[STV: J/P Fic] Modulation VIII

[sydneyalexis]

Modulation

Sydney Alexis

VIII [Eight]

"J'ai pleuré en rêve. J'ai rêve en morte."

[I cried in my sleep. I dreamt you had died.]

~Heinrich Heine

"What do you mean Paris and Janeway were brought to the crematorium?" Tumeric thundered at his lead soldier, Kenoshia.



"I saw you load them yourself, sir, as did many of my men. You claimed that the Captain died during the night and that Paris killed himself," Kenoshia said, eyes darting towards the ground.

"You fool!" Tumeric said, the open palm of his hand making contact with Kenoshia's ivory skin. His cheek instantly turning red. A trickle of blood slipped down from a wound made by the G'Tan's ring. "Would I ever lower myself to doing manual labor?"

"Of course not, sir," Kenoshia responded. He didn't miss a beat and did not flinch when the offending mark was made.

"What vessel was used as transport?"

"One of the Voyager shuttles, sir. It was unlike the others..."

"The Delta Flyer... has it been seen recently?"

"No, sir," Kenoshia said, shifting uncomfortably, but not taking his eyes off his commander.

"Things are growing more curious by the moment...," Tumeric said, rubbing his hands together as he began to think. A moment later he turned to address his general. "I want you to go to the crematorium and scan each burner for their DNA, personally. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Go, quickly. Take as many men as you need. Turn the damned things off if necessary. I will not be blamed for their disappearance."

Kenoshia nodded and turned on his heel. Two quick steps saw him out of the office. Tumeric, on the other hand, ran a hand through his silken hair. He waited a few moments before stepping out onto the balcony attached to his office. There, high on a perch in the tower that loomed over the entire Yard, he watched the ant-like beings laboring in the bitter cold snow. Some were attempting to rebuild the sewing factory while others combed through the remains for items that could be salvaged. Bodies of trapped victims were drug from the scene and piled onto a massive pyre that had been erected. The guards felt that it would take too much time and effort to load them onto shuttles and unload them into the giant ovens.

Chell and Ayala huddled near each other during the lunch break. Their trembling fingers wrapped around the warm glass of broth given to them for food. The work they had been assigned to-- checking the wreckage of the building-- had been a major undertaking. Most of the day, the ten or so placed on this task had spent uncovering body after body. Some were Kamien guards, but most were prisoners. A few were crew members.

"I wonder what happened to Naomi and Sam," Chell said, casting a glance towards the pyre.

"Sam was pretty bad last night. Even if she did die, I doubt they would have killed Naomi. She was worth more to them alive."

"I just can't believe the captain is gone. I had always assumed she would find a way to get us out of here," Ayala said, honestly. Chell wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulder and drew her close.

"I suspect this place got to her as much as it did us; she just hid it better. Her wounds were just beyond Tom's abilities."

Ayala sighed again and lowered her head. "Poor Tom. I can't even imagine. I knew they were close, but to kill himself....I never pictured him the type."

"He'd been in some pretty rough patches before. It's not like they didn't put up a fight; they'd been killed once before, and she'd had some close calls before. Maybe it's better this way; they've found their peace."

"How long do you think it'll take? For us to find our peace I mean" Ayala asked, finally meeting his eyes.

Chell's shoulders slumped at his friend's admission. "I don't know. I'm still hoping that we find a way out of this place."

A long pause insued. Ayala's eyes scanned the white dunes in the distance and then the mountains beyond them.

"It stopped."

"What has?" Chell asked.

"Look." Ayala said, pointing in the distance. "The gray snow...it's stopped."

"Maybe they're out of bodies to burn," Chell said, bitterly.

For the first time in nearly the full year they had been there, the ominous trio of smoke stacks in the distance had ceased their production of gray snow. The prisoners all knew it was ashes, but, somehow the euphemism allowed them to pretend otherwise.

"Maybe it's a sign from the prophets."

"I hope so, Ayala. For both our sakes."

"Tom, wake up." A voice said with urgency through his foggy mind. A hand crept toward him, moving dangerously close. He shot up from bed, covering his head with his arms, sucking in air rapidly, waiting for the blow that never came. When nothing but silence ensured, he opened his eyes, blinking several times before his vision came into focus.

"Ah, Mr Paris, I see you have finally regained your wits," the Doctor's voice said from a distance. Tom rubbed his eyes wearily. Waking to see a Kamien form over him was unsettling.

"Sorry, Doc. It's all reflex. How's Kathryn?" He asked, looking past the doctor to the surgical bay.

"It was a rough night. She coded once more, but it looks like she just might make it. I've tended to her life-threatening injuries. The damage to her hands, arms, and pelvis was quite severe. It will take months of physical therapy in order for her to regain dexterity in those limbs not to mention multiple dermal treatments. The Captain will, no doubt, have some scaring on her hands."

Tom locked his eyes shut for a moment, drawing in an uneven breath. The emotion hidden behind the movement was not lost upon the Doctor. He reached out and covered Tom's shoulder, forcing the young man's vision to lock on the Doctor's face.

"I am, however, fairly certain that she will live. She does have a few injuries left to treat, but refuses to let anyone but you heal the rest. For some reason, even in the state that she is in, she knows who is near her. The fact that I look like G'tan doesn't help."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Tom asked, swinging his legs off the bed.

"Are you kidding? I had to sedate you just to get you to get some sleep. It was nothing I couldn't handle."

Tom nodded, picking up a tricorder he moved towards Kathryn. "When did she regain consciousness?"

"She didn't totally. She just kept calling for you and fighting me when I tried to get near her. It was both distressing and annoying. Some of her remaining injuries are more than minor. Of course, I had to wait until she was stable to work on them..."

"I'll see what I can do," Tom said, slipping off his biobed. The doctor nodded and watched from a distance.

"Doc..." Tom started. "how did you know to take that form?"

"That, Mr. Paris, is a very long story. As I said, I was brought here to The Farm after triggering that alarm. G'tan Kairon's assistant, Talken, took interest in me immediately. It seemed that his favorite scientist, Tanari, was in need of assistance. They brought me here and forced me into helping with their...work. "

"The Farm?" Tom repeated, looking over the doctor's earlier scans of her injuries. His heart sank as his eyes read over the cold data. Had the Doctor not shown up when he did...

"The less you know the better off you will be. All I am authorized to tell you is that the G'Tol Kairon asked me to rescue the captain. He wanted the two of you alive, but didn't want Tumeric to know.

