Janeway was trying to teach Tom to play Kal-toh. Her boredom had become intolerable and he'd suggested a game. Tuvok had been training her to play Kal-toh for the last five years and though she was nowhere near an expert she had a basic grasp of the rules.

"How come you don't understand it if I do?" Janeway asked, frustrated. Tom had pulled the wrong peg and the whole structure had collapsed.

"Maybe you're faking it," he offered and she scowled at him. They were expecting Tuvok in fifteen minutes for their first meditation lesson and Janeway had thought a game of Kal-toh would put them in a more Vulcan state of mind. Instead they were both feeling a little overwhelmed.

"Maybe we should've stuck to chess," she sighed.

"Or checkers," he laughed.

"Tic-tac-toe?" she offered.

"We could just lie down and wait for all of this to go away," he said.

They were laughing still when the chime went off.

"Come in," Janeway called. Tuvok entered holding his lamp. They tried to calm their features but Janeway could feel Tom holding in his laughter and it just set her off again. Tuvok stood and watched them impassively.

"I could come back," Tuvok said, finally.

"No," Janeway said wiping her eyes. "No, Tom is just funny. Come in, have a seat."

With the candle lit and the three of them on the floor around it, Tuvok tried to explain to them the importance of meditation.

"Keeping your mind clear will help to center yourself," Tuvok was saying. "Close your eyes and think of nothing."

Tom tried this. He thought of nothing, of blank space. Then, he thought about what nothing would look like to Janeway. Then he tried to peek into her mind to look at her nothingness to make sure his was the same.

"Stop it," Janeway said.

"Is something wrong?" Tuvok asked.

"Tom's trying to think of my nothing instead of his own nothing," she said.

"Mr. Paris," Tuvok said. "Your mind is your temple and whatever you think is true. You cannot think incorrectly."

"Got it," he said, chastised. He closed his eyes and tried to really think of nothing this time.

"Think about the things that make you yourself. Think about something that you wouldn't share with another person. Try to shield your thoughts from the other people in the room," Tuvok instructed.

Janeway thought that sounded like a pretty bad idea. Besides, she wasn't even sure what she considered secret enough that she'd never tell another soul. And what if she couldn't shield it and then not only Tom, but Tuvok would know as well? She had to pick something startling, but not life-altering.

Tom sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry," Janeway said. "This is difficult for me."

"Why don't I go first?" Tom said, a little more gently. He decided to think of his father, a subject that immediately made him feel like a failure who could never be good enough. Tom had been 13 when he'd sneaked out of his house and came back two hours after his curfew drunk for the first time on Katarian wine. His father had been horrified and irate and had slapped Tom across the face, bruising his pale cheekbone. Owen had apologized later but Tom had been skittish around his father for months afterwards.

Tom held the memory in his mind and kept it close to him, trying to hide it from the other probing minds in the room. Then, he sent it away.

"Did it work?" he asked, opening his eyes.

"Yes," said Tuvok. "Very good, Lieutenant."

"No," Janeway said. "I saw it… heard it." She lifted her hand to her cheek as if she'd felt the sting as well.

"Hmm," Tuvok said. "That is most perplexing. Perhaps my methods will not be able to overcome such a strong link."

Janeway sighed and hung her head a little.

"Thanks anyway," Tom said. Tuvok may have been a stickler, but he knew a dismissal when he heard one and wasted no time gathering his things and leaving them be.

"I didn't know that about Admiral Paris," she said.

"The man you know is a stranger to me," Tom said. "And vice versa I'd imagine."

"He was a fine Captain, Tom," Janeway said. "He made me the person I am today, the Captain I am. That being said, his behavior as a father was…"

"Inexcusable." Tom finished the thought for her.

"Yes."

"Don't worry about me, Captain," Tom said. "That was a long time ago now and I'm a different person now."

"You're a good man, Tom," Janeway said, a fond smile on her face. Tom knew she wasn't lying when she said it, felt the waves of affection and approval from her.

"I know you know this already, but there isn't anyone else on this ship I'd rather be in this situation with," Tom admitted.

