Kathryn stretched out on her bed in the near darkness looking at the posters that covered her ceiling and wall, mostly of starships and famous scientists. Her thoughts wandered to her sister and the death that hadn't yet occurred. Was what Q told me, true? If she changed the past, would Phoebe truly survive? Will I survive the Maquis assault that my crew is now fighting? And . . . Will they survive? She shook her head not wanting to think about the destruction of her home, and her friends. Worse yet, if she lowered herself to believing Q, she was already dead. At that point Kathryn's thoughts wandered to her crew and their reactions to her death. Would Chakotay threaten, or even destroy, the Maquis ship? I wonder how Harry is . . . She always treated him like a son, which had been the main reason she avoided promoting him to lieutenant, she didn't want him to "grow up" too soon.

"I now what I'll do." She got out of bed, put her robe on, and tiptoed down the hall toward Phoebe's room. Not bothering knocking, she slipped in and turned on the light. Kathryn sat on the edge of the bed and nudged her sleeping sister.

"What are you doing in here this late?" Phoebe hissed after her eyes had adjusted to the brightness.

"Do you want to visit the Al Batani?"

"You'll let me visit?" Phoebe sat straight up in her bed, looking as excited as Kathryn had seen her in a long time.

"Sure. I'll take you with me when I leave." She smiled at her little sister.

"Thanks, Kathy! I love you." She leaned over and gave her perplexed sister a hug so tight she thought she'd scream. But she returned the hug just a tad bit tighter then the enthusiastic girl could stand.

"Relax, Kathryn."

"Okay. I'm just making a point."

Phoebe thought for a moment and then gave in with a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Just excited, I guess."

"That's all right. Get some sleep, okay?"

Phoebe nodded and lay down, letting Kathryn pull the blankets up to her chin. Before she left, she kissed her little sister on the forehead.

Sprawling back out on her bed, Kathryn began thinking like a captain again. What if I'm just delaying the inevitable? She may die a more horrid death . . . She shook her head to clear it. I have to sleep. . . .

The next morning Kathryn spoke with her mother about taking Phoebe with her for a few weeks, claiming that Gretchen could get more done with both girls out of her way. Gretchen reluctantly agreed to her eldest daughter's proposal.

A month later Kathryn and Phoebe were standing in San Francisco, waiting for passenger confirmation from the Al Batani.

"Sorry, Ensign Janeway, but you and your passenger will have to wait a few hours before boarding, they're not quite finished with the overhaul."

"All right, Commander, can you please contact us the moment we can board?" Kathryn nudged a rock toward Phoebe who kicked it into a street drainage pipe.

"You got it, Janeway." The first officer clicked his tongue when he spoke.

"Thanks, Commander."

"'Welcome. Al Batani out."

"Well, Kathryn sighed. "Looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while."

"That's okay. There's plenty to do while we wait, like taking a walk." Her childish enthusiasm reminded her painfully of Harry.

"Are you sure?" Kathryn was worried about taking Phoebe anywhere. Afraid it might be the end for her little sister.

"Why are you so edgy today, Kathy?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Is it scientifically possible?" Phoebe persisted.

"Yeah I guess."

"Then tell me." She plopped herself down on the rim of a large fountain, pulling Kathryn down next to her.

"Okay. But . . . you have to promise not to laugh."

"I promise on the resurrection of Amelia Earhart."

Kathryn had to laugh at that. Amelia Earhart had always been her childhood hero. "Okay, then. Don't laugh or Amelia Earhart will be a 20th century girl in a 24th century world."

Phoebe nodded in solemn agreement.

Captain Janeway took a deep breath and told her everything, ending with the part of an omnipotent being putting her back in time to change it.

"What about the Prime Directive?" Phoebe watched her sister with renewed admiration.

"You believe me?" Kathryn just stared at Phoebe only to have her stare right back. "You do!" She meant it as a question, but it didn't come across that way.

"Yes. Why wouldn't I? So I'm going to die and about 25 years later, on my birthday, you start thinking about me, unconsciously walk forward, get fired on, and then you die. Right?" There was not a hint of sarcasm in her voice, though Kathryn tried hard to find some.

"That's the story."

"You girls shouldn't be sitting on there." The voice came from a man wearing cutoff blue jeans and a black leather jacket. His head was shaved and completely tattooed. He approached them and thrust his hand out. "I'm Jake."

"Hello, Jake. I'm Phoebe, and this is Kathryn." She shook his hand politely.

A knot began to form in Kathryn's stomach, making her feel very uncomfortable around this man.

"Nice to meet you." Jake responded, bowing slightly from the waist.

"What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a doctor."

You really look like one, too . . . Kathryn listened to the conversation. It didn't seem to be getting personal, so she dismissed the feeling as pre-flight nerves, which she's never had.

"A doctor!" Phoebe exclaimed. "How wonderful. Do you-"

A beep coming from the man's pocket interrupted her. Jake took a little item out and checked it. "There's been an accident about a block from here. I'd better go."

Before Kathryn realized it, Phoebe had followed Jake off in the direction he had indicated. She sighed, pushed herself up, and headed the same way. As she got closer, she heard Phoebe's frightened voice sounding as if she was pleading with someone.

When she rounded the corner, she found that there was no accident and Jake was holding a knife and was backing Phoebe down an ally. Kathryn looked back in the direction she had come, searching her mind for an idea. She had passed an ally about 150 feet back, that ally no doubt intercepted the one Phoebe and Jake were in. She dropped her duffle bag and ran off the 150 feet to the other ally.

Kathryn heard her sister crying and Jake was telling her to be quiet or someone might hear. Just don't do anything stupid, Phoebe, please . . . She silently begged.