"G'Tol's hand picked engineer added personality subroutines in me so that I could get into the encampment without Kenoshia detecting any odd behavior. That day that you two were brought into the shuttle bay was my first test run. While you were sloshing around in the bowls of the ship, I was downloading sensor schematics into my holomatrix."

"You know, you play a Kamien soldier pretty well," Tom said evenly. "Especially that bit where you punched me."

"Well, I had to make it believable, and, as I have pointed out on several occasions, you are thick headed, Mr. Paris."

Tom walked around the biobed to reach the tool he needed. Kathryn's body tensed as his proximity. "I would be careful if I were you," the doctor said.

"It's a defense mechanism. You develop the habit of sleeping lightly so that your are always ready to deflect blows. You've just got to know how to approach her."

Tom reached her side, set the tricorder down, and began to stroke her hair as he had done every night and spoke to her in hushed tones. "Kathryn?"

"Is it safe to wake her? She might resist treatment less if she knew was conscious of what was going on."

"Be my guest."

Suddenly glad he had taken an interest in 20th century practices, Tom placed the needle of the syringe into her vein and depressed the stopper. After a brief wait, Kathryn opened her eyes and blinked against the bright lights of the surgical bay. "Hmmm...Tom, is that you?" Kathryn said, shifting slightly, grabbing at her head as she struck by sudden pain. "Where are we?"

"I don't really know; the doctor won't tell me."

"But how..." she said, moving to sit up. Tom placed his hands on her shoulders to stop her.

"The Doc and I had a hell of a time patching you up. Try to sit still, okay?"

"As long as you tell me how we got here," Kathryn said, wincing as Tom gave her an injection for the pain and infection.

"How much of the past few days do you remember?"

There was a long pause. Tom spent it whirling the small scanner around her forehead, watching as the readout on the tricorder registered a lowering heart rate consistent with pain relief.

She shook her head slowly trying to clear her mind from the fuzziness the painkillers brought on. "There was a fire...in the sewing factory. Sam and I had to jump out of a window. Sam? Is she all right?"

"Aside from having to remove Tom's handiwork, Sam is fine. I was able to get both her and Naomi out last night," The doctor said, motioning towards the biobeds across the room. "Where did you learn how to do such crude sutchers, Mr. Paris?"

"Cute, Doc, real cute. I didn't see you there to help."

"Tom, how did we get here?" Kathryn repeated.

"It's quiet simple; I smuggled you out of the encampment," the doctor said, stepping forward.

Kathryn gasped and backed away slowly from the figure approaching. Tom reached out and grasped her shoulder to stop her. He met her eyes evenly.

"He's not G'tan, Kathryn. It's the Doctor."

"How do I know it's not another trick?" She said, eyeing the man and then looking over at Tom. Her eyes dashed around the room. She hadjust heard the Doctor, hadn't she? He stepped forward yet again and addressed her.

"Do you remember when I learned that I had chosen Harry's life over? You sat with me in the holodeck for hours while I worked through my emotions. Eventually, I ordered you to bed. After you left, I read the page you had left open on your chair. Dante's La Vita Nuova."

Her jaw fell slack for a moment. She recovered quickly. "You could have easily found that out by reading my log entries. Tell me something I wouldn't make note of. Something I told you or visa versa that you never wanted anyone to know."

The hologram paused for a long moment to collect his thoughts. His eyes shone brightly when the idea came upon him. "Michael Sullivan," he said, simply. "You began to question involvement with a hologram, and you and I spoke in a corridor. I told you that I was no different than he. You had come to think of me as a human being and not a machine. Once you realized that, you finally allowed yourself to fall in love. If you don't mind my saying so, being in love suits you, Captain."

"Doctor?" she saidm incredulously.

"Quite the disguise, isn't it?"

"Pity B'Elanna isn't here to change you back," Tom said with disdain.

"B'Elanna is alive and well. She's the one that did this, actually," he said, without thinking. Then, realizing his faux pas, let worry slip into his features.

"What do you mean?" Kathryn said, sitting up slightly.

"Well, I can't really tell you. I'm under orders."

"Orders from whom, Doctor?" Kathryn asked.

"Look. The less you know the better. They might return you tonight if they have the chance. If they know that you know, you will have to stay here."

"Where ever here is," Tom mumbled.

"Please, just trust me on this, Captain, you don't want to know," The Doctor reiterated. Then, turning towards Tom added, "Treat the rest of her wounds, and make sure that she stays in that bed."

"Understood," Tom said.

The doctor made his way towards the sickbay doors and turned. "Oh...be sure that both stay away from any food brought into the room. Your digestive systems can't handle Kamien cuisine. I will have to find an alternative."

"This place...it almost looks like Voyager's sickbay," Kathryn said, thinking aloud.

"Probably at the Doctor's request. You know how he likes everything where it belongs."

"They probably just stripped the damned thing and moved it to this..this..."

"The Farm," Tom supplied. "I wonder why they call it that. It almost sounds like they are growing something..."

"My head feels like pins are being driven into my skull."

"Other than that, how do you feel?"

"Better. It's a little bit easier to breath. Why?"

"You have some bones that need repair and treatment for smoke inhalation...skin damage."

She nodded and laid still on her biobed. Tom worked in virtual silence as he healed the lining of her lungs and shattered pelvis, wrist, and ribs. Bruises to her face, wrists, and chest followed suit. It was then that he turned his attention to her back.

"Do you think you can lay on your side for a few minutes? I need to get the glass shards out and repair the burns."

Nodding, she turned, stifling a scream of pain as her newly healed her hip made contact with the hard surface of the biobed. Tom crossed behind her. Peeling the blood stained tank top up, his eyes were greeted with the sight of her badly scarred back. His stomach lurched at the sight. Taking in a deep breath, he separated his emotional side from his professional as best he could and ran the inferior Kamien dermal regenerator over her wounds.

"There is no infection, and the skin isn't that badly damaged, but I won't be able to heal all of you scars, Kathryn. Some of them are just too old..."

She took a moment to respond, voice shaking slightly. "Just do the best you can, Tom."

"Yes, ma'am."

