content and peaceful you have ever been…
-a beach, one that she had visited only a few times in her life. Once, a perfect memory, with her family in her childhood; again, to relax by herself after the hectic final year at
the Academy and then finally, in the lull between assignments, after she had learned she had earned the captaincy of Voyager and she retreated to this private place of hers, studying her beloved ship's schematics so that, as she later asserted to Admiral Patterson, she could find her way around with a blindfold.
Janeway found her favourite spot, where the dune at her back curved about so that she felt as though she were tucked away, hidden in a corner; in her little private piece of the universe. She experienced such a small part of that universe, her life barely a ripple across the surface of its fathomless depths, and even of what she saw, she was still distanced from it. Yet here…she studied her surroundings, the few small trees that survived to decorate the area with a splash of green, and gazed briefly across the sea to where the sun kissed its distant edge, vivid rays stretching out over the water as though reaching to her in entreaty. Here, though, and her lips curled- either in amusement or disgust at her fanciful thoughts- it was as though she ruled supreme over this delightful tiny kingdom, the master of all she surveyed.
Then her gaze was irresistibly drawn to the sea ahead of her. One could certainly never master that. Janeway had never been totally comfortable in the sea, a childhood apprehension that had survived into maturity albeit in a more diluted sense, but there was still a satisfaction in the simple observation of the sea and her many moods. One did not need to be immersed in the sea to be a part of the action. She settled in and began to daydream. That was another pleasant aspect of ocean-watching; it allowed her mind to wander freely, to explore different concepts, leap from one idea to the next as a wave broke against the beach, then another and another, hissing slightly as it ran up towards her impishly. A real smile, faltering slightly from disuse, tilted her lips. Janeway watched the water rise up in her direction, then subside. This spot was also ideal in that the water never came up high enough to drench her, although she had often ended up soaked to the skin anyhow. Her sister Nicole, then nine, had taken great pleasure in staging ambushes with a bucket she carried around like a teddy bear as her weapon of choice. Yet not even her little sister's antics had been enough to upset her tranquillity. Her eyes lingered on the ocean, becoming soft and unfocussed as she began to dream again.
There was a feeling of happy anticipation in the air, something that she had always felt here, time stretching out before her in a single infinite moment that allowed her to cast off all her worries and fears. Instead she indulged in optimistic dreams of the golden paths her life could take, with the genuine feeling that they could all come true …
Later, much later, Janeway dazedly felt, even though the sun didn't seem to have moved from its position in the sky, something stirred her. Another presence.
"It's a lovely place, Captain," came a familiar warm voice. "I can see why you like it here.
It's very peaceful, isn't it?"
Janeway continued to gaze out at the sea, unsettled by the intrusion. She wanted to be left alone here, as she always had been eventually.
"There's no one else to worry about, only you to concern yourself with," the pleasant voice continued. Janeway wished the person would keep quiet. "That is an attractive option, I suppose, for someone who has the responsibilities that you do."
There are- burdens, I suppose, yes, but they are so far away now…
"But Captain, this isn't going to last forever. You must make a choice. And you must think of what you are leaving behind if you choose to move on. Please, I know you're tired, and there's a lot you have on your mind to deal with- but there are many people here who need you."
A trickle of resentment ran through her mind, melting the customary reserve that cloaked her awareness. Must she always be thinking of others? it asked. What others, they weren't with her now, were they? But that was fine with her, Janeway thought. It wasn't as though she needed them. Even if-
"It does seem unfair."
The person had an uncanny perception of her feelings, but she refused to consider the words being uttered, drawn out from a place within her that she had always shielded her conscious mind from, knowing it would only obscure what was, in the end, only inevitable.
"Still, it never had to be all duty, Captain- Kathryn. That was your choice. You never wanted to take what we were willing to give."
Janeway stared out to sea mutely. She didn't know what she could say. There were just too many things to deal with at the moment, too much to think of-
"We will be here for you, just as we always were… I have to go, but Kathryn, I'll be here when you need me."
Who was this person who spoke with such understanding and compassion? Janeway turned her head, looked into eyes that were kind and sympathetic, in a youthful and innocent face.
Definitely familiar.
"Kes…"
A sparkle of mischief appeared, melting years off her face so that Janeway seemed to see an unfamiliar child grinning at her with sociable interest. The child/Kes leant over and kissed her on the cheek.
"You are not alone."
Then the veil dropped. Her features were strangely altered, possessed of a fluidic property for a moment. Her eyes held a hard expression, one that was still a little curious, and almost calculating in a way.
It definitely was not Kes anymore; Kes- if she ever had been there- was gone now. The words echoed, repeating, resounded in her brain.
You are not alone…
Her eyes darted to the calm waters, seeking the serenity that had been shattered by whoever had visited her.
And in that way, the warrior began to know the true meaning of peace.
