Chapter 4: Distance

When Voyager's sensors read that the asteroid belt was rich with dilithium, it was a foregone conclusion that Janeway would go on the Delta flyer herself to collect the mineral. She was getting restless, her officers knew, and Chakotay didn't even put up a fight to keep her from leaving the ship. It was also no surprise when she announced that she would be taking Ensign Jenkins as her pilot. Chakotay didn't shift uncomfortably in his seat. Harry didn't pale at his console. And Tom's shoulders didn't perceptively tense, followed by a subtle drooping of his head.

It had been just over a year and a half since the Monean home world, and he'd been promoted back to Lieutenant just recently. They were all accustomed to the current routine. Janeway didn't take Paris as her pilot on missions, and Paris' easy banter with her no longer punctuated the alpha shift. They were professional, courteous even, but the distance between them stretched on for light years. They never saw each other off-duty unless it was in a large group, or else by chance. He didn't call her anything but 'Captain', and he spent more time with Harry, and of course, B'Elanna. She spent more time with Chakotay, as well as Tuvok. Every once in a while when they would see other off shift, especially in passing, one of their countenances would darken with something- anger, sadness, perhaps even longing- but then it would be gone just as quickly as it had appeared, and everyone moved on.

Ironically enough, it had been Chakotay who had fought the hardest against Tom's harsh punishment. He'd practically had to force his way into the Captain's ready room with a phaser rifle, and his efforts had been futile. But he'd gone in just the same.

"A demotion and time in the bridge, Kathryn? Don't you think that's going overboard?" He hadn't even bothered to start with a soft tone. Her arms had been crossed before he even opened his mouth.

"He disobeyed a direct order, Commander. I'm not going to coddle him."

"I'm not saying you should coddle him, but I expect you to treat him fairly. You're being much harder on Tom than you were on others for similar infractions." The use of Paris' first name was deliberate, and Janeway knew it, cleansing her palms into fists on her desk.

"It's Lieutenant Paris who disobeyed me, and Lieutenant Paris who I sentenced to the brig, Commander. My response is in proportion to his behavior, and has nothing to do with personal feelings. Are we clear?" She stood up from her desk, dismissing him with her body language. But Chakotay had stood his ground, arguing with her for another twenty minutes before he finally left, infuriated.

It didn't stop him from charging in again six weeks later when she ignored Tom in public and chose another officer over him to fly her down to a trade negotiation.

"You're punishing him in public, Kathryn. And it was one thing when it was professional- to strip him of a pip and toss him in the bridge. But this is personal in nature, and you're airing it publicly just to make the pain worse." She had been calmer this time, colder. She stood at the window of her ready room looking at the stars.

"He was my friend and he betrayed my trust, Chakotay." She turned from the view port and glared at him. "Neither Tom, nor anyone else for that matter, can expect me to forgive and forget. I'll treat him as a valued officer, a good pilot. But I won't pretend, publicly or privately, that things are as they were before."

"Oh, so it was your friend who betrayed you," Chakotay had remarked with a quiet voice and an angry face. "The last time I checked, you said it was Lieutenant Paris who disobeyed you. Lieutenant Paris who you demoted and imprisoned." He'd walked out of the ready room this time, before she even had a chance to dismiss him.

Now, on the bridge, Chakotay no longer eyed Paris sympathetically when Janeway snubbed him. This ritual had become accepted, common place. And to the helmsman's credit, he bore it well. The rest of the bridge staff assumed from Tom's comportment that he didn't even care anymore. And Tom never said anything, even privately, that would contradict this. It was as though they were never friends in the first place, like the distance between them had always been there.

Janeway strode toward the turbolift, and Paris didn't turn around to watch her go.

. . . . .

As Janeway walked down the corridor to the holodeck with Tuvok, they discussed the modifications he'd made to his meditation program.

"Lieutenant Paris found a program of the caves on Vulcan, and offered to modify it for my purposes. Ultimately, the environment for meditation should not be of consequence. But it is. . . A nice change of pace." Janeway nodded, not reacting perceptibly to Tuvok's mention of Tom. Inwardly, however, she wondered how in the hell she was supposed to calm her mind knowing that Tom had designed the floor she sat on, the light from the fire that shown warmly on her face. She resisted the urge to sigh.

