The BLTS Archive - The Smallest Consequence
by Maddie (mystwood60@hotmail.com)

---

Published: 04-04-01

Updated: 04-04-01

This takes place immediately after the episode "Elogium", and since it
doesn't follow the events of the aired episode, I suppose it is an
alternate universe. It all started with the question, what if Neelix
had refused to father Kes' child during above mentioned episode and
she asked Tom, who said yes? Nope, I didn't attempt to figure out what
six days of Ocampa mating ritual were like. I left that to far more
fertile (sorry) imaginations than mine. This is more about
consequences and characters than sex, so the rating is PG-13.

The usual disclaimers apply. Paramount owns the characters but the
plot belongs to me. Comments and constructive criticism always
welcome.

---

The draft of recycled air felt cool against his still damp skin as he
stepped from the bathroom into the common room. He scrubbed at his
head with the coarse towel he carried, then shook the last droplets of
water from his wet hair, and quickly finger combed it into place. It
wouldn't do to get caught looking like a tousled bear. But the shower
had felt incredibly good. After six days, he looked, and probably
smelled, as crummy as he possibly could, yet she had not seemed to
mind, or even to care.

At the thought of her, his stomach lurched as though he'd been
punched. The tickling feeling in the back of his head, the one that
had been with him constantly, well, except for the times sheer
pleasure had eradicated it, manifested itself now in the only way it
could. As guilt. Good, god he thought, what have I done.

Part of his brain, the part that always came up with the smart
answers, and quick excuses, the part that defined his personal
self-defense mechanisms and manufactured them at warp speed, told him
he was just helping a friend in need. Another part, the part he tried
hard to suppress for a good many years, the part Harry would call a
conscience, convinced him he'd taken on a monumental responsibility
with little thought of the consequences. But how could he have said
no? How could he have refused when she seemed so desperate? He had
acted on impulse. What was so unusual about that?

Stepping further into the room, his footsteps silenced by the thick
cushion of carpet, Tom Paris, stopped, watched, and tried to convince
himself that the past six days had been a holodeck fantasy, not the
most sublimely intimate experience he could ever remember. He
understood why this could only happen once, in a lifetime, couldn't
believe she had chosen to share this with him.

She still slept. Her hair was a matted tumble, her face calm. The
color in her cheeks was more normal, not the flushed heat of the fever
she had just experienced. The circles under her eyes, while still
there, were not so pronounced. Her lashes shadowed her cheeks, masking
the hollowness of her eyes. The temperature in the room, which had
seemed unbearably hot a short day ago, now seemed uncomfortably cool.
Paris stepped forward and pulled the light cover over her. He
realized, with a rush of embarrassment mixed with excitement, that he
would have much preferred to look at her as she was, her delicate
limbs pale in the half-light from the bathroom, and the dancing
contrails of the stars outside. She was so damned beautiful. Reaching
out he brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead, caught in a
hushed fragment of time, prolonging the moment as long as possible. He
did not want to leave her. But he had no choice. There was hell to
pay, and he had learned from past experience, that some things did not
get better if you put off facing them.

As he turned to leave, her quiet words stopped him.

"Don't go." There was a husky drowsiness in her voice, like the
whisper of wind through the tall grass, hushed, yet riveting.

For a moment he considered not turning. He should just go now, before
any more damage was done. But the thought lasted only the barest
moment. Turning back to her, he felt his heart lurch. She watched him
through half veiled eyes the color of a clear terran sky, or the ocean
off the coast of Auckland, shifting with shades of palest green.

"Don't go," she repeated, lifting herself up on one elbow, the cover
slipping slightly from her shoulder. "I don't want you to leave yet."

Torn between his desire to stay, and the knowledge that eventually he
had to leave, Paris gave in to the easier route. Who was to know if he
stayed a few minutes more, to enjoy the sweetness of her company. It
might be the last thing he enjoyed for a long time. Sitting on the
edge of the bed, he reached out to brush her cheek lightly with the
tips of his fingers, and she caught his hand in hers, lightly kissing
his fingertips.

"I have to go, Kes."

"Not yet." Her fingers tensed around his, holding him ever so lightly,
yet holding him.

He dared not move, entranced by her closeness. Finally, he spoke the
question he'd been waiting to ask. "When will you know?"

"Know?" she asked, more awake now.

"If you're pregnant."

A slight smile curved her lip. "Soon. Within the next 48 hours. Stay
with me a while longer."

