Dreams

Chapter 1

Kathryn Janeway stared down into the face of her newborn daughter. She was overcome by emotions, none of which she would ever have expected to feel, at least not until she had fallen in love with…. It seemed an odd moment to forget whom her love was, but then, it had been a difficult birth. And, in true Janeway form, Kathryn had refused any pharmaceutical "assistance," considering it a weakness. She didn't need drugs to get through this--she was The Captain. She now considered the possibility that she was suffering from a fatigue-induced delirium. No drugs?! What the hell had she been thinking? Besides, what else but an altered state of mind could keep her from recalling the name of her beloved? And the baby, she was so beautiful, so perfect. She looked just like….

This was ridiculous, Kathryn decided. She would simply look around until she spied the object of her devotion. Ah, there…. But someone was calling her, pulling her attention away from this most perfect moment. Oh well. She'd have the rest of her life to enjoy these moments. She turned toward the voice.

"Captain? Captain Janeway?"

Kathryn slowly emerged from the blackness of confusion. As she heard her name, she realized who, and where she was. She opened her eyes to see Seven of Nine standing before the desk in her ready room, lines of confusion and concern etched upon her face.

"Seven. Can I help you?" She was embarrassed enough by the situation that she didn't bother to ask how Seven had gotten in without being invited. Starfleet Captains don't fall asleep at their desks, she chided herself.

"Captain, are you well?" asked Seven. She stood in her normal stance, arms locked behind her back, feet slightly apart, back ramrod straight. There was nothing to betray her concern other than the words she spoke, unless you looked very closely. She had her left eyebrow slightly cocked, though not as much as she was wont to do, and there was the faintest trace of a frown tugging at her mouth. Had Kathryn been fully aware, she would have realized the intensity of Seven's concern.

"Yes. Thank you for asking, " Janeway responded with a bit of consternation in her voice. "What can I do for you?" It was only then that Janeway noticed Seven was wearing her black workout outfit.

"I was under the impression that we had scheduled a game of Velocity for this evening. Am I incorrect in assuming that you have decided to cancel?"

Oh Damn, thought Janeway. To Seven, she said, "Yes. You are incorrect. I'm sorry you had to wait. I guess, " she gestured to the padds and piles of data on her desk, "that I got a bit too involved in this project." She couldn't quite place the unsettled feeling she was experiencing. She glanced at Seven as a fragment of her dream flashed through her mind. "You look a bit disappointed that I missed our game. Do we still have enough time in the holodeck for a few rounds? I can be ready in ten minutes."

"We will not be able to complete a full game, but we should have time for several rounds. That is, if you are feeling up to it. You still do not look well, Captain."

Janeway brushed off the concern. Truth be told, she was feeling out of sorts. She'd been having the same damn dream for the past week or so. There was nothing particularly traumatic about it, except for the pain. God, if she thought she didn't want children before, her somnolent "experiences" with childbirth left no doubt. She had no idea it could be so painful. And this was only a dream! Other than that, there was nothing that should be causing her so much distress, certainly not to the point of causing insomnia. She'd had enough experience with nightmares and sleeplessness to be certain of that. But still, each night, with startling regularity, when she finally would close her eyes, within minutes, her swollen belly would begin to twitch, then a warm gush of fluid would bathe her legs as her water broke. She would then proceed through labor and birth, always ending up with a perfect, healthy baby girl who looked just like… Who? Damnit! She could never tell who. That bothered her. She experienced such peace, such happiness, such contentment in that moment. If only she could see the face.

"Captain?" Seven interrupted her musings once again.

"I'm sorry, Seven. What?"

"I said nothing. I was merely waiting for your reply. I believe you were about to reassure me that you are 'fine'." The eyebrow that had been ever so slightly raised before was now in full quirk, indicating both her concern, and her wry sense of humor, perhaps an attempt to pull Janeway out of her apparent funk.

"I suppose I was," Kathryn replied.

"I do not believe that you are fine, Captain. When I entered your ready room, you were asleep at your desk. You do not engage in this activity often, do you?"

Janeway couldn't help but swallow a grin. "No. I don't. I just…" She knew she shouldn't say any more. Kathryn considered Seven a friend, as it were, but she was the Captain. Although she knew there were those among her crew who truly believed she was invincible, she realized that Seven was too perceptive, and too literal to believe that. No, Seven knew too much about the limitations of humanity, having come face to face with many of them since she was separated from the collective.