But her own personal peace eluded her, and she suspected it had never been there in the first place. An illusion, a construct of her mind to better understand, or rather, cope with the mysteries of reality, a reality that may not be what it seemed. Futile impositions of her rules, her laws, on a universe that did not strictly adhere to what she understood. Now again, she was at the mercy of something beyond her control. She remembered the alien that had invaded her cerebral cortex, impersonating her father to make her to believe she was dead, in order to nourish it in its Matrix. Then reality had become illusion, a nightmare
from which she could not awaken; she had been helpless, never knowing what fear she would face next. Fear…the clown named Fear, again something that had made hostages of living beings, using their minds to nourish it, prolong its existence, subjecting them to atrocities similar to her experience.
Her eyes glazed over with tears as she stared blindly out at the sea, anguish filling her mind, terror taking hold on her with such strength she could not fight it off. She pressed herself against the rock face as the volume of noise painfully increased, the sea turned turbulent, darkness eclipsed the sun's light and waves roared and crashed with such brute force that she could feel the spray from her position, something that had never happened here before. The waves lapped up the space between them and her, coming closer with each successive pulse, but her emotions were in such a raw state that she was left paralysed, powerless to do anything but sit and wait for the inevitable; death, water above her, in her nose and mouth, unable to breathe… the imagery hit her with such force it seemed to be real.
Janeway's chest burned, lungs bereft of air, ice forming around her heart and she reached out with desperate hands, trying against all hope to somehow find a way out, wake from the nightmare to find herself safe in bed, choking as she searched blindly for anything in the nothingness that caged her-
-something connected.
A hand held hers. Warm, alive…someone was with her again; she was not facing death alone. A callused thumb chafed her skin, spreading warmth as it gently caressed. Slowly, the unholy terror that had clamped around her lungs like a vice eased, and her breathing resumed, life coursing through her again. Her eyes opened. Janeway looked about her, but there was no one in sight. She held her hand up to her cheek; warmth remained, comforting against her chilled skin. Puzzled, this reminded her that what surrounded her was illusion, held together with the thinnest veneer of reality that imprisoned her there.
The sun shone brightly, skies lightening, sea calming. The waves were quiet, peaceful now, gently slapping against the sand a few metres away from her and then retreating into the sea. Non-threatening.
Janeway drew in a deep breath and wondered what was happening to her.
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In Sickbay, Chakotay drew in a deep breath and thanked the Spirits that had answered his prayer, sparing Janeway's life. He gripped her hand even more tightly in his as he threw a questioning glance at the Doctor, who was examining her current condition.
"She'll live- for now," was the less than reassuring reply. Resignation played over the hologram's face, making him seem all the more human for that moment. "Continue talking to her. It always helps to let the patient know they are missed, that there's someone waiting for them to wake up; even appeal to them to do so," the Doctor said. "Even if that doesn't seem likely to assist in her doubtful recovery- at least she won't be alone." Chakotay's expression showed that those words had struck home. He nodded.
"Kes wanted me to convey her apology for leaving her turn with the Captain before it was up," the Doctor went on mildly, "but you know how it is…"
"Yes, well, in her condition, I wonder she's still up and about," Chakotay shook his head.
"But I suppose that's going around," his eyes rested on Janeway.
"Kes won't do anything that will harm her or the baby," the Doctor said with a little bite to his voice. "Besides, with Mr Neelix hovering over her the way he is-"
"As well as the way you are," Chakotay muttered.
"She won't have a chance to overexert herself. And by the way, as godfather-to-be," the hologram announced with pride, "you can never hover too much."
"Should I be congratulating you instead?" the Commander said wryly.
"Well, I think this happy occasion concerns us all. After all, Kes' child will be the second born aboard Voyager, an event I had expected long before now, however, it has finally arrived. It's just a shame that-" the Doctor stopped abruptly in the middle of his rambling, but they both knew what he had been about to say:
It's just a shame that the Captain may never see the child…
Chakotay sighed. "All roads lead to you," he murmured to the unconscious woman.
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She looked around, casting her gaze for whoever had visited her just before, wondering who had given her that momentary connection when she had needed it most, at the point where she had been beyond all reason and sanity, where the most primal emotion- fear- had ruled her. Janeway wrenched her gaze away to contemplate the sand with an intensity that spoke eloquently of her confusion and shame at having lost control to that extent.
"Hello, Goldenbird."
It was once more difficult to breathe. She had not heard that voice since an alien had impersonated him in order to more easily maneuver her to her doom. For a moment, her previous emotional state- the panic-stricken depths of her consciousness that she had discovered only a few minutes before- started to resurface, intent on consuming her with its illogical frenzy once again. Then a humourless smile touched her lips; such a ploy only worked once. It was not going to knock her off balance again. She took her time, feigning disinterest before she rose and turned to confront the figure of her father. Janeway knew it was another trick, and forewarned was forearmed.
