"We may be going home."

Gretchen laughed a bit, at his serious tone, "We're always almost going home Tom."

"Yeah, but this one seems serious," he said, holding her gaze. He proceeded to tell her all the details about The Bridge.

"I know stuff like this has come up before," said Tom, sighing, "But I really have a feeling this is the one."

"You're not happy about it?" said Gretchen, avoiding her own feelings for the moment.

"I'm not not happy about it," said Tom, glancing at her, "But I almost have my life the way I want it. Finally. And this is going to throw another kink in it. And what's in the Alpha Quadrant for me anyway? My dad who wishes he could disown me like Naomi's father? My mom's decaying dead body? All the people I've ever disappointed?"

Tom's face was tight, and Gretchen could almost physically feel his pain.

There was nothing she could do about his loses. It hurt.

"What do you mean your life is almost the way you want it?" she said suddenly, springing on that statement.

"Oh, that," said Tom, looking away for a moment, his face softening, and his eyes becoming nervous, "B'Elanna said she'd marry me."

"She did?" asked Gretchen in surprise.

"Her temper on her eyes burned itself out. We talked about it, and we're getting married."

"You're the first to know Gretch," Tom insisted, "I haven't even told Harry yet."

"Why not?"

"Well, he's still been moping a bit, and I figured I'd at least wait until you were back."

Gretchen nodded.

"Is Harry going to be best man?" she asked.

"Yes," said Tom, "And you can be flower girl."

"I'm not that young," answered Gretchen disapprovingly.

"You're the second youngest on this ship," said Tom seriously, "Besides, it's not exactly going to be a traditional Earth wedding. B'Elanna didn't want any fuss, no attendants for herself, and no dress, she didn't even want to walk down the aisle. But I want a real wedding, as much as I can have one out here. This is a major thing. I want to make a big deal of it."

"You could walk down the aisle," said Gretchen jokingly.

"I might," said Tom seriously, and Gretchen began to realize how important the wedding was to him.

"Can I give you away?" she asked suddenly.

"Gretch…..that's kind of stupid," protested Tom, "I'm not a girl. And you're not my father…..or even older than I am."

"So?" said Gretchen stubbornly, "I'm your family aren't I?"

"I…..alright," said Tom, shaking his head and laughing at the same time, "If I do walk down the aisle, you can give me away."

Gretchen looked off suddenly, as her face fell with grief for a moment.

I never thought this day would come like this, but it's something.

It's good, thought Gretchen, somewhere deep in her heart, even while it ached for a past that was gone.

I need to do something about my pain, thought Gretchen, Well...I am off tomorrow.

It's time...it's time I did my memorial.

Captain Janeway returned to her usual routine on Voyager. The ship continued to make good progress on the star charts.

Two days after the Briefing Room meeting they finally held Kh'thoh's funeral. Kathryn had checked with Asclepius, who had confirmed that he had no known family and no wishes for his body. They had suggested that Voyager burn it.

The ceremony in the Mess Hall was short and small. The Doctor, herself, and Tuvok all had official roles. Gretchen was the only attendee, and she arrived at the last minute and left as soon as it was over.

She clearly doesn't want to talk about it yet.

Kathryn had some qualms about working with Asclepius after what she had seen on the planet and Kh'thoh's death. She had asked Gretchen to write an official report the day before. Although brief, it had confirmed her own observations and the Doctor's autopsy.

Kh'thoh had killed himself, a traditional ending to the "healing" trial on Asclepius, for those who could not more on.

She watched as Tuvok lit the pyre. The Doctor had hidden his body with a white shroud, but there was no forgetting the violent marks, or who had inflicted them.

Taking his actions, I'm sure he had already decided before he touched foot on the planet.

I knew something was wrong, but I just couldn't get him to talk.

I should've forced him.

Klingon culture can be brutal. Kathryn had heard rumors that injured warriors were sometimes encouraged to commit suicide. But she had never seen it in person. Maybe I didn't really believe something like that could exist in this century. In a Federation allied culture.

Barbaric.

Janeway shuddered as the flames leaped up and began to destroy the body.

As she felt the heat, she glanced at Gretchen, at her daughter who was so wounded, who had nearly failed the trial. Who had failed.

Allies we may be, but I'm glad to be Federation.

Captain Janeway straightened her shoulders, as the fire turned the body into ash.

Asclepius may be helping us with their charts, but I'll be glad to get away from here as soon as possible.

The rest of the day was long and tiring. Kathryn was worried as she went to bed, but knew she had to wait.

It was almost a week later when she had a visitor in her Ready Room at night.

The auburn haired woman entered the room, looking nervous and holding a turquoise bag.

"I wondered if you wanted to talk," said Gretchen, "When you have time I want to show you something serious."

"I have time." said Kathryn, turning her computer off and standing.

There's nothing that can't wait until tomorrow. And you're important.

"I don't..." said Gretchen, "I'm not sure I should show you this. But you're the only one that really knows about my past. And I want to show it to you."

"Then you should," said Kathryn, nodding and coming closer, holding her daughter's gaze, "It doesn't mean anything you don't want it to mean."

I wonder what it is.

Kathryn looked as Gretchen pulled a wooden item out of the turquoise bag. It was almost a box, but it had several sides to it, and a kind of handle on top which looked like it turned.

"It's a prayer wheel," said Gretchen simply, handing it to her.

Kathryn looked closer and noticed, with a realization in her stomach, that there were seven sides. There were names on them, and she knew what they would be before she read them.

She turned it gingerly in her hands, and read them anyway.

Mary Paris

Philip Coleman

Alan Quinn

L'Naal Paris

Jeremy Quinn

Thomas Paris

Lynna Kim

Gretchen's crew.

Kathryn turned the box reverently and slowly, reading every name to herself, picturing each face and what she knew about them.

Most of them I've only seen as phantoms on that awful planet. She thought sadly. A crew I'll never meet.

She looked at Gretchen's face and saw her staring back, luminous brown eyes open and intent.

Not in this life anyway.

She handed it back to Gretchen gently, nodding deeply in approval, "It's beautiful Gretchen. That's a very meaningful way of honoring your crew."

"I put them in order of their ages," said Gretchen, taking the prayer wheel back, "I thought it seemed the most fitting. I made it myself this past week. I thought I might inlay it eventually...if daddy and I ever make up."

Gretchen looked away for a moment and then changed the subject, "It turns," she said, using the handle. Kathryn was shocked to hear a chorus of bells.

"How did you come up with that idea?"

"Tuvok," said Gretchen.

"He's been holding out on me," said Kathryn, half-jokingly.

"There are large prayer wheels in Vulcan monasteries," said Gretchen, licking her lips nervously, "I saw them at a Vulcan exhibit on Earth. We saw them together," finished Gretchen, holding her gaze.

"What?" said Kathryn, blinking in shock.