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It was lonely in the dark vacuum of space, lonelier still when there had been no other being with whom to share one's thoughts, one's feelings, for millennia -- no beings to weave new connections for. This was existence only at its broadest possible meaning. So many times she had felt in the distance the passing of other beings, so near, yet never near enough for her to touch, only to tantalizingly sense and then move on, out of range of even that smallest of sensations. How could she go on... alone? Perhaps, just perhaps, if she allowed herself to drift, to spread herself on the minute traces of solar wind that made it this far away from any living system, perhaps if she willed herself to, she could dissolve, float out, away and into nothingness. She could no longer bear simply to be.
She contemplated the end of her existence.
Just as she had decided to proceed with her final plan, the faint echo of sentience brushed across her perception. Against her will, she felt hope swell once more. Maybe... maybe this time they would come close enough for her to feel them, to touch their minds if only for a moment. A voice deep within warned her not to hope, but that part of her that had been starved for another presence for so long soared over her doubts. Maybe this time...
Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris wasn't having the best week of his life. First, he'd contracted some Delta Quadrant strain of the flu. The doctor had deduced he had been infected over two months before, during their last supply stop before entering this starless void. It had lain dormant in his system, taking an inordinately long time to incubate, until finally it manifested itself in chills, fever and a general feeling of weakness, not to mention the dreams that had haunted his sleep. But the doctor had implored him to see the bright side.
"If it weren't for the Zancretian antibiotic supplies we managed to secure from those Barlegian traders, you'd be in much worse shape."
"Thanks for the encouraging words, Doc," he'd retorted, sarcasm dripping from every word as he sat wearily on the edge of the examining table.
Because of the fever, he had been confined to sickbay for two days. Now he'd been allowed to return to his quarters, but he couldn't go back on duty for at least three more days. Even though the fever had abated, he was still having nightmares. It was as if all the bad things that had ever happened to him in his life were replaying themselves in his unconscious mind, and so he found himself pacing back and forth, back and forth -- anything to avoid going to bed.
He hadn't told the doctor about them initially, but then, feeling he had to tell someone or risk going crazy, he'd confided in Harry Kim, Voyager's Operations Officer and his best friend. He'd asked Harry not to tell anyone, but out of his concern, the ensign had finally told the doctor, not the content of the dreams, but their disturbing nature. Tom had been angry with Harry at first for the breach of trust and had let him know it. He grimaced at the unpleasant memory. Now he was feeling a little guilty about coming down so hard on the sensitive young man. After all, Harry had only done it because he'd been worried. The thought of that consideration warmed Tom's heart a little, but not enough to block out the coldness of the dreams.
He rubbed a weary hand across his face. He was tired, the hour was late, and he knew he had to try and get some rest. The doctor had prescribed a sedative and had given him a dosage to administer to himself when he was ready to sleep, but Tom was a little hesitant to do so. Suppose it didn't blot out the nightmares, but only made it harder to escape them?
He heaved a sigh, picked up the hypospray and headed for his bed. He had very little choice in the matter. After all, if he didn't get some rest, he'd never regain his strength and get back on duty. One of the truly wonderful things in Tom Paris' life was being able to pilot a starship as great as Voyager. Just the experience of controlling all the strength of the big ship was exhilarating. Adding to that, the respect and admiration he'd gained from the captain and the rest of the crew, he could think of nothing in the universe he'd rather be doing. Having to give that up, even for a short time, was depressing in itself without heaping on the weight of his past haunting him every night.
He laid back on the bed and pressed the hypospray against his arm. Almost immediately he began to feel its effects. For a few seconds, he stared at the featureless ceiling of his quarters, trying to concentrate on how wonderful it felt to sit behind the controls at Voyager's con and pilot the ship through the vastness of unexplored space. To experience the beauty of orbiting a brightly colored planet surrounded by a multitude of twinkling stars. Soon, his eyelids were too heavy to keep open and his mind began to drift. Hold on to that image, he implored himself, but the lights faded and the darkness increased.
Captain Kathryn Janeway was having trouble sleeping. There were nights when the hopelessness of their situation seemed to engulf her usually indomitable spirit and she wondered if it was really the best thing to commit her ship and her crew to a journey that many of them might never live to see completed. Might it not have been better to accept their fate, to find some Earth-like world and begin new lives right here in the Delta Quadrant? How long could people live on hopes and dreams that were so very far away? In the beginning, she hadn't even given it a second thought. Of course they would return to their own quadrant of space, no matter how long it took. Kathryn signed. And besides, there was always the hope of finding a way to get home faster.
But the weeks had turned to months and the months to years. All those people they had left behind, had they gone on with their lives? Had they mourned their loved ones aboard the lost starship then moved ahead? What about Mark? Had he given up all hope of her ever returning? Was he still waiting for her? A part of her prayed he was, that he hadn't given up, and yet, was it fair to wish that the man she loved had condemned himself to spending the rest of his life waiting for a woman who might never return?
Bounding up from the bed, Janeway strode across the room, and knelt down on the sofa. Laying one arm across its back, she looked out the window into the darkness that surrounded the ship. Restlessly her eyes searched the inky blackness. The stars were still there, but they were fainter, they seemed so much further away here in this void. Maybe that was why she had allowed herself to fall victim to the old melancholia. No crises, no contact with new species for weeks had left her with too much time to dwell on the downside. Closing her eyes, she scolded herself, her mind speaking in her most commanding tones. She wasn't just a woman, she was a starship captain, and starship captains had to put their feelings on hold for the sake of their crews.
Then, something occurred to her. If she was wrestling with these thoughts and feelings, perhaps the same thing had affected her crew. As she thought about it, she realized everyone had seemed a little quieter recently, especially on the bridge. She had put part of that down to the fact that Tom Paris had been absent due to his recent illness. The doctor had assured her that the impertinent young lieutenant would be able to resume his duties in a few days. She would be glad of that. Paris always brought a lightness to the bridge with his cocky attitude and somewhat earthy sense of humor. It was his way of dealing with his own tensions and she had come to depend on it more than she realized to ease those of the bridge crew as well.
But there was nothing else for it. Until Paris was recovered enough to return, she would have to try her own brand of humor. Perhaps she'd even speak to Neelix in the morning. The self-proclaimed "morale officer" came up with some pretty outlandish ideas to cheer up the crew, but she had to admit, they were never dull.
Feeling a little better at having identified the problem and formulated a plan of action, she went back to bed. After all, even starship captains needed sleep.
For the first time in centuries, she rejoiced. They were coming closer, so close now that she was beginning to sense their thoughts. Oh, and there were so many! So many minds, all individual, each with its own memories and emotions. Sensations she had forgotten were reawakening within her being. For some time, she had been happy just to revel in the wash of their pattern. But now, they were close enough that she could isolate individuals, touch their minds ever so softly, and experience each small microcosm of their existence. Even the most mundane of everyday thoughts was rousing to her. Such a variety of memories, ideas and emotions. These were complex beings. Each a whole unto itself, and yet united in a common purpose. She could feel it to some extent in each. She would concentrate on one for a moment, then move to another, adding their essence to her own, making herself whole again. She was so happy and so grateful for their presence.