"It depends on how you look at the situation," her father spoke, as though in answer to her thoughts. "Through the eyes of someone who wants to believe…or as a person trying to expose a trickster. Which are you, Goldenbird?"
"And you are…?" Janeway asked, raising an eyebrow.
"That depends on who is asking. You cannot learn the answer until you decide."
"Decide…?" she shook her head with icy disdain. "My father was never into this mystical line you're giving me. It was not in his personality. So it stands to reason that you're not my father. And if you're not my father, then why are you masquerading as him and what do you hope to achieve?"
He looked at her calmly. "Remember when you were young and you lost the tennis tournament?" he asked. "On an impulse, you decided to walk all the way home to punish yourself for it, in the middle of a storm. And when we found you, I was so angry that you had acted so rashly and that you had endangered yourself…then you told me you had figured out- what was it…Pythagoras' theorem?" the man shook his head in amusement. "You always were so stubborn and independent. Traits, your mother said, that you had inherited from me. "But none-"
"Of your charm," Janeway finished despite herself. "That is not confirmation," she told him.
"Many species possess telepathic abilities that allow them to absorb information from a person's mind."
As though she had not even spoken, he went on with his reminiscences. "Your head was forever in a book. More interested in reading about relativistic kinematics and particle-wave duality than socializing with the other children."
"Nic and later Phoebe got all the outgoing genes," she said neutrally.
"Our darling antisocial elder daughter."
That comment reminded her of her father, but Janeway had little difficulty in pushing away the pang of familiarity. Wanting to believe only left her vulnerable to attack. "So much for the alleged charm."
"No, I was a little rougher on you, wasn't I?" he said gravely. "Always pushing you, because I saw so much potential, so much of myself in you. You must have hated me sometimes for expecting so much of you-"
"I don't discuss personal topics with strangers."
The man who had the form of her father continued relentlessly, "-I always pushed myself as well, and with all my ambition, the desire to succeed, my family was left behind in favour of my career. You'll never know how much I wish I could change that; I'd give up the commendations, the medals, the promotions, all the years with Starfleet instead of at home with my family…"
He was saying everything she had always wanted to hear from her father…yet for that very reason, he could not be real. Her lips pressed into a tight line, and her knuckles whitened from clenched fists. This was ludicrous. Janeway refused to further humiliate herself by pleading with a fraud who could not possibly hold any personal connection to her.
"What if you're wrong?"
She looked at him wordlessly.
"What if your arrogance and pride is blinding you to the obvious?" he questioned.
A suitable retort eluded her.
"What does life have left to offer you?"
Involuntarily, she thought of Voyager. The cold part of her forced out the memories of pain,
loss, of the constant struggle every day to survive…whispered that though she had not yet
finished her task, it was time for her to pass it on to-
Chakotay… an image of his hand holding hers, eyes that were lost in thought fixed on her face. Another conflict waged inside of her now, illuminating with harsh clarity the memories of times in the past that had been suppressed with wilful denial on her part. Having suffered from this self-induced blindness for so long, the painful exposure of her now transparent motives and intent forced Janeway to see again. The realization of her weakness and fear- rather than the strength and independence that she had attempted to explain it as- shook her, the long withheld eruption of emotion tearing down her defenses in that moment of self-comprehension, of pure understanding, untainted by censorship or selective editing.
I can tell you a story…about an angry warrior who lived his life in conflict…a man who
couldn't find peace…the woman warrior was brave and beautiful and very wise…he would stay by her side…her needs would come first…in that way, the warrior began to know the true meaning of peace…it all blurred, images running together and her eyes burned- building her a tub on New Earth, and handing her a peace rose in her ready room…trading quips on the bridge, and dinners together… "You could have told me…I didn't realize that you thought more for the crew's peace of mind and wellbeing than your own…Was that why you decided to distance yourself? We would have rather known, than let you suffer alone…Why you and not me?"
She twisted her head away to block out the images, tried to regain control.
"You have to make a choice…"
"A choice? Between what? What are my alternatives?" the questions came out with a little more heat than she had intended.
"So full of questions," the mild taunt came as the apparition smirked. "And here I thought you had mastered yourself. Shows exactly what a failure you are in every respect."
Her voice was calm as she replied, "I was right about you."
"What a victory for the great Captain Janeway- or perhaps just ordinary Kathryn Elizabeth
Janeway, considering how unworthy of the title you are. You are flawed, possessing qualities a captain should not, allowing your personal feelings and attitudes to interfere with the execution of your duties, degrading your command performance. And while you flaunt your position, you nevertheless lack qualities a captain requires, such as authority, decisiveness; you were responsible for the death of your father and your fiancée because you couldn't decide-"
"I stopped blaming myself for that years ago-"
"But aren't you to blame? And what of the many deaths among your crew? You cannot say you were not responsible for those. After all, you were the one responsible for their being in the Delta Quadrant in the first place. They were following your orders, under your command when they died, and you should have found some way, as Captain, to prevent their deaths-"
Janeway, unable to respond to this startling flood of wrath, was further unprepared for the sudden metamorphosis into Seven of Nine that followed. Shaken, she stared in mute surprise at the ex-drone.