"Here, here," she said.

They ate replicated soup for dinner and abandoned Kal-toh for one of Tom's favorite games – an antique thing called Risk. He'd replicated it aboard Voyager but had only ever played it with Harry.

"Harry has never won?" Janeway asked.

"Not once," Tom gloated. "He can't see the finer points of world domination."

"I suppose not," she said.

"Some how I think you have the ruthless streak to beat me," Tom said.

"I'm not ruthless," she said. "I'm just determined."

"Cutthroat," he said.

"Calculated," she corrected. "I'm not like fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants Tom Paris."

"Hey, being flexible has gotten me out of a lot of scrapes," he said. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it."

"Just roll," she prompted.

"You aren't getting the Middle East. You don't have enough troops," he warned her.

"That's what you think," she said. "Remember, I've stood up to the Borg."

"Hmph," he said.

oooo

Tom looked at the cortical monitor in his hand. It was after midnight and they were both still awake. He didn't like the hazy way the dampening field made him feel, but what would it matter if he were asleep? They were never going to be fit for duty if they couldn't find a way to get some rest.

"I've been thinking about the same thing," Janeway said, appearing in her living area, her peach robe belted tightly around her small frame. He looked up. "That was probably an unnecessary sentence but…"

"I can't figure out why I have such a dislike for this device," he said.

"Maybe it's not us," she said. "Maybe the implant is designed to revolt against tampering of any kind."

"It's a bizarre way to torture people, I'll give you that," Tom said. "Why not just kill us? Why abandon us on a planet to die anyway?"

"Who knows?" she answered. "But think about a device like this on someone like B'Elanna? Or Between Tuvok and… Neelix? Theoretically, it could drive a person insane."

"So what are you saying? We're just lucky to get along?"

She shrugged one shoulder.

"Could be worse," she said. "Tom?"

He knew what she was thinking and he shook his head.

"I don't think so, Captain," he said.

"We don't want to wear the dampening field, and we don't want to stay awake forever," she argued. "The Doctor said this would work, probably."

"I just…" Tom rubbed his face. "I never thought I'd see you trying to get me into your bed."

"Ha, ha," she said dryly.

"Sorry."

"The truth of the matter is I'm exhausted and running out of good cheer. It's Doctor's orders. Come in here," she said. "Please."

"Fine," he said. He grabbed his pillow and followed her into her bedroom. He could see that she'd been restless as well. The bed was wrinkled and the blanket had been kicked down to the foot of the mattress. For all the sharing they'd done in the last few days, they'd kept actual physical contact to a minimum. It was one of the things they still had control over, one last intimate and personal barrier yet to be broken. But now, contact was the one thing that was going to help, to quiet their minds and allow them rest.

"Ironic, no?" Tom said out loud. Janeway agreed quietly but busied herself with smoothing the sheet and blanket. He waited and she motioned to the bed.

"You first. I prefer the side closest to the door," she said.

"Okay," he said, deciding against any jokes. Usually he broke the tension by using well-placed humor but somehow that wasn't going to work this time. He crawled into the bed and put his head down tentatively. She got in after him and made a big show of adjusting the blankets around her. They both lay their backs looking at the ceiling.

"Computer, lights at five percent," she said. The room got darker. So far, the only thing that had changed was their level of comfort, or lack there of.

"This isn't working."

"Okay," she said. "I think we have to actually touch."

"This has been a weird day," he muttered.

"My whole life is weird," she commiserated. "Just take my hand." She reached out under the blanket and found his hand. He took it, squeezed it a little. It didn't seem to make much of a difference. He could hear her having quiet doubts as well.

Ten minutes later, they were both sleeping like babies.

oooo

Tom was still sleeping. Janeway didn't know what it was about men, but the moment they fell asleep, they reverted back to little boys. Tom curled in on himself, his face pressed into the mattress, the crown of his head pushed into her side. Sometime in the night he'd begun to slink down and now she could feel his hot breath on her waist and his feet were almost hanging off the end of the bed.

