Chapter Text
Janeway POV
“Is she… is she going to be okay?”
Her subconscious begins to pull her from her dreamless slumber, the heaviness of her exhaustion muffling her senses.
“She is the same as when you had asked me an hour ago.” The sharp voice of the Doctor helps to cut through the fog blanketing her mind.
For a moment, pure panic seeps down into her throat. The last time she had felt this way, she was desperately trying to escape her nightmares with one bad vice after another. Did I succumb to another binder? She wills her mind to cooperate, to remember as much as she can before waking up. The only thing she can picture is being in the turbolift, on her way to… to… she can’t remember.
“I am not going to keep entertaining your own need to quiet your guilt, Mr. Paris.” She can hear the Doctor sigh under his breath. “She should be waking soon. On previous occasions, she did not appreciate curious eyes staring at her.”
That doesn’t stop him, she silently drawls.
“Please let me know if I can be of any help.” The worry in Tom’s voice brings forth a hazy memory of him at the controls of a shuttle muttering to himself.
“I do have a few bedpans that need a good scrub.”
“Hmm.” Even though her eyes are closed, she can see Tom stifling a fake yawn. “I’m feeling quite tired. If it’s all the same, I will take a nap.”
“I think that is a good idea.” The Doctor stays by her side as she hears Tom walking away, no doubt taking her medical readings. “It is not as if I had told him to rest for the past twelve hours.”
Taking a deep breath, she knows that it would be foolish to assume that the Doctor would not be able to deduce that she is awake. It is within that intermingling time before he acknowledges that she is conscious that she explores her surroundings with her senses.
Instantly, she can feel the silky, cool sheets against her skin that is not covered by the itchy Sickbay gowns, the soft beeps and chirps helping to keep her mind focused. How the hell did I get here? Stamping down her anger at being unable to remember, she instead centers all of her energy on her body.
As if right on cue, the Doctor presses a hypospray against her skin, her neural pathways connecting back to both her memories and her body.
It is then she remembers Tom carrying her into a shuttle and hurtling them into a transwarp state. She had pleaded with him to bring them back to Voyager, but he refused to even acknowledge her. The last thing she distinctly remembers is an overwhelming desire to find a planet that would be able to sustain their life.
Desperately not wanting to drown into the possibility of what had happened to them, she focuses her attention back onto her body just as the last of the fog disappears.
God, I feel awful.
Her muscles ache as if they had been pulled apart one at a time, her head quite literally on the cusp of an explosion. Yet, none of that compares to the pain of emptiness low within her belly.
How could this have happened?
It has been nearly three years – has it been that long? – since she last felt this pain. All at once and too tired to stop it, memories bombard her mind of lying on a cold table, her stupid body once again rejecting the innocent life she desperately wanted to protect. Despite Tuvok’s calming presence and Phoebe’s comforting arms, she buried all of it; the small life she would have loved unconditionally, her hopes of bringing at least one life to full term, her guilt at keeping the news of her pregnancy from Mark; and pretended that nothing happened.
“Captain?” The palm of his cool holographic hand gently presses against her arm which helps her to swallow the bile of hatred. “Mr. Paris is asleep.”
Taking a deep breath, her eyelashes flutter open and the full brunt of the bright lights of Sickbay spears through her mind, pain twisting in her temple like a tightly wound rope ready to snap. “Dim the lights,” she croaks, her mouth and throat as dry as a desert. When the brightness shadows against her eyelids, she slowly opens her eyes to the Doctor patiently waiting to acknowledge him. “Water, please.”
As he turns to the replicator, she braces her knuckles against the bed to push herself up into a sitting position. It is when she feels the loss of life the most; the soreness between her legs, her breasts slightly heavier, her womb contracting with the understanding that there is nothing there to protect. Depression settles heavily on her shoulders, her eyes filling with tears she is unable to stop.
“Please Captain.” The Doctor rushes back to her, a cup of water in his hand. “You must rest. The effects of the evolutionary and de-evolutionary stages your body has gone through has left your muscles taxed and your body susceptible to illness.”
She can feel his inquisitive eyes boring into her. “Is Tom okay?”
Both of them glance over to the still form across the room. “He will be just fine. His recuperation rate is far exceeding my original timetable.”
She takes a small sip of water. “What happened?”
“Mr. Paris kidnapped you, stole a shuttle, transwarped you to a swampy planet where you thankfully stayed until we were able to catch up to you.” The distaste is evident in his retelling, yet, another cautious glance towards the helmsman lets her know that the Doctor is still concerned for Tom’s wellbeing.
She takes another small sip, the tips of her fingers pressing into her aching temple. “I am to assume that the de-evolutionary state that Tom succumbed to is the same thing that happened to me?”
Nodding, he hesitantly adds, “Among other things.” It’s small, but she can see a flash of worry dip along his brow as he discreetly glances down at her belly.
Subconsciously, or possibly consciously, she places her hand over her belly. Despite the anger and depression wrestling within her, she silently mourns the loss of another child. My fourth.
“The species you de-evolved into mated and procreated.” His voice is gentle as if he is about to give her some devastating news. “You were able to conceive and birth three younglings.”