Giving in to her smile, and his own desire to stay, he slipped back
onto the bed. Being careful not to jostle her, he lay down so that he
was atop the cover and against her back. She snuggled into the curve
of his body, her tiny figure conforming to his own, the thin layer of
fabric a poor shield against her touch. He wrapped his arm around her
and simply held her, enjoying her closeness. After six days in the
throes of mating frenzy, it felt good to just hold her close, to open
his senses to what she was, reveling in the calm nearness that follows
a satisfyingly intense sexual experience and that only lovers
understand. He wished he could stay this way with her forever. He knew
better. He kissed her softly at the base of her neck, then again on
her ear, tracing its elegant curve with a feather light dusting of
kisses.

Turning slightly, she studied his face intently, fully awake now, her
blue eyes bright and wide. "You're worried," she announced
matter-of-factly.

He thought of denying her concern, but knew there was no hiding from
an empath, especially one who had become so attuned to his thoughts
and needs. It appeared the bond they had forged was not only physical,
but for Kes, spiritual and empathic as well. There was no choice but
to admit the truth. He sighed, then nodded. "Yes," he whispered.

"You're worried about the baby. About being a parent." Kes's face
fell, "I'm so sorry, Tom. I had no right to ask you to assume such a
responsibility. But, when Neelix said no, I felt this overpowering
desperation. You were my only hope." She stopped, realizing what she
had just said then continued calmly. "I've just made you sound like
second best. I didn't mean it that way. Tom, if you don't want to be a
father, I can end this today."

Paris was taken aback by her outburst. How could she have so
misinterpreted his emotions. Apparently, empathy was not a very
precise thing. The hurt look on Kes' face stung like a lash. Did she
really think he had joined with her, only to satisfy some inner lust?
Though he wouldn't deny the ultimate ecstasy of her elogium driven
lovemaking, he wasn't just in this for himself. In a mental haze, he
had realized that sometime around day two. Unlike Neelix, who had
shied away from being a father, he wanted this child. Despite his
irresponsible past, one thing he had always believed, was when the
time came, he would try to be the best parent he could. Gods knew,
he'd been thoroughly indoctrinated in all the bad aspects of parenting
by his father. He knew what mistakes he wouldn't make.

"No, Kes, its not that."

Rolling further in his direction, so that she lay on her back, she
studied him intensely. "Then what is it?" she asked

He tightened his arms, drawing her even closer, kissing her gently on
the forehead, trying to calm her misgivings. "Kes, you got it all
wrong. I want this child. Don't ever think otherwise. I know I can be
a good father. God knows, I've learned all the ways to be a bad one."

Shifting slightly, nestling her body into his, she laid one slim, cool
hand against his face, looking him directly in the eye. "Then what is
wrong?"

Paris glanced away, to door in the common room, the one that led out
into the corridor and had been sealed by a privacy lock six days
previous. He had placed the seal. Looking back at her, he tried to
smile, aware from her look, that the smile didn't fool her. "The other
side of the door," he said simply.

"The door?"

He could almost hear the laughter behind her words, saw the twinkle in
her eyes. She must think I'm nuts, he thought.

"Neelix?" she asked, seriously concerned.

Paris sighed, then drew her closer. "I wish it were that simple."

She snuggled closer, and he nuzzled her hair, kissing her again on her
brow, tightening his hold on her, as though he feared she would fade
away if he did not. "I guess that takes a little explaining."

"Then please do. We have time."

Paris wondered about that as he studied her, weighing how much he
should or should not say, not wanting to dissolve the bond they had
shared by making a careless revelation. Certainly she'd heard the
rumors, the innuendo running rampant, doggedly following his every
move on board. He'd heard it, and he wasn't supposed to. She had never
given any indication she listened to the rumors, or gave them any
weight, but she must be aware of how the crew of Voyager, both
Starfleet and Maquis, felt about him. How could she not hear. Tom
Paris and his true and imagined faults seemed the most popular topic
of conversation when the need for back stabbing chatter arose. Yes, it
was spoken behind hands and in low whispers, but it was bandied about
for all to hear. True to her nature, Kes hadn't let on she'd heard a
thing, didn't seem to hold it against him, had been open and honest
with him, and thank whatever powers that be, she hadn't taken sides,
either Federation or Maquis, not that either side was in his corner.

"Tom."

The gentle brush of her fingers against his cheek brought his
attention back to her. She waited patiently, for his explanation. He
sighed. What the hell, he thought, if he couldn't talk to Kes, who on
board would listen.