"Fate is not a good thing to trust." She decided out loud, after encountering a 12-foot high brick wall. "I hope I didn't take that physical training course at the academy for nothing." She took a deep breath and began to climb it. When she got to the top, she saw Phoebe backed against the very wall she stood on.

Jake lifted his knife and stabbed forward.

Taking another breath and mentally running through a few of the mind relaxation techniques that Tuvok had taught her, Kathryn jumped down the 12-foot wall, knocking the knife from Jake's hand. "Get help, Phoebe!"

She watched Phoebe run off toward the main road.

Kathryn was pinned below Jake now, moving her head just in time to take a blow to the shoulder instead of the jaw. She used this moment of his indecision to jam her knee into his side, knocking him off balance and weakening him momentarily, long enough for her to get from underneath him. What she hadn't realized was that he had picked up his knife. Kathryn was close enough to see it was a lightweight blade, about 8 inches long. She picked a brick up and prepared to throw it, although she knew it would probably miss.

Jake stepped closer, dodging the flying brick with ease. An evil grin spread across his face. He lifted the knife and impaled her just below the neck. Pulling the knife back out, he stabbed it into her stomach. Kathryn crumpled to the ground, and he stabbed her once more. This time the knife was aimed downward, 5 inches below the base of her scull, so that it went into her heart, puncturing her left lung on the way.

Somewhere in the distance, Kathryn heard sirens and shouts, running and the clatter of a knife falling to the ground beside her head, and then, to her relief, a peaceful sleep finally came.

The warp core was shut down just before it had the chance to explode. Vorik sunk to the ground in pain, though he visibly tried to hide it. Naomi and the two ensigns that weren't holding the door had found 18 engineers, dead, and had moved them closer to the door and all in one place.

Tom climbed, once again, to the upper level, not sure what he'd find. He pulled several pieces of a broken plasma conduit and a couple dozen structural beams, out of his way, searching for his wife. Finally he saw a uniform sticking out from under a pile of searing hot metal.

"B'Elanna!" He cried, diving for his wife. His flesh literally melted when he touched the metal. "Please be alive!" He quietly pleaded. He wasn't sure if anyone could survive prolonged contact and he could only guess at how long she'd been under there. He took his over shirt and wrapped it around his hand. Using it for protection, he started pulling metal from his wife's body. As tears streamed down his face, Tom forced himself to continue, though the pain was getting worse. After about 10 minutes he reached the point where he could pull her out without moving anything else. Trembling, and afraid of what he'd see, he took her under the arms and gently eased her out. He placed both his index and middle fingers against her neck, feeling for any sign of life. She had a pulse, but it was extremely faint. Tom pressed his mouth against hers, blowing several short breaths into her nearly lifeless body. Then, placing his hands together, he pressed down on her chest, willing her heart to beat faster, stronger. It was only last week that he found out she was nearly six months' pregnant. They both had thought that she was only four. If he lost her now, he'd lose the baby, too.

B'Elanna began coughing violently and tried to get up.

"No, don't! B'Elanna, Sweetheart, if you move you might hurt yourself and the baby."

She nodded and gently took Tom's hand.

"You shouldn't be breathing this. I'm going to try to get you down, but you're going to have to help me." He slipped his hand behind her back and got a firm grip under her arm. Gently, he pulled her to her feet.

Leaning almost all her weight on her husband, she took a step forward. B'Elanna cried out, clasping her hands across her stomach, she doubled over in pain. "Tom!" It was a strangled cry. "Help me, please!"

Tom quickly laid her back down. He placed one hand over hers on her stomach, and one held her other hand. "I'll be right back, B'Elanna, I promise."

"Please hurry." She gasped.

Tom slid down the ladder and ran toward the door, leaping over a pile of debris on the way. He came to a skidding stop. "Paris to Doctor."

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency." Came the EMH's reply.

"B'Elanna . . . There's something wrong with her, Doc. Could you come down?" His voice was laced with panic.

"On my way." The comm. signal went dead.

Tom looked to the right of the door. He counted 29 dead engineers, seven, excluding B'Elanna, had survived.

Moments later, the Doctor was rushing through the door, barely giving the ensigns there time to move. "Where is she?"

Tom looked at the Doctor and pointed. "Up there."

The EMH rushed to the second level, Tom, right on his heels.

"Lieutenant Paris, sterilize this, we may need it!" The Doctor ripped B'Elanna's burn uniform and gently pealed it off. HE then took the crude knifelike object that Tom had "sterilized" as best he could. Using his fingers, he gently probed his patient's stomach, arms, and legs, trying to make an accurate prognosis with this primitive method.

"What's wrong with her, Doc?" Tom held B'Elanna's hand and stroked the hair from her sweaty face.

"She's got internal bleeding and third degree burns in several locations. She also has a hairline fracture along the entire length of her spinal cord. I also have reason to believe that every bone in her body is damaged in some way."

"The baby?" Tom was almost afraid to ask, but he did anyway.

"I can't tell, but whatever may be wrong with the baby, is killing her." He flung his arms open, indicating that he didn't know what to do now.

"You have to save her!" The panic in her voice triggered a reaction in B'Elanna.

"Let me up!" She growled at the Doctor, who was doing everything in his power to keep her still.

"Talk to her, Lieutenant!" He ordered.

"B'Elanna, Baby . . . " Tom said soothingly, a lack of anything better to say. "I know it hurts, but you have to stay still, Sweetie."

His comforting presence calmed her down, much to the relief of the Doctor.

"I'll have to operate." He decided.

"Here? Now?" Tom stated in disbelief, unable to say anything else.