Tom

ooo

While my life is going great, I still have one big worry: Miral. I get the medical reports that state her illness hasn't kicked back in. When I talk to her, Miri seems to be a normal, happy little girl who chatters on about her new adventures in dayschool.

But at the hand-off, B'Elanna gave me three PADDs of medical instructions for her. The two must-dos: A weekly injection of antivirals and a monthly blood test and spine scan. This is where it gets sticky: Since Miri will be on Earth, B'Elanna wants Doc to do the tests at Starfleet Medical in San Francisco. I object to hauling the kid cross-continent, even if it is just three months.

Fortunately, Doc agreed and told me so when I called. "While I'd be delighted to see my goddaughter, I'd rather not subject her to the extra travel. Fortunately, there is an outstanding doctor close to your location."

"Great! Where?"

I could almost see his chest puff up with pride. "Dr. Janele Hibs, at the Federation Medical Center in Toronto."

I sat back, stunned. "Wait a minute," Kathryn, who was working from home that day, joined in. "That's on the Daystrom campus."

"Nothing in New York?" I asked.

"The New York medical centers don't have much expertise in Klingon illnesses," Doc said patiently. "Dr. Hibs has a great deal of expertise in Miral's illness, and she is familiar with her case."

I gave Doc a look. He returned it and went on. "When we were treating Miral, I checked my database for relevant literature. Dr. Hibs' name was prominent, so I consulted her. Her insights were very helpful. I did tell you and B'Elanna about this at the time."

He paused, then to my surprise, gave me a sympathetic look. "I realize that Miral's medical routine is new to you. But she will be in good hands with Dr. Hibs. I would not have suggested this otherwise."

Now that was a significant admission, so …

ooo

Federation Medical Center, Toronto

ooo

The transporter deposits us in the Medical Center lobby. Kathryn's on her way, so to distract Miral for a minute, I show her the campus map. Damn, this place is huge. I count at least a dozen buildings beside this one.

Kathryn comes in, looking breathless. "How do you find your way around?" I ask as I point to the map.

She chuckles. "I don't. My office is in the main building," she says as she taps a spot on the map. "I've never been over here."

ooo

I barely finish the check-in before we're called. The cheerful medical assistant makes Miral laugh as he takes her vitals and gets her ready for the exam. A few moments later, Dr. Hibs walks in. She introduces herself and takes care to make Miral feel at ease. "We're going to do the same kind of exam that Dr. Bonbo did on the Exeter," she tells Baby Girl.

"Dr. Bobo," Miri corrects. Dr. Hibs chuckles. "Well, Dr. Bobo says that you are an excellent patient and you should get a cookie after the exam. That sound right?" Miral just grins and nods her head. Kathryn is trying to hide a smile.

"Well, we just happen to have some cookies. Now, this part may be a little ouchie," the doctor begins as she picks up a blood-draw device.

ooo

Miral was very good during the scan, and I help her dress before the assistant, Doug, escorts us to Dr. Hibs's office. She's already there, chatting with Kathryn.

"Miral, you did a great job, so it's time for that cookie if it's OK with Dad," she looks over at me, and I nod. "Doug will take you to pick one out," she says.

They leave, and the doctor leans back in her chair. "First off, the scans look great," she says, swinging the vid screen so we can see the image of Miral's spine. "No lesions, and the spinal cord repairs look good." She swings the screen back. "Now, her viral load is up a bit. Traveling, changes in routine, the holidays are all stressors, but things should settle down. We'll continue with the antivirals that Dr. Zimmerman prescribed, but the next dose will be slightly higher to compensate. You know what problems to look for?"

I nod, Kathryn raises an eyebrow, which the doctor catches. "Do either of you have questions about the virus or Miral's treatment?" she asks.

"I have a basic understanding," Kathryn says. "But I'd like more information."

The doctor nods. "As you know, we're dealing with the Ylt virus, which aptly uses the Klingon word for 'walking.' It attacks the myelin surrounding the spinal cord nerves in the lumbar region. Most people of Klingon heritage carry it; research has found that it's passed from mother to fetus."