"When I was a kid, my Father was often gone on assignment somewhere.
We didn't always get to go with him. Most of the ship's he served on
were not designed to carry families. Mom handled most of the
discipline when he wasn't there, and she was a pushover. I could get
away with a lot. Things were different when my Father was home, but it
didn't change how I acted. I still screwed up, and when I did, he had
this odd way of handling things."

Kes' eyebrows rose questioningly as she waited for him to continue. As
he had talked her delicate, mobile features, had flowed from one
emotion to another, relief, affection, and deep concern.

"Oh Dad was always good at hauling my butt out of trouble, patching up
or covering up as many of my little indiscretions as possible, making
us look like the perfect Starfleet officer's family, squeaky clean and
upright." Paris felt himself grinning. "I, on the other hand, went out
of my way to prove the exact opposite. I felt it was my personal duty.
Anyway, after dad 'fixed' what I had broken, he wouldn't let me
explain or apologize. I was sent to my room, as often as not. And
there I'd sit while he thought of an 'appropriate punishment.'" Paris
paused again, uncertain how much he needed to say, wanting, but not
wanting to tell Kes everything, but knowing she would understand, in
the open, caring manner that was so much part of her.

"Anyway, I never knew how he was going to react." Paris rushed on,
trying to keep the tone light. "The way things worked, the longer I
sat and stared at that closed door, wondering, the longer I had to
think, the longer he had to work himself into an unholy rage, the
worse things would be when the door finally opened."

Kes stared intently at him, waiting for the connection between all
that and the door to her quarters.

"The point is," he continued doggedly, "I got to where I really
dreaded going out that door in the morning. Specially when I knew I
was in trouble. I kinda feel that way now. Even though my father isn't
on the other side, when that door finally opens," he nodded toward the
closed and sealed hatch. "I'm in deep trouble."

Looking down at Kes, her face crumpled with worry, Paris chuckled, the
sound boiling out of him like bubbles from ale. "Please, don't look so
worried Kes."

"But...you are. You haven't done anything wrong."

"I've got a feeling Neelix and Chakotay are going to have a different
opinion."

"And you're worried?"

"Worried, kinda, yeah. I've been what amounts to AWOL for the last six
days and I'm gonna catch it when I show up." *But it won't be anything
like what dad used to dish out for less* he thought silently to
himself. "There's a good possibility, I'll be on report for the next
70 years." He laughed as he said it, and as he did he felt Kes relax
against him. Taking his head in her hands she kissed him softly,
murmuring something under her breath he didn't catch. He pulled back,
gently removing her hands and sliding away from her. "I gotta go, Kes.
There's no sense delaying the inevitable. If I don't go now, it may be
another six days before I want to."

---

Kes methodically plucked spawn beetles from the leaves of the
Oblissian cabbage plants trying not to think, trying not to feel,
trying not to remember what had started a mere two weeks ago with the
same spawn beetles. But her mind and heart churned with each gentle
movement of the child within her. Movements far too gentle, and far to
infrequent. She should go to bed. She should rest. But she couldn't.

Moving along the line of neatly tended plants, she paused, and smiled.
The ardana she had nurtured for almost three months had bloomed. How
ironic, she thought. Working quickly she carefully dusted the pale
teal pollen from the stamens of the ardana blossoms. Each grain fell
like drifting feathers to the bottom of the collection tube, settling
in at the vessel's base. The ardana was so rare, its fruit so
delicate, and so seldom seen, that Kes felt a rush of awe. The male
blossom of the ardana bloomed once a year. The female bloomed almost a
week later. In nature, the pollen was carried on the backs of suradow
flies, stored until the female could be pollinated. It was not a wise
system, Kes thought, and did not encourage survival of the species,
but then, neither did her own. Sealing the tube, its precious contents
safe, she placed it in a stasis chamber.

Kes did not normally work at this early morning hour, but she had
found it difficult to sleep for the past two weeks. Rising in the
middle of the night, she had spent the last hour in hydroponics
tending the newest seedlings she was experimenting with, marveling at
the speed of their growth. When she and Neelix had first proposed
growing food for the Voyager crew, she had never dreamed the
responsibility would fall on her. She was delighted to be given the
opportunity to be a productive member of the crew and not simply a
passenger. She thought her new life full, with this responsibility,
but when given the chance to actually study medicine with the Doctor,
it was more than she had ever, in her wildest dreams, thought she
would be able to do. All because I wanted to see the blue sky. I've
gained so much because of a bit of blue sky.