"Yes?"

She could remain aloof, but right now she just didn't have the energy. "I haven't been sleeping well lately. I suppose it's beginning to take its toll." Once she said it out loud it didn't seem so bad. So, she was having some insomnia. So what? I mean, it was reasonable to assume that any normal person, knowing the certainty of a particular nightmare, might have some trouble falling asleep, wasn't it?

"And that is bothering you?" asked Seven.

Kathryn sighed deeply. "Yes."

"Have you seen the Doctor?"

Well, thought Kathryn that would be the first question I would ask her. How can I tell her that I looked in his database, but didn't activate him? I mean, I just couldn't handle another lecture on the ills of caffeine. "Short of taking some sort of sedative, which I don't want to do, there were a few remedies suggested." She hoped Seven wouldn't catch her little wordplay.

Seven, however, never one to let Janeway get away with anything pushed further. "Which of the alternate remedies have you implemented? I am curious to know what others do when they cannot sleep?"

Kathryn jumped on this one. What a perfect way to shift the focus off of her. "You mean you're having trouble sleeping, er, regenerating?"

"Sometimes, yes. I find that my regeneration cycles can be unsuccessful. However, we are not discussing my regeneration habits. I wish to know how you have dealt with your sleeping difficulties."

Damn! thought Kathryn. I really don't want to get into this. But she knew that Seven was persistent enough to keep at her until she got what she wanted. There was also the small fact that she had started this by saying something in the first place, so she relented. "My most recent attempt to fall asleep involved a glass of warm milk and," God, this is embarrassing, "a bedtime story." If Seven noticed the slight tinge of crimson that crept up her cheeks, she didn't mention it.

"A bedtime story," queried Seven?

"Yes."

Seven paused a moment, as if to contemplate this. "Like you would tell to a child if it could not sleep?"

"Yes, Seven. Just like that." Why had she started this discussion? It wasn't as if she had anything to hide. But, the captain of a Starfleet vessel, telling her ex-borg Astrometrics Officer that she needed warm milk and a bedtime story to fall asleep, was not exactly the direction she had in mind for the conversation. It was… embarrassing!

"But, in order to have a 'bedtime story', do you not need someone to tell it to you?" Seven could not imagine any of the crew sitting on the edge of the captain's bed, tucking her in and telling her a story, as she herself had done for Naomi Wildman. The image just wouldn't form in her mind. "Who have you chosen to tell you your story?"

This just keeps getting better and better, Janeway thought as she began to feel a headache creeping up the back of her neck. "I programmed the computer to select a story, well, some of my favorite prose, then read it to me."

"Ah," said Seven. She was about to ask another question, no doubt wanting to know which story Janeway had heard, but she was cut off.

"If we're going to get in even a small portion of our game, I should really change now. Meet me in Holodeck Two in ten minutes?" Good save, Kathryn!

"Yes, Captain."

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As she made her way through the corridors to the holodeck, Seven wondered at the Captain's dilemma. She knew that Janeway carried a great burden at all times, running the ship with virtually no support from Starfleet, or anyone else for that matter, lost in the Delta Quadrant where, more often than not, the species they encountered were less than hospitable.

She also knew that Janeway must be lonely. It wasn't as if she had any peers on the ship. She had her command staff, of course, but even Chakotay, her second in command, wasn't equal in rank. Of course, Seven thought that the idea of a hierarchical structure in their present situation had its disadvantages, to say the least, though she was beginning to see how it could be considered advantageous, from time to time. Still, Janeway was adamant about maintaining this structure, apparently feeling that it was the only thing holding the crew together. And though she would never admit it to anyone, Seven was beginning to believe that the Captain was right. After all, the Captain acted in very much the same capacity as the Borg Queen--she was the central voice, as it were, providing guidance and cohesion to the crew's actions.

As she pondered her particular analogy, she passed several crewmembers, and had to curb a turn of her lips as she imagined them in the body armor and pale skinned gloom that defined a Borg drone. It was a disturbing prospect, and she shuddered at the thought of being surrounded by over a hundred drones on a daily basis. Since she had joined the crew of Voyager, she had come to appreciate the differences in the crew, the individuality that, no matter how hard she had tried to avoid it, had met her at every turn.