Most seemed to be quiescent, asleep. She assimilated the concept. How interesting! These were beings with physical bodies, bodies that required a period of rest in order to function properly. It was this embodiment that separated them from each other, and yet, they communed with each other on other levels. Through networks of language. A new form of creating links. How fascinating! She had never experienced corporeal existence. What great joy she would find in learning about them, in weaving connections between them.
Her mind sought contact with one individual after another, only tasting, making note of each newfound friend for further study later. They were coming closer still, even if they passed on by and moved beyond her reach, she still had time to experience them and the pattern of them would sustain her existence for a very long time. She was so happy!
Suddenly, her thoughts perceived a flood of darker emotions. Fear. Pain. Great loss and sadness. Aloneness. The pain was almost too great for her to bear. Such isolation. One of her friends was in distress and she concentrated her mind on his. He was sleeping, and yet, his mind was in turmoil. He was fighting to awaken, and he could not! The dark images that flooded from his dreams to her sight were terrifying. She wanted more than anything to help him, but how could she? How could she reach him?
Concentrating all her energy she focussed on her suffering friend. If she could just manage it. Using all she perceived of their form as a model, she projected herself to his side and suddenly, she was experiencing something completely new to her existence. She was standing, yes, that was it, standing in his... quarters. Yes, his private place, away from the others. She could... see... her surroundings. A darkened room. A... bed, yes, that was it. And on it, the man whose mind had called to her. He was in the sleep state, and yet his body was tense, his limbs twitched, his head rocked from side to side, and he cried out, but there was no one to hear. No one but her. She tried to reach out to him, but her form was not solid. For all her power, she was not able to make physical contact with these people.
She tried to touch his mind with hers, but in his state, she could not break through his nightmares. Then she remembered, these beings communicated using... language. This much, perhaps, she could accomplish.
//Peace,// she thought to him. //Be at peace.// But he couldn't hear the words.
He was becoming even more agitated now, and she was frantic to help him. There must be someone, some other being on board this ship who could help him. She took into herself the resonance of his being, then sent out her mind to probe the rest of the ship. Was he so unique unto himself that there was none other that bore his mark?
Suddenly, she found it! There was a distant sameness in one other aboard the ship. She concentrated once more and found herself in another room, this one larger than the suffering one's. There was another being asleep on the bed, but her sleep, though troubled, was more serene. She let her mind touch this other's.
//You must awaken. There is one who needs you.//
The sleeping being's head moved slightly.
//I mean you no harm, but you must awaken... Kathryn.// Yes, that was her... name. How interesting! The individuality of this species required such a devise, not only to distinguish themselves to others, but to create for themselves a sense of their own being. She pushed those thoughts aside. There would be time for such reflection later. Now, her friend was in great need.
//Kathryn, listen to me. You must awaken and go to...// she sought out her friend's name //...Tom. You must help Tom.//
Suddenly, Kathryn's eyes flew open and darted around the room, but there was no one there.
Fascinating, she cannot see me! This form is not really a part of their existence. But I can touch her mind.
//Kathryn.//
"Who's there?" Janeway demanded. There was no answer. "Computer, scan for intruder."
"Scanning," came a disembodied voice. "No intruder found."
Taking a deep breath, the captain closed her eyes and put her hand to her forehead. "I must have been dreaming," she concluded.
//No!// She could not dismiss the warning. Tom needed her. //You must go to Tom.//
"Who's there?" she asked again. "I'm not just losing my mind, am I?" she asked uncertainly.
//He is in great distress. You are like him. You can help him. You must go quickly. I mean you no harm. But you must go now!// With all her strength, she tried to impart not only the urgency, but her own desire only to help. //I cannot reach him. Only you can help him.//
As strange as it seemed, Janeway found herself believing the voice in her mind. There was no danger to anyone but Tom. There was more than one "Tom" on board Voyager, but somehow she knew who the voice meant. Without another thought, she ordered the computer to connect her to Tom Paris' quarters. Several seconds dragged by and Janeway frowned at the computer's disembodied response.
"Lieutenant Tom Paris has not responded."
Her sense of urgency was growing almost overwhelming. Something was wrong. Quickly grabbing her robe, she dashed out of her quarters and headed for her pilot's. All the way, she felt the presence with her, urging her to hurry. She reached the door and rang the chime. There was no answer.
"Tom? Are you in there?" she called. As she listened, she could hear him crying out as if someone were hurting him. It suddenly occurred to her that she had no weapon.
//There is no danger to you. His mind is trapped in terror. You must help him,// the entity pushed.
Hesitating only for a moment, Janeway spoke the command override code for the door. It opened and she rushed inside.
Tom Paris was on his bed thrashing about in the throes of a nightmare.
"No!" he screamed. "Can't pull up! Controls won't respond!"
Quickly, she moved to his side, sank down on the bed and grasped his shoulders.
"Mr. Paris, wake up!" she commanded. "Tom, can you hear me?" There was no response. "Tom! It's only a nightmare. Wake up!"
"Please, no! Not again!"
//Help him!//
"I'm trying!" she cried out. She thought for a moment, then grabbed Paris' com badge lying on the bedside table. "Emergency transport, two to sickbay. Energize."
The dark room faded around her to be replaced by the bright lights of Voyager's medical facility. Tom's bed had been replaced by a diagnostic biobed.
"Activate Emergency Medical Hologram."
The doctor materialized immediately. "Please state the nature of..."
"Doctor, Mr. Paris is trapped in some kind of nightmare and I can't wake him." She brushed a sweat-dampened lock of hair back off his face.
Tossing his head from side to side, the lieutenant cried out, "No, I can't stop it! Please, don't let it happen again!"
For a moment, the computerized features of the medical officer seemed perturbed at not being allowed to complete his pre-programmed query... yet again. But the gravity of the situation took hold immediately.
"It's the sedative I prescribed," he explained as he moved to a nearby cabinet and retrieved a hypospray. "I had hoped it would allow him to sleep without being disturbed by these nightmares. It seems I was mistaken." His tone clearly indicated his dislike at being proven wrong. He put the hypospray to Paris' neck and, with a whoosh, administered the medication he had prepared. "This stimulant should counteract the sedative."
"No!" Tom cried. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, don't turn away. Dad!"
He grasped Paris' arm and shook him. "Lieutenant, can you hear me? You must wake up. You are having a nightmare. Wake up!"
"Mr. Paris!" Janeway called, using her most urgent command tone. "You will wake up immediately!"
The reaction was swift. His eyes flew open and he bolted upright on the bed. "No!"
"Tom!"