She got nothing from him at the moment – it was like radio silence. He was out of the deepest level of sleep; still tired enough that he was unaware of his location but his subconscious knew that morning was near. It was nice to have her thoughts to herself but she almost missed his company.

It had been a long time, a very long time, since a man had spent the night in her bed. She raised her hand and ran her fingers lightly through his hair. It was darker now too, more sandy than blonde like when he'd first come aboard. They could both stand a day in the sun.

She thought morning would be odd, uncomfortable, and strange. It had been those things the night before but now she felt rested and comfortable. She trusted Tom implicitly and knew that when he finally opened his eyes, things would be okay.

Tom woke up but did not open his eyes. He felt deliciously rested, warm and comfortable. He felt relaxed. The bed he was in was larger than his own and allowed him the luxury of sprawling out a bit. He was pressed against something warm and solid and felt movement above him – someone was stroking his hair and it felt amazing.

"You want some coffee?"

Janeway's voice demanded that he opened his eyes. He looked up to see her sitting over him. His head was practically on her lap and she rested her arm across his back comfortably, the fingers of her free hand still playing idly with strands of his hair. In her other hand, she had a PADD. She'd been waiting for him to wake up.

He blinked, his eyes still foggy with sleep.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Early," she said. "I never sleep more than five or six hours."

"I could sleep all day," he said rolling off her lap and sitting up. He yawned and stretched.

"I do feel better," she said, with a warm smile. "Now that you're up, I'll replicate a pot of coffee." She got out of bed and walked out into the main room where the replicator was located. She didn't bother to put on her robe, feeling more comfortable around him now, even in a nightgown. There wasn't much left to hide, after all.

Tom used the restroom and washed his face. When he came out, she'd not only made coffee but replicated toast and eggs as well. She'd set the table for them and waited for him, her mug and PADD in hand. He sat down and placed his napkin in his lap.

"This is not a bad life," he said, pouring him self a mug of coffee. He added some cream from the tiny jug.

"Doesn't hurt to be Captain's pet," she agreed. He was incredulous but she rolled her eyes at his expression and tossed down the PADD to focus on breakfast and conversation with him.

"I wouldn't say…"

"Oh come on," she said. "Of course you are and you have been since before these implants."

He merely waited for her to continue.

"You think I don't know about the gambling rings? The ill-gotten rations? That incident in Cargo Bay three?" She raised an eyebrow and he hung his head a little.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" he asked.

"Truth of the matter is, you help keep morale up," she said. "And if I stopped you, you'd find some even sneakier way of continuing and it'd be that much harder to monitor the situation."

"You are… some kind of woman," he said, smiling.

"Eat your eggs, Tom. I want us to work a full shift today."

"Aye," he said, but he filled her plate before serving himself anyway.

oooo

Janeway decided to take a water shower instead of a sonic one. She hadn't taken a real bath since her new house guest had moved in and figured her rations account could handle it. For the first time in months, her muscles didn't feel like steel beneath her skin and the hot water only served to relax her more. She felt better than she had in ages.

What was it about human contact that improved a person's mood?

Tom, somewhere in her quarters, gave her a half-hearted agreement. She knew he didn't mean to listen in but sometimes it was hard to help. She should be embarrassed but what was the point? It wouldn't help anything.

She toweled off and could hear Tom humming in the other room. He tended to hum when working on something mechanical – shuttle repairs or building something in the holodeck. This neural link was the only reason she knew what a classic automobile was, let alone that Tom liked them. The humming continued as she slid on her uniform and poked her head out to see what, exactly, he was dismantling.

"Your replicator is finicky at best," Tom said. He'd pulled the whole interface out and was elbow deep inside the bulkhead.

"I know," she said, surveying the damage. "You noticed the eggs were a little off too?"

"A little gritty," he acknowledged.

"Maybe it's just my cooking," she joked. He looked up at this and couldn't help but smile.

"Nice look."

Her hair was still wet and tangled. It was also dampening the back of her uniform so she gathered it up in her hands self-consciously and toweled off the ends.

"I was curious," she said.