"Captain," Seven started and then stopped. "It is difficult to see you in this condition. I had- thought you invulnerable, much as the Borg Queen, invincible. Certainly not susceptible to a disease that now has you in this state.
"I had not been eager to fulfil my duty to watch over you when I was alerted my shift was
to start. Nor do I believe any of the members of the senior staff who have yet to fulfil this function find it an- appealing task. They appear apprehensive, as I am now," she admitted with a sigh in frustration. "In the Borg I was not required to perform such tasks as this. Always there was some logical purpose, some clear objective I was to achieve. Yet in this case…I am helpless to do anything except observe you." She stopped and turned to address someone unseen. "Doctor, this is not constructive. I am not accomplishing anything by conversing with a comatose figure."
There was a pause while the Doctor presumably answered her. She appeared unconvinced and turned with a dubious look on her face, fading in the motion, much as Janeway's father had before her. The Captain started at the sudden vanishing act.
"Seven?" she called, wondering at the young woman's words. Janeway looked around, knowing the action to be futile, and true enough, no one was to be seen. She wondered whether the apparitions had ever been present. Seven…what had the ex-drone been talking about when she referred to a 'shift' that seemed to somehow involve Janeway herself? And then she had spoken of a comatose figure…it simply made no sense.
That encounter had stung her more than she cared to admit, with the parting shots from her 'father'. His words came back to her, causing an involuntary flinch, and then irritation at that reaction. Plainly, it was useless attempting to gain back her composure, which was in tatters by this late stage. Instead, Janeway gathered together the remnants of her emotional response and channelled it into anger, using it to put the entire incident from her mind.
She let out a breath, unclenched the fists that dug into her palms and determinedly, unreservedly, devoted her attention to forming some sort of plan. What irked her about this entire experience was the singular lack of strategy she had developed to deal with it.
Inherent to her position were a primary objective, and the contingency plans and resources to supplement it. Janeway focused on accomplishing the task at hand with an eye looking out for the bigger picture while others took care of the rudimentary concerns, and with this status quo, she had grown used to wielding her crew and ship as just another limb, taking her privilege for granted. It was not often that the Captain found herself separated from Voyager and this was something that she had never faced before. She worked through her vessel in hostile situations, but now she was stripped of that power, pitted against this insidious menace without hope of support from the crew, with the only backup her wits.
And as though to accentuate this grim realization, an invisible force suddenly seized Janeway, displacing her through space and time in a single fluid moment.
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The Doctor sighed as Seven adopted her impassive expression, the one that was reminiscent of the Borg and which informed him that resistance was futile. If she were a child, he would have said she was whining. If an adolescent, it would have been termed a 'phase'. Either could have been dealt with appropriately. However, as an adult and a member of the Senior Staff, the Doctor was limited in how he could address Seven's recalcitrance. Not for the first time, he envied the Janeway's ability to handle the ex-drone. The only thing Seven understood was authority, and the Captain was its personification. Seven may voice her disagreement, but Janeway somehow managed to achieve her goal in the end through some calculating manner of approach.
"Seven-" he began, but salvation in the form of Kes appeared.
The Ocampa assessed the situation with a single glance and then smiled gently at Seven.
"It's all right to be afraid sometimes," Kes said, with the seemingly transparent intent of comforting the awkward human woman. "I know this must be a new experience for you, and quite an unpleasant one," she shrugged and added innocently, "particularly as you are in the process of regaining your humanity, and it does leave you vulnerable right now."
Seven's eyes narrowed. "I am adequate to this task."
Kes nodded at the challenge but did not pick it up, agreeing mildly, "Of course you are," in a tone that implied otherwise. "But it is all right, really. It would be no hardship for me to take your turn for you, if you want, and I would be glad to help."
"As you say, it is no hardship," Seven said distantly, and turned back to the Captain.
"Thank you," the Doctor expressed his gratitude in low tones. "I certainly didn't expect this reaction, although in hindsight that was foolish." He sighed. "I'd retract my request for the senior staff to spend some time with the Captain, but…"
"It would make you look foolish?"
"Certainly not, Kes. I assure you, I am not that frivolous"
"Doctor, I only thought that might be your fear for how the others may perceive you. Certainly, I wouldn't believe such a thing…"
The hologram nodded, mollified. "Anyhow, by now I cannot make exceptions, for her in particular, or else…"
Kes nodded in understanding as the hologram trailed off. "I think B'Elanna might have a few words to say about that."
"Exactly. And that would begin a dispute that really is unwarranted, stemming from such a simple request."
"Well…I think it may be part of a disliking for situations that remind people of their mortality. Or that such strong figures in their life can be subject to the same frailties that the rest of us mortals face."