Now, she simply couldn't imagine her life in any other way. She had grown quite fond of several of the 'individuals' on board the ship, particularly the hot-tempered, stubborn, yet brilliant and resourceful redhead she called 'Captain.' It was precisely this reason why she had been so concerned when she received no response to her hails, and when, after having waited at the door for several minutes with no response, she overrode the security protocols and entered the ready room. Finding the captain slumped over her desk had shocked her for a fraction of a second, until she realized that the captain was merely asleep, her breath escaping in gentle sighs as she moaned softly. Her relief was short-lived, however, when it dawned on her that this was very unusual behavior for Janeway.

In all the time that she had known her, Seven had never once heard of her captain sleeping at her desk, especially if she was on duty. And, from the looks of the small puddle of drool that had collected at the corner of her mouth, though her duty shift had ended 17 minutes earlier, Janeway had obviously been asleep longer than that. The more Seven considered this, the more she worried. She would have to confront Janeway again when she saw her, require her to go to sickbay, escort her if need be. When it came to her friends, of which Janeway was the closest of only a very few, Seven was extremely protective.

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"Damnit all to Hell!" Kathryn shouted as she missed the zooming disk for the third time, crashing into the wall behind her. "Maybe you were right. If I'd known I would be this off my game, I would definitely have waited. That was such an easy shot." I really need to concentrate on the game, not the identity of that…person in my dreams.

"Point, Seven of Nine. Game, Seven of Nine. Three games to one, Seven of Nine," stated the even, soothing tones of the computer.

"Are you injured, Captain?"

"Just my pride, Seven. Just my pride." She stretched out a hand in a manner that left no doubt she was asking for assistance, something that Kathryn Janeway very rarely did. Seven reached out in return and, with one swift motion, lifted Janeway completely up, and right off the floor.

"Whoa! I wasn't planning on going quite that far up." Janeway was a bit startled, but took it in stride.

"My apologies." Seven was not sure how she had miscalculated the ratio of the captain's weight to the force required to lift her to a standing position. It was such an easy calculation. In a moment of self-chastisement, she reassessed the situation, and the variables, and came up with an unpleasant conclusion. "Captain, you have lost weight. Are you having trouble eating, as well?"

Oh no, thought Kathryn. Are we back to this already? I was actually beginning to enjoy myself. "No, Seven. It's just that my appetite has 'decreased in direct proportion to the number of hours I've not been sleeping.' "

Seven stared at her.

"I'm not having trouble eating. I'm just less hungry when I'm this tired," Kathryn sighed heavily, again hoping Seven wouldn't call her on her wordplay.

"I believe your sleeplessness is interfering with your ability to function properly. If you do not seek further treatment from the Doctor, I will be forced to 'escort' you there myself."

Kathryn flinched inwardly at the mention of 'further' treatment, bringing to mind her less than honest response to Seven's earlier query. She knew that the woman only had her best interests at heart, but somehow, she just couldn't bring herself to tell the Doctor why she was having these difficulties sleeping, or at least sleeping restfully. But, did she have a choice?

"That won't be necessary, Seven. But I do appreciate your concern." Seven eyed her questioningly. For some reason, Kathryn could never resist Seven of Nine when she wore that particular look, eyebrow raised, and head tilted slightly to the right. She didn't know quite why. She just knew it was truly a futile effort. And that in itself caused a few sleepless nights for the irrepressible, normally unflappable captain of Voyager. Seven regarded her again, raising her left eyebrow slightly as she did so, reeling Kathryn Janeway back into the moment yet again. "I will make a point to stop in and see the Doctor. I promise."

"I don't suppose I could talk you into just one more round, could I?" As Seven looked doubtful, Janeway added quickly, "I think the exercise will help wear me out so I can sleep tonight."

There was no arguing with that logic, Seven mused. "Very well. One more round."

Janeway got a determined smirk on her face as she stated, "Computer, begin round. Increase disk speed by 13 percent." Feeling much better suddenly, she proceeded to wipe the proverbial floor with Seven of Nine, former Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero-One.

Yep. I'll sleep well tonight, Janeway thought as she sent the disk hurtling toward Seven's head at blinding speed, causing the young woman to duck and fire at the same time, her shot straying far to the right. Kathryn wore a smug grin as she heard the computer intone the final score in her favor. She may not have won all the games, since they had indeed not had time for a full match, but she had somehow found the reserves to pull this last game out, and was visibly proud that, even severely fatigued, she still could rule the Velocity floor.