"Why didn't you call a repair team in?" he asked, turning back to the replicator.

"Didn't seem like a high priority," she said.

"Your power cell is misaligned," he said. "Probably got jarred during a battle."

"Sounds reasonable," she said. "I'm going to…"

"Yeah," he said, dismissively.

In the bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror sectioning off her hair and putting the pieces up in a bun. She was just finishing up her make-up when he came to find her. He was holding a cup of coffee and it smelled fresh. She could see the steam rising in the mirror. She finished applying her mascara with her mouth slightly parted and then turned around.

"Try it now," he said. "Don't worry, it's on me."

She smiled and took the cup. It already smelled better and when she took a sip she sighed contentedly.

"This is much better. What blend is this?" she asked.

"Something from my personal database," he said. "Guess you'll have to keep me as your pet forever."

"I'll have a certificate made up for you," she said sarcastically. "All right. It's time to go. You ready Mr. Paris?" she asked, allowing her command mask to slide into place. It seemed a little silly, standing in such close quarters in her bathroom but he understood her need to compartmentalize. He reached out and plucked a hair off her shoulder, letting it fall to the carpeted floor.

"Yes Captain," he said. "Now I'm ready."

The thought of them leaving separately occurred to her. She'd let him enter the bridge first and then come a few moments later, possibly from another entrance. Through her ready room or the conference room, perhaps. Tom laughed beside her.

"Just whom would we be fooling?" he asked.

"Good point," she asked. They were quiet on the way to the bridge. She was gathering her thoughts, switching from Kathryn to the Captain. Kathryn worried about trivial things off duty – if she'd missed her holodeck time again, if she really needed to go to sickbay or if she'd recycled that dirty dish she'd left by the window. The Captain thought about reports, strategy, morale, and always, getting home. In the turbolift, she stood with her arms crossed.

"You know," she said. "If you're going to think of me as Kathryn, you may as well call me that when we're alone."

"I don't mean to," he said, quickly.

"I know you don't," she said. "You're one of the most respectful officers I've had the pleasure of serving with. I'm just giving you permission, is all. I'd… like it."

"All right," he said. "I guess you can call me Tom."

"You're very funny," she said. "A riot."

"I try," he said. When the turbolift doors opened, she strode confidently onto the bridge, the Captain through and through.

oooo

Near the end of the bridge shift, Tom was summoned to Shuttle Bay two by Engineering. The repair team working on the Cochrane and needed his help.

"Go ahead," Chakotay said. Janeway sat in her chair and when he looked at her, she nodded her head once. Since returning to Voyager, they'd barely been in separate rooms. They hadn't yet attempted separate decks. The Bridge was on one – and the shuttle bays were both on ten.

"On my way," Tom said and let an ensign slide into his seat.

"Good luck," Janeway said softly. It was an odd thing to say for someone going to lend a hand with a fussy shuttle but he knew what she meant.

The turbo lift seemed to move too quickly and every deck that passed meant he was further away from the Captain. The pull to return to her side grew stronger and he could see in his mind her fingers gripping the arms of her seat. His scalp began to itch and then it seemed like the implant inside of him began to throb. The turbolift doors opened and he took a shaky step out. The shuttle bay was only a few meters down the corridor but he felt his knees give before he made it to the door.

In sickbay, the Doctor's console began to beep urgently.

oooo

"Just what, exactly, did you two think you were going to accomplish by doing such a thing?" the Doctor asked, exasperation evident in his voice.

"Our jobs," the Captain said.

"I told you to stay together. I told you to sleep side by side. What part of that makes you think going to separate ends of the ship was a good idea?"

"That's enough, Doc," Tom said. "Lesson learned."

"I'm sorry," he said. "My inability to solve your situation is very frustrating."

"We know you're doing your best," Janeway said, soothingly.

"If you'd been wearing your monitors you could have avoided unconsciousness," the Doctor said haughtily.

"May we go?" Janeway asked, trying to tame her hair. The Doctor had pulled all the pins out in effort to reach her implant and now he handed them to her. There wasn't a lot to do – she'd have to walk the hall with her hair down around her shoulders in a ratted mess.

