Fan Fiction
TITLE: Dear Admiral
Dear Admiral,
I'm not sure why I'm writing this, exactly. By the time you read it, you'll have already read all the pertinent information in my captain's logs and my ship's records. But sometimes, knowing the facts isn't enough. I'm sure you never thought you'd hear your old science officer say that, but it's true all the same. And I want you to know everything you need to know, because what you think matters to me. It always has.
Besides, if Tom wrote you a letter about our wedding, then I think it's only right that I should write you about this.
I'm pregnant, Admiral. In the very near (and I do mean very near) future, you're going to have a grandson. We're naming him Edward Owen Paris, for my father and -- yes, Admiral -- for you.
Part of me wishes I could see your face when you read that. Part of me's damn glad I can't. You were always such a stickler, always such a by-the-book man, and our situation isn't anything covered by any book. I'd like to think you're savvy enough to understand that. You were a field commander yourself, and I know you're anything but a stupid man. But that doesn't necessarily mean you'd understand. Years of protocol work their way into blood and bone, until even the smartest people can't get past them.
Believe me, I know. It took Tom to teach me how to break free.
I'm afraid -- and he's afraid -- you're going to blame him for that, Admiral. That you'll think he corrupted me. But it was anything but corruption. If it weren't for Tom, and the way he refused to let me hide behind protocol and procedure, there are times when I would have gone crazy out here. If you've already examined my records and logs, you know I'm not being metaphorical when I say that.
I was alone, Admiral, and I thought I had to be alone. I thought it was the only way to keep command out here, so far from any peer or any backup. That was what you taught me, after all, you and a lot of my other instructors. And I had to -- have to -- keep my command, at any cost. If my crew doesn't trust me, or doesn't believe I have what it takes to lead them out here, then we're dead. It's just that simple. If keeping command meant that I was in my own personal hell, well, that was what I agreed to when I accepted command in the first place, wasn't it?
Reading that, it looks as if I thought of myself as some kind of martyr, but that wasn't it, really. I was simply trying to be practical. You don't have to be a martyr to know that unhappy and alive is a better choice than happy and dead. Especially when "dead" would apply to everyone who depends on me.
To this day, I'm not sure what drew me to Tom. I think it was the smile. So few people on Voyager responded to me like that, so directly and unselfconsciously. Even Tuvok, my old friend, treated me with appropriate detachment. Even my rebel first officer kept the proper distance. Not Tom. Oh, he wasn't incorrect, not exactly, but he was warm, and friendly. He teased me. He challenged me. He played with me. I don't mean games, though we did that too -- I mean sharing jokes, making fun, bantering. And then there was the smile
Well, I know he's told you the story of our courtship. So I'll only add, your son is a persistent man, Admiral. Thank God.
We hadn't planned on having children, though. Even before we were married, we discussed all that. It would've been pretty hard not to think of it, especially since some of our crew -- particularly Chakotay and B'Elanna, my first officer and my chief engineer -- had already started their families. B'Elanna was near-term at our wedding, and we had a few other women who were noticeably pregnant, too. Not to mention Sam Wildman, who'd been expecting when she came aboard, and was holding little Naomi at the service.
I won't say I wasn't tempted, even then. But I knew it wouldn't be fair not to Voyager, or to the child. Command and motherhood are both full-time commitments, or they should be. If I could ever take leave from being the captain, that would be different. If Tom could be a full-time father, that would be different, too. But we both knew Voyager couldn't afford to lose the services of her best pilot any more than she could afford to lose the services of her captain.
If we could get the ship home soon enough, maybe Tom and I would have our chance. We crossed our fingers and hoped. And we kept doing our jobs, because we couldn't think of any better way to get home.
So what changed our minds?
Well, I died.
That sounds melodramatic, doesn't it? But it's the literal truth. Tom and I crashed on a planet, and I did die he did CPR on me to keep my body functioning until help could arrive. I know because I saw him do it.