All at once, the terror-filled expression was replaced by one of confusion. He blinked rapidly, shaking his head in an effort to clear it, then squeezed his eyes closed for a moment.
"Tom?" Janeway placed her hand on his right arm. The doctor still held his left. "It's all right, Tom. It's over. You were dreaming."
Paris struggled to catch his breath and regain his composure. "Y-yeah," he sighed, wiping at his face with a trembling hand and disconcerted to find it damp with tears. "I guess that sedative of yours wasn't such a good idea, huh, Doc?"
"It seemed the proper course of treatment at the time," the doctor defended. "But it does appear that it didn't alleviate the problem as I had hoped." His expression softened. "I am sorry, Mr. Paris."
Tom forced a weary smile. "It's okay, Doc. You were just trying to help. But I have to admit. If I have to have these nightmares, I'd just as soon be able to wake up from them." He glanced around, seeming to realize for the first time where he was. "How'd I get here?"
"The captain brought you," the doctor explained.
Tom frowned up at him, then turned toward the captain questioningly.
"I found you in your quarters and when I couldn't wake you, I had us transported here."
"What time is it?" he asked.
"3:27 a.m. ship time," the doctor responded. One of the advantages of being a computer simulation was having immediate access to such information.
Paris looked at Janeway in confusion. "Captain, not that I'm not grateful for the rescue, but why were you coming to see me at 3:30 in the morning?"
Janeway sighed, rested one hand on her waist and rubbed the other across her forehead. "To tell you the truth, Tom, I'm not sure." What she wasn't sure about was how she was going to explain her "little voice" to anyone, especially with the ship's chief medical officer standing by, without it sounding like she was losing her mind. "Let's just leave it to good fortune for now, shall we."
"O-okay." Tom's curiosity was obviously piqued, but he didn't want to press his commanding officer for an explanation at the moment.
"Right now, I want to know about these nightmares. Are they a symptom of this Deltan flu?"
"More like a side effect," the doctor supplied. "I had hoped they would stop once his temperature had returned to normal."
"Obviously, they haven't," the captain observed. Turning to Tom, she placed her hand on his arm again. "Anything you'd like to talk about?" she invited. "Sometimes it helps."
Paris shook his head. "I talked to Harry about them. They didn't go away. They're... not very pleasant."
Janeway inclined her head at the doctor and, understanding, he immediately moved away. "Was it... Caldik Prime?" she probed gently. When he looked at her in surprise, she explained, "You were calling out."
Paris considered for a minute, and she could almost see him replaying the shuttle accident over once more, seeing the faces of friends who had died. The crash had been unavoidable, but he had made the mistake of lying about certain aspects of the situation in fear of Admiral Paris' wrath at yet another failure by his only son. No one would have known the truth, but Tom Paris had. Unable to live with the lie, he admitted it and ended up being cashiered out of the service.
In response to the captain's question, he nodded. "It's always either that or when something I did when I was a kid or at the academy or my time at the prison colony on New Zealand. But it always comes out the same in the end."
"With your father's disapproval?"
Tom laughed nervously. "What are you, Captain, suddenly telepathic?"
"You called for him not to go away."
"Yeah, well," he shrugged, "guess I've given him lots of reasons to just wash his hands of me."
Janeway shook her head. "No, Tom. I'd say you've given him lots of chances to be there for you and he wasn't."
He glanced up at her in surprise and she smiled. "I served with your father and I respect him as a Starfleet officer, but he couldn't have been too perceptive if he couldn't see how much he was hurting you. I've come to know you, Tom, and you aren't the man I thought you were when I recruited you for this 'brief' mission."
He smiled at her, but the sadness didn't leave his eyes. "Thank you, Captain. That means a lot to me." He turned and called across the room. "Hey, Doc. Can I get outta here now? It's not that I'm not fond of sickbay, but I've just spent two days here and a little visit goes a long way."
The doctor approached the bed. "The sedative has been counteracted, but there's no guarantee you won't have the nightmares again. I'd prefer you remain here for the night so I can monitor your R.E.M. state. I'll be able to wake you if you have another bad episode."
"I wouldn't want you to lose any sleep on my account, Doc," Tom grinned.
"You know perfectly well that I do not require sleep. I can catch up on some research into Gamatetric hydroxides and monitor you at the same time."
"Well, as long as you won't be bored," Paris quipped. He was trying hard, but Janeway could tell he was still shaky.
"I think it's a good idea," she agreed. "I'll check on you in the morning... or should I say later in the morning." With a reassuring smile and a wave, she stepped out the door.
"Are you still hanging around?" she addressed the empty corridor.
//I am here.//
"I'm really not sure why I'm not calling for security or more scans. But my gut tells me you're sincere."
//Then, you should believe your... gut.//
"Who are you? What are you?"
//I do not know the answers to your questions. I am here. I have been here for a very long time. I was in despair, then you came. I sought to touch your feelings, your thoughts. I wish you no harm. I touched Tom's mind. He was in distress and I could not help, so I sought out his like to aid him.//
"His like? You mean another human like him?"
//His... like. I cannot explain.//
Janeway rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, in any case, thank you for helping Tom."
//His thoughts, his feelings, they are still in turmoil. You must help him.//
"I want to, but he has to want to share those feelings before I can do anything."
//Your people put much store in keeping their passions to themselves. This I do not understand. It is my greatest joy to experience the emotions of others. Yet, you fear it.//
"I guess it's just our nature. I want to help Tom, so do the rest of his friends, and we know he's had a lot of grief in the past, but we can't do anything until he's willing to open up. It's his right to keep those feelings to himself if he chooses."
//He believes himself to be flawed and unworthy.//
"Yes, I know," Janeway sighed. "I wish I could help him, but..." She shrugged.
//You can and you must. You are his like.//
"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean and I don't think you truly understand human behavior."
//I understand much. I can help him, but I cannot do it alone. You must assist.//
The captain frowned. "Just what do you want me to do?"
//I will return you to the connection.//
"The connection?" She shrugged helplessly. "I... I don't understand. What connection?" There was no response. "What is the connection?"
//You must sleep. I will guide you.//
Alarm bells were going off in Janeway's head. "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I'm ready to trust an entity I can't see, that I don't have the slightest understanding of... I can't just agree to put myself and Mr. Paris in your hands."
//Your kind do not trust easily.//
"With good reason," she countered.
//I am aware of your nature, of the violence of your past. But you have made great strides. You have overcome many things. Your people have much that is to be admired. I wish only to aid you.//
"Maybe if you explained to me what you have in mind..."
The voice in her head remained silent.
"Hello? Are you still there?"
"I beg your pardon, Captain?"
Janeway almost jumped at the sound of a voice not inside her head. It was Ensign Kelley, standing just a few feet in front of her and favoring her with a rather confused expression.
"Just thinking out loud, Ensign. Carry on."