She finished adjusting the nutrient flow to her seedlings, then washed
her hands. It seemed she hardly had time for growing things, now that
she had become the Doctor's assistant and student, but she had been
enormously content knowing she could do so much for those who had
presented her with opportunities her people had not dreamed of in
generations. And now she was pregnant, her child due to be born just
three short weeks from now. She should be happy.

Checking the chronometer on the wall, she realized she was up far
earlier than even Neelix who took pride in rising early to prepare the
morning meal. She really should return to her quarters and attempt to
rest. But she was no longer tired. The brisk walk to hydroponics had
given her a burst of energy, and she did not want to waste a moment of
the day. She could, she reasoned, go to sickbay and begin her lessons
with the Doctor. Time of day meant nothing to him, but, she decided
against that. She stood in hushed silence, closing her eyes,
stretching her senses to feel the unusual calm blanketing the ship. As
she reached outward, ignoring her own feelings, she touched him,
standing in the shadows.

"Tom?" Kes knew who it was without turning, but she did, facing the
darkness cloaking the far side of the hydroponics bay. "Tom?" she said
again.

He stepped forward then, into the light from the grow lamps.

"Why are you hiding in the shadows?" she teased, her spirit
brightening as he approached.

"I wasn't hiding."

"You weren't?"

"No." He had stopped a few feet from her, his uniform and face were
patched with grime, a smudge of dirt streaked one cheek, and
discomfort was written on his features and in his stance. He shifted,
looked to the ground, then at her again.

"Then, why haven't I seen you? It's been..."

"Two weeks, three days, and some odd hours." Paris finished for her.
"I wanted to see you. But didn't want to cause any more trouble,
between you and Neelix."

"Neelix and I have...come to an understanding," Kes countered.

The expression that passed over Paris face was so difficult for her to
interpret, and the emotions she sensed were cloudy and confusing. He
seemed at once contrite and defensive. An undefinable need ached in
every thought, yet his words revealed only his concern for her. "If
you want me to talk to him. I will. I want to. But Chakotay has gone
out of his way to keep me out of circulation. I think as much to keep
me away from Neelix as to punish me. But if it will make things easier
for you, I'll go see him now."

There was a prolonged moment of silence as she sifted through thoughts
and emotions, both his and hers, coming far too fast. Kes did not know
what to say to ease the barren expression on Tom Paris' face.

"He loves you very much." Paris said quietly, the longing on his face
painful. "He's very lucky."

"He's also very angry. At you. And jealous. But Neelix is no fool. He
knows he turned his back when I needed him. He regrets that. Believe
me, Tom, he understands, even if it is hard for him not to feel hurt
and anger."

"And you" Paris took a single step toward her. He looked as though he
wanted to reach out, but he held his hands carefully at his sides. "I
wanted to see you. To ask how you were. But Chakotay has had me on
every grunge detail on the ship. If I haven't been crawling through a
Jeffries' tube on my hands and knees, I've been checking out every
seam of the ship from the inside of the bulkheads. I wasn't trying to
avoid you."

"I didn't think you were. I'm well." Kes smiled, saw some of the
darkness lift from his eyes. "And you, Tom. I've been worried about
you."

Paris grinned, that slightly crooked, ever so charming grin she'd seen
so often, the one that said little about how he felt, but hid a great
deal. He shrugged. "I'm okay, Kes. I got off a lot easier than I
thought I would, though I may never see a normal duty shift if
Chakotay has anything to do with it."

Kes, moved closer to him, sensing he was not being entirely truthful.
"I've heard what the other crewmen are saying, Tom."

The grin faded, but did not completely leave Paris' face. He shook his
head with resignation. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing new."

"But some of it has been...viscous. What they've said when they
thought I wasn't listening."

"Don't worry about it." Paris repeated, his voice firm. "They'll
forget about it as soon as some new gossip comes along. In the
meantime, they aren't hurting me." Paris studied her intently. "And I
don't think any of them really meant to hurt you as long as their
favorite target is available."

"They've always talked about you as though you were some vile
intruder. If you want I could say something to the Captain..."

"No." Paris cut her off sharply. Then he grinned again. "Look, Kes, I
might not get a chance to talk to you again anytime soon, and I don't
want to spend the time talking about rumors. I was coming off duty,
and realized you were here. You seemed so preoccupied.   I didn't want
to bother you, but I had something I wanted to give you." He reached
out his hand.

Kes hesitated, then took it. A shiver went through her at his touch,
warm fingers curling around her own, making her feel like a one year
old out on her first date.