"Insecurity," the Doctor pronounced smugly. "Given my superior capabilities, I am thankful to never have suffered from such a difficulty."
Kes, who knew better, smothered a smile as she allowed him to begin a check-up of her baby's health. Her gaze fell across the room to its other two occupants, her eyes becoming troubled as they rested on Janeway's face; Kes wondered what lay beneath the detached mask that concealed the Captain's true self.
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She now stood in the midst of a lush and unspoilt paradise by all appearances.
-there was something about appearances that couldn't be trusted-
A melodic voice called out to Janeway, interrupting that train of thought. "Oh, Captain, it's wonderful here!" Kes' voice distracted her as the Ocampa emerged from a nearby path, eyes shining with pleasure at the lovely surroundings, hands filled with flowers.
Janeway forced a smile to deal with the Ocampa. Kes' joy and innocent pleasure in
everything, the wonderful optimism and hope she exuded made her someone Janeway did not wish to hurt. A frown puckered the facsimile of a smile she sported as something about this situation again set her internal red alert off. Before she could pursue it, though, Kes picked out one flower from her bouquet and held up a deep purple bloom. "Here, Captain. Isn't it lovely?"
Janeway noticed the flower bore a slight resemblance to the Terran lily as she accepted it, analytically studying its features. She touched the glossy and lustrous petals, and then saw a puzzling gleam at the centre of the bloom.
Time seemed to slow down at that moment. In slow motion, pollen wafted around her body and the flower gleamed. In the blink of an eye, she had vanished. Kes, far from looking alarmed at her Captain's disappearance, looked serene before she too, with a graceful motion, disappeared from the site, leaving the lovely surroundings as abandoned and surreal as they had always been.
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"So, Captain," Torres said uneasily, settling herself by the bed. "How are you feeling?" she
asked, shaking her head in disgust at the inanity of her words. But then, what could she say to her comatose Captain? Talking to a woman who couldn't possibly hear made her feel ridiculous…except that the Doctor and Kes had assured her that, in some small way, this would help. So here she was, roped into her turn watching over the Captain. It was making her tense, feeling it was more of a deathbed vigil, just waiting for the moment of death to strike and she couldn't bear to be there when it happened.
"Don't you dare die on my watch," she warned Janeway. "There's no way you're going to make me have to tell people the bad news, all right? So just hold on."
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-just hold on-
An indeterminate amount of time later, Janeway stretched weary muscles, opening her eyes…and froze as she inexplicably found herself on a slope at the edge of a cliff. Her eyes widened fractionally and, repressing the instinctive urge to scream, she carefully scrambled back with more than a little fervour. She let out a breath as she scrambled over the rise and backed away.
There was serious damage done to her equanimity, but for the moment, more serious considerations occupied her. Such as, where was she? And what exactly did the malicious force responsible for all this have in mind for her now? Her last memory was of an encounter with Kes- she realized that had been the pervading wrongness that had kept her on edge, the niggling conviction that the person who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere could not have been the real Kes. If that case was taken together with the events preceding it, of her 'father' and that odd image of Seven, it would seem to confirm that no one was who they seemed and that she should be distrustful of anyone she met in this place- wherever it was.
Janeway looked around at her surroundings. The scene that met her eyes was disheartening; flat semi-arid terrain, limited cover, and almost non-existent plant life. Janeway, after experiencing a small shudder of discouragement, began randomly making her way to- somewhere. It was difficult going. She stumbled constantly on the uneven ground, sometimes falling and scraping her skin. She lost all track of time as the sun blazed hotter overhead and in grudging concession to the heat, she took off her jacket, wrapping it around her waist and rolling up her sleeves of the grey turtleneck.
Ages later, she felt in danger of heatstroke. The sweat that trickled down her face stung,
and her heart burned fiercely in her chest, threatening to explode with each step she took.
Then she stumbled off balance yet again and fell, nearly twisting her ankle. She lay there, struggling to regain her breath, and the texture of the ground seemed to change. Everything went darker and the air itself seemed to change as well. She lifted her head up and shut her eyes again in despair that could not be contained.
Now she was in a swampy forest. It wasn't holes and uneven terrain she had to contend with. Now it was insects and vines and mud, she thought, coldly irritated. Especially the latter. She was covered in mud as she walked, picking her way indiscriminately. The air was heavy, making her feel suffocated and unable to breathe easily. The humid atmosphere felt…charged, expectant and suspenseful. Her eyes glazed as she became more and more in tune with her surroundings. The squawks of the birds, distant roars of large animals and chattering of different creatures drummed along with her heartbeat. The rhythm of jungle life kept her going even as she tired seemingly beyond endurance. Several times she wondered why she continued on a path that was unlikely to yield any results to her advantage; what was so imperative that she forced herself on? She heard loud screeches and a troop of monkeys passed overhead. Janeway stopped now and watched their progress along the jungle rooftop bemusedly.