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Seven respected Janeway's authority. She really did. But if it came down to a question of her continued health versus a strict adherence to protocol, well, for some reason, there was just no choice; the Captain's health would win out every time. Though she had tried hard to concentrate on her game, her mind just could not let go of the worn and haggard look on Janeway's face, the sluggishness of her movements, compared with her usual, graceful yet powerful strides, the last round notwithstanding. After Janeway slammed into the wall while trying to get an admittedly simple shot, Seven became truly concerned. She would have to make certain that the Captain followed through on her promise to see the Doctor. Though the thought made her rather uneasy, Seven of Nine recognized a fear growing deep inside her that, despite the petite woman's protests to the contrary, something was definitely wrong with her captain. If it was in her power to do something to help the other woman, she would ensure that nothing kept her from it.

Now, all she had to do was figure out why she had been having her own difficulties regenerating.

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The pain was unlike anything she had ever known before, and all centered in her lower abdomen. It reminded her of the tales of feminine "horrors" she had heard from her mother, Gretchen, and the other traditionalist women back home. Probably more from fear than anything else, though she would never admit it, she had dreaded her teenage years. She dreaded all the things her mother had told her would happen to her lithe, strong young body.

Kathryn had always been a bit of a tomboy, engaging in every outdoor activity she could fit into her schedule of rigorous educational training. She played sports with the best of the best in her settlement, relishing every victory she achieved, but particularly those in which she beat the boys, who taunted her mercilessly the older she got because she was different than the other girls. She had no desire to lose the one edge she had, the narrow hips, higher center of gravity, and lack of anything bulky or in the way up on top (In four hundred years, don't you think somebody could have made a bra that was actually comfortable?) that always seemed to be the key to her physical triumphs. For a while anyway, she thought she would emerge unscathed from the cruel tricks that nature seemed to be playing on her classmates. Kathryn had been what her mother referred to as a 'late bloomer'; a term she supposed had been meant to comfort her. But all too soon, her body started to change, becoming distorted and awkward, making her stumble and lose control, just like all the other girls. Eventually, she adapted to the new balance and proportions, but somehow, it was never quite the same.

Ah, the pain! In all the years since she had become a woman, she had never even had one cramp. As soon as she spied the first traces of her, "burgeoning womanhood," as her rather eccentric and usually embarrassing neighbor used to say, she tore off to the nearest replicator and ordered up a supply of painkillers, not wishing to experience that particular reminder of her "connection to every single woman back to the original." The new body was bad enough. She had no desire to experience the pain that was supposed to accompany it. And just why was it, she wondered, that almost every creation myth she ever encountered considered women evil creatures who had been punished with a physical reminder of just how horrible and 'sinful' they were? This had always puzzled her since, in her experience of universal history, it was the males of the species who were more likely to have been the culprits of whatever had caused that "original sin". At this point, however, the historical significance of her ruminations meant nothing. Right now, she didn't care about anything but the pain.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" She grabbed out for the hand that was stroking her forehead and squeezed it so hard she was afraid she might have broken every little bone in it. Still, even that could not have compared to the tremendous pain she was experiencing. It was excruciating! Yet somehow, she knew that the payoff would be worth the price.

As she struggled to sit upright, see what was going on around her, she could feel the hand again, smoothing her hair back, dabbing at her temples with a cool cloth. She could hear a voice offering soothing words and encouragement. She relaxed back into the arms that supported her, enjoying the brief respite from what was arguably the most difficult thing she had ever attempted. Kazon, Hirogen, Borg...it all seemed like a walk in the park compared to this. (Oh, what she wouldn't give to be on the bridge right now!) Then, the voice changed from the calming tones of a moment ago to powerful words of encouragement.

"That's it, Kathryn. This is it. One more time. You can do it. Just once more."

Then, she was suddenly in its grasp again. Her face contorted and she cried out as the next wave hit. "Oh…my…GOD!"

"Breathe, Kathryn. Breathe. That's it. I can see it. I can see it!" the voice squealed with delight. "One more good push and it'll be out."

Kathryn wasn't entirely sure what "it" was, or who exactly was seeing it, but if all it would take was one more push, she was ready. "Just…get…it…OUT!!"