Running the dermal regenerator in even lines, he began weaving yet another adventure. "Do you remember that carnival in San Diego? The sun had set and all the light of the city were up. I took you by boat from San Francisco Bay to San Diego. It wasn't a far trip, but one you enjoyed as your favorite pilot regaled you with stories of his wild youth. Just as I steered into the harbor, we both could make out the bright lights of the carnival. It was about a quarter of a mile up the coastline, but you told me to dock before then...You've always did have a thing for strategically placing the ship," he said, smiling.

His efforts are rewarded with a small laugh. Tom let out a small breath, glad that some of his ministrations were working.

"We approached the carnival and, of course, you took the lead, pulling me towards the Ferris Wheel. We must have ridden it a dozen times before the lines got too long. You said you loved it because it reminded you of the county fair your father used to take you to... before the war."

Tom paused briefly, realizing that he had mentioned something unpleasant in his created world. A smile came to him as his imagination supplied him with the next ridiculous scene.

"Of course, I had to try my hand at the phaser shoot. After loosing ten pieces of latinum, I finally won you that stuff dog. Do you remember him?"

He gave a small pause for dramatic effect, knowing it was a rhetorical question.

"In a typical Paris manner, I screwed up the night though. Tried to take you into the Lover's Lane ride. You agreed for reasons to this day I still don't get, and I tried to kiss you. You, of course, refused and slapped me in the process. My ego bruised, we returned to my father's sailboat, and went back up the coast.

"You could have made the trip back miserable, but it was so much more beautiful. Out on the open water with the stars reflecting off the black surface. You danced in my arms even though there was no music. When I left you on your doorstep, I gave you our first real kiss."

Having finished his task, he closed the tricorder and came around the bed to face her. He caressed her cheek with his hand.

"Tom..." she started. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to correct his breech of protocol. Worried that being back on in the presence of another crewmember would remind her of her duty to Starfleet, he pulled back, and smiled weakly at her. She motioned towards the doctor's office. "He's watched every single move we've made. I wouldn't be surprised if he was reading our lips."

Tom started to laugh. "I thought that he'd left."

"He did, but reappeared mid-story. I didn't have the heart to stop you."

"Well then, Mrs. Paris, why don't we give him something to talk about?"

"Lieutenant," she said quietly, watching as a defeated look crossed Tom's face. Finally, she allowed a mischievous smile to cross her lips.

"What I wouldn't give for a long soak in my tub and a hot cup of coffee."

"Maybe you should ask the Doc if he could convince his friends into it."

"If they do, would you care to join me, Lieutenant?"

Kathryn watched in her peripheral view as the doctor's head shot up from his desk. It was her turn to laugh. "I was right; he was eavesdropping."

"B'Elanna, it's a bad idea. You know the punishment if we get caught."

"Harry, just think about it. They need us; they can't afford to kill us all."

"It's a suicide mission! You know that," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"It's not like we haven't died once before. Do I need to remind you of The Yard?"

"It's not that simple, B'Elanna," Harry said, pausing for a long moment. "We died and there was nothing."

"What?"

Harry paused and turned his back on her. When did something so simple become so complex? Why did she always do this to him? Her patience had dwindled to next to nothing in this place as the Klingon temper of hers fought hard for power. She'd threatened and cajoled him into helping her dig that tunnel in the first place. He'd been terrified at first--the thought of dying towering over his head like a great maw waiting to swallow him up. He could recall his comrades that stood in a long, straight line by his side. All of them died because of their quest for freedom, and not all of them were brought back. Their deaths weighted on his conscious so heavily that he hadn't slept a full night's sleep since.

What terrified him the most though was the darkness. There, in the realm of the afterlife, it sucked him in with unrelenting paws, but there was no light or great spirit waiting to take his soul to a greater plan of existence. Oblivion was all that waited, and now, listening to B'Elanna's plan, he knew it was waiting nearby again.

B'Elanna, on the other hand, was not worried about her finalé. She knew for a fact that Sto-vo-kor existed; she'd seen it or rather the barge that brought them there. That thought never left his mind as he considered what she was suggesting. B'Elanna wanted to die in a blaze of glory with her honor intacted rather than a coward's death.

Squaring his shoulders, he turned to face what he knew would be her wrath. Defying her was something only a dear friend could get away with and still breathe.

"B'Elanna, I know why you want to do this, but we're so close to breaking Captain Janeway's command lock out. As soon as we do, we can take over Voyager, beam the others out and get the hell out of here."

"How do you propose to get the forcefield around The Yard down, huh? You can't even get near enough to the generator to knock it down."

"We can't just leave the the others."

"We don't have a choice. It's us or them. You know are days are numbered. As soon as those kids are able to do our tasks, we're dead. You know it and so do I," B'Elanna said, reaching out and grabbing his shoulders. "Look at this place, Harry. Look out the window. What do you see?"

Harry went to stand near the railing of the second story tower they were on. High above the training ground, he could clearly see row after row of small children running through the moves of tai chi. Tuvok had said on several occasions that it is the building block of martial arts.

"By the time they are done, they'll be just like us only they want to serve the Kamien Order. They're..."

"...training killing machines," Harry said, finishing her thought.

B'Elanna crossed her arms and came to stand beside him. "The army that commandeered Voyager was all Kamien. The workers in The Yard were not Replicas. Where do you think all these kids go, Harry? Where do you think we'll go when we've served our purpose? Think about it...we've seen what they do to their own when they fail."

"A generation of disposable people." he said, swallowing hard.

A long pause ensured while each mulled over their thoughts. It was Harry that broke it. "You're right. We have to get out of here, but an out and out assault isn't going to work. We'd all end up dead."

"What do you have in mind then?"

"We'll use their own creation against them, and we'll all get out of here in one form or another..."

The lights within the medical bay were unusually bright when Tom woke up the next morning. He sat up, running a hand through his hair, pausing to note that it was remarkably short. His hands them went to his face; the beard was gone. Looking down, he realized he had a brand new uniform on.

"I never thought that the afterlife would involve Starfleet," he mumbled.

"On the contrary, Mr. Paris, you are not dead."

"Who are you? Where's the Doc?" Tom asked, startled.

"Don't be frightened. My name is Tanari. I am a doctor...of sorts. Your Holographic Doctor is in one of our science labs running...tests. He will be back shortly. I assure you; if he did not trust me, he would not have left the surgical bay willingly."

"Your the one that came to our cell?" Tom puzzled together and watched the man standing beside his biobed nod. "Kathryn? Where is she?"

"She's being cleaning up a bit by one of my nurses. We've adapted your sonic shower technique into all biobeds. It is quiet efficient for cleaning blood off of victims.