But there was nothing of the jungle now and a blast of pain hit her. She doubled over and saw whiteness. Snow, her mind struggled to keep up with the transformation of her environment. Janeway shivered. Her body was starting to acclimatize to the shock the transition had dealt her and that pain receded. But she was so cold…the embers of her determination flared for the last time and then died out, leaving her without any desire to go on further. She just wanted to lay her head down and give in. The odds had always been against her… Janeway fell to the ground, felt the icy coldness under her cheek. The urge to die flooded her mind as never before. She welcomed it, and it filled the craving inside her, the emptiness that was reflected in this bleak landscape. It was fitting that this was the last scene she would see, that this would be her dying place.
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"Well, Captain, looks like you've really done it this time, huh?" Paris said humourlessly.
"I mean, god, what the hell were you thinking?" He shook his head. "And it's not just the insult to me personally, and the crew in general, that you felt you had to be this figurehead of authority and competence all the time, but how did you think we'd feel after we found out-" his diatribe dried up all of a sudden. "I'm such a pig, as B'E would say."
He sat down suddenly. "It wasn't that you were mistaken really, but you saw it clearer than anyone, wasn't it? We've depended on you for so long that this could have- I don't know, broken the spirit of Voyager. And you wanted to preserve it as long as possible. You've done so much for us, and here I am," he waved a hand critically, "going on to you about how my feelings have been so hurt by your not confiding in anyone about your condition. I'm just a-" A thought struck him and he quickly checked around him to see where the Doctor was.
"Safe in his office," he whispered conspiratorially to Janeway. "So he didn't hear me admit a thing," Paris' smile flashed for a moment, but then it dulled.
"I don't know, Captain, this just seems wrong to me. You've left too much unresolved, you know. What about Chakotay, huh? Can't just leave him like that. It'd kill him, and then who'll be- oh, god, no. Tuvok would be captain. Now you've gotta recover. Top priority, understand, Captain?"
He grinned again. "And you can haul my ass down to crewman if you want for ordering you around. But that'll mean coming back. You have to come back…"
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"Hello, Captain," Neelix sat himself by Janeway's side. "Well," he exclaimed a little too brightly and then winced. "Well," he repeated. "We've all been missing you, and uh, Naomi asked me to give this to you," he fumbled with a few pictures that the girl had drawn.
"She's got quite an eye for art, I'll say," the Talaxian examined the drawing with interest.
"This really looks like you…it's a 'get well' drawing; I'll just leave them here for you, so when you"- he cleared his throat anxiously- "recover, you can see them. Right here, just beside you."
Neelix looked around Sickbay with a little wrinkle between his eyes. "You know, it's so bland in here. It really needs a little more colour, I think. But then last time I tried to help out- after all, patients need a bit of cheer to make them feel better, it can't be pleasant to recover somewhere that's so…functional, so efficient, not that our Seven would have anything against that," he chuckled, "Now what was I-? Oh yes, but after the Doctor was so disagreeable last time, I think I'd better let alone…anyhow," he brightened up, "I can plan a party for you, when you get better. I'll see if I can coerce Mr Vulcan into cooking one of his famous deserts again! Ah, the crew loved his mouth-watering cakes…those pastries…delicious! And," he leaned closer to the Captain, "I've been experimenting in secret, something I think you'll definitely approve of, the Endarran trader we met a few weeks ago? Such a nice fellow, if slightly naïve, but I gave him a good price and anyway, there was something oddly familiar amidst the foodstuffs he offered- I've been mixing and testing and oh, yes, I think I've finally developed that perfect brew! I haven't tasted the final, precious batch; you can be the first, but I'm positive this will give you the cup of coffee you've been looking for!"
He slid a glance back to see what the Doctor was doing, and saw the hologram was now feeding an odd amphibious creature that occupied a rectangular contraption, filled with water and gravel and little undulating plants.
"I'll be sure to smuggle it in so he doesn't give one of his lectures," he assured Janeway.
"So just rest and I'll be back again soon."
Neelix then wandered off casually, to go see what the curious creature that the Doctor was so absorbed with could be.
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The next day, Kim hurried into Sickbay, a little rushed from "Hi, Doctor, Seven," Kim greeted the two in Sickbay. "Is she any better?" there was hope in the ensign's eyes that a few years in the Delta Quadrant had not been able to quash.
"I'm afraid not, Ensign," the hologram shook his head. "But then, on the plus side, she's no worse than before."
"Seven," Kim said, placing a gentle hand on the young woman's shoulder.
She refused to look at him, and her voice was suspiciously thick when she replied shortly,
"Ensign Kim?"
"You can stay longer with her," he offered. "I can come back later if you want."
For a moment, it seemed as though she would agree, but with a shudder, Seven stood. "That will not be necessary, Ensign."
She made as if to brush past him, but his hand on her shoulder tightened, lightly restraining her. "Seven, are you all right?"