"This isn't related to the spinal curvature?" Dr. Hibs shakes her head. "Different issue. Unfortunately, genetic sequencing won't work for this."

"Doc … Dr. Zimmerman talked about the virus, but he told us the risk was very low," I say. Kathryn frowns slightly, and I suspect something's occurred to her.

"He's right: For the majority of Klingons and especially those of mixed heritage, it lies dormant," the doctor continues. "But in about 1 percent of the population, it activates. There's no definitive trigger: In older patients, it can seem to come out of the blue. But in many cases, it follows an illness or unusual stress." She looks at me. "The case notes say she'd had a mild case of Tarkian flu ..."

I nodded. "She was recovering; nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I put her down for a nap, and an hour later, she woke up screaming. When I tried to pick her up, she screamed even more and was having trouble moving her legs. She was in the hospital for almost four months ... first treatment, then therapy."

"Unfortunately," the doctor continues softly, "at the moment, there is no cure. All we can do is control the virus with medication and repair the myelin. In some cases, the virus spontaneously returns to dormancy. Unfortunately, we don't understand that process very well. But we're working on better treatments.

"In fact," she said as she quickly rummaged through a stack of PADDs, "there's a lot of buzz about a new drug developed at New York University. It just wrapped up clinical trials, and the results are promising. I've talked to Dr. Kristof Antal, who's the research lead. He tells me that once the drug is approved by Fed Med, they'll propose pediatric studies."

She puts down the PADD and leans back in her chair. "But that is the future. Fortunately, we don't need that kind of intervention right now. All indications are that Miral can have a normal life. My only caution is to make sure she gets enough sleep and quiet time; we don't want her to get overtired.

"Don't worry about her going to dayschool, to the playground, or to elementary school when she's ready. The antivirals will help protect her. If she gets interested in sports, especially contact sports, then I would urge you to get Dr. Zimmerman's guidance concerning her spinal cord repairs."

Miral and Doug come back, and we prepare to leave. Kathryn leans over and whispers to the doctor: "By the way, is the ship's doctor's name really Bobo?" The doctor grins and shakes her head. "No, it's Bonbo. He left a note in her records about that and the cookies."

ooo

Kathryn

ooo

"Mommy? I hear Mommy!" Miral yells, and it's all I can do to keep her from climbing out of the tub.

"Whoa, there," I say. "She knows you're taking a bath. Let's get you dried off and into your pajamas."

I'm trying to keep Miral occupied for the moment. Today was her first day in dayschool here, and B'Elanna's grilling Tom about it. From the bits I hear, Tom's trying to be patient.

"They're aware that she has the virus, and they're willing to work with us. Same with the daycare folks. And she'll only spend a full afternoon in daycare if I need to work late. Besides, you had her in daycare, right?

Another question ... "No, there aren't any other Klingon children. But there are Vulcans; they live near my studio, and some Bajorans, and I think a couple of Andorians. The dayschool folks are excited about adding Klingon cultural lessons to their activities."

I'm hearing some anxiety in B'Elanna's voice, which certainly explains the grilling, but it's still unusual. I've seen her angry, annoyed, exasperated ... though frankly, anxiety is not something you want your captain to see. And we aren't discussing a balky warp core.

Freshly dressed, Miral skips into the living room. where she climbs into Tom's lap and starts chattering about Her Day. B'Elanna's demeanor softens considerably as she listens to Miral talk, though she frowns slightly when kiddo interrupts herself with a big yawn.

"Did you have your nap?" she asks. Her tone is soft, but both Tom and I hear the accusation.

Miral is offended. "No nap. I'm big now," which brings a chuckle from all of us.

"Come on now, you're never too big for naps," Tom teases. "She slept for about an hour after lunch," he adds to B'Elanna. "And it is bedtime."

"Daddy, read now," Miral demands, and yawns again.

"I should get her to bed," Tom says gently, and B'Elanna nods. He nudges Miral. "Say goodnight to Mommy, and we'll go read."

Mother and daughter exchange goodnights and Tom carries Miri into the bedroom, leaving me and B'Elanna to look at each other.