"You're free to return to duty," he muttered. "Not that you care what I think."

"We have to do something about his bedside matter," Janeway snapped in the corridor but they both knew she didn't mean it.

"He tries to get his point across in, perhaps, not the best way possible," Tom said. "You don't have to work with him."

"Small favors," she said.

"That you give yourself, Captain," he laughed.

"It's a gift I give to everyone else too, I assure you. I have no medical talent."

"What was that?" he asked. "Something about your sister falling out of a tree? I couldn't quite see it."

"I made her walk a quarter of a kilometer with a fractured leg," she said. "I lack medical common sense."

"You were nine," he said.

"And yet I could do quantum physics by eight," she said.

"Show off," he said.

"I told Vorik you'd help the repair team tomorrow," Janeway said. "With my supervision."

"You might have fun," he said. "Get your hands dirty."

"I get my hands plenty dirty," she said.

"Ugh, don't even think about that Macrovirus," he said. "You win. Anyway, word on the street is that Neelix is making Lasagna tonight. You hungry?"

"How do you know what he's making? How do you get the word on the street without me knowing?" she asked.

"Oh, I have my ways," he said.

oooo

That night, Janeway was less tentative about having Tom in her bed. He rolled over and faced the wall while she had her nose buried in the report Harry had turned in on the construction of Astrometrics.

"Do you think Seven is pretty?" Janeway asked, suddenly. Tom rolled over to look at her. He'd been thinking of the beach in San Francisco, the first time he'd gone surfing. He wanted to send her soothing images. Now he thought of Seven encased in tight silver, her pretty face framed by hair like silk.

"Um. Yes? Don't you?" he asked. But he had to be honest – the woman was lovely but not exactly his type.

"Yes," Janeway asked. "I think that's why Harry is having trouble working with her."

"It is," Tom clarified. "Poor Harry. Poor, poor Harry Kim." Janeway chuckled.

"Well, what is your type then? I mean, if not buxom blondes or feisty Klingons?" she pressed.

"Captain, I'm not sure…"

"Oh, I'm your Captain now?" she asked. They were in their pajamas in her bed and it did seem sort of ridiculous but Tom sometimes had problems finding the line and fell back on protocol out of habit.

"I'm not sure I have a type," he said. She scoffed. "Fine," he said. "I guess… women who like to have fun. Who have a sense of humor – intelligent, ambitious… adventurous," he said.

"A tall order," she said.

"I'm willing to wait for the right one," he said. "Nobody is perfect. I don't mind flaws."

"Hmm," she said.

"I like redheads," he said, turning back over and fluffing his pillow before lying back down. She smacked him lightly with her PADD and didn't even mind the pressure on her own arm. She thought, at first, that he was teasing her, but instead of thinking about the beach, about internal combustion engines, or flight patterns – the things he thought about when he didn't want to think about something she might see – he thought about the curve of her shoulder and the strand of hair that rested on the pale skin that was auburn in the low light. She shouldn't have asked.

"Well, goodnight," she said, and set the PADD on her nightstand. She reached over and turned off the lights manually and then tried to find a comfortable spot, their backs toward each other.

Eventually, Tom turned over and scooted toward her. He put his arm over her hip and pulled her so she was flush against him. He did it with ease, as if he'd pulled a woman to him in bed countless times, and perhaps he had but to her it was a feeling long since forgotten and she melted into him. He tucked her head under his chin.

"Okay?"

"Okay," she answered. Just right, she thought.

In the morning, she managed to untangle herself from him without waking him, a minor miracle. He was still sleeping by the time she was showered, dressed, and getting impatient for the day. Tom could be ready in twenty minutes and wanted all the sleep he could get. She couldn't begrudge him that, but it made for a boring morning. She was wondering if Tom would be offended if she put his uniform through the cleaner when Chakotay contacted her.

"Janeway here," she said, tapping her badge and keeping her voice low. The alarm in her room would wake him in five minutes but she felt like being considerate nonetheless.