Sheer surprise lifts her chin to see that the Doctor is not joking, or worse, taking pity on her.
I was… oh my…
Tears gather within her eyes, her fingers lightly gripping her belly in praise rather than fury. Looking towards the ceiling, she gives thanks that at least something happened right with her body.
“During our cursory find, the away team noted that there were two damaged embryos found underneath the sand. They were peacefully – if not lovingly – placed there by I'm assuming either you or Mr. Paris. Without upsetting the burial ground, I was able to determine from their scans that those two embryos were older than the younglings caught diving into the water.”
Five. Despite the three that she was able to carry to term, it’s the two she lost that will sit heavier on her heart. She bows her head as hot tears run down her cheeks.
He lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. “During my pelvic exam, I noticed that there was scar tissue coating your Fallopian tubes.” Despite Sickbay being nearly empty, his voice is barely above a whisper. “The scar tissue is older than the life of this vessel. I would surmise that you had miscarried twice, maybe three times before coming onto Voyager, maybe within the last ten to twelve years.”
She lifts her chin, her tears still streaming over her trembling lips. “Please, don't include that into your report. What happened to me is deeply personal and I'd rather not have anyone taking pity on me.”
The Doctor opens and closes his mouth in a flux of confusion. “Wh… why?”
She grabs his wrist and begs, “Please!”
He finally acquiesce with a nod and a slight roll of the eyes. “But just this once.” He wags his finger in her face. “I will update your medical file when we get back to the Alpha Quadrant.”
She can live with that. “Thank you.” Letting go of him, she takes a longer sip of her water as she watches him disappear into his office, her fingers gently running along her belly, her tears subsiding. I’ll just have to make sure to reprogram his memory.
“I have added my note to my personal log.”
That makes it easier to access.
“My log is encrypted with a passcode that not even our intrepid engineer could hack.”
He doubts my abilities.
“My log is also set to automatically link to Starfleet once we enter the Alpha Quadrant should my memory matrix be tampered with.”
Well, fuck.
“Duly noted.” Rolling her eyes, she drinks the rest of her water.
“You are not the only one with secrets.” His superior smile grates on her nerves, yet she swallows her annoyance whole as a stream of questions works their way through her mind. Taking her cup, he refills it with water and hands it back to her.
“Doctor?” She glances around the room, the stillness deceptive to how chaotic it can truly be during an emergency. “How was I umm… if I… I have…” She presses her lips into a fine, white line, her cheeks burning in embarrassment at asking something that she never thought possible. Other than with Phoebe and Tuvok, she had never talked about her miscarriages out loud, only preferring to keep that part of her painful past to herself. “How was I able to carry a ba…,” she swallows hard at the slip up, “t-them to full term?”
His brow crinkles in genuine thought. “I suppose as the rest of your body de-evolved, your fallopian tubes had reverted back to their original undamaged state.”
She can’t help but to wince at his rather forward explanation. “Out of all the women Tom Paris could have chosen, he kidnapped the woman with a broken uterus.”
Looking rather cross, the Doctor admonishes her with a stern, “Captain!”
She holds up her hand to keep him from admonishing her. It was a flippant comment she would typically keep to herself and, already, she is starting to regret having this conversation.
He, of course, does not heed her silent warning. “With the proper care from an informed doctor, you can still have children. It just won't be as conventional as other female humanoids.”
“The point is moot.” She fixes him with a hard glare. “Not while we still call the Delta Quadrant our home.”
“Very well.” He turns to pick up another hypospray. “At least this was fortuitous timing. You were nearing the end of your contraception blocker.”
She feels her entire face flush as she tips her head to the side to allow the Doctor to administer her contraception. With one complication after another, she had completely forgotten about coming in for her blocker. She silently kicks herself, especially as the image of a certain Commander between her legs slips into her mind.
While they have not gone further than what they were about to do that night, she finds their relationship blossoming, despite the chaos of the unknown quadrant surrounding them. There are no regrets, however, the last thing we need is an unplanned pregnancy.
“Knowing your penchant for avoiding Sickbay, I have placed a reminder on both of our respective calendars for you to come in to get your next blocker in five years.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Not wanting the biggest gossip on the ship to start looking in places he doesn’t belong, she flippantly adds, “While I do not see myself needing this particular blocker, it is always good to keep it up just in case something were to happen.”
She knows she has hit her mark when his mouth gapes open. “Captain, are you to tell me that you have not participated in sexual activity since being placed in this godforsaken Quadrant?” At her silence, he rolls his eyes with a superiority that’ll distract him beyond her time in Sickbay. “How many times do I have to tell you that taking part in recreational exercise can be healthy to both mind and body. Just the stress levels alone would cut in half if you–”
“Your point is, once again, moot, Doctor.”
“But Captain–”
She stops him with the heel of her hand when she sees Tom moving. “No! I will not hear anymore of it.”
“Fine,” he petulantly hisses with the roll of his eyes. “Once Kes returns, she will assist you in the bathroom.” Not waiting for her answer, he turns and marches to his office.
Taking a deep breath, she takes a small sip of water, her thumb lovingly stroking her stomach.