When they reached the holodeck, she realized that they were early. It was still occupied by the previous person. Janeway glanced at the interface, realizing that the person running the program was Seven. It wasn't a program Janeway recognized. The privacy lock wasn't engaged. She couldn't contain her curiosity. She looked at Tuvok and tried to think of a plausible excuse to barge in. She couldn't.

"I am confident Seven of Nine will find not our presence an intrusion," Tuvok said before she could speak. She smiled. He knew her so well.

"Alright, then," she said, activating the doors' sensors. When the doors closed behind them, they were standing in a green field surrounded by a wooden fence. There were trees to the right of them, a rolling hillside to the left. The sun was shining, a breeze gently pushing the leaves that had fallen to the ground. It was beautiful.

"Captain," Seven of Nine greeted. She was sitting astride a brown horse, roughly five meters from them. Janeway wasn't sure who looked more uncomfortable, Seven or the horse.

She guessed the horse.

"I didn't realize you'd taken an interest in horseback riding." Janeway smiled. It wasn't like Seven to try something new like this. Especially something that didn't obviously lead to some kind of improved efficiency.

"I have not, Captain." The horse shifted uneasily as Seven tried to pull on the reins. Janeway didn't know a great deal about horses, but she could tell the creature was getting spooked. "This program does not belong to me." Before Seven could finish her explanation, the horse began to jerk and then rear. Janeway instinctively moved forward to try to help Seven, but Tuvok stilled her. He was right; she could make it worse. Before Tuvok had the chance to call for modification to the program, a tan horse appeared from the trees, its rider bent low, urging the horse on intently.

Paris stopped only a few meters from Seven, sliding off before his horse even seemed to have stopped moving completely. Then he was at the brown horse's side, calming it and grabbing its reins. The horse quieted within moments, and he looked up at Seven.

"You alright?" He asked, squinting in the sun light.

"I am not afraid." Seven replied, eying him calmly.

"I can't say the same for Princess, here." His voice was gentle, free of mocking.

"I believe she could sense I was uncomfortable." Seven moved to get down, and Paris offered her a hand that went unacknowledged.

"Horses are perceptive of body language. They can read people." His eyes fell on the mare in front of him. "But on the upside, they don't lie. And once you learn how to read them, you'll always know exactly where you stand." Seven eyed Paris and then the horse.

"I believe horses are easier than human beings in this manner." She pronounced it as though she were solving a calculation. He smiled at her, and then patted the mare affectionately.

"You and me both, Seven." He didn't make the mistake of asking her if she'd enjoyed the program. Instead he said, "you're welcome to use the program whenever you like."

"Thank you," Seven replied stiffly, "but I believe I will require further assistance in this activity." She paused as though trying to translate her thoughts into words. It was how Seven almost always was with social niceties- like she was trying to speak a second language. "I would enjoy it if you would accompany me again. Your assistance has been quite instructive." Tom nodded in agreement.

"Of course, Seven." Tom turned to acknowledge the other two officers who'd joined them. "Tuvok, Captain." He dusted holographic dust off his pants, the picture of ease as he held onto the reins of Seven's horse. "Sorry if we ran long. But we're all finished."

"You didn't exceed your allotted time," Tuvok replied, and Tom nodded.

"Good. Enjoy your evening." Tom waved as he walked out of the holodeck after Seven, and Janeway turned to Tuvok.

"I wasn't aware Seven and Tom were spending time together." She was curious, and a bit thrown off. It had been a chore to get Seven to spend time with anyone but herself and the Doctor. She participated in group social activities, but with little zeal. Had she sought out Tom, or had Tom taken it upon himself to spend time with her? And even if he'd sought her out, why had Seven so easily agreed?

"I am uncertain, Captain. I have observed, however, that Seven of Nine and Lieutenant Paris often sit together in the mess hall, especially when Ensign Kim and Lieutenant Torres are absent. When these two officers are present, Lieutenant Paris frequently invites Seven of Nine to join them. She almost always declines." Janeway understood. Seven still didn't like groups. But did this mean she did, in fact, like Tom? Something within her felt relief that Seven was making friends of her own accord, as well as pride that Tom was reaching out to her. Something else, however, felt cold and empty, and she tried to ignore it.

"On to meditation then?" Tuvok called up the program, and the green grass and sunshine vanished, replaced by stone walls and candle light.