"Glad to know that we were of some service," Tom said, not attempting to hide the malice in his voice.

"Contrary to your own belief, Mr. Paris, not all Kamiens are fond of the means in which we obtain things we need."

"Spare me," he said, looking down at the tube running into his arm. "What the...an intraveinous solution?"

"Old Earth medicine. Your doctor suggested it. Unfortunately, both you and the captain were so underweight that the standard approach of nutritional supplementation would not work. Because your bodies are not accustomed to standard Kamien dishes, and we do not have a stable energy source for your replicator technology, we were forced to use this method."

Tom gave the Kamien man a glare that belied the question that immediately came to mind.

"Oh, I assure you, Mr. Paris, it is only there to administer vitamins and minerals that your body was lacking."

"Why are you treating just the captain and I?"

"Perhaps I should answer that," Talken said, stepping forward. "It is our belief that seeing your captain alive gives many of her crew the will to keep going. Having her dead would only hasten their demise, and we need the workers."

"And me?"

"There is the obvious fact that you were part of the senior staff and that you are, in a way, an authority figure. Also, we cannot ignore the fact that you and the captain have become...close over the past few months. It is our belief that your loss would encourage her to give up. That fact was confirmed when you perished first during your execution. Approximately .076 seconds after she noticed you had, in fact, stopped breathing, she fell unconscious. 2.76 seconds later, she too was clinically dead. This dependence on others intrigues me, Mr. Paris. The Kamien society do not hold such bonds. Every member is expendable as another man with equal intelligence and skills can be reproduced within a short amount of time."

"Yeah...well humans aren't expendable like the plates you eat off of or the bed you sleep on," Tom responded. His mind fixating on what this Talken had just said.

"How so, Mr. Paris?"

"No two can ever be created that are exactly the same. The experiences we live through that make us who we are."

"The Monareans for example? Do you regret the act? Your personal log indicates not."

"My only regret is letting down the people that I love and trust."

"But they trusted you not to act so brash and yet you used their own trust against them."

"To err is human, to forgive divine," Janeway retorted, as she was wheeled into the room. "It's true Tom has made his fair share of mistakes. We all have, but it is within human nature to forgive the ones we love."

Both men turned to look at the ghost like figure. Her arms and legs were wrapped in a white linen presumably to protect the still healing skin from bright lights and bacteria that floated through in the surgical bay. From beneath the lightweight blanket that covered her form, an IV's plastic tubule extended towards the stainless steel clip above her head. Tom couldn't help but note that the scars on her face were gone, her hair had regained its shine, and she looked less gaunt than he remembered.

"And yet your literature and history is filled with images of revenge," Talken replied to Kathryn.

"Yes, it is, but our people have found that violence is not always the answer."

"Was violence the only answer when you beat that guard to death, Mr. Paris?" Talken asked, smiling as both paled. "Don't worry; he was of little value to The Committee. In fact, his replacement is being sent tomorrow morning."

"How did you know?"

"Part of making workers more efficient is understanding their nature. This interaction, though unplanned, was highly informative. We tend to watch all of you as you work."

"If you don't mind me asking, Captain, why is it that you never pursued a relationship with your commander? Was your relationship with Mark what was standing in the way or was it fear of losing another love like Justin that kept you from it?"

"Since you seem to have read all of our personal logs then you already know the answer."

"Not in so many words, but yes. I just find it somewhat odd that a woman that enjoys compartmentalizing her emotions towards male companions would so openly show affection for a member of her crew. A member which, according to your own records, you would not approach out of some since of duty to maintaining decorum. Unless you are doing what you need to do to survive...

"Mr. Neelix speaks to young Tanari at great length about the need for human contact in order to survive. Is that what you and Mr. Paris are doing when he is telling you all these stories late at night? Has this imaginary world he has created somehow altered your perception of reality to such an extent that you two have developed feelings for each other? I ask because I was able to overhear the conversation you two held at the gallows. I believe you wished that this false world Mr. Paris painted for you was, in fact, happening. Would you have accepted his advances aboard Voyager? Clearly not given what you had written in your journals. Yet, you accept them here. In fact, when you were both about to die, Mr. Paris was about to tell you that he loved you, isn't that correct, Mr. Paris?"

"You bastard," Tom said, slipping off his biobed. His fists were already clinched and ready to strike.

"Tom," Kathryn warned, then, turning towards Talken said, "I'm not sure what you hope to accomplish here. Since you so clearly have the answers all figured out, why bother asking us at all?"

"Talkin," Tanari said evenly. "I believe that I asked you not to upset either of the patients. Given their conditions, I would ask, humbly and with great respect, that you would suspend your questioning until their health is improved."

Talken paused and then moved towards the door. "You are a puzzle shrouded in a mystery, Kathryn Janeway. Most puzzling indeed. I shall enjoy speaking to you both in the future. Until then."

Kenoshia returned to The Yard just as the last bits of the twin suns sunk behind the mountain. Twilight was upon the camp and flood lights marked the landing strip in the center of the compound. A large spot light followed the descent, and, upon touch down, two guards came to greet and assist the lead guard from the shuttle.

"Where is Tumeric? I must speak with him immediately," Kenoshia said, stepping out from the main body of the shuttle and jumping on the earth below.

"He is in his meditation chamber. Shall I announce you?" The young guard asked, his eyes downcast.

"No. I will go alone."

"But, sir, that is a breech of protocol. You will be killed."

"I will be dead soon anyway."

Kenoshia walked purposely into the tower and climbed onto the lift. He arrived, unannounced at Tumeric's personal apartment and knocked. The haggard looking leader opened the door. Rather than greeting Kenoshia with a strong reprimand for breaking protocol, he merely stepped back and bid him entrance.

"What did you find?"

"They weren't brought there. In fact, the Flyer never went anywhere near that building yesterday or any time this week."

"Then where is it?"

"It took me a great deal of time to track its final location, but I was able to learn that it was acquired for use this week by..."

"Kairon," Tumeric growled.

"Yes, sir, how did you know?"

"Lucky guess. I want you to contact Gepek, the Liaison to the Industrial Order, and tell him I need to speak with him. I'll see if I can't get to the bottom of this."

"What did you make of that?" Tom asked, sitting on a stool beside her wheelchair.

