"Are those Starfleet Orders specific for the Captain?" asked Kathryn, on auto-pilot, as the rush of adrenaline, relief, and joy began to fill her veins.

"No, Captain."

"I'll take them on the Bridge then, Harry," said Kathryn, trying to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

Orders from Starfleet aren't necessarily good.

Still, Kathryn could not keep herself from smiling as she dressed and then rushed towards the Bridge, not bothering to compose herself until right before the turbolift opened.

She moved quickly, sat down in her command chair, and gave the order.

As soon as she did so, she heard a familiar voice. Her face burst into a smile again.

Admiral Owen Paris

"Voyager," came the firm, official sounding voice, "You are under orders to head to the coordinates that accompany this transmission."

The voice continued, confirming the coordinates that had just played.

"You will continue to the Klingon world known as Asclepius. Once there you will rendezvous with the scientists there. With any luck they can speed your journey home."

Captain Janeway smiled even wider than she already was.

"These are your orders," continued the recording, "Once you verify the transmission and codes, send confirmation. Then leave the array immediately."

"Tuvok?" said the Captain, turning immediately to her security officer.

"The Starfleet codes are correct, Captain," he said nodding.

She sank contently into her Captain's chair as Harry's voice rang out, "The orders check out Captain. It's Admiral Paris' voice print and Starfleet's transmission signals."

"Well, Mr. Paris?" asked Janeway, as he finished tapping at his pilot console.

"It'll take us almost a month out of our way to reach those coordinates," said Tom, swinging around in his chair to face her, "And the official charts say there's nothing there. If my father's wrong we'll waste a lot of time on this detour."

"I haven't had an order from Starfleet in years," continued Kathryn, still smiling widely, "I plan on following it to the letter. We'll just have to trust the Admirals are right, and those Klingon scientists will be able to help."

"Send confirmation," she nodded to Harry, and then spoke to Tom again, "Take us out, Mr. Paris."

Tom turned around in his chair and pressed buttons. Chakotay was at her side in his chair. She turned, just because she could, to see both Tuvok and Harry. Her crew was back together, and could not help but revel in it.

A few moments later there were streaks of stars in the sky, buzzing past them in all their glory.

Just like it's supposed to be, thought Kathryn joyfully.

Kathryn's optimism did not stop her from immediately ordering as much research as could be done on Asclepius. She had ordered Chakotay to speak to B'Elanna, and any other members of the crew that were likely to have information on a Klingon planet.

Seven was still sick, and the planet was too far away for scanning, but she had also ordered Astrometrics to do what they could.

After a half hour of overseeing the Bridge, she had headed to her Ready Room to do research in the ship's computer. About 6:00pm Chakotay came to report.

"I didn't find out very much," he said, shaking his head as the doors closed behind him, "B'Elanna says it's a world of healing. More specifically, she says it's a mythical world of healing. Like Avalon in the old King Arthur stories."

"The computers don't have much either," said Kathryn, standing up at her desk and coming over to the couch, "There's nothing official or confirmed, just vague references to people setting out for it."

"So we're not even sure it exists," said Chakotay.

"Starfleet ordered us there," answered Kathryn, "We've been to plenty of mysterious places before. I wouldn't be surprised if a place that didn't exist was the only one who could get us home."

Chaktoay smiled amusedly at her response.

"It really hasn't been that long, relatively speaking, since we've been allies with the Empire," said Kathryn casually, almost shrugging, "And B'Elanna was raised in the Federation, mostly around humans. I suppose we shouldn't be shocked there are things she and the Federation database don't know."

"Maybe Gretchen knows something," added Kathryn, shaking her head.

"I doubt it," answered Chakotay, "As big a fan as she is of Klingon culture, she doesn't have much experience with it. She really doesn't know anything that she didn't hear from B'Elanna or read in the computer."

He winced a bit, as if pained.

"How's she doing?" he asked quietly, breathing in deeply, "The Doctor said she had another reaction last night, that it wasn't serious, but you stayed with her."

"She's…hurting," said Kathryn, not knowing another word for it.

"Maybe you should give her some space for now," added Kathryn gently.

His eyes became distant, and sad, and he turned, looking out the Ready Room window for a long moment.

Finally he answered her, "If Asclepius really is a place of healing," he said, very quietly, but holding her gaze, "Maybe it's good we're going there."

Kathryn nodded seriously.

"We could all use some healing," she answered quietly, looking down suddenly, feeling numb.

I don't deserve it.

Gretchen felt awful and nauseous as she awoke in Tuvok's Quarters late that evening. Her muscles were no longer shaking and cramping, but somehow she felt sicker than when they had been.

She was exhausted but no longer sleepy.

I don't feel like existing right now, she thought, staring at Tuvok's impassive face, wondering if she should apologize for intruding in his Quarters.

"The Doctor suggested you eat something when you awoke," said Tuvok evenly.

Leave it to a Vulcan to be completely unfeeling, one way or the other.

"I have replicated you some Vulcan Guava juice," he said, handing her a mug, "It is often drunk after an illness on my home planet.

Or not, thought Gretchen, too tired to smile.

The juice was cool, and had a soothing texture.

She drank it all and was surprised to find she did feel better.

And mom says I should stay away from home remedies.

And I just thought of the Captain as my mother, she thought, looking off for a moment.

It felt strange, but she did not flinch, Well, it's true. She answered herself impassively.