A few weeks later, Janeway decided to go to the mess hall for dinner. Chakotay had been chiding her that she wasn't letting the crew see her enough socially, and she decided she would make an attempt to pass more meals in public. When she walked in, she immediately noticed Seven and Tom at a table in the center. Seven was speaking, and Tom was listening with interest, though she couldn't make out the conversation. She watched them as she procured her tray, and then came closer, about to take a seat a few tables away. Tom had seen her but said nothing. Instead, he'd nodded his head at her slightly, a polite greeting. It had caused Seven to look over to where she was standing.

"Captain," Seven's neutral tone spoke, "would you care to join us?" The truth of the matter was that the last thing she wanted to do was join them, but avoiding Tom meant declining Seven as well. She couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Of course," Janeway said, and took a seat next to Tom. She'd weighed the options and it was better to share a bench with him than to sit across from him, staring into his face. Tom didn't welcome her warmly, but he didn't shun her either. It was the kind of non-reaction that typified most of their interactions these days. He continued eating, forking another bite as he looked to Seven.

"You were saying, Seven?" Tom said, raising the fork to his mouth.

"I do not understand the ritual of marriage. There is no obvious advantage of life-long mating as opposed to serial monogamy. Further, it seems to cause inefficiencies." Janeway glanced quickly at Tom as Seven spoke. He and B'Elanna had returned from their honeymoon only the week before, and she had no doubt that it was Tom's marriage that touched off Seven's concerns. She worked on her own food, content to be merely an observer in the conversation.

"Such as?" Tom's face was curious, his body language conveying interest. He wasn't put off or offended.

"It is my impression that when two people mate for like they often stay together, even when one or both are unhappy. It would be more efficient to end the union; for one or both mates to seek other partners and move on. Yet these unhappy parties often remain." Tom nodded, and Seven put down the utensil she was holding. "Is the act of life-long mating more important than the combined well-beings of both parties? If so, I fail to understand."

Tom attempted to reply to Seven in a variety of ways. At first, scientifically, and then anthropologically. Finally, he reflected on his own life. This answer was the one Seven seemed the most interest in. Seven opened her mouth to speak but then stopped, looking perplexed. Janeway knew this look. It was the one that Seven now got when she was about to ask a question that she (finally) realized might be too personal. Tom knew the look, too, and motioned her on without missing a beat. He was talking marriage and commitment with Seven while his former best friend sat only centimeters away from him. How much more awkward could this really get?

"You and Lieutenant Torres are from different backgrounds."

"True." Tom continued eating, looking undisturbed.

"Though sharing some character traits, such as work ethic, you ultimately have divergent personalities."

"True."

"You have twice remarked that the activities you choose to engage in together are the product of compromise, leading me to believe your hobbies and tastes also diverge."

"Also true." Tom was smiling now.

"With so many difference between you and your chosen mate, why do you believe you will be successful in a life-long commitment?" Janeway schooled her features, suddenly finding the food on her tray enthralling. Tom's comm badge chirped. It was the Doctor, and he was needed in Sickbay. It was the perfect out; the ideal get away, before which he could tell Seven that they would continue their conversation later. Janeway was shocked when he didn't take it. Instead, he leaned forward on the table, propping his head on one hand and smiling softly.

"You know, Seven, I don't know exactly." Janeway couldn't help but look at him when he started to speak. The honesty in his eyes, the serenity in his features. It was captivating, and she realized she hadn't seen him this way in some time. "What I do know is that I love B'Elanna and she makes me happy. That I would like to spend the rest of my life trying to make her happy. And though there are a million reasons why it shouldn't work- why no relationship should, really- at some point I think you just have to trust that you can read the person in front of you, and that you know where you stand."

"Like horses?" It would have been a comical question if Seven hadn't looked so intent on understanding him.

"You better believe it," he said winking at Seven, and then stood up. "Enjoy the rest of your dinner, Seven. Captain." As Paris retreated from their sight, the Captain smiled softly in the direction he'd exited. He didn't see it, and she didn't even realize she was doing it. After a few moments, Janeway returned her attention to Seven.

"Do you enjoy spending time with Tom, Seven?" Janeway hadn't finished her dinner, but the food no longer held her attention. Seven seemed to contemplate her words.