Kathryn gave a long pause before responding. Her eyes were locked on the gardens just outside the surgical bay's window. "I'm not sure. He seemed to know more about both of us than anyone else we've met here, but there was more to his questions that just passing curiosity. Given the amount of information that he had, I would wager they have this entire compound covered in surveillance equipment."

"That would explain how they've trapped so many people trying to escape, but what about that guard? You and I discussed it in our cell, but I didn't explain how it had happened. They would have had to be watching both places."

"It stands to reason that the guards here and Tumeric aren't privy to what is said though. Otherwise they would have known who had killed the guard without asking me to pick numbers."

"But why keep the guards and Tumeric in the dark about it?"

"Maybe they are also watching the guards and him. Be a good way to make sure everyone was complying with orders."

"It would make sense. If there is one thing that I have noticed it is that the guards are paranoid and suspicious."

"Wouldn't you be if you are so easily replaced?" Kathryn said.

"I like to think of myself as irreplaceable, Kathryn," Tom said, laughing.

She stiffened. "Tom, we need to talk about what he said..."

"I thought we already were," he said, then seeing her serious expression added, "Look. The past few months we've been through more than I ever imagined I would be. It's only natural to cling on to someone familiar. We've grown to be codependent... that's all."

"I wish it were that simple, but I don't think it is," she said, straightening her spine against the back of her seat. Tom couldn't help but miss the captain's tone her voice had taken on. "A large portion of me meant what I said on the gallows, and I suspect you meant what you said as well."

"Forget it. It was a death bed confession. You can't hold it against me," Tom said, trying to lighten the mood.

Ignoring what he had said, she pressed on. "He was right when he said that I tended to compartmentalize the relationships I had with those on my ship. I saw Chakotay as a friend and a confidante. I also saw him as my first officer, but never allowed myself to consider him in any other light. I knew that Chakotay loved me, but I also knew that I could control him..."

She paused while she cleared her throat and regained her control. It was a vein attempt to hide the quiver in her voice. Tom noted the way she referred to everyone, save the doctor, in past tense. She'd never done it before. It had always been present or future. His eyes followed hers as she turned her head towards the window, peering out into the mountains. Twilight would be nearing soon. The nights had grown steadily chilly. Winter months were descending with a vengeance.

"Out of all the relationships I had on Voyager, none were as confusing and potentially dangerous as the one I hold with you."

"Kathryn, you don't have to...," Tom interrupted.

"I know," she said, turning to offer the ghost of a smile, "but, on the off chance the Doctor can't perform another miracle in the future, I want you to understand what this...our relationship has meant to me."

Tom lowered his head for a moment, but remained quiet.

"On the ship, you were a pressure valve. You were the only one I knew that could both irritate me and make me laugh at the same time. I suppose that's why I let you get away with all those jokes on the bridge. Sometimes, when I was having a rough week, I would intentionally try and run into on the holodeck. Games of pool, drinks- anything to take my mind off of work.

"Over time, I realized that I was spending too much time with you off duty. Particularly when Chakotay informed me that the rumor mill was buzzing. I withdrew, figuring that the crew morale was more important."

"I had always assumed that all of that was because something happened on New Earth."

"No," Kathryn said, slowly shaking her head. "If anything, that planet gave me clarity of mind. I had weeks with nothing to do but think."

"And?"

"One night, while I was still on that planet, I was working late...as always... and Chakotay began massaging my shoulders. I couldn't help but think that his hands were too large. I didn't think much of it at the time. In fact, I catalogued it as being the work of an overtired mind.

"Then, when the plasma storm that destroyed all my scientific materials hit, he covered me under the main table, and I couldn't help but think that he weighted too much, the shoulders were too broad. Each were passing thoughts thought. I pushed them aside like another odd idea that flashed through my mind."

Kathryn said, not turning her gaze from the window. She'd ceased to see the outdoors or anything else for that matter. Her mind was too clouded with though. Her features were hard as she tried to keep her body from betraying her emotions.

"Then, a week later, we went for a walk along the riverside. He stopped me half way back to the shelter to rest. He was talking about our future on New Earth, and I kept mentioning how I missed Voyager. We got into this rather heated debate and, rather than fighting with me, he kissed me. Just the whisper of a kiss, but, in that second," she said, turning toward him, "I saw your face instead of his."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Tom asked, meeting her gaze.

"Like I said, Tom; my relationship with you was and still is a field of landmines. When I returned, it was obvious that you and B'Elanna were growing closer. I also had Chakotay's emotions as well as the crew's well being to consider. What would they think if I became involved with a member of my senior staff? Any member of the crew for that matter. They would assume that I would give them preferential treatment. Every 'easy' punishment, every promotion in rank, every moment I would spent on the holodeck, every replicator ration either one of us used would be scrutinized."

"You don't give the crew enough credit. They would have gotten used to the idea with time."

"Time is a luxury I didn't have on Voyager. I needed to be focused solely on getting us home. I didn't need... distractions."

"So that's what this is? A distraction to keep your mind off of this place. Talken was right? Come on, Kathryn, define the parameters of our relationship so that I know how I can overstep the bounds. After all that is the Tom Paris way," he said, bitterly.

"You've misunderstood me," she said, shaken.

"Then please enlighten me."

"When I was on that ship, I had to protect all of them. I had all of them to consider first. It was a single-minded quest that consumed every waking moment. Every trade, every scan, every peace treaty was all to help us get home. Taking care of my own needs was a luxury."

"There were over a hundred of us on that ship that were there to help. You didn't need to feel like you were holding all the pieces together," Tom said, softening his tone.

"You're right. I didn't, but I felt guilty for stranding us here. When we were trapped on New Earth, when we were trapped in The Void all I could think about was the guilt."

"You weren't avoiding it because you thought it was a luxury. You were avoiding it to punish yourself," Tom whispered.

Kathryn allowed her shoulders to droop. She crossed her arms in front of her and nodded her head slowly.

"What made you change here?"

"After taking down so many bodies from those gallows...after transporting corpses to the crematorium...after being near starvation for months, living off of the crumbs you steal from others that aren't members of your own crew...after realizing that there was no escape... I...I just felt empty. A tiny part of me wanted to die every time I saw one of my people get killed. Then, one morning, they killed two people at roll call for no apparent reason. My first thought wasn't of horror or loss. For a split second, I caught myself praying neither you nor I would be the next one they killed."

"It's a natural reaction," Tom said, trying to comfort her. Kathryn pulled away and turned her gaze to the ceiling.