"I am undamaged," she replied, but then with shock registered a tear trailing down her cheek. She reached up to blot it uncertainly, wavering. "But I am unfamiliar with the emotions I am experiencing."
"Probably what we all are," Kim carefully stroked her cheek to wipe away the wetness that discomfited her. "Concern and fear for the Captain, worry, sadness. Trepidation…the list goes on."
Seven sniffed. "I do not enjoy these emotions."
"Nobody does, Seven. But it's human to feel all of the above in situations like this," Kim said. "It'll pass."
"How does one handle death, Ensign Kim?"
He sighed, as he thought about her question. "I suppose…you don't really. I've been lucky; no one close to me has died, so I haven't had to deal with it. But it's still a very sensitive topic, and a painful one. But Seven," Kim looked at her seriously. "Regardless of how this turns out, you have to move on from it. I know you're still new to all of this, but it doesn't get any easier with experience, and sometimes you've just got to soldier on even if it kills you inside."
Seven looked at him silently.
"And remember, you still have all of us to help you through it. We all have to help each other through it."
"Thank you- Harry," she said. "I will consider what you have said. But I have also considered Kes' earlier words and there is something I have realized. Is there not another human response to occurrences such as this?"
"What is that, Seven?"
"Hope."
Kim broke into a grin. Seven was really making strides in her study and personal growth towards humanity. "You're absolutely right." He squeezed her shoulder before releasing her.
"See you later tonight? Holodeck Two?"
"For what purpose?" she looked at him quizzically.
"I want to show you the relevance of a late night stroll on the beach under the stars," he told her.
"That would be-"
"Ah, don't say it," Kim warned. "Remember, you're learning about human dating rituals and
I'm trying to teach them, so no matter how odd they may seem-"
"As a matter of fact, I was about to say that would be pleasant, Harry. I will see you later," a small smile lightened her attractive face, and Kim smiled back affectionately.
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"Well, Captain, I somehow never pictured this scenario," Kim started, feeling rather nervous. "I suppose the Delta Quadrant has a way of throwing you off balance, just when you think nothing weirder could happen."
Watching the Captain's face intently, there was no sign of any response, no sign that she had heard him at all. Kim chuckled at his own optimism. What chance was there that she would suddenly miraculously awake and reply, something like, "Mr Kim, weird is part of the job"? He thought that was very unlikely indeed.
"You know, do you know how much you mean to all of us? We hardly ever acknowledge it, all that you do for us"- the young man stopped to consider how to render into words what he thought- "leading us, giving us your strength and just…making the hard decisions, being our Captain. I still remember a few years back, when you told me how proud you were of me. Another one of those times when Voyager was in danger and irrelevant though I was in the greater scheme of things, you took the time to say something encouraging, that meant a lot coming from the Captain. I just-" He sighed, falling quiet for a few moments and he simply watched her, a little too bemused at the thought of the all too real possibility she may die…trying to comprehend how she could have been slowly dying over such an extended period.
"How could you not tell anyone?" Kim wondered. "Didn't it ever get to you? Being alone? Not being able to talk to anyone about something so-?" Again words failed him. But there was something simple that he understood, and said as much with a grave expression.
"You've got to get well, Captain."
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"Over the many years of our acquaintance, I have frequently been reminded of your impulsive, reckless nature," Tuvok said, his turn to keep the Captain company now. "Often, in closer quarters than I would have preferred. For instance, the caves you wished to examine early in our association, which resulted in an avian predator's pursuit of us, forcing us to take refuge in one of those very caves. You were reluctant to harm the creature, citing its right to protect its territory and its young, and adamant that you would find another way for us to escape- naturally, you succeeded."
Tuvok regarded his Captain, falling silent for a few minutes. Then he continued, "There are countless other examples, however, suffice it to say; serving with you was hardly conducive to ennui. One regrettable, though very human, fallacy you are subject to is guilt, the mistaken assumption of anxiety or unhappiness over situations you were unable to prevent and had little control over, yet continue to dwell on."
Janeway did not leap to her defence, or attempt to argue with him, as she would have had she been conscious. That fact oddly left Tuvok feeling off balance. It was as though the natural order of things had been turned on its head.
"There was the incident when you were commander of the U.S.S Billings, where an away team you sent to a volcanic moon encountered a magma eruption, leaving the shuttle damaged and three crew members severely injured. The next day, you went back to the moon, alone even under the dangerous circumstances, to complete the mission. It was an illogical action, prompted by an emotional response to an outcome you had not foreseen and experienced guilt for not preventing. To your mind, it was acceptable; you felt the need to atone for what had happened, I believe, show the crew members that their sacrifice was not in vain. Incomprehensible to a Vulcan."