"Yes." Seven looked at the table and then back at Janeway. "Lieutenant Paris has interesting reflections on what it is to be human. He seems to respond sincerely to my questions, and is not easily offended." Seven paused. "There are times when my questions or statements may make him uncomfortable, but unlike other members of the crew, he chooses not to show this. He is. . . an easy companion." When Seven finished, Janeway smiled.

"Sounds like it."

Janeway's response confused Seven. The former borg's eyebrows knit together.

"When I first came aboard Voyager, you and Lieutenant Paris were considered friends." The smile fell from Janeway's face. "I do not understand why two people who have chosen to spend time together, who have common interests and character traits, stop considering the other a friend. Do you no longer find Lieutenant an easy companion, Captain?" Janeway sighed, not sure how to respond.

"I'm not sure that I can explain, Seven. There are many reasons two people can stop being friends. My own relationship with Tom is…"

"Private?" Seven finished. Janeway was going to say 'complicated', but she nodded at Seven's assumption. It was progress.

Two days later, Janeway was on her deck and called the turbolift. She'd volunteered to take the late shift this week, and she was heading to the bridge. The doors opened to reveal Tom. He was out of uniform, not surprising as it was his day off, and she guessed he was going to meet B'Elanna, who was just getting off duty.

"Captain," he greeted in a friendly tone, but his face remained stoic. She stood in front of him, facing forward

"Lieutenant." After a moments, she halted the lift and he looked at her questioningly as she turned to him. "I just wanted to thank you for taking an interest in Seven. Her transition to life as an individual has been a difficult one, as I'm sure you know. I think it helps her to know there are people who are comfortable with her, who like her. It helps me as well. " He eyed her for a moment before he responded, obviously picking his words carefully.

"My interest in Seven is genuine, Captain, not something I consider a duty. Don't get me wrong, she can be. . . challenging. And she rarely does something expected. But she always has interesting things to say." He smiled slightly. "And she never fails to be honest, no matter the consequences." She nodded and resumed the lift, facing forward. "Besides," he continued, "I remember what it's like to feel alone on this ship. To have someone who makes you feel that you belong- that you deserve to be here. It's a feeling I'm happy to give her." She resisted the urge to turn and look at him. Instead, she closed her eyes, willing the pressure that was now behind them to go away. When the lift doors opened on his deck, she let him out.

"Have a good evening, Tom." Her voice was warm, and he turned back around briefly.

"You, too, Captain. Good night." The lift doors closed behind him, leaving her alone with her thoughts. And the throbbing feeling of regret.

. . . . .

When she came to in Sickbay, she wasn't sure where she was. She was groggy, and her throat felt dry. She tried to lift her head, but it throbbed and she immediately regretted it.

"Easy there." It was Tom's voice. He was speaking softly and pressing his hand gently against her on the bio bed. As if she'd try again to get up after the first attempt.

"Head hurts." It was more a croak than a mumble.

"That's because you were thrown against the bulkhead in the Flyer. You suffered a concussion." She vaguely remembered. There had been a gravitational eddy. Or was it enemy fire? People were always firing at them.

"Why the hell did you let that happen? You're supposed to be my best pilot." Her voice was affectionate, familiar. His face grew concerned. "Maybe Crewman Paris fits you, after all."

"Captain," his tone was professional. Measured. Something about it made her more coherent and more uneasy all at the same time. "I wasn't flying. Ensign Jenkins was. She transported you to Sickbay just before you reached Voyager. Do you remember?"

"I. . ." It was all jumbled. She remembered Ensign Jenkins' panicky voice after she slammed against the side of the Flyer. But why hadn't Tom been with her? Why in the universe had she taken Ensign Jenkins? "I was getting up to refill my coffee. The ship jolted."

"Right. What else?" Tom was still talking in the same tone and it sounded strange to her.

"I remember the pre-flight checks. Tuvok hadn't wanted me to go." She was getting random flashes, but there were gaps in between. "I remember. . . I remember having breakfast with you before I left. I told you I thought Harry had a crush on Seven." He closed his eyes briefly, glad he hadn't yet reactivated the Doctor.

"Captain, you didn't have breakfast with me this morning." They'd only shared three meals together since his demotion, all with other officers present. They never gossiped.

"Of course we did." Even with her eyes closed, the room seemed to spin. Why was he calling her Captain when they were alone? Why did this all feel so strange?