"I was wondering if you'd like to get breakfast," he said.

"Oh Chakotay, I would, but Tom isn't even awake yet," she said, apologetically. She knew better than to try to make her way to the mess hall by herself.

"Step into the hallway," he said. Curious, she stepped close enough to the door to activate the sensors and it hissed open. Just outside her door in the hallway, Chakotay had set up a small table and two chairs. There were two covered trays and a small vase with a while daisy in it.

"Aww," she said, with a smile. "And what if I had turned you down?"

"I would have lived with the shame," he said, pulling out her seat for her. She sat down and he sat across from her. He pulled off the cover with a flourish and she grinned.

"I love pancakes," she said.

"I know," he grinned back.

"Thank you, Chakotay. I know this has been hard on everyone," she said, picking up her fork.

"Hard on you as well, I'd imagine," he said.

"Yes and no," she said. "Different, yes."

"Want to talk about it?" he asked. She shrugged and cut off a section of her breakfast with the side of her fork.

"I want to hear about you," she said.

"Nothing new to report there," he said. "A little busier with you on light duty, but busy is never a bad thing."

"I'm lucky to have you," she said. "And… how is B'Elanna?" Chakotay frowned.

"It's hard to say," he said. "She's hard to read when she wants to be."

"Tom doesn't want to talk to her with an audience," Janeway said. "I can't say I blame him."

"She feels neglected, I think," Chakotay said. "She and Tom have barely said two words so you two came back on board. I think she thinks she's losing him."

Janeway stared at her breakfast, prodding it with her fork quietly.

"Is she?" Chakotay asked, surprised.

"It isn't my place to say," she said.

"Huh," Chakotay said. "Well let's hope she doesn't kill him and accidentally kill you."

"Here's hoping," she agreed. "But, you know, Tom has been wonderful through this all. He's been patient and supportive. It could be a lot worse."

"Still, it will be nice once you're separated again," Chakotay said.

"If that ever happens," she said. Chakotay didn't know what to say to that.

A while later, Tom came out of Janeway's quarters and smiled at the pair.

"Hate to interrupt, but duty calls," he said. She'd known the moment he'd woken up and he'd been nice to let her have this time with Chakotay.

"Tom and I are going to work in the shuttle bay," she told him. "See you later?"

"Sure," Chakotay said.

"Thank you again," she smiled and patted Tom's arm to get him moving.

"Chakotay is so thoughtful," Tom said, and she glanced at him.

"Is that jealousy I'm feeling, Lieutenant?" she asked, teasingly.

"No," he answered. "Jealous? Of him? I think not."

"I know you aren't the best of friends, but he is my friend," she said.

"Of course," he agreed. She caught a few more choice words from him – boring, brooding, and emotional among them but decided that his juvenile thoughts were his own.

In the shuttle bay, the repair team greeted Tom and the Captain more formally than they would have if Tom had been alone, but she was used to it. Tom didn't hesitate in getting started on the repairs and Janeway went over to the abandoned console and decided she could work here as easily as she could anywhere else. Fifteen minutes later, Tom called her over to where he was.

"Could you help me?" he asked.

"Sure," she said. "What do you need?"

"I can't quiet explain to Ensign Brooks how I want this held and I think if I just…"

She could already read his mind – understand what he wanted and how the repair needed to play out.

"I see," she said. "Hang on." She pushed up her sleeves while Ensign Brooks stared. It was different seeing Tom and Janeway close up, rather than just hearing about rumors and gossip. Did the implant really connect them? Did it truly force them to keep close quarters? Could the actually read one another's mind? It seemed to Brooks that they were having a conversation without words. Tom would glance up at her and she'd adjust herself accordingly.

"I think I've got it," Tom said, reaching in with his free hand to alter something. The odd thing was, Ensign Brooks saw it on Janeway's face before Tom's. Something was going to go wrong.

The flair of energy hit Janeway but they both flew back from the open console, landing on the hard shuttle bay floor with a sickening thud.

"Brooks to Sickbay. Medical Emergency in Shuttle Bay Two!