"Close your eyes," he said.

When she did, he carefully guided her through the cluttered bay to the
darkened corner in which he had been standing. Stopping, he took her
by the shoulders and turned her. "Sit." he said simply.

She did, then gasped as she started to tilt backward. Startled she
opened her eyes to find him on one knee, in front of her, holding her
hands and grinning. "Its, unstable," she burst out.

He laughed. "No, its a rocking chair."

Leaning over the side of the chair, she studied the curved pieces
fitted to the legs of the chair.

"Why?" she asked puzzled.

"Old Earth tradition."

"Tradition?" she asked.

Kes ran her hands over the smooth surface of the chair's arms. They
were made of a finely grained wood. Polished to a soft sheen. The seat
and back padded with thick cushions.

Still grinning, Paris let go of her hands and gently rocked the chair
backward and forward several times. As chair moved, the left rung
creaking rhythmically with the motion.

Kes laughed, "It squeaks."

"Part of the charm."

Experimentally, she moved the chair and found the sensation oddly
soothing. "So tell me of this tradition," Kes prodded him gently.

"My mom had one. She got from her mom. It had been in the family for
several generations. You sit in it when you feed a baby or you rock
them to sleep in it. Human babies seem to be comforted by the rocking
motion. I thought you might like one so I replicated it. The human
half of your baby might also find it soothing."

"Oh, Tom," Kes felt the tears begin to well in her eyes. She brushed
them away with her hand, but not before he'd seen.

"Did I say something wrong?" Paris reached out and touched her cheek
with the back of his fingers, then took both her hands firmly in his.

Kes shook her head, not trusting her voice, nor her heart. How did she
tell him he might have sacrificed his second chance for nothing.

"Talk to me, Kes." Paris said more firmly.

"The baby," Kes got no further. Paris was no empath, she knew that,
yet his face reflected the anguish she had felt for the last two days.

"Something is wrong." His voice was flat, lifeless.

Kes nodded. "The child is growing, as any Ocampa baby should,
but...the nervous system, is not. It has hardly begun to develop. Its
growth rate is more like that of a human embryo."

"Nervous system?"

"The brain stem and central nervous system. The doctor does not think
they will have developed beyond the most rudimentary state before the
child is ready to be born. It will be microencephalic. With very
little chance of survival." Kes heard herself speak the words, like an
executioner pronouncing a death sentence, distant and removed. And she
watched Paris bravado crumble. He sat back on his heels, for a moment
his eyes closed, and she wished for all the world she could grab her
words back again. When he opened his eyes, she could read the sadness,
yet her senses told her he wanted to ease her pain.

"Why?"

"The doctor thinks it is a simple matter of genetic incompatibility."

Paris snorted a short derisive laugh. "I've seen far more incompatible
species mate and successfully produce children."

Kes shrugged. "He also thinks it is because of the radical difference
in growth rate between Humans and Ocampa. And possibly," Kes swallowed
the lump of guilt that choked her, "because I entered the elogium far
too early. I was just too young." Kes felt herself tremble with the
effort to remain calm. She would not cry. She would not.

"And there's nothing he can do?"

"No," Kes' voice was barely a whisper. She had been through all this
with the doctor. All the tests and all the possibilities. Any drug
that would stimulate growth of the nervous system would result in
growth far too generalized to produce the needed brain tissue. And the
same drugs might radically alter the development of the remaining
fetal tissue. She looked at her hands, lying idle in her lap, and felt
the wracking sob building in her. She could have controlled it and
would have, except for his arms, circling her, drawing her down to
him. His touch, so warm, and gentle, and so well remembered, crushed
her self will, and she began to cry, cradled, protected.

He stayed with her.

---

Tom Paris moved through the corridors of Voyager, unseeing and
uncaring, wandering just to wander, to move, to pace. He had stayed
with Kes until her tears faded to muffled sighs, then he had escorted
her to her quarters, breathing a silent prayer of thanks that Neelix
was nowhere to be found. He'd gotten her a cup of warm herbal tea,
tucked her into bed, and sat, stroking her hair until she had finally
succumbed to fitful sleep. When he was sure she would sleep, he left
her quarters and went directly to Sickbay, with the intention of
grilling the Doctor on every aspect of Kes's pregnancy. He had learned
practically nothing. Citing the confidential nature of the
information, the Doctor had refused to answer most of his questions,
but Paris had gleaned enough from inference to be sure of one fact.
There was little chance Kes's baby would survive. Her child, their
child, he told himself, was doomed before it was even born, and the
fact gnawed at him. Scraping against emotions already raw from the
turmoil of the last three roller coaster weeks, the news struck deep
and hard.