"No, we didn't. We haven't had breakfast together in two years. You ate with Chakotay this morning. Do you remember?" Two years? They hadn't had breakfast together in two years? Tom's voice continued over the confusion in her head. "Stay still and rest for moment. I'm going to get the Doc." She felt his hand move from her shoulder and she instinctively reached for him.

"Tom?" It look him by surprise. His worry intensified, but he didn't try to move from her again.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay." Her voice sounded content though still groggy. She tried again to piece together the day in her mind. Ensign Jenkins hadn't been able to get around the gravitational eddy fast enough. They'd been out for an hour when it happened. She'd announced that she was taking Jenkins with her and Chakotay hadn't looked at her. Why?

She was holding onto Tom's arm now and he was grasping her hand with his free one. She could hear him talking to the Doctor, saying that she was disoriented. Someone pressed a hypospray to her neck. She heard the Doctor's voice again, and things began to clear. She'd had breakfast with Chakotay in her ready room. He'd scolder her for picking at her food, but she'd distracted him with the remark about Harry. She took Ensign Jenkins because she always took her now. She no longer took Tom. She'd demoted him. She'd demoted him, and then given his rank back, but they still didn't speak. He had just married B'Elanna.

She and Tom didn't speak, and he was married to B'Elanna.

Before the sedative the Doctor gave her took affect, she opened her eyes to look at Tom. He was still holding her hand, looking at her with thinly veiled concern.

"We're not friends anymore." It was a whisper, a quiet utterance of disbelief. Her eyes were filling with tears, and he was looking down at her softly.

"Shh. Rest. I'll be here when you wake up." As unconsciousness over took her, her hand fell from his arm. When he was sure that she was out, he released her hand, wiping the moisture from beneath her eyes before the Doctor noticed it.

When she woke up again, she could tell that she'd been out for hours. The lights in Sickbay were low, and she couldn't see anyone. Not that she had the courage to raise her head at the moment.

"Hey," it was Tom's voice beside her. She closed her eyes. She'd hoped he was gone, and it was just the Doctor. Her face must have said as much.

"That's no way to treat your medic." His tone was light. She could hear the sound of him scanning her, but didn't open her eyes again. "Well, Captain, your vitals are stable and you'll make a full recovery. The Doc wants you to stay here for a while though, and then he'll release you to your quarters. Would you like me to reactive him now?" What was the point? Activating the Doctor wouldn't get rid of Tom. She'd just have two problems to deal with, then.

"No."

"Alright." She heard the sound of the tricorder snapping shut. "I'm going to leave you to rest, and go into the office to catch up on a few reports." She'd been desperate to get rid of him, but now that he was willing to leave her, she felt panic swell within her.

"Tom?" She lifted her head. It was a mistake, and she regretted it immensely.

"Captain? What do you need?" She looked directly up, rather than at him. What did she need, exactly? She didn't answer him. After a few moments, he pulled a chair next to her bed. She could hear the sound of his breathing, but couldn't see him. "I can't exactly say that I want to do those reports. It's, more or less, updating medical records. Boring stuff, really." She still said nothing, and then she heard him sigh, followed by the movement of the chair away from her bed.

"No, Tom, don't go. I'm sorry." Silence. "It was strange before. Disorienting. My reaction was embarrassing at best." She felt him by her bedside, but he didn't touch her.

"I've found honesty is often embarrassing." She knew the tone of voice he was using. He was probably smirking, though not at her, exactly. "It's why I find Seven so fascinating. She's never embarrassed by her admissions, her questions. She just plows along." She felt pressure welling behind her eyes again, but ignored it. She wanted to apologize to him for treating him harshly, for casting him aside. She wanted to tell him that she missed him. Even when she was angry, she missed him everyday. Eventually, she'd used the longing to fuel her anger; it was an energy source she was sure would never be depleted.

But she didn't tell him any of these things. Instead, she looked over at him, squinting in the light.

"I don't suppose you have any reading material around here anywhere?"

"I may."

"Nothing containing Klingon sex, I hope." She realized as soon as she'd said it that the joke had lost its charm. It called to mind visions of B'Elanna and their marriage, and she felt a pit form deep within her stomach. Tom didn't seem at all put off. Instead, he smiled at her attempt at familiarity.

"Lucky for you, no. But I have a PADD in the office that has a few novels on it. I've been reading Victor Hugo as of late. Would you like me to go get it?" She nodded, not able to find her voice. He disappeared into the office briefly, and then reappeared, glancing over the monitors by her bed.