As she felt herself being lowered back to a reclining position, Kathryn heard a sharp cry fill the air. She realized that must be the "it" everyone was talking about, but was still a bit confused. Excited chatter filled the air around her. Suddenly, someone approached her carrying a small, wriggling bundle. It seemed to be what was crying. She took the bundle from the arms of…who the hell was that?! She pulled back the blanket and peered inside to find the most beautiful child she had ever seen. Those eyes. Where had she seen those eyes?

Chakotay was yelling something at her but she couldn't quite make it out. Suddenly, the bridge jolted hard and she was almost thrown from her chair. "Red Alert!" she commanded, suddenly completely back in her surroundings. "Report," she squeaked, trying to sound like she hadn't missed a thing, though she was completely shaken by her momentary disorientation. She only hoped that her voice didn't betray her.

"Some sort of wave front approaching at…that can't be right," stammered Chakotay.

"What can't be right, Commander?" demanded Janeway.

"It's approaching at warp eight, off the port bow. It's enormous. I've never seen anything like it." Chakotay was in awe of the virtual wall of space that was approaching them. "We must've been hit by some minor disturbance pushing ahead of the main wave front."

"Harry?" Janeway couldn't understand how something so large could 'sneak up' on them.

"He's right, Captain, and it's headed right for us."

"Why didn't we see this thing before now?" she barked. She knew that she had been 'elsewhere' for, well; she didn't even know how long it had been. Had the rest of the crew been affected as well?

"Captain," intoned Tuvok, "We have been tracking the disturbance for the past thirty-seven minutes." Though his face bore it's standard stoic expression, there was the slightest hint of worry in his voice. "You instructed Commander Chakotay to monitor the situation. However, it was not apparent that it was moving so quickly, or along this trajectory."

"Well, can we outrun the damn thing?" She was obviously worried about the current situation; the safety of her ship and crew were paramount to her. She could not, however, shake the nagging feeling that something was amiss.

As she waited for an answer from Tuvok, Harry interjected. "Captain, it's shifted course, bearing one-three mark six. We're no longer in its path."

As Janeway pulled up the data at her own console, she remarked, "It seems so, Mr. Kim. But I don't trust this thing. >From the looks of it, it's extremely erratic, not only in direction, but in speed as well. It's now moving at only one-quarter impulse." She angled her head toward the front of the bridge. "Tom, get us the hell out of here, and put as much distance between us and that 'thing' as possible."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Chakotay, relieved that they were out of immediate danger, turned to his captain. "Captain, are you ok? You seemed a bit disoriented for a moment. Did you hit your head when we bounced off the wake, or whatever that was?"

"I'm fine, Chakotay. It's nothing." She couldn't place it, but she knew that something was wrong. She had been disoriented, she realized. She ran her hand over her forehead as if to brush her hair out of her face. She felt no bumps or welts, so she obviously hadn't hit her head on anything. "I'll be in my ready room. You have the bridge." As she stood from her chair, she winced at a pain in her abdomen. It was nothing serious, but caused her to suck in her breath slightly.

"Kathryn?" Chakotay had caught the slight wince and stagger. It was almost imperceptible, but not quite.

"It's nothing, really." She was remembering something. Pain. Incredible pain. It was centralized around her midsection. The pain had been excruciating, but oddly, she had not been afraid. She had felt…what? Joy? It made no sense to her, as she had no real memory of anything, just these sensations. She stood up again, straightening fully this time. When there was no indication of further pain, she walked toward her ready room, talking as she went. "I want continuous scans of the area. If that thing is coming anywhere near us, I want to know immediately. If not, I don't want to be disturbed."

"Aye, Captain," Chakotay responded. He was worried about his friend, but since she seemed to be fine now, he really didn't want to bother her. He had no great desire to confront an out of sorts Kathryn Janeway. She had a bad reputation for taking it out on whomever was near. And, she was out of sorts, somehow, but perhaps it was just the result of her sleeplessness. Seven had come to talk to him, concerned for the Captain's well being. She had told him all about her observations of Janeway during the past couple of days. Having noticed similar symptoms, he agreed to keep an eye on her but, since she had not yet showed any outward signs of trouble, at least until now, he hadn't said anything to her. He wondered if it was time.