Without intending to he found himself at the entrance to the mess
hall. When he realized where he was, he noted with relief, the place
was empty. The last thing he needed or wanted now, was the whispered
chatter of any of his 'fellow' crew members. He was exhausted. His
mind had run in ever tightening circles of anger and despair as he had
wandered the corridors of the ship, until he was numb. He had been
hungry at the end of his duty shift, but his hunger was forgotten.
Having used all of his replicator rations to fabricate his gift to
Kes, he knew he would have to face Neelix eventually if he wanted to
eat, but not now. He turned to leave, when a hand fell on his shoulder
spinning him around.

"So you still haven't found the courage to face me." Neelix bristled
with anger, his eyes alight with a smoldering jealousy. "I was
wondering if you would ever bring yourself to show up here again."

Paris backed off a step, the last thing he needed, was a confrontation
with Neelix. He wouldn't do that to Kes. She needed them both right
now.

"Look, Neelix, I didn't come here to argue."

"Then what did you come for," the little Talaxian challenged, placing
one hand against Paris' chest and pushing him. "To rub my nose in your
sexual prowess. To remind me that you were more than willing to mate
with Kes, knowing it was too early in her life to safely enter the
elogium. I was right about you from the start. You are just a walking
hormone." The Talaxian pushed Paris again, harder, into the corridor.

Paris was vaguely aware of other crewmen stopping to watch. He braced
his feet and stood his ground as Neelix continued his assault, pushing
Paris farther into the corridor. He could feel the disgust in the
alien' voice, reflected in the stares of those around them, and he
fought his own rising anger. Part of him noted how absurd they must
look, himself disheveled from a long night shift, and Neelix attired
in his gaudy apron and floppy chef's hat. He would have found the
situation amusing under other circumstances, but now, Neelix's anger
fed his own sense of frustration. He wanted to lash out at something,
to vent that helpless anger somewhere. Why not here, and now, Neelix
was spoiling for a fight. How could he be in any more trouble than he
already was. Reaching out he grabbed the Talaxian by both wrists.

"Don't, Neelix," Paris said in a low voice through clenched teeth.

"Why not," Neelix was livid with rage, "Why not? We all know about
you. Know you can't be trusted. Kes was willing to give you the
benefit of the doubt, but you proved your as untrustworthy as everyone
said you were."

"Look, Neelix, for Kes' sake, don't start something--"

Neelix snorted with contempt. "For Kes' sake! For Kes' sake? You
didn't think of her welfare before you volunteered your stud
services--"

Paris exploded. Twisting his body and applying force to the wrist he
still held locked in his grip, he dropped Neelix to the deck plates,
knocking the wind from the alien and pinning his arm behind him.
Neelix struggled, spitting curses, levering himself to attempt to
create an advantage.

"You're going to listen to my side," Paris hissed in his ear. "If I
have to beat it into you."

"Mr. Paris."

Paris did not respond. Every sense was focused on Neelix, his anger
and his determination to justify his actions to the Talaxian, blotting
out everything. He did not release Neelix until a hand grabbed him by
the back of his collar, jerked him to his feet, spun him around and
slammed him against the bulkhead. Only then did he register the source
of the voice. Chakotay clenched the fabric at the front of his uniform
in an iron grip, pinning him to the wall. The bigger man's weight held
him, the first officer's face inches from his, icy black eyes burning
into his own.

"My office, Mr. Paris." Chakotay's voice was low, the tone harsh.

Released from Chakotay's iron grip, Paris glared, first at the Indian
then an Neelix. Damn he thought to himself, the heat of anger cooling,
Now what have I done. Resolutely, not stopping to see if Neelix was
injured, he turned his back on the alien, Chakotay and the watchers,
and walked, stiff backed towards Chakotay's office.

---

Eighteen days, and counting. Not that he'd been counting. Okay, he'd
been counting. He hadn't yet resorted to scratching marks on the wall
to track the passage of time, but another day confined to his quarters
and he would be. As it was, he'd probably gotten off easier than he
should. Whatever powers were watching over him, and he suspected it
was the Captain, he'd pulled lighter punishment than he'd expected.
Janeway, in her own subtle way, had chosen to nursemaid him through
this one. He didn't think it was anything he'd done. It was probably
because of Kes. Whether she would admit it or not, the captain was
very fond of Kes. Who on board ship wasn't. But Janeway's affection
was almost maternal. And Kes had enough to contend with, she didn't
need him screwing things up and making it worse. Janeway was just
making it easier for her. Helping her through a tough time, like every
one else on board was trying to do. He seemed to be the only
exception. Everything he did, made things worse.