"Yes, Captain," he returned and continued down the hallway, but not without a quick glance back before rounding the corner.
"Thanks a heap!" she said to her non-corporeal companion, but there was still no reply. "Okay, that's it. I'm going to bed. I'll deal with this in the morning."
As she walked away, the unseen figure in the hallway watched her. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Her form began to shimmer, then divide in two. She dispatched a part of herself to go with the captain, then, turned and floated through the bulkhead into sickbay. She moved close to Tom Paris, and reached out for his thoughts. He was once again approaching sleep, his body too exhausted to keep himself awake, despite his fear of the nightmares' return. She focussed her thoughts onto his. His mind was closer to peace now. If she kept vigil, she could hold the bad dreams at bay until it was time to reveal to him and to Kathryn the connection. Kathryn did not understand, but she did. It would help them both. And it had become important to her to do so -- to tie this link that had become unraveled. It gave meaning to her existence. If she could have, she would have sighed. It was good to be useful again.
By the time she reached her quarters, Captain Janeway was feeling very tired. The emotional toll of the evening's events must be catching up with her, she decided. All she needed was a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. She hoped her unseen visitor would allow her that. She tossed the robe over a chair and fell across the bed. In minutes she was asleep.
It is time, she told herself. Gently her mind spoke to Tom and to Kathryn, stroking their thoughts as a mother would the soft hair of her child. First, she brought them both to a feeling of great peace and serenity. Speaking softly without words so they could not feel the alienness of her presence in their minds. Then, slowly, very, very, slowly, she began to tug at their thoughts, bringing them together before their longer journey began.
Tom Paris opened his eyes to find himself standing on a cloud. "Whoa!" he cried in alarm, his arms instantly extended to keep what had to be a precarious balance. But there didn't seem to be anything under his feet! "What is this? Some new kind of nightmare?" Well, he thought, it was a little like flying and that had to be better than the dreams he'd been having lately.
//Don't be afraid. You will not be alone.//
Tom frowned. "Who said that?"
"Tom?"
He turned at the familiar voice to find Captain Janeway standing a few feet away from him on the same cloud.
"Captain! What's happening?"
"I'm not sure, but I think I know who's responsible."
"Who?"
"Your guardian angel," she informed him.
"Huh?"
"This is your doing, isn't it?" She seemed to be addressing the sky.
"Captain, are you all right?"
"No, Mr. Paris, I'm not! I'm standing here on nothing but a cloud in my nightgown and the entity responsible doesn't even have the decency to talk to us." Tom took in his own attire and was grateful he had decided to sleep that night in his loose fitting workout clothes.
//I am here, Kathryn.//
Tom glanced around trying to locate the voice. "There it is again. I heard that just before you arrived. It said not to be afraid, that I wouldn't be alone."
"And," she snapped her fingers, "here I am."
"I don't get it."
Janeway released a bit of her anger as she realized she wasn't exactly being helpful.
"Tonight, when I came to your quarters, it wasn't by accident. I was awakened by this voice in my head telling me you were in trouble and needed help."
"An intruder?"
She shook her head. "Not according to the computer. My guess is she isn't really on board Voyager, but has mentally projected herself here... there... I'm not sure we're still on Voyager!"
"You didn't raise the alarm?"
"No," she admitted. "I could feel no threat from her, whoever she is. And she was very insistent that you needed my help immediately. I could feel her sense of urgency, so I just went along."
"I'm glad you did, but what's she up to now?"
"Don't ask me, ask her!"
Feeling a little foolish, Tom lifted his eyes to the sky. "Well?"
//I will return you to the connection.//
"What connection?"
//That which was from which you are.//
Tom squinted and inclined his head. The captain could appreciate his confusion.
"Not exactly clear, is she? I think we have no choice but to go along for the ride. I don't think she means us any harm."
//I will help you.//
"Okay, you're gonna help us. How?" Tom inquired.
//You will see, but not be seen. You will hear what was -- what is. You will know the truth -- the connection.//
As she finished speaking, the cloud seemed to rise up into a mist that engulfed them. For a moment, it was so thick they could hardly see each other, then, it began to clear. They were standing before a large ranch house, circa early to middle 1900s. The day was clear, the sun was warm and the air had the unmistakable scent of new spring grass.
"Earth?" Tom ventured.
The captain nodded. "So it seems." She glanced at her companion only to find him staring intently at the structure in front of them.
"Tom, what is it?"
"I don't know. There's something... familiar about this place. Like I've seen it before. But I'm sure I've never been to an old house like this one." He looked around, taking in the other structures, a barn and several out buildings, a corral with horses, an old, beat up truck and two other transportation machines which the ancient vehicle buff in him immediately identified as a Ford Bronco, 1990s model, and a Lincoln Continental from about the same date. "From the cars, I'd say we're in the old United States, in the late twentieth century, though the house is a few decades older. It's some kind of horse ranch."
"From the climate, I'd say Arizona or New Mexico."
"Think we're supposed to go inside?"
Janeway shrugged. "I'm not sure. But I don't believe we're going to learn anything out here." She gestured toward the house.
"Ladies, first," he countered with a grin.
Janeway's lips twisted into a reluctant smile, then she started up the steps and onto the front porch. Pausing at the door, she raised her hand and knocked. "Hello? Is anyone there?" There was no answer. She tried the door, it wasn't locked, and she led the way into the house.
As soon as they were inside, she heard voices and followed them to their source -- the living room. There were two people, a man and a woman, seated casually on the leather sofa. They appeared to be going through some kind of large book. As they moved a little closer, Janeway realized it was an old photo album. She cleared her throat and leaned toward them.
"Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt, but..."
"And this is right after the ranch was built. Here's Uncle Jake and Aunt Cassie." The woman was talking to her companion as if the captain had never spoken.
"Did he always have that expression on his face?" the man wanted to know.
"What?"
"Like he was searching for some young innocent child to roast over an open fire."
She jabbed her elbow into his ribs. "Rem!"
"Well, look at the man, Cait. He's positively glowering at the camera."
"They can't see or hear us," Tom concluded.
"'You will see, but not be seen'," Janeway quoted. "I guess there's something here we're supposed learn. Maybe this is where we're to find this mysterious connection."
"I know he was hard, but he had a hard life," Cait reminded the man next to her. "We both understand what that's like."
"But it's no excuse," Rem insisted. "Honestly, Cait, I don't understand how you can forget how he treated your own husband."
"I know. It makes me want to cry sometimes when I think about it. Andy's such a good person, and Jake always picked on him when he was a kid. He was too small, his hair was too long, he didn't like the right kind of music. I'm just so very thankful for Lee and Murphy and Skip being there for him. And Andy's folks couldn't be better people. It must have been much worse for Jake's own kids. They could never seem to please him. It's a wonder J.J. found the strength to defy him."
Rem put his arm around her shoulders. "And it's a shame Jake never made peace with his son before he died."