"Not for me. I am supposed to place my life after those of every other member of my crew."

"There is no Voyager any more. The ship is long since gone. You've known that for some time. You just haven't been willing to admit it."

"No, Tom," she said, turning towards him again. "The problem is that I already have. It started out simple enough. I should have recognized the symptoms right away."

"And what might those be?" Tom asked, crossing his arms.

"I allowed myself to show weakness. To be swept up into this fantasy world were I was in love with you. Escapism in its most primal form."

"It kept us both alive."

"They problem is that it moved into reality. It blurred the line of where protocol began and luxury ended. If I needed proof it certainly was there on those gallows."

"I guess that is the difference between us, Kathryn. I meant what I said up there and every other word of this so called fantasy world."

"We're more alike than you think. I meant what I said up there, too. I knew what you were going to say when Tumeric pulled the lever."

"And?"

She closed her eyes, battling against the tears that were forming. She felt them burning a path down her cheeks, but made no move to wipe them.

"I was thinking the same thing."

"So what's stopping you now from saying it?"

"There's no future in it."

"No future in it?"

"Look around you, Tom. What can we hope to gain by falling in love? A longer life?"

"Two minutes alive knowing that you feel the same way is better than a lifetime of hiding behind protocol. I think you're just afraid."

"Afraid? You're damn right I'm afraid. Every day we go out into The Yard is another day that you could get killed. It's why I didn't allow myself to fall in love on Voyager and it's why I won't here," she said turning her face towards him, eyes watering.

"But you already have," Tom said, quietly, standing behind her, stroking her hair like he had done on so many nights.

"I won't let you do this," she said, struggling in vein to get away.

"Do what? Tell you that I love you? Guess what. I already have."

"There is no future in this," she repeated.

"It might not be the way you expect it, but it's here none the less, Kathryn. Besides, I seem to recall someone saying a few weeks before that, if we got out of being hanged, I might just get lucky."

Kathryn laughed. "Mr. Paris, you have a one track mind."

"But I thought that's why you loved me...Mrs. Paris," he said smirking.

The Doctor made his rounds again. This time stopping at the hallway Beta Voyager Training Grounds. It was meant to be the place where the Replicas learned the life skills that couldn't be taught by the memory engrams given to them by the Kamien. Stopping before the first door, he waited for the standard scanner to activate.

"Recognize AV-008. Welcome, Doctor." The computer said as it allowed him access.

As he entered, he saw Tuvok sitting before a small row of children. Miniature versions of himself, Vorik, and Ensign T'Nell.

Between the children and Tuvok sat his meditation lamp. It was one of the few luxury items they allowed him to have as it was part of his culture. Just as they had allowed Chakotay his medicine bundle and Harry his clarinet.

"Doctor," Commander Tuvok said, rising from the floor.

"Good evening, children. It is time for your weekly injections, and then off to bed for all of you."

"How far will they be developed after this shot?" Harry called over from his grouping in the far corner.

"Approximately six years of age...give or take. Why?"

"And you'll be starting the maturation process at 12, right?"

"Yes, but..."

Harry nodded. "So about six weeks left then?"

"Yes, is there a reason for asking, Ensign, or are you actually taking an interest in medical science?"

"Instrument sizes will have to be upgraded for some when they are older. The violin for one," he lied, hoping the Doc wouldn't call him on it.

One week after they had been brought into The Farm, Tom was released to the new, incredibly small quarters that he was to share with Kathryn. Compared to their old cell, it was spacious, but, the rather large furnishings dwarfed the diminsions. Everything was in shades of gray- the natural color of the woods, metals, and fibers on this planet. On some levels it was appropriate to how he felt- a mixture of mourning colors and purity. Purity of mind and emotions that came from having nothing but them and bone crushing work to deal with for nearly a year.

The room seemed empty without her. Time passed slowly in his little cabin. He had no work to do for the first time in ages, and he was virtually alone. The Doctor had insisted on it. He said that they both needed time to heal and that his presence in sickbay would only lead to trouble. So, Tom sat, alone, with nothing to do but stare at the walls, sleep, and feel utterly useless except for the brief time he spent with Kathryn.

Kathryn, on the other hand, spent her days in sickbay going through rigorous physical therapy to regain the some use of her hands and legs. Most of her wounds had been third degree burns. The doctor was forced to remove the charred flesh and muscle and rebuild them using replicated tissues. When he had finished the graft, he wrapped them in sterile gauze. As a punishment for not warning the guards of the Kazon attack, G'tan forbid the Doctor to administer any pain killers. Few waking moments were spent in any emotion other than agony. She had, however, grown accustomed to the pain. At least the pain she could block out, but the dependency on others was not something she enjoyed. Until her fractured pelvis had time to heal, she was wheeled everywhere she needed to go, namely the gardens near the surgical bay and, after she was released from sickbay, the quarters that she shared with Tom.

The gardens on the property and the greenhouses beyond were controlled environments in which new strains of plant life where tested. The idea was to grow a hybrid plant from materials collected on captured ships to create food sources that could withstand both the brutal winters and summers on Kamien. Kathryn spent a great deal of time pouring over the data, finding it a fascinating study and a means to occupy her time between treatments.

They were her great escape. When she had had enough of the Doctor or when the pain got to her too much, Tom would wheel her out there. Sometimes they would speak, other times they would sit in mutual silence, but neither complained about the new freedoms they were given.

One afternoon, not more than a day before Kathryn was to finally be released from sickbay, the two adjured to their secret garden. They sat in silence for a long moment until Tom got his nerve up to speak. He'd noticed the far away gleam her eyes had gotten as of late. Though he didn't want to broach the subject, he knew that it was inevitable.

"You think about it a lot, don't you?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice as if she hadn't expected it. Drawing in a breath, she turned towards him. "Think about what?"

"The fire... nearly dying for the second time."

She sighed. Sometimes he could be the jester and others he was so humorless and direct that it stung. "Was it only the second time? I must have lost count."

Tom reached over and took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. "Which did you see? The lightness or the dark?"

Kathryn paused for a long minute. She hadn't expected him to be so blunt. Then again, he had become her confessor of sorts. "The first time...I saw this blinding bright light," she said, swallowing hard. "It really was magnificant, but it was gone quickly."

"And the other night?"

"That was so different. My life literally flashed before me eyes, but, when it was over..."