Jumping Neelix was bad enough, but understandable, and well provoked.
If he'd just kept his mouth shut, instead of aggravating Chakotay
further. He tried to block out the scene in the commander's office,
the heated words, that almost came to blows. The first officer had
tried to keep him out of trouble, but he managed to find it anyway, in
his own inimitable way. Instead of recognizing Chakotay's sternness as
an effort to help, he'd taken it as a personal insult, and as a result
of his insubordinate behavior, he'd ended up confined to quarters. He
hadn't given Chakotay many options. Tuvok's security people escorted
him to and from duty shifts, and the rest of the time, he was here,
until the sight of the barren interior of his own quarters became more
mind numbing that his cell block at Auckland. It was for his own good,
Chakotay told him. Until Neelix cooled off. Until he could think
straight himself.

But, and the thought ate at him like a festering wound, Kes needed
him. More importantly, he needed her, needed to talk, to understand
what had, and was happening to them, and to their child. Not that
Neelix would have given him the opportunity. The Talaxian clung to Kes
like mold on old bread, never letting her out of his sight, doting
over and waiting on her. Part of him was glad she was not alone, that
someone who loved her was nearby to care for her. Whenever he tried to
make contact with Kes, Neelix was there. Paris had spoken to her once,
briefly, in the mess hall, under the baleful eye of Neelix and the
vigilant stare of security. She had assured him she was well. There
had been no change in the status of the baby, though the Doctor had
attempted an experimental growth stimulator used in the cloning
process in hopes of stimulating tissue growth.

Kes' words reported with clinical coolness, but Paris had seen the
sadness in her eyes. It seemed like ages since he'd heard her
laughter, or seen anything but worry on her face. He wanted to touch
her, hold her, share her anxiety. Instead he stood with his hands at
his sides, inwardly cursing his inability to help, all too aware of
the eyes watching their every move. She had kissed him, lightly on the
cheek. The tender brush of cool lips against his skin was almost more
than he could abide. But his eye met Neelix' glare, and he nodded,
certain his apparent indifference aggravated the Talaxian as much as
overt affection would have.

He had requested, and been granted, the right to access the Doctor at
any time to request information about Kes, and was assured he would be
contacted when the child was due.

In the meantime, he fell back on old habits, passing time in anyway he
could, telling himself he was not going stir crazy, that if he was
good, he would get to go back to the bridge one day. That dear old dad
wasn't waiting on the other side of the door. But then, maybe he had
been wrong. Maybe nothing his father had ever done to him was as bad
as what he had managed to do himself.

---

Paris lay in the darkness, staring at the cascade of stars rushing
past the view port. It had been several hours since the baby had been
born. After the doctor had informed him of the birth, he had gone to
Sickbay, only to find Kes asleep, Neelix at her side, and the baby,
surrounded by a stasis field and so much equipment he couldn't even
get a look at her. He had retreated, quietly, having no intention of
causing Kes any more grief.

He wasn't sure which had hurt more, Kes, sleeping with Neelix in
attendance instead of himself, or the child, a fragile mite, unmoving
and apparently lifeless. The Doctor informed him the child would be
kept in stasis in the event a medical solution could be found.

Lying in the darkness, he listened the hushed vibration of Voyager's
systems hurtling them through the darkness. Lost in thought, he didn't
hear the door chime, but he sat up, startled as the door itself
swished open. Rolling off his bed, Paris glanced at the open hatch,
surprised to find Neelix' distinctive shape silhouetted against the
light in the corridor beyond. The alien stood silently, shifting from
one foot to the other.

"Why, Neelix," Paris said, sarcasm dripping from the words, "Whatever
brings you here?"

"Kes."

Paris laughed.  "Kes? I didn't think that was a topic I was allowed to
discuss in your presence."

"I didn't come to discuss her. I came to find her."

"Find her?" Paris asked, concern washing away his brashness. "Isn't
she in sickbay?"

"No. I left briefly, and when I came back, she was gone, and so was
the baby. I thought she might be here. She had asked for you."

Paris could almost feel the effort Neelix put into the words. The hurt
in his voice was almost palpable, the anguish on his face undeniable.