"Do you think I'll be able to talk the Doctor into letting me go back on light duty tomorrow?" She asked as he sat down again next to her.

"Nope." She had gotten pretty good over the years at talking the Doctor into things he didn't want to do. She wasn't convinced Tom was right. "If it even looks like you're making headway in that direction, I'm going to remind him of all things that could go wrong; of your complete inability to take things easy once he let's you go back on duty." She briefly pulled a face.

"Oh, really?" Her voice feigned frustration, but their was a smile playing at her lips.

"Yep. You're not going anywhere near your bridge for days, my dear." He hadn't called her anything but her title since she demoted him. It wasn't the same thing as using her first name, she realized. But it was a step. This all was going to be slow and painstaking, and they both knew it.

When Tom began to read aloud, she closed her eyes, content to hear his voice transport her to a far away place and time.

. . . . .

She sat at the desk in her quarters, trying her best to get through Tuvok's tactical report. Kathryn was tired and her head was pounding. It was the same headache she'd had for days. She thought about throwing in the towel and going to bed, but she realized the pain had progressed to the point that she wouldn't be able to sleep. She pulled on her boots with effort, and left her quarters for Sickbay. As she made her way between the decks, she prepared herself for the lecture the Doctor was going to give her. Too little sleep and not enough food. Too much coffee. It was the same conversation they'd been having for almost seven years. She thought glumly that it was the perfect ending to the perfect day. She'd begun her morning wading through status reports that detailed Voyager's woefully low supplies after their episode with the Quarrens. She followed it up with a staff meeting in which B'Elanna refused to look either at her or at Tom, Tom looked only at the table in front of him, and Seven looked at everyone interest. After she'd gone off duty, she ate dinner with Seven. It was their habit to eat together on this day every week and Tom now joined them, but he'd been conspicuously absent this week and she was profoundly relieved when Seven didn't pursue the matter.

She and Tom had finally begun to find a rhythm before having their memories wiped and being deposited into an alien work force. Their friendship hadn't been as effortless as it had once been years ago, but he called her by her first name and they spent time together, sometimes alone and sometimes with Chakotay or Seven or both. They even began to use his holoprogram of ancient Paris again. Before his demotion, they'd used it often, though only with each other. Tom had taken B'Elanna once and she'd hated it, and Kathryn didn't feel right about using his program without him. Tom had even joked once, lamely, 'we'll always have Paris'. She hadn't understood the reference until he explained it to her, and then they both laughed at the fact that he'd felt compelled to explain it at all. Using the program again the previous weeks, it felt like things had begun to return to normal, that they were finding their footing and moving on in a hopeful direction. And then they'd found themselves on Quarra, and everything became more complicated. Not that they'd known it at the time.

They'd met at the restaurant; he'd smiled at her while they were both talking to other people. A dazzling smile, she thought, with bluer eyes than she could ever remember seeing. Later, he'd asked her out on a date and she'd refused him. She wanted to say yes, but wanted to make him wait before she agreed. She was surprised when he only shrugged and said "if you say so," before leaving her alone at the table. When they saw each other after that, he was always friendly and asked her how her day had been or how she was liking her new job. He was sincere in his attentions but he didn't ask her out again, and she mentally kicked herself for her stubbornness. One night, when he was leaving the restaurant, she'd followed him out, calling his name once they were a block away. He seemed surprised when he realized she'd followed him. More surprised when she pushed him against the wall of the alley, balancing on her toes to press her lips to his. Dumbfounded when she inserted her tongue into his mouth and her hand under his shirt, stroking the soft skin around his belly button as she sucked on his bottom lip. They'd barely made it back to her place before they were shedding clothes, his hand stilling her as she started to undue her blouse.

"Please, let me," he said softly, and her breath caught in her throat. He undressed her slowly, trailing his mouth down her body as he went. "Why is it I feel like I've been touching you for years?" he murmured, his mouth on her hip. He was tugging off her pants and she was fighting to control her body.

"I'm not sure that's a compliment," she'd said teasingly, and then he pressed a kiss at the top of her leg, barely on the inside of her thigh. She gasped, and he stopped speaking, concentrating his attentions solely on her body.