Her voice trailed off. Tom looked over at her to find her head lowered towards her chest. He reached out carefully and lifted her chin him. "When it was over?"

"There was nothing but darkness. This black cloud that surrounded my conscious thought," she said closing her eyes, feeling so close to crying. "And there was no pain. No regret. Complete and total nothingness, and I didn't want to leave it. I felt like I was ripped from the very depths of it and forced back here. I felt my body being shocked, felt the air enter my lungs, and the only thing that I could think was how much I wanted that darkness back."

She looked over at him, eyes brimming with tears. His face flashed briefly with pain and then he quelled it to be replaced with an understanding smile. "At least you saw the light once. At least there was nothing in the darkness with you. Just meant you were ready to move on. That whole life in a flash, light at the end of the tunnel...I never saw it."

"What do you mean?" she said, her eyes narrowing.

"I've never told anyone this, but, during Caldick Prime, I nearly died," he said, licking his lips and then continuing. "It was this shapeless mass that chased me in the darkness. It taunted me with every wrong I had done in my life and then let me see, first hand, what I had done that day."

Kathryn paused to gaze at him. His eyes were locked onto the shrubs just beyond, but not focusing on them. Sighing, she turned to look out on them as well.

"It haunts you- their faces. Like a sculpture they're etched forever in your mind in minute detail. Just when you think you've moved passed them, they come back in vivid dreams, but you can't spend the rest of your life trying to atone for a mistake, Tom."

"Seven years on the straight and narrow can't erase two decades of unconscionable acts."

"Believe me; you will never be able to balance the check and minus columns. I've tried. It doesn't make the nightmares stop. If anything, it will make them worse."

Tom turned to look at her, noting the far away look on her face. He instantly regreting bringing up his shuttle accident. Feeling the play of emotions in the air, Kathryn laughed harshly. "You lost your career and the respect of your father and I lost my father, my fiance, and my self-respect. Tough call on who wins that one."

"You didn't spent time in the New Zealand penal colony with a cell mate who liked it rough," Tom quipped.

Kathryn sobered. "Did it..." she started, but lost her voice.

"Did it what? Make me feel any better? Probably about as much as this place does for your guilt. It give me time to take stock of what I had, what I have. It forced me to grow up, but it also made me hard. Took a long time for me to trust anyone."

"What about Harry?"

"Harry was different. He was so green and innocent I knew he couldn't lie. He stuck with me and called me his friend even after that first officer of yours gave him 'The Talk.'"

Kathryn arched an eyebrow but said nothing. Tom continued. "You know I was firmly convinced that I could corrupt him. Some of the things I got that kid to do...," He laughed.

A pause ensued as each were lost in their own thoughts. Kathryn sighed loudly. "I suppose it's the little moments you take for granted. The ones that add up to form a general memory about a place or person." She paused to gauge his reaction then stumbled ahead. "This place for instance. I hate this planet, but this garden..."

"I see what you mean." Tom said, musing at the idea that Kathryn always found the good in everything including 'The Farm.' He, on the other hand, had come to think of The Farm as a separate level of hell. Not long after he been moved to his quarters, he was let in on the atrocious experiments that the scientists there had done. His first indoctrination came in the way of a flight simulator that the Kamien soldiers had brought into the room adjacent to his. G'tan has said it was a gift, but strongly advised him to use it. When Tom had spent more time helping Kathryn recuperate than practicing his skill, the Doctor made a special appearance.

He pulled Tom aside in the garden, leaving Kathryn to speak with one of the scientists about the newest grain trials. Tom couldn't help but notice the grim expression on the hologram's face as he began to speak.

"I wish this was a social call, but it isn't."

"Oh?"

"Do you recall when I first brought her here? I told you that the less you knew the better."

"Yeah, I do. Why? What's this about," Tom said, crossing his arms in a protective stance.

"The Kamien are big on people complying to their demands. Apparently, you haven't."

"Is this about the flight simulator? I promise I'll work on it more once Kathryn is up and about."

"Kairon feels that you need more....incentive. He's asked me to show you around the complex," the Doctor said, lowering his head.

"I thought you said that the less I knew the better."

The Doctor merely nodded and motioned towards the garden door. "I'll be waiting inside. Tanari will take good care of her; he's one of the few Kamien I've come to trust...on some level."

As if on cue, Tanari exited through the surgical bay door, nodded at Tom, and made his way to stand at Kathryn's side. He mumbled something to her, she laughed and cast a smile at Tom. Still uneasy, he joined the Doctor in the main hall.

Tom was lead slowly through the twisting corridors of The Farm by The Doctor, who was careful to pass by all the rooms that needed to seen, starting with those that did not survive.

The room was bathed in a yellowish light and reeked of embalming fluid. Slowly, as Tom's eyes adjusted to the darker light, both were able to fully see the room.

It was a virtual warehouse of tiny corpses, each one frozen in their last position -- gaping holes were left in their chests served as a grim reminder of the complete autopsy the Doctor had been ordered into performing. Each organ was removed, studied, and preserved in a plethora of smaller glass containers placed beside each pickled creature.

Those children's corpses that lined the walls next to the door were the trials to create human life using Kamien technology. Those closest to them were the first trials-- lumpy masses with horrible birth defects, missing limbs or one too many, misshapen bodies-- they were half beast/half man.

"They were the lucky ones," The Doctor explained.

"Lucky how?" he asked, eyes gazing toward the wall of carnage.

"They didn't survive long enough to really suffer."

"Don't tell me..."

The Doctor nodded slowly. "I was permitted to end the suffering of the humanoids that survived- the ones that were the worst off anyhow. Some still live. They are at varying level of dependency," he explained, leading Tom towards the hall of The Mistakes. "Some are only mildly retarded... others are sever profound...another group is near catatonic. Then there are those with sound minds but their bodies..."

As they neared the hall, the Doctor allowed his explanation to drift off. Words were not needed as the senses spoke volumes. The stench of this place was one that Tom would never forget. He stopped, an icy chill running down his spine. A large part of his mind was screaming at him to run away and never look back at this place, but he had to know.

They approached one of the windows and Tom peered in to see a creature sitting on the hard, cement flooring, staring into the gray, padded wall across from it. The misshapen body reminded him of the pictures he had seen as of child of the Elephant Man. It sat there, in the center of the room, in a puddle of its own waste. The flesh of it resembled that of dark chocolate, and, when it turned towards the sound of voices in the hall, Tom could see that his other ear was pointed like that of a Vulcan.