She and Tuvok sat in companionable silence for a long time. She drank another cup of juice and an hour passed with them saying nothing.

Just as she began to feel better, the doorbell rang.

The doors opened and she was surprised to see it was Tom Paris.

"The Doc's been monitoring your vitals," said Tom, "He said the salve should be about worn off by now. I came to see if you wanted to go to the party."

"What party?" asked Gretchen in surprise, "Didn't we just have one?"

"We did," said Tom, "But this one is really low-key. Everyone is going to read their letters…..the parts that are sharable anyway. Neelix thought it would be a good bonding experience."

He shrugged, "It does sound kind of fun."

Gretchen stared at him and blinked, still seated and weak. It felt like 1,000 years since she had left Tuvok's low lit Quarters. The wider world had come knocking at her door.

She had forgotten it existed.

"You could've visited me when I was sick," said Gretchen, surprising herself by her frank accusation, and the irritation that accompanied it.

"You could've told us you were sick," Tom shot back easily, "I had to work today, and I thought you were enjoying your vacation, until I asked where you were at dinner."

Yeah, I didn't exactly tell him did I?

Gretchen looked down at the floor, shoulders slumped, uncertain how to feel. Not sure why she was upset, or if she had a right to be.

"Hey," said Tom, "We probably would've noticed sooner on any other day. Everyone was getting letters. A bomb could've exploded in the Mess Hall and no one would've looked up. But we didn't leave you out on purpose and I'm here now to catch you up."

Is that why I was upset? Because I felt left out?

Gretchen sighed, somehow finding herself looking at Tuvok for guidance.

The older man nodded, very formally, and Gretchen got up, thanked the Vulcan, and left the room with Tom.

Thomas would've noticed sooner, whispered a voice in Gretchen's head as they entered the turbolift.

It was dark, and nasty, and the loneliness ate through her stomach, even as she stood straight up.

Thomas used to shut himself up in his lab for days on end, came another voice in her head, You just weren't so insecure then.

Is that what I am? Insecure?, she questioned herself.

It hurt.

"You look awful Gretch," said Tom, looking at her pale, pained face, "I really am sorry about leaving you alone."

"I know," said Gretchen, quietly.

"That salve sounds terrible," he said in camaraderie.

"It isn't," said Gretchen, not explaining.

I really am the last one standing, thought Gretchen, it finally coming to the surface. My crew really is dead. They're not coming back. They should be here, with their parents.

We're going to get home. Back to Earth, and they won't be there.

Suddenly she keened, just once. Tears started down her cheeks as she stared soberly at the wall, trying to push the emotions back in.

She vaguely heard Tom stop the turbolift.

"Hey," he said gently, putting both hands on her shoulders, "What's wrong?"

The voice was so soft, and so familiar, that the words tumbled out like a waterfall.

"He's dead. They're dead. And it's my fault," she said suddenly, voice chocked out as her face collapsed into sobs.

"Hey," said Tom, shaking her slightly, "It's not your fault."

"He'd be alive, he'd be alive if it weren't for me. He should've come back here but….." Gretchen chocked and rubbed her hand across her wet face, "He died to protect me, he should've come back himself…"

Gretchen breathed in heavily, shaking now, "Your son, he died because of me."

She made herself look at Tom, and registered his surprise.

"Gretch," he squeezed her shoulders again, hard this time, but his voice was very soft and he held her gaze gently, "It's not your fault."

"It is," said Gretchen, voice impossibly high, slurred and fast, "It is my fault. He was the genius. He should've come back here. But he couldn't dare to watch me die….or something. He was going to come back with me, but, but he lied…..he couldn't…..there were only two of us left but…..it could only be one person…..and he chose me. He said he'd meet me in the Klingon afterlife….but I don't even know if there is one and you know….. you know what right now, he's just gone."

Gretchen was crying, but gazing through the tears in her eyes, the emotion on Tom's face no longer seemed to be concern, but almost relief.

As the long moment dragged on, where she stared at him in silence, she realized that the emotion was pride.

It infuriated her, "He loved me," said Gretchen heatedly, "He loved me and I killed him."

"He was the best," her speech sped up again, as she tripped over the words, "Everyone loved him. He was the best, and you'll never even meet him. 22 and a genius. Your son. You have no right to….you should be mad and….." Gretchen sputtered off into the distance, so angry and conflicted she could not speak.

She knew she should have continued to spare Tom the pain of speaking of his son, but now that she had she was only furious.

"Gretch," said Tom, very softly, stroking her face now, holding her gaze again.

She looked at him, and he continued speaking, very slowly, "I used to be 22. I used to be a 22-year-old man, and I was an idiot. I watched my friends die for…..nothing. Pride, recklessness, stupidity…..trying to prove we were cool. You're telling me my son died because he was protecting someone he loved. That he had friends and a ship he loved and people that loved him back, and valued him for who he was."

"Gretch I didn't have that at 22," Tom said, gently, but very forcefully, "I didn't have that at 22. But you can bet if I had, it would've been worth dying for."

The tears would not stop, and she continued to gaze at Tom helplessly.

"Gretch I can hear from the way you talk he had a good life," he continued, a familiar assurance in his voice, "It was short, but it was good. And even though maybe I'll never meet him, I'm proud to call him my son."

The last note he said was high, and she could see now that he was crying too.

Gretchen sobbed, and opened her arms, falling into Tom's embrace.

Thomas would be glad, thought Gretchen hazily, through the tears, Thomas would be glad.