Okay, maybe I didn't actually see him. I've never been able to figure that out. It certainly seemed to me as if I was seeing him, and he says he did do CPR. But I saw a lot of things that day that never happened, so whether what I saw was what actually took place, or --
Or you don't know what the hell I'm talking about, do you? Of course you don't. Let me start again.
We crashed on a planet, and I was injured in fact, as I said, I was dead, at least in the clinical sense. Tom did his best to keep me functioning until Voyager could find us, and the Doctor could take over. But what Tom didn't know until later was that, all the while he was working over me, an alien entity had invaded my consciousness, and was trying to convince me that the struggle was already over. That Tom and Voyager had given up on me, and I had no choice but to go to the next realm. What he really wanted was for me to enter his race's own realm, but of course I didn't know that at first.
Anyway, to convince me, the alien -- he looked like my father, did I mention that? -- showed me what supposedly happened on Voyager after my death. And since the images were straight out of my own thoughts, of course they all looked terribly real to me.
I saw Tom in Sickbay, begging the Doctor to save me. I saw him lying wide awake in our bed, alone. I saw him waiting, tense and tight, as Tuvok and Kes tried to search for me mentally. I tried to call to him tried it over and over -- but he didn't hear me. None of them did.
I saw him sitting in our quarters, staring into space. Alone.
I saw him at my memorial service. Kes and Harry tried to comfort him, but it looked like he couldn't hear them, either. He might as well have been alone then, too.
You can only guess how it made me feel, seeing him suffer like that. But then I saw something that really broke my heart. Little Miral Torres -- she must have been all of one then -- toddled over to him and took hold of his pants leg. He picked her up and tried to make the funny faces she loves to see
And he broke down completely. I felt horribly guilty, because I knew it was my fault that he was there alone, that I'd let all of our chances run out and no children of ours would ever laugh and play with him.
I'd taken that from him.
I'd lost it for myself.
Well, I finally realized what the alien was, and I kicked him out of my head about the time the Doctor was able to revive me. And of course the first face I saw was Tom's. He hadn't really been crying, because he hadn't really had time to give up on me, thank God.
The first words out of my mouth were, "To hell with practicality. I want your baby."
He laughed a little then, and hugged me. And he said, "Yes, ma'am!"
We discontinued our contraception before we left Sickbay that day. A few months later, we found out we'd started Edward.
We've had some time to work out the practical details of rearing a child on the ship hell, between Chakotay and B'Elanna, Sam Wildman and all the rest, we've had plenty of brains to pick while we were at it. I think we'll manage fine. And I think that, if Edward has to give up a little bit of his mother and father sometimes, there'll be plenty of love for him from the rest of Voyager. Your grandson will probably be the most loved baby in two quadrants.
We all will manage fine, and in a few hours, I'll be happy to start proving it. You see, I've been having contractions since before I started this letter, and now -- unless this trained scientist misses her guess -- my water's broken. I'd better wake Tom, so we can get to Sickbay.
I don't know how you feel about this, Admiral. How you feel about our marriage, much less about our child. I hope you can find it in your heart to be happy for us, or at worst to forgive us.
We'll transmit pictures the moment we can. In the meanwhile
In the meanwhile, I hope Edward looks like his father.
Until we meet again, Admiral, try not to worry. Whatever you may think, I promise you I haven't forgotten my duty. I'll bring them home your son, your grandson, and all the rest. And I'll keep them safe, at least, as much as I can. After all, I have more reasons to succeed now than I ever did.
Yours,
Kathryn
Home is where the heart is, however you get there.
AUTHOR: Brenda Shaffer-Shiring
RATING: PG
CODES: J/P, C/T
AUTHOR'S NOTES: A direct sequel to "Dear Dad" which probably won't make much sense unless you read the original. (Don't worry, it's not very long either!
SUMMARY: Kathryn writes a letter to her father-in-law.
Norman Spinrad, A World Between
