The Smallest Consequence (part 2) written by Maddie Mumford

Note :
This story was originally printed in the 'RanDoM' fanzine.

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 was beginning to be 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 in 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