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As Kathryn sat at her desk, her head in her hands, she tried desperately to make some sense of what was happening. It seemed that this "nightmare" was not really a nightmare at all. Up until now, it had only affected her while she slept, or tried to sleep, even if it was at her desk. Though that had worried her, she chalked it up to exhaustion, pure and simple; that was the reason she fell asleep. It was arguable that the dream had invaded her senses only after she fell asleep. She was now, however, being forced to reconsider the situation. If this could happen to her when she was supposedly wide awake and alert, then it could be much more serious than she had first thought. It seemed she really would have to go see the Doctor, as much as she had wished to avoid it.

Damn! She thought. It wasn't as if she had never considered having children. It had always been there as a possibility, in her future. But, since being stranded here in the "armpit of the universe," as her rather hot-tempered Chief Engineer had dubbed it one day, that possibility had seemed much more remote and, to be honest, much less important. To go to the Doctor now and tell him that, suddenly, she seemed to be experiencing fantasies of childbirth with some unknown partner, well, she didn't think she was prepared for the lecture that was sure to follow. Ever since he had convinced her that a little 'roll in the hay' with what was basically some holographic vibrator would be a good thing, she had wondered at his true motive. Was he just looking for some good dirt on the good Captain, or was he truly concerned? Really, what had she been thinking.

As she pondered this particular dilemma, fighting off what would undoubtedly become a force ten headache in no time, her door chimed, alerting her that someone was requesting entry into her sanctuary. Though she had no wish to see anyone right now, except perhaps for Seven, whose company she had been craving more and more lately, she knew that as long as she was on duty, she had an obligation to her crew.

"Come," she said, somewhat wearily.

"Excuse me, Captain, but…" One look at her and Chakotay knew something was wrong. Not only did she look as if she had been dragged behind a class four hovercraft for several kilometers, her skin having the pallor of a three day old leola root soufflé, but she looked seriously preoccupied, something that was never a good sign in his friend and commanding officer.

"Kathryn, are you ok?" He was worried, and she knew it. Still, she wasn't ready to share this with anyone, least of all him. Yes, he was a good friend, but sometimes he was just a bit too familiar with her for comfort. He never did anything that could be considered outright insubordination, but at times, she felt that he had definitely crossed the line between playful banter and a breech of protocol. She supposed that at one time, she might have welcomed his concern, but now, after so much time, it was hard to determine if he was truly concerned for her well being, or merely playing a role that he thought was expected of him. She sighed deeply as he took the chair in front of her desk, without being asked.

"I'm fine, Chakotay. Just tired." Have a seat while you're at it, she thought. "What can I do for you?"

"Kathryn, I'm a little worried. You seemed 'out of it' just now. That's not like you, particularly not on the bridge. I've never known you to let your personal life interfere with your professional life, and certainly not during a critical situation."

This last statement caught her attention. She snapped her head up and stared him in the face.

"Hold on there, friend. What makes you think that there is any trouble with my personal life?" She knew he considered himself her closest friend and confidant on the ship, which, in actuality, he had been, for a while, anyway. But, this was a bit presumptuous even for him.

"Um, Kathryn, while you were 'elsewhere' you were mumbling something about painkillers, and childbirth, and how you never wanted…," he trailed off as he noticed that the remaining color had completely drained from her face.

Oh my god. Now I've taken to babbling about it? What do I say? Where's a nice black hole when you need one?

"I'm sorry to bring it up. No one could hear you except me. At least, I don't think they could. You were pretty quiet."

She held up her hand for him to stop. What did she do now? "That's enough, Chakotay." Well, I'd better tell him something. I don't want him to think his captain's gone off her rocker, even if she has. With another heavy sigh, she tried to explain. "I'm fine, really. It's just that I haven't been sleeping well."

"Nothing serious, I hope?" Chakotay wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she told him what was wrong, but he knew that, even under great duress, rough tactics never worked on this woman. She would tell him in her own time.

"Just some rather unsettling dreams." I wonder if he's buying this? "I'm just exhausted, I guess."

Worried as he was, Chakotay remained diplomatic about it. "Perhaps it would be wise for you to take the rest of the day off, try to get some sleep. I can cover your shift." He knew she'd never go for it, but he had to try. Kathryn Janeway didn't take time off unless she was unconscious or restrained, which is why her answer caught him totally off guard.