"In attempting to mix DNA, they inadvertently turned a few genetic switches that they shouldn't have," the Doctor explained.

Tom could feel the bile begin to rise in his throat. He backed away from the window and placed his hand against the cold, white surface of the wall for support.

Suddenly, a harsh line of conclusion came to him. Like the weight of a thousand deaths under his command, the reality of the moment came to him. So repulsed by deduction, he had trouble forming the thoughts let alone speak them aloud.

"They were successful, weren't they?"

The Doctor merely nodded and pointed towards his left. Through half a dozen more hallways, the pair walked past the macabre parade of disfigured creatures until the smell of The Mistakes finally left Tom's sense of smell. Mentally, he sighed with relief.

They came to stop in front of a door that read "Nursery" above the lintel. A fluorescent, green beam swept from the base of the door to the top and down again. A dry, monotone voice echoed through his ears, "Recognize AV-008. Welcome Doctor. Recognized AV-004. Welcome, Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris." The door to the room slid open slowly, and both men entered.

"AV-004?" Tom said, turning towards his 'tour guide.'

"Alpha Voyager 004. It is your designation, according to the computer. Alpha meaning that you are an original crew member. Voyager is the ship's name, and the number is in reference to your ranking on the ship. The Captain is 001, Chakotay is 002, Tuvok is 003..."

"Got you."

Tom began to walk down the line of cribs turned child beds until he stopped in front of one that bore the number BV-004. "Let me guess- Beta Voyager 004 is a miniature version of myself."

"There is more to this than just that."

"You mean it gets worse? You know, you really know how to spoil a guy's day, Doc," Tom said, trying to make light of the situation.

"Third from the right, first row, near the rocking chair," the hologram said, evenly.

Tom walked the few steps towards the aforementioned crib, and read the tag on the front. "GV-001: Hope. Gamma Voyager?"

"The first child created from the DNA of two of the crew."

"Shouldn't that be Naomi?"

"Created from two of the Voyagercrew."

"I don't understand," Tom said, not willing to draw this conclusion.

The Doctor closed the distance between he and Tom and placed his hand on the pilot's shoulder. "Look in the bassinet," he said softly.

Tom looked down to find a small, toothless grin to greet him. She had deep blue-gray eyes and auburn hair. Hope giggled when she saw the giant towering over her crib, and threw her arms in the air towards him. On reflex, he stepped away and looked up at the Doctor. At a loss to say anything, he repeated the obvious.

"Don't tell me that she's my child."

For his credit, he replied with just a simple nod rather than a pithy remark. "She is you're child. Yours and the Captain's. She is one of a handful of second generation children created to insure that her parents, when brought in on the little secret, would agree to educate your replicas without taking any action against the Kamien government. Should you or the Captain step out of line, they will kill the child."

"That's one hell of an insurance policy...I can't believe you would just go along with this willingly, Doc."

"I was told I would have to or be decomplied. At least, in this capacity, I can ease the suffering of my ship mates," the Doctor said.

"Who else knows about this?"

"Chakotay, Tuvok, Neelix, B'Elanna, and Harry all know bits and pieces. Neelix and Tuvok more than any other. They know about the second generation children. The others will not be revealed until it is deemed necessary, and only when both parents are brought here which can be tricky considering the fact that we have to kill them first..."

"What?"

"Few people in the government know about this place let alone the general public. That's why I had to disguise myself as Tumeric to get you and the Captain out of there."

"So why tell me everything now? And why not Kathryn?

"Slow down, Mr. Paris. They told you because they need you to train their Replicas. I could also use a lab assistant, but only if you are able. As to why they haven't told Kathryn, they believe that it would be best that you told her when she has recovered more."

"Fair enough, but why keep the child as an insurance policy? Why not use Kathryn and I against each other?"

"That one should be obvious. The Kamien recognize that your talents as a pilot are hard to duplicate. Kathryn's skills as a leader and a scientist make both your lives worth more than the child's."

"There are assuming that this child is going force us into helping them? She is not my child. She might have our DNA, but I had nothing to do with her creation."

"Need I remind you that you had little to do with the creation of your first set of children with the intrepid Kathryn Janeway? Have you stopped to consider what she would have to say if little Hope was killed because her father wouldn't accept her?" Kairon said, stepping in from the corridor.

"You bastard." Tom stepped forward a pace, but was stopped by The Doctor.

"Temper, temper, Mr. Paris. Have you ever been curious as to why we placed you and the captain in the same confined area? Hm...not quick with some biting quip I see?" Kairon said, approaching Hope's crib. "You see, Paris, both you and the Captain had quite a few long entries alluding to some deep seeded feelings you harbored for each other. You see, the Captain felt responsible for you. She saw you not as some pet project but as a man in such pain that he had to hide how he really felt through humor. She knew that, by keeping people laughing, they were less likely to hurt you. You, on the other hand, have gone through a variety of emotions regarding her: anger, hate, lust. You knew you had this irrational notion that you had to prove yourself to her because she had, in your opinion, helped to redeem you."

Kairon pulled Hope into his arms and stepped towards Tom. "Talken and I have been watching the pair of you or, at least, were. We know the odd connection that was formed. I also know that, should you two ever escape this place, Janeway would dissolve any bonds you had formed to focus on getting her crew home."

The Kamien stepped closer still, holding the child out for Tom to take. "The child that you hold is a legacy. She forever binds your life to your beloved Kathryn's. However shocked she might be when she first learns the truth, she will grow to love both this child and you. You two can build a life on Kamien that you never thought possible. Ironic isn't it? That you owe your happiness to a man and a planet you have grown to despise?"

With that, the ornately dressed Kairon walked quickly towards the door and exited into the stark white hallway. The Doctor made his excuses and left the room to give Tom time to think. He sat down into the rocking chair near Hope's crib and regarded the girl...his child...for he first time.

Tom felt his heart sink. The tiny, gray-eyed cherub reached out a chubby little hand and gripped onto his uniform. His eye traveled to the tuft of auburn hair at the crown of her head then down to the colorful outfit that Neelix had, no doubt, had made for her. It was a small jumper in primary shades of yellow, blue, and red. Her feet were covered with small, white socks. Gripping the child closer to his chest, he began to rock back and forth.

"Hello, Hope," he whispered to the child as she began to fall into a peaceful asleep. Her father, on the other hand, held her for hours, his mind in turmoil.

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