"Look, Mr. Paris," Neelix rushed on, "I...I may have been wrong about
you. I may have treated you too harshly. I see now, what you must mean
to Kes. I need your help to find her."

The normally loquacious Talaxian stumbled to find the words to ask for
his help. Paris didn't need to be asked twice. He knew where Kes would
be. Pushing past Neelix, he ran down the corridor to the lift, the
ship's cook close on heels.

"Do you know where she might be?" Neelix asked breathlessly, as the
lift doors closed behind them.

"Yes."

They rode in grim silence, then when the lift stopped, Paris once
again broke into a dogtrot that left Neelix panting in his wake. At
the door to the hydroponics' bay, he stopped so abruptly Neelix plowed
into him.

"Here?" Neelix asked. "Is she here?"

Paris held up his hand listening. From the darkness at the far end of
the cavernous bay came a soft squeaking sound. Neelix started to slide
past Paris, but the lieutenant stopped him. "Neelix, I need to talk to
Kes. Alone."

The Talaxian hesitated, his mouth opened as if to lodge a protest.

"Please," Paris said softly.

Neelix mouth snapped shut. He closed his eyes as if in pain, then he
nodded consent and stepped out of the way.

Paris entered the bay, allowing the doors to close behind him, waiting
as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. He heard the rhythmic creaking
again, and a muffled voice. Moving farther into the bay he saw Kes,
illumination from the grow lights casting an eerie halo around her.
She was totally absorbed and did not hear or sense him. Cautiously, he
thought her name. As he did, she turned to face him, and smiled.

"Come see your daughter," she said simply.

Paris took a step closer. "You shouldn't be up yet."

"I'm fine, Tom. Childbirth is not as difficult for Ocampa as for
Humans."

"But the Doctor said the baby was is stasis."

"She was." Kes continued to rock, her eyes on the bundle in her arms.

Paris knelt slowly in front of her, eyes on her face. Kes, seemed
oddly at peace. The sadness that had crowded her face for weeks,
dispelled, if only momentarily, by the rapture of new birth. Paris
wished he shared her calm. His insides churned with a desperate fear.
He wanted more than anything to see Kes happy, but he wanted more to
see this child live.

"Why did you take her out of stasis," Paris demanded, trying not to
let the desperation he felt edge his tone.

"To hold her."

"She'll die. The doctor said she couldn't live outside a stasis
field."

"She wasn't living in it," Kes said simply. Looking up, her eyes
liquid with suppressed tears. "Tom, please understand. Life is so
short for my species, compared to yours. It wasn't anything I'd ever
considered before. There is very little hope that anything will ever
be done for her in either of our lifetimes."

"We don't know that." Paris interrupted. "We've already run into
species with medical abilities are so far ahead of ours. The
Vidians--"

"No, Tom. She won't last that long. Even in stasis she was failing.
The doctor could prolong her death, but he couldn't prevent it." The
silent tears flowed freely down Kes face, dropping to the quiet bundle
she cradled in her arms.

The look on her face was heart wrenching. Paris reached out, caressing
her face with his hand. She leaned into his touch, weeping softly.

"I didn't want her to die surrounded by insensitive machines. I wanted
to hold her."

"How long?"

"Any time." Kes continued to rock. The only sound filling the room was
the creaking of wood, and muffled tears.

After what seemed an eternity, Paris reached out, and gently eased the
swaddled infant from her mother's arms. Sitting on the deck plates, he
turned the blankets away from the baby's face. She was startlingly
beautiful. Her tiny features perfectly formed, the oddly sloping
forehead and undersized cranium the only indication that anything was
wrong. She appeared to be asleep. "She's beautiful," Paris said,
fighting back the tears that choked his own voice. Time enough for
that later.

Kes reached over, taking his hand in her own. "Yes, she is. And she
should have a name before she's gone."

"I'm sorry, Kes." Paris blurted the words he's held back too long. "I
never meant to hurt you. If I had known it would end like this."

"I would have asked you anyway." Kes said simply. "There's nothing to
apologize for, Tom. Stay with us. For however long it takes."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Besides, we need to find her a
good name."

Kes smiled, through the tears that once again streaked her face, then
she sat back, the chair gently rocking, his free hand clasped in her
own. Paris held his infant daughter, a tiny miracle, if a short lived
one. A miracle he had barely dreamed of. There was so little time for
her. But enough time. Caressing her tiny features, he kissed her on
the forehead, then passed her back to Kes, who drew her close,
nodding. Sitting, they waited in the soft light, together.

---

The End