"Maybe you're right. Any word on the anomaly?" She couldn't believe she was actually going to leave the bridge during a duty shift, but the thought of a few hours of undisturbed slumber was simply too appealing to the bone-weary woman.

"Nothing. Harry's tracking it, and I'll alert you to any significant change in either course, or speed." Now he knew something was bothering her. He was honestly concerned for his friend. "Kathryn, maybe a trip to sickbay would be in order as well? I'll bet the Doctor can give you something to help you sleep." Before she could get the sentence she was about to utter out of her mouth, he stopped her. "I know you don't like to employ such methods, as you've told me on many occasions. 'The Captain needs to be available at a moment's notice.' But, you can't go on like this." He decided to take a chance. "Permission to speak freely?"

Why the hell not? What do you think you've been doing so far, mister?

"Granted."

"You look like hell, Kathryn. If you've slept more than three hours in the last week, I'd be surprised."

"Thank you very much for the concern," she replied tartly, and then felt bad for it. "I'm sorry. You're right. I know you're right. I just need to sleep."

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It was beckoning her. There was no doubt about it. The little bundle was actually crying out for her. It spoke no discernible language, but she could tell, instinctually, that it needed her. As she opened her arms to comfort the creature as best she could, she heard a voice behind her.

"Oh, sweetheart. She's just beautiful. Look at those sky blue eyes. They're just like yours, a mirror reflection."

As she looked down at what she now recognized was a tiny human female, the auburn-locked child nuzzled up against her, rooting around for something. She turned to see where the voice had come from, but could see nothing, no one. She was about to call out when she felt the strangest sensation. She looked down at the child to see her latching on to her ample bosom as a thick, white liquid trickled down his chin. It struck her then. This is my child. She is my daughter. It seemed such an obvious conclusion, but up until that moment, she hadn't been sure of anything. As she watched the child feeding, she wondered at the situation, turning it around and around in her mind, trying to remember when this had all happened. Then, she heard it again: the voice. Where did she know that voice from? It was so familiar, so comforting. It felt like a shot of 30 year old scotch, a fiery warmth infusing every cell in her body. She was enveloped in the sensations. It was…wonderful.

If only there wasn't this nagging sensation that she was forgetting something. But what? Just as she thought she had it, the vision began to fade. She watched as the child disappeared from her embrace, the voice receding into memory. She tried to reach out, to stop it from abandoning her, but it was no use. She opened her eyes to the familiar monotone of Voyager's computer telling her that her regeneration cycle was complete. She looked down and realized that she was clutching at her chest in a futile effort to retain even a moment of the bliss she had felt mere moments before. Not knowing what, exactly, she was missing, she still felt an empty space inside of her. It brought with it a pain that was foreign, yet oddly familiar. She decided that she did not like it. She would determine what was occurring and put an end to it. In her mind, it was that simple.

As she approached her computer console to access the daily logs, she heard a familiar voice requesting her presence. "Janeway to Seven of Nine."

"Go ahead, Captain."

"Seven, please report to sickbay at your earliest convenience," the voice requested.

Though she thought this was a peculiar request from her captain, she understood that it must be rather important, or the captain would not have contacted her in what was, effectively, the middle of the night. "Acknowledged. Would now be acceptable, Captain?"

Her captain's voice sounded rather weak and uncertain as it echoed through the cavernous space of Cargo Bay Two, the space Seven called home. "That would be fine, but please don't let me take you away from anything important. It's not really urgent…"

At the sound of hesitancy in the normally steel-willed woman's voice, Seven became concerned. "You are not taking me away from anything that cannot wait. I will be there at once. Seven out."

Pushing aside her own uncertainties for the moment, Seven cleared her workspace, then walked out the doors of the cargo bay at what one could only deem a rush.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Captain, I insist you let me sedate you. Your current condition indicates that you have not slept in over 72 hours. Ignoring, for the moment, that your body cannot function properly when it is sleep deprived, you are also exhibiting signs of dementia. I can assure you, Captain, that you are not, nor were you at any point in your life thus far, in the process of childbirth."

"Doctor. I know perfectly well that I am not 'in the process of childbirth,' nor was I earlier," she replied in a significantly gruff voice. "What I said, when you asked me why I was not sleeping well, was that I had been experiencing dreams, nightmares, in which I was experiencing childbirth in an extremely realistic manner, down to the tiniest detail." She couldn't help but grimace at the memory of the placenta, which her doctor had proudly shown to her as proof of her efforts. I think I would have much rather seen the child as my proof, she thought. I don't think I'd ever like to see that again. Yech. It may be the most natural thing in the world, but why does nature always have to be so gross.