Tom found himself walking closer to the pair, squatting down in front of the woman, unable to take his eyes off her. Janeway watched with interest, but a little uncomfortable at being unseen eavesdroppers on what was obviously a private conversation.
"I think that always haunted him," Cait mused. "I know he was bigoted and selfish in most ways, but I think deep inside, he was hurting."
"You're too kind, little sister. Murphy once told me about Rose's wedding and how Jake treated her then and after -- all because she was half Japanese." He shook his head. "I simply can't understand the man -- not even acknowledging his own grandson. I look at Katie Laura and Brian and I know there is nothing in this world that could make me turn them away. Your children are a part of you. To be so cruel... Sometimes I wonder if having such a large family would have been worth it. So much heartache."
"Remington!" Cait turned and regarded him sternly. "How can you say that? You and I grew up with no one."
"And we haven't done so badly, have we, luv?"
"No," she smiled. "We were lucky. We found people who love us. And we found each other. We knew we were family, right from the very beginning. You can't tell me that didn't make a difference for you."
"You're right. It changed my way of thinking about a lot of things. I guess I didn't realize what I was missing until it wasn't missing any more. Now, I can't imagine my life without Laura and the kids, and without you and your family." He laughed. "All seven of you!"
Cait smiled. "And with Andy's family, so many more!"
"It is a good family, Cait. And nothing makes me happier than to see you so happy."
"Hard to believe, isn't it?" she asked. "Everything in my life is so different now. I had no one. I was alone. Sometimes I just wanted to die, rather than face another day on the streets." Remington's arm tightened around her. "Isn't it amazing how things work out? Robert took a chance to help me start a new life and I end up living in the home of his son's grandfather, married to the kindest, most understanding man I've ever known, with a house full of children that will never know what it's like not to have family."
"And now you've taken on this little family history project of yours." He laughed. "I can't believe what homebodies we've both become."
Cait rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. I may be completely domesticated, but you're still the 'Great Detective, Remington Steele!' Don't tell me there's not still plenty of excitement in your life."
Janeway gasped, her thoughts suddenly spinning. Remington Steele? This was Remington Steele? She remembered seeing old photographs at her grandmother's house, but she'd never paid much attention. It had never seemed all that important to think about people who lived so long ago. Now he was sitting right in front of her! "Good lord!" she exclaimed.
Paris didn't seem to hear her any more than the pair on the sofa. He was too absorbed in the conversation and he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the young woman.
"Laura is the real power behind the agency. Always has been," Remington was reminding his sister. "I'm just the flashy front man."
Cait shook her head. "Not for a long time," she reproved kindly.
All at once, the front door opened and the room seemed to explode with the clamor of noisy children.
"Sounds like the mob has returned." Remington laughed as he got to he feet. Tom Paris had to hastily get out of his way as he headed toward the door.
"Daddy!" a little girl screamed, throwing her arms around his neck as he bent down to greet her.
"Hello, luv, did you have a good time in town?"
"Uncle Andy took us to rent some movies," she told him.
"Really? What did your get?"
"A lot of Disney stuff for the kids," she reported. Remington looked up at the woman standing behind the girl and winked.
"Oh, for the kids," he nodded. "I see."
"Daddy, I'm almost ten!" she exclaimed, her fists planted firmly on her waist.
Janeway put her hand to her lips to cover a smile at the child's familiar gesture, then realized, with a bit of surprise, that the woman standing behind the child was mirroring her own pose.
"I remember," Steele assured his daughter. "So what did you get for us grown ups?"
"The Thin Man and..." The woman held up a video box with Casablanca on the cover.
"Well done!" Steele cheered, then turned to his daughter again. "'Here's looking at you, kid,'" he quoted, lightly brushing her chin with his fist.
"Okay, kids, calm down," Cait was calling from her place still on the sofa. "Why don't you go outside and play for a while?"
"Uncle Andy, can we ride the horses?" asked one of the little boys.
"Maybe later, Brian," answered the man in a cowboy hat who had followed the herd of children into the house. "Let your mom and me catch our breaths."
"Amen," the woman with the tapes sighed.
"Come on, Brian, let's go," cried one of the other children.
"Rough day?" Steele put his arm around his wife.
"A little frantic," she admitted with a light laugh.
"I hope they didn't wear you out too much, Laura." Cait looked a little guilty, but Laura shook her head.
"Are you kidding? They make me feel like I'm nine again. And this husband of yours is an expert at corralling them all."
Cait moved up beside her husband and lifted the hat from his head. "He's amazing," she agreed, then planted a kiss on his lips.
"Did you and Remington have a good visit?" he asked.
"Mmmm hmmm," she answered.
"She's been filling me in on all this Michaels family history she's pulled together. I bet I know more about your family than you do, old sport!" Remington quipped.
"I doubt that," Andy laughed. "But I'm sure Cait knows more about it than I do." He winked at Cait. "Lunch ready?"
Cait rolled her eyes. "No, we've been busy. Besides, we have to wait until your mom and dad bring B.J. home."
"They'll be here any minute," Andy warned her.
"Okay, I'll open up a couple of cans of soup and get out the bread and cold cuts."
Remington frowned. "You know, luv, the only time I ever doubt we're related is when you're in the kitchen."
"So I don't have your gourmet flair!"
"Your culinary taste is questionable," he told her.
"Watch out or I'll hand the apron to you," she threatened.
Raising his hands in surrender, Remington backed away. "Oh, no. Soup and sandwiches sounds... yummy."
They all laughed.
Cait moved toward the kitchen, leaving the other three adults discussing the day's activities. Janeway took the opportunity to move to Paris' side.
"This is amazing, isn't it?" When she didn't get an answer, she gave her young lieutenant a good look. He seemed paler than usual and his expression was somewhat shocked. "Tom? Are you all right?"
"Uh, yeah," he replied. "I mean, yes, Captain. It's just..."
"What?"
"There's something about her."
Janeway smiled. "Reminds you of someone you know?"
Paris shook his head slowly. "I'm not sure. It's just something's so naggingly familiar. I can't place it."
"Maybe it's her mannerisms," the captain suggested. "Funny, I never thought you could inherit that sort of thing, especially so distantly."
"Huh?" Paris realized he had no idea what his commanding officer was talking about.
"Tom, that man is Remington Steele."
"I take it you've heard of him?"
She laughed. "You could say that. Back in the late twentieth century he was one of the most glamorous and well known private detectives in the world! He's also my great, great... I don't know how many, grandfather! She's Laura Holt Steele, my great-to-the-something-or-other-power grandmother!"
"You're kidding!"
Janeway shook her head. "It wasn't until Cait said his full name that it clicked. Once, when I was little, I saw their pictures at my grandmother's house." She chuckled. "This is amazing! Did you really see something familiar about Laura, maybe something that reminds you of me?"
"Laura?" he stammered in confusion. "Oh, uh, no, not her. Cait."