"Where is she sleeping?" B'Elanna asks.

"We put her bed in my room," I reply. "We put up a curtain to give us both some space." I won't mention that Miral usually crawls into bed with us.

"So how do you like the Lumina?" I ask by way of distraction.

"It's a great ship," she says. "Harry can't get over the astrometrics equipment. That's good since he practically lives down there. Says the scanners are pulling in some interesting readings."

I have to be careful here. I don't know what B'Elanna's been told about the mission, so best to be noncommittal. "In many ways, it's still an uncharted area," I reply. "I'm sure whatever they pick up will be useful." At least, I hope it will be.

Kathryn

ooo

I'm relaxing with a glass of wine and a long-neglected novel when Tom finally emerges from the bedroom.

"Too excited to sleep?" I ask as he pours himself a glass.

"Yeah, I had to read two Toby Targ stories before she'd quiet down," he says as he settles into the chair across from me. "I'm sorry I left you in the lurch there. I should have signed off."

"You did," I allow, and he winces. "But B'Elanna and I do know each other, so perhaps it's a good idea to talk occasionally."

"Did she ask why you allow me to freeload off you?" he asks, and this time, I catch a note of resignation rather than his usual anger.

"No, and if she did, I'd tell her that I don't see you as a freeloader. Not that our relationship is any of her business as long as Miral is safe."

I debate my next words. I've not pushed Tom to tell me what happened in his marriage; it took him a while to talk about Miral's illness, and even then ...

"I get the impression that B'Elanna blames herself for what's happened," I open.

He's quiet for a moment, then finally nods. "I figured you'd put it together at the doctor's office."

"Well, all things considered," I reply softly, "she did want to change some of Miral's genetic makeup."

"Yeah ... So, the thing she hates about herself passed a devastating virus to Miri. And Miri will pass it to her children." He shook his head. "She was so angry at herself, at her mother and grandmother. I couldn't say anything ... do anything ... she'd go ballistic. So I just shut up; that was wrong, too. After a while, I just started to yell back, which just made things worse.

"It got so bad that we'd see Miral separately; at least we agreed that she shouldn't see how tense things were. My family figured it out pretty quick. Moira offered me her guest room, so I camped there for a couple of months."

He looks down at the floor for a moment, then sighs and straightens up. "I got some counseling … considered going back and trying to work it out." He shakes his head. "I couldn't do it. Couldn't handle any more fighting, or waiting for the next fight. When I told her that I got an apartment, she filed for divorce. He takes a breath. "So, I guess I'm the one who walked out on the marriage."

He sighs. "My counselor told me that many marriages break under the stress of having a child with a serious illness. Guess we didn't beat the odds."

What can I say ... "I'm sorry," is all I can offer, and I pat the spot next to me on the couch. He takes the invite and sits next to me.

"I didn't want to push on this, but ..."

"No, " Tom interjects. "I probably should have said something earlier, but I got here, and next thing I knew, I had a life again. I was afraid I'd ruin things by dumping my personal crap on you; you've had your own stuff to deal with. But it's only fair that you should know what you've gotten into."

"You wouldn't have ruined it; I'm always willing to listen," I gently admonish. I consider for a moment … "There are a few things I should tell you at some point."

"I do know about some of them," he says softly. "Losing your dad ... I know my old man thought a lot of the guy you were engaged to."

"Justin," I say quietly. "His name was Justin." He nods and pulls me close, and I gratefully tuck myself into his side. "The great, passionate, exhilarating love of your life?" he murmurs.

"Very much so," I murmur back.

"Makes you wonder," he whispers, "if that kind of love is even supposed to last."

I almost chuckle, but that would be downright cynical, and neither of us deserves that. "I think sometimes it does," I whisper. "But sometimes, maybe it just paves the way to something else. Maybe something better."

"I'll go with something better," he whispers back, and I feel rather than hear the words.

Later, though, I lay awake and contemplate what's worse: to have that love ripped away and live with the "what-ifs," or to watch it go up in flames and live with the anger and regrets.