Now, leaning against the side of the turbolift, she tried to will away the memory. She could still remember what it felt like when Tom had returned the favor of pressing her against a wall. How he kissed her neck and mouth and cupped her breasts as he drove her slowly to the brink. The way tears spilled from her eyes, though she had no idea why, as she called out his name. The dozen times he'd touched her after that, and how uniquely intense each coupling had been.

The lift doors opened and she tried to clear her mind, walking down the corridor to Sickbay. She wanted to block out the way Tom's head hung sitting on the bio bed after they were transported back to Voyager; the mournful sag of his shoulders and the fact that he angled himself away from her even though they were on opposite sides of the room. She tried, too, to forget the look of betrayal that she saw on B'Elanna's face. A look that she didn't understand when she'd first seen it on the planet, and that had made her, regrettably, cling to Tom's waist for reassurance. She closed her eyes as she rounded the corner, taking a cleansing breath as she walked through Sickbay's doors.

She stopped short when she realized Tom was there. He was in the office and out of uniform, his chin sporting a day's growth and his hair looking like he hadn't combed it. She could see his face through the glass, though he hadn't noticed her. He eyes were glued to the screen in front of him, and he'd obviously been crying. She quelled the urge to go to him, to comfort him. She assumed she could easily guess why he was so distraught, sitting here in the middle of the night. She should go, she decided. But before she could turn to leave, his eyes moved from the screen in front of him and he was staring at her. She knew she should leave, but something about the desolation in his eyes made her stay. It didn't even feel like he was looking at her, but past her. There was no accusation or affection, or even a recognition of her presence. His eyes fell from her, and she realized he was crying again. She instinctively moved forward, coming to kneel in front of him.

"Hey," she said, cocking her head slightly to the side. She didn't touch him or ask if he was okay. She just waited patiently while his tears continued to fall. Seeing him this way caused a throbbing pain deep within her. She could only imagine the conversations he'd had with B'Elanna; both of them had been completely silent in public about the ordeal. It was more worrisome than them fighting in the open, Janeway knew. Chakotay now eyed both Tom and B'Elanna with sympathy, but his gaze darkened when it found her. Was it anger and reproach, or just regret for all of them? Kathryn suspected it was the latter but strangely wished it were the former. Anger felt so much easier to bear right now than kindness. She was jarred from her thoughts when she realized that Tom had finally begun to speak.

"B'Elanna was pregnant," he said, his tears having stopped. Her eyes went wide and she grabbed his hand despite herself.

"Oh, Tom. I'm so sorry." Kathryn wondered if she'd lost the fetus because of what the Quarrens had done to them, or because of the physical stress on her body from it all being reversed. Physical and mental stress, she corrected, closing her eyes. She opened her eyes, and Tom was staring at her intently. He understood what she was thinking- had watched it, despite his upset, march across her face.

"No, Kathryn. It was weeks ago." Kathryn's thoughts flew to the accident in engineering weeks earlier, to B'Elanna's martial arts programs. Her mind raced. "She terminated it. Weeks ago." His tone was filled with disbelief and then confusion. "The doctor told her she was pregnant and she terminated it. She terminated, and she didn't tell me." Kathryn's mouth flew open but she said nothing. Tom was still looking at her, his bloodshot eyes filled with emotion, and she was crouched before him with no voice. "When we came back from Quarra, she told me." His tone was shifting from confusion to anger now, and Kathryn felt the hand she was holding clench of its own volition. "It wasn't that she thought I had a right to know that she single-handedly made a decision about our future. No. She just wanted to tell me that she'd expected this all along, that she knew I couldn't commit to our marriage." His jaw was raised indignantly. But his eyes were filled with self-loathing. Kathryn wanted to turn away, but she didn't. Perhaps she couldn't. "She said she was surprised that it took an alien planet and temporary amnesia, but that she knew, eventually, I would screw you. And when it happened, she hadn't wanted a child to suffer as she suffered when her father left her mother." As he finished, tears began to fall from his eyes again, but this time they were tears of scorn. Kathryn knew it was an anger that was directed inward as well as outward; an anger that blocked out everything but the gnawing pain.

Kathryn was sitting directly on the floor now, tears falling from her own eyes as she lay cross-legged at his feet. She leaned her forehead against his knee, and they both cried silently in the dim light of the office. Pressed against him, she thought he'd never felt so far away.