He tilted his head reflectively. "However, I have realized that guilt, although a difficult and possibly dangerous emotion, may be instrumental in your recovery. You have shown that you will go to great lengths to ensure the safety of Voyager and her crew; you cannot abandon them- us, now. Captain, you still have responsibilities, crewmembers that depend on you, objectives you must achieve. I witnessed your promise to your counterpart aboard the duplicate Voyager, the time when we passed through a divergence field, that you would make sure your crew returned home. That promise has not yet been fulfilled." As the Commander entered, Tuvok concluded, "You must recover to lead us home."
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A lone figure stood out in the isolated environment; a small human being, looking around at the alien environment with surprise. Her heart started beating faster reflexively, increasing the blood flow through her body, sending more oxygen to her brain. Her senses sharpened and she became more alert as the sound of her rapid breaths echoed loudly in the strange silence.
Uneasiness filled her, encouraging a rapidly escalating sense of dread at her vulnerability.
She had no idea how she had gotten there, and no memory of where Voyager might be. Janeway took refuge in observation, noting the scene around her. There was snow covering the ground, she saw, and though she distractedly thought it should feel cold, she could not feel the chill at all. Her attention was riveted on footsteps that marred the pristine icy ground; staggering and unsteady, giving her the impression of someone on their last burst of energy.
This seemed to be confirmed by the change in pattern to larger, less defined tracks that suggested someone had literally been dragging themselves along the ground.
But whoever this person was, they needed help, and as she was the only person around that she was aware of, it may depend on her- although what help she thought she could provide with no supplies, no equipment was uncertain… Janeway shrugged. That was as good a plan as any. Still puzzled at her lack of sensation, she followed the tracks, and it was not at all that far before she spotted a figure lying motionless on the ground. Janeway quickened her pace, almost running, and she saw steam rise in front of her from her breath. Curious, she thought again. "Hello?" she said out loud as she approached the stranger. There was something awfully familiar about their build and form, she thought, unease resurfacing.
"Excuse me? My name is Kathryn Janeway, and I'm here to help-" the litany froze in her throat as she saw the other woman's face: her own.
Suddenly, she was aware of the freezing coldness of her environment, and it tore the breath from her lungs. Still, she knelt next to the other Janeway and pulled out Starfleet jacket that was knotted around the woman's waist, focussing on the simple matter of survival for them both. Janeway struggled to and then gave up on tugging the immobile arms through the sleeves, simply wrapping it around her double's body, and rubbing her arms. This activity, rather difficult when being applied to someone else- even if it was herself- helped to distract Janeway, and to warm her a little. It also gave her an opportunity to study the
face that mirrored hers: more gaunt and fatigued, with lines creasing around the mouth that denoted some great strain. This double of hers seemed pale, faded- and gave her a start as the other Janeway's eyes suddenly opened.
"Hi," Janeway said inadequately, through shivering lips.
Those blue eyes that were identical to hers regarded her blankly.
"It's going to be alright," she was not sure what impact her words may be having, but decided to set a comforting tone to the whole affair. "Just stay with me…" She continued rubbing the woman's arms, but it became increasingly difficult as exhaustion fell over her. The cold, she thought numbly, knowing she had to resist, for both their sakes.
"Why are you doing this?" the other asked, her voice thin, brittle.
"Well…it would be disheartening to see you die, considering…" she trailed off, not knowing how to verbalize the implications of facing her own dead body.
Ice entered the woman's eyes. "Don't you know?"
"What?" Janeway asked warily.
"I already am- dead."
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"Looks like it's just you and me for the moment, Captain," the Doctor remarked to the room in general as he re-examined Janeway's EEG with discouragement. Commander Chakotay, who had just been and gone, had obviously been hoping as much as he had that their Captain might once again manage to pull off a miracle, as she had so many times before. Yet there was been little change in her condition. "This will be ever so thrilling. I'm sure we'll have ourselves a ball."
The awkward stillness that had settled over Sickbay was oppressive, and the Doctor scowled, unsure what to do about it. Under the circumstances, singing one of his favourite operas would be in bad taste, he decided. Yet what else was a hologram to do?
Lost for an answer, he returned to his office- it wasn't as though he could do much else for Janeway, other than the useless physicals he felt compelled to repeat again and again- and returned to his study of the holographic goldfish he had programmed.
It swam about its aquarium in content, whirling about quite energetically at times and then vigorously making for the opposite side of the tank again. The ideal companion, the Doctor reflected. Silent, an appreciative audience for his impromptu performances and simple to maintain. He was even considering programming another, for diversity. Perhaps a clownfish; he could name that one Tom Paris.
Amused at that line of thought, the Doctor added a little more sustenance of the holographic variety for his pet fish before sitting and allowing his thought processes to randomly move from topic to topic, subconsciously considering different aspects and views. It was unclear exactly what stimulus attracted his scattered attention, but it drew him out of his meditative state to a shocking lucidity and infused him first with incredulity, then, as he reassured himself that his visual sub-processors were not malfunctioning, gave way to unimaginable relief and elation.
-End Pt1-