She shivered. Not only was it an unpleasant memory, it was the first distinct one she could recall from any of the amorphous images that seemed to swim continuously just beyond her grasp. Despite the situation, she had to chuckle. Of all the images I recall, it would have to be that one, wouldn't it? Well, at least I didn't have to experience the morning sickness. Kathryn Janeway was an incredibly strong woman. She had stood up to the Borg, on several occasions, battled species 8472, the Hirogen, the Kazon, the Devore, sneaky little bastards, and countless more. She could, and would do just about anything to ensure the safety of her crew, and had. She could pilot her ship through the middle of a binary star if it meant saving her crew. But put her in an enclosed room with someone who was either bleeding or throwing up, and she would do anything to avoid having to deal with it. The great Captain Janeway was squeamish! Well, you can't have everything, I guess. She wondered what Chakotay would do with that particular bit of information, praying that he would never find out.

The Doctor, now busily scanning her with his tricorder, interrupted her musings. "Captain, how long did you say you've been experiencing these 'dreams?'" He continued to scan, entering data into his main console as he worked.

"I don't know exactly how long it's been, but from the lack of sleep I've had in the past week or so, I'd have to say it's been at least that long. Why? What do you see?"

"Well, I'm not sure."

"What do you mean you're not sure?" Not one to ever worry too much about her health, other than the most basic issues, the tone of the Doctor's voice was beginning to spark a bit of concern in even her mind.

"It's looks like, though I'm not certain, but it looks like you aren't dreaming at all, daydreams or any other kind."

Janeway now had a confused look on her face. "I'm not dreaming." It was a statement. "Then what is it?" She'd come across enough oddities in the Delta Quadrant that she wasn't sure much could surprise her anymore. She waited for her Chief Medical Officer to explain his findings.

"It appears that you are experiencing a memory. In fact, one of your own."

Ok. There was something that could still surprise her out here. "Excuse me?"

The Doctor called up the display of his most recent scan of the good Captain, pointing out the wave patterns on the monitor. "You see these patterns right here?"

"Yes," she responded. "They look like ordinary memory engrams."

"They are. These are your memories from the past twenty-four hours." He touched several more keypads, which brought another set of waveforms onto the screen. "And these," he pointed to the new data, "are the patterns for the rest of your brain activity for the past 96 hours."

Janeway patiently looked at the screen, noting the various graphics flashing across it, representing her every thought from the past four days. "I must've had a lot on my mind", she joked, not understanding the significance of what she was seeing.

The Doctor looked at Janeway, waiting for her to make the connection. She stared back into his face blankly, uncomprehending.

"Doctor, it is much too late, and I am much too tired to interpret any of this at the moment. Could you please just tell me what the hell it is?" She didn't mean to snipe at him, but honestly. Sometimes that man could try her patience more than anyone else on the ship, except maybe Seven. Well, that wasn't true so much any more. She and Seven used to be at constant odds, nearly coming to blows over every single decision, large or small. It made no difference to Seven, it seemed. If Janeway uttered the words, then Seven was going to argue. Just what was it about her that…

"If I may continue?" the Doctor interrupted her thoughts yet again.

"Of course."

"As I was saying. The patterns from the past 96 hours show absolutely no REM sleep, which explains why you are so tired. Unfortunately, it also means that there is no way you could possibly have been dreaming."

"Ok. Say that's true. What makes you think that they're memories, ones whose actual events I know for a fact have never happened?"

"Look at these patterns here." He pointed at the monitor. "Do you see these, the ones overlapping the anomalous readings?"

"Anomalous readings?"

"I'll get to that in a moment. These lines here are memory engrams. If we adjust the readings so that everything else is accounted for, we can see that these are indeed your memories." "Of things I've never experienced?" Maybe she should just let him sedate her. It would be so much easier.

"There's no indication that any damage has occurred to your brain that would prevent you from recalling the initial experience. Technically, you should be remembering these experiences just as you would any other."

"But, I'm not. Why?"

"I don't know, yet. But, there is something very odd about these other engrams, the ones overlapping, or, perhaps more accurately, entwined with these."

"And that