"Cait?" It was the captain's turn to be confused.
"Yeah," he shot back, his mind still trying to work it out.
"That's odd," she remarked. "This is all very strange." She looked into the air once again. "Are you still with us?"
//I am here.//
"Why did you bring us here?" Janeway implored.
//You will see.//
"Cryptic as ever."
"Captain, that man she was talking about -- Jake? Do you know anything about him?"
Janeway frowned. "I wasn't aware Remington Steele had a sister. The fact is, I know next to nothing about these ancestors of mine. My interest has always been in the future, what was out there, what would happen next. I respect history, I've even enjoyed my historical holodeck novels, but my own family history has never seemed like much of a priority. I'm beginning to think that's a shame. To see these people... so alive!"
Tom laughed. "Don't take this personally, Captain. I'm not trying a come-on or anything, but when you get excited, you positively glow."
Janeway gave her young lieutenant a sideways glance. "I'll take it as a compliment, Mr. Paris. But we still have no explanation for why we're here."
"I guess we'll just have to wait and see, like the lady said."
Janeway sighed. She'd never been a patient woman. When she was confronted with a question, her inclination had always been to act, to dig in and find an answer. Waiting for one to be presented to you wasn't her forte.
A short time later, Andy's parents arrived, bearing with them a toddling two-year-old with a bright smile and happy disposition. The family all gathered around the table in the dining room for lunch. They talked about the ranch -- which had apparently been in the Michaels family for at least a couple of generations -- about their children, about the Steeles' cases (it was obvious Remington enjoyed regaling them with their adventures), and various other topics a family talks about when gathered for a meal. Sitting on a couple of chairs against the wall nearby, Janeway and Paris both found themselves mesmerized by even the mundane topics. They gleaned a lot of information just by listening.
The Steeles were out from Los Angeles for a long weekend visit, something they tried to do every so often because they felt it was important their children maintain a sense of family with their cousins. The lives of the two couples seemed so different: Cait and Andy, content to live the country life, ever so much the homebodies with their five children, and the Steeles, leading glamorous lives in the city with exciting jobs and, from the sound of it, a much more opulent lifestyle. And yet, they were so much at home in each others' company.
Gradually the conversation returned to Cait's new pastime of researching the Michaels family history.
"Well, of course, it started out as a bit of self-preservation," she explained to Laura. "When you suddenly go from having almost no family to having a family the size of a small country, you have to do something to survive. I didn't want to feel like an outsider."
"You never could, my dear," her mother-in-law assured her, then turned to her husband. "Come on, Clayton. Cait cooked, I think the least we can do is clean up. And I think you children should go back outside and play for a while and let your parents visit in peace. I'll take B.J. with us."
"Mom, it's okay, you don't have to..." Cait started to protest, but it was obvious the older woman wasn't having any of it. As everyone left the room except the two couples, and their two unseen observers, Andy smiled after his mother.
"She's a lot like Grandma, you know? Spunky."
"You have a marvelous family, Andrew," Remington commented. "You're very lucky."
Andy took Cait's hand in his and smiled at her. "I know I am."
The sound of the children shouting outside caught their attention. "I'd better go play referee." Laura smiled, excusing herself.
"We were talking about Jake earlier," Remington added as his wife disappeared. "Can you imagine what the old coot would have thought about us all here? The disapproval would tear the house down."
Andy laughed, then sobered. "Yeah, sometimes I feel a little guilty about living here. He would have hated that."
"That's his problem," Cait insisted.
Steele gave her a sidelong glance. "And there you were this afternoon defending him."
"I wasn't defending what he did or how he treated people. I just felt sorry for him. Look at this family. Jake could have had so much. Instead, he ended up with a daughter who spent years in bitterness because that's all she ever learned from him, a son whose love he threw away and grandsons he never really knew, all because he was the only one who could ever be right." She paused for a moment. "He was never unkind to me, but I have no illusions. If he had ever really known about my past..."
Andy's hand on hers tightened.
"Can you imagine?" she continued. "What would he think of all of us sitting around his dining table right now? Andy, the nephew that he was always so disappointed in, with the long hair and the rock music. That would be peanuts compared to having an ex-conman and jewel thief breaking bread in his house." She smiled at Remington's discomfort.
"Ex-conman and jewel thief?" Tom inquired of the captain, who was becoming equally uncomfortable at the unexpected news.
"And then there's Laura, a woman working at a man's job. Heaven forbid! That's probably even worse than being a thief. And finally, there's me: a former hooker married into his family and the mistress, pardon the expression, of his house!"
"If the man were here now, he'd die of a heart attack!" Remington added.
"But my point is," Cait continued, "he was so wrong. If there's anything I've learned the last few years it's how important family is. Not just those who are related by blood, either. Family comes from making a connection with someone who can understand, who can feel what you're feeling."
"That happened for you and Remington almost immediately," Andy recalled.
"Well, it didn't take much time for her to fall in love with you, Andrew. Shortest engagement in history! I guess I'm the slow one in the family. It took me much too long to realize just how connected I had become with Laura." As if in response to the mention of her name, Laura returned.
"All settled," she reported. Steele leaned over and kissed his wife. "What was that for?"
"For being you," he told her, then cleared his throat. "But getting back to the subject at hand... Jake had all this," he waved his hand around the room, but everyone knew he was indicating much more, "and he couldn't see past his own prejudices to know what he had until it was too late. That is sad."
"If no one measured up to his ideals, then maybe they weren't worth measuring up to."
Tom almost jumped at the sound of the captain's voice next to him, he had been so caught up in the conversation at the table and Janeway thought she understood why.
"This Jake sounds a lot like an Admiral I once thought I knew. He was too busy setting impossible goals to see the superb young man right in front of him." Her hand went to Paris' shoulder. "I think maybe I understand why she brought us here, Tom. Parents can't live their children's lives for them, mold them into what they want them to be. If they try, they'll only destroy what they already have. Cait feels sorry for Jake and I feel sorry for Admiral Paris. He never realized what a fine son he had. There's another reason to want to get home. I'd be very glad to tell him."
"Nobody's perfect," Cait's voice caught their attention. "If anyone should know that, it's me."
"But we put our lives on a different track," Steele added. "And in the process found out what was really important."
"Remington Steele may have been a jewel thief at one point in his life," Janeway whispered, "but he seems to be making up for those earlier mistakes. It's not our failures that set the course for our lives, it's how we learn from them and move forward."
"This is getting entirely too heavy," Laura announced, breaking the tension. "Cait, why don't we go into the living room and you can show us those old photographs you found."
"I've already seen them," Remington reminded her.
"Well, I haven't," she announced.
Remington shook his head. "Stubborn woman. Don't know what I see in her."
"Yes, you do," Laura countered with a cryptic smile, kissing his ear as she rose and apparently whispering something to her husband that made him turn slightly red.
"Yes, well, by all means, Caitlin, show us your rogues' gallery."
"No, Rem, these are Andy's ancestors we're talking about. I'm sure all the rogues were in our family tree."
They all laughed.
As they filed out, Paris and Janeway remained.
"I guess I can see where you get to be such a smart captain, Captain," Tom told her.
"I suppose I inherited some of my sense of adventure from Remington and Laura."
"I guess this is what 'she' wanted us to hear?"
"Maybe," the captain agreed. "But it seems we're still here." She looked up. "Is there more?"
//Yes.//
Janeway got to her feet. "Then shall we adjourn to the living room, Mr. Paris?"
"Why not?" he conceded. Janeway frowned. He still seemed to be troubled, but at least this little visit had given him something to think about. It had certainly given her a lot to ponder.
"And who's this?" Laura was asking as she and Cait sat on the sofa and perused the album Cait had shared with Remington earlier that day. He and Andy were sitting across the room talking quietly with each other, only occasionally joining in conversation with their wives.
"That's Aunt Pearl. She was Grandpa Michaels' sister," Cait told her.
"She has some of the Michaels features," Laura said, "but with this family, the strongest resemblance seems to follow the men."
"I know what you mean." Cait glanced lovingly over at her husband.
As they'd entered the room, Janeway found herself drawn toward Remington Steele. The man fascinated her and she could see instantly why he had fascinated her great-something grandmother. She watched him as he talked, enjoyed the timbre of his voice with its lyrical accent. She wished for just a moment that she wasn't just a spectator in this world. If she could talk to him, have him focus those lovely eyes on her...
Get hold of yourself, Janeway, she scolded herself. This man is your ancestor! But, oh, handsome devil he was.
She looked up to find Tom. He'd once again been drawn to Caitlin Travis. In fact, he was sitting beside her on the sofa, gazing over her shoulder as she went through the album. He was leaning very close to the woman -- my great-something aunt -- she reminded herself, but despite his reputation for womanizing, this time his attention did seem to be on the photos.
Cait turned the page and suddenly Tom's jaw dropped and the color drained from his face.
"Who's that?" he demanded.
"That's Grandpa Michaels when he was about thirty."
Tom nearly jumped when Cait answered his question, then he realized that Laura had asked it at the same time.
"They were living in Phoenix then," Cait went on to explain. "Wasn't he handsome?"
"Tom?" the captain called, concerned at the expression of shock on his face.
"Captain, you've got to come see this. Hurry, before they turn the page."
Janeway rushed over and moved as close to Tom as she could, twisting around to try and get a good look at the picture. "I can't quite..."
"I think this is my favorite picture of him," Cait added.
"Which one?" Andy asked across the room.
"This one." Cait nearly shoved the picture in Janeway's face as she showed it to her husband. That's when the captain got her biggest shock yet.
"Oh, my! It's... it's...
"Me," Tom finished her thought. From where she was standing, she had an excellent opportunity to stare first at the picture, then at Tom, then at the picture again.
"The resemblance is remarkable!" she exclaimed. The man in the picture looked a little taller, and maybe a little skinnier, the hair style and clothing were different, but then it appeared it was taken during the depression. The one thing that seemed wrong was he wasn't smiling. It wasn't the fashion in those days to smile for photographs, but it didn't seem quite right to look so much like Tom Paris and not have a smile, at least in his eyes.
"Captain, could I be..." he couldn't finish. Cait turned the picture back around and Tom leaned in again for another glimpse. "I look so much like him."
"I think B.J. looks so much like him," Cait echoed.
"B.J.?" Tom's face screwed up in confusion.
"The baby, remember?" Janeway prodded.
"Oh, yeah."
"You're right," Laura agreed, "except for one thing. B.J. has your blue eyes. So much like Remington's and Katie Laura's."
"That's a Steele family feature," Remington piped up.
Cait laughed along with her brother. It seemed their smile was a Steele feature as well.
"That's one of the nice things about having a family," Andy added. "All those wonderful connections. Physical features, mannerisms, voices, or maybe just a common way of thinking."
"And understanding," Cait added. "That's a family connection, too."
"The connection!" Tom exploded. "That's what she said. She was going to return us to the connection."
Janeway's brain started to spin. "'That which was from which you are.' Tom! I think you're a Michaels descendent. These people are your family, too!"
"Whoa!" he sat back stunned.
"Is that it?" Janeway queried.
//The truth which was and is. The connection. Like you.//
"That's what you meant when you first came to my quarters!" the captain realized. "Tom and I are alike because we're distantly related!"
//Distance cannot sever the connection. Like alone does not bind. This spirit was... and is in you, Kathryn and you, Tom.//
"Then, Cait is my great-something grandmother?" he concluded.
"We can't be sure until we get back to Voyager and access the genealogy databases, but considering it was to Cait and her family we were brought, I'd say the odds are pretty good."
"Oh, wow!" he gasped. "But she's got five kids! Which one is my minus one great-something grandparent?"
"I've got a little one here who want's to see his mommy," announced Katie Travis as she led the toddler into the room.
"Come here, sweetie," Cait held her arms open and hugged the little boy to her. "You were the most trouble coming into this world, but you've been the happiest of all ever since. Haven't you, B.J.?"
"Yeah," commented Andy, "he's always smiling. Like he knows something we don't!"
"Sounds familiar," Janeway chuckled. "You know, I think maybe that answers your question." Tom stared at the child and his mother, then turned his gaze to Andy Travis, then his parents. If they were right, these were all his ancestors. It boggled the mind, and suddenly, he felt very dizzy and faint. He sank back onto the sofa.
"Tom!" The captain reached for him, but before she could, they both were consumed by a sudden white cloud.
//The connection is made. Rest now.//
Tom Paris awoke in sickbay to find his captain standing over him. "It's about time you woke up, Mr. Paris."
"Captain! What are you doing here?"
"Waiting anxiously to see if you had a strange 'dream' last night."
He thought hard for a moment to clear the fuzziness from his brain and suddenly the images became very clear.
"The ranch! New Mexico. The Michaels."
Janeway was nodding.
"Did-did it really happen?"
"Well, according to the doctor, you slept peacefully all night long, and although I have no witnesses to the fact, I suspect I did the same. But there's no doubt our minds took a little journey."
"Then, it was real? I mean what we saw and heard really happened sometime in the past?"
"So it would appear. I've spent quite a bit of time this morning with the computers researching my 'family tree' and yours as well. It seems you are descended from the Michaels clan. Your ancestors include Stephen James Michaels, the man in the photograph, his daughter Katie Lynn Michaels Travis, her son Andrew Clayton Travis and his son Robert James Travis. There does not appear to be any positive evidence that Andrew's wife, Caitlin O'Connor Travis was really Remington Steele's sister, but there was enough physical resemblance between them and their respective offspring to substantiate their belief that they were siblings. And as Cait herself said, there was a connection between them from the moment they met."
"Wow!"
Janeway planted her fists on her waist. "Is that all you have to say?"
"Give me a minute here, will you, Captain. This is a lot to take in."
"Tell me about it!"
"So, we are related? You and me?"
"Distantly, and, of course, as I said, there is no concrete proof that Caitlin O'Connor and Remington Steele, which, by the way, wasn't his real name... anyway, there's no real evidence that they were brother and sister. But after seeing them together, I believe they were right. Besides, I found a picture of Cait's son Dan Travis when he was about thirty-five and he's the spitting image of his Uncle Remington."
"So, we're related." This time it wasn't a question.
"It would appear so."
"Wow."
"You have a surprisingly large family, Tom. There were a lot of Michaels at the time of our visit. After all these intervening generations, the number is staggering. And, do you know, I read quite a few of them still hold family reunions at the site of the old ranch in New Mexico."
"I guess I'll have to look them up when we get home." Tom smiled, then frowned. "Then again, maybe they wouldn't exactly be delighted to find a long lost cousin with my history."
"Thomas Eugene Paris, I'm surprised at you. Didn't you learn anything?"
He shrugged. "Yes, Captain," he told her. "I guess it's just going to take some time to sink in. Not everyone is like my father or 'Uncle Jake'."
"Thank goodness for that." She smiled at him fondly. "I downloaded the data files from my research to the computer in your quarters. You can check out your ancestors all the way back to the Civil War and even further."
"I hope our ancestors fought on the same side," he teased.
She sighed. "I wouldn't know. As I said, Remington Steele was not my ancestor's real name. In fact, he never knew his real name and neither did Cait. They only knew their mother's name was Catherine and they both came from Ireland. I'm afraid the backtracking ends there."
"Well, you've always got me, Captain Cuz!" Tom quipped.
"Emphasis on the 'captain', Lieutenant." Her expression softened. "But I promise you, this is one time having a relative as a superior officer isn't going to cause you any unreasonable trouble. The only expectation I have is for you to be the best Tom Paris you can be. You don't have anything to prove to me; you already have."
"Thanks, Captain," he answered sincerely. "Kathryn," he whispered, almost to himself, then saw her eyeing him closely. "Sorry, Captain, I was just thinking. There sure are a lot of names like that in... our family. Were you named after any of our ancestors?"
"Probably, indirectly. My grandmother's name was Kathryn."
At that moment, the doctor walked into the room.
"Well, Mr. Paris, you seem much better this morning."
"I think I'm cured, Doc," Tom announced.
"Good, then kindly vacate my sickbay. I have more important matters to take care of." With that he walked back into his office.
"Don't let him fool you," the captain whispered. "He was hovering over you this morning when I first came in and Kes said that he kept a close eye on you all night. He may have been programmed with a gruff exterior, but I think our doctor is an old softy underneath."
Tom laughed as he got up from the bed. He swayed slightly and grabbed the edge for support.
"I think you still need those few days to get your strength up before you report for duty."
"I guess you're right," he admitted reluctantly. "But that'll give me time to go over the family history. Maybe we can get together after a couple of days to compare notes."
"I'd like that," she agreed.
Tom hadn't been back in his quarters for more than ten minutes when his door chime sounded.
"Come."
The door slid open to reveal Ensign Harry Kim, looking both concerned and a bit nervous.
"Harry! Come on in!" Tom cried, genuinely pleased to see his friend.
Harry relaxed a bit. "I wasn't sure you'd want to see me," he admitted, "after I ratted on you to the doctor yesterday."
Tom sighed. Yesterday? It seemed like ages ago now and the things that had happened to him in between had given him a much better perspective.
"It's okay, Harry," he assured his young friend. "I was angry at first, but I know you only told the doctor because you were worried. I'm glad you did it."
"You are?"
"Yeah, really." Tom led his friend over to the sofa and they both sank down. "I've realized a lot of things since yesterday."
"Like what?"
Tom smiled. "That maybe I shouldn't dwell in the past. I need to look more toward the future. I can't forget what's happened, but I have to learn from my failures and move on. I guess maybe my father was wrong about me. I thought he was infallible, and so the problem had to be with me. But, as someone once said, nobody's perfect."
"I learned that people need a connection. We can't be all that we are by ourselves. If we're lucky... really lucky, we find people we can connect to. Sometimes you can make that connection in an instant and it'll last a lifetime."
Harry looked confused. Tom laughed. "Okay, let me put it this way. Remember when we first met? You didn't know anything about me, and yet you decided you wanted to be my friend. Later, you started hearing things about my past, about the accident on Caldik Prime, getting cashiered out of Starfleet and defecting to the Maquis. Those things would be enough to turn most people against me, but something made you stick to your original decision. You gave me a chance to prove myself to you, not by what I had been, but by what I was now. You made a connection with me. That gave both of us an opportunity to become something more than we were before. Do you understand?"
"I think so," Harry hedged, "but where is all this philosophical stuff coming from?"
Tom leaned back. "Harry, my friend, have I got a tale to tell you!" An eager smile spread across the younger man's face and warmed Tom's heart as he launched into his story.
After she walked Tom to his quarters, with an admonition to get some more sleep, Janeway made her way to the bridge. Settling into the command chair, she noted that all was quiet on the mid-shift, which gave her time to reflect on her own adventure. And it brought her back to the question that had been in her mind before this whole thing began. Had she been right to commit this crew to a 70-year trip back to the Alpha Quadrant?
The answer was yes. To have colonized some habitable planet might have been an alternative for some, but not for a starship crew, nor, she suspected, for those members of her crew who formerly were Maquis. The people on board this ship shared one trait, they had the soul of adventurers. They were all explorers. That's why they were aboard in the first place. Not to set out on this journey would have been a kind of death unto itself, one of the spirit. At least this way, there was hope, and hope was life. This way, there were new experiences on each horizon, new things to learn and to enjoy. This way, there was a worthy goal. Human beings needed something to strive for. Whether or not they made it home might be in the hands of some power higher than their own, but this crew had to keep trying.
When the shift ended, she made her way to her quarters and spent a couple of hours reviewing her family history in greater detail. She was still contemplating the mysterious Remington Steele when she went to bed.
That night she dreamed of the lush green countryside of Ireland, the large country manor houses of the English landlords and the sparse hovels of their Irish tenants. In her dream, she saw herself standing in a stable, as the daughter of one of those English lords looking into the hypnotic blue eyes of her ancestor, an Irish peasant who looked remarkably like Remington Steele. She saw him walking away from her, felt the fear that she would never see him again, and heard herself calling for him to stop, calling his name.
"Rory!"
The next morning when she awoke she accessed the genealogy database once again. This time she had a new name to search for.
O'Manion.
And as the great ship with all its individual souls, each with his or her own thoughts, hopes and dreams, but linked in a common purpose, began to pass out of reach, Tom Paris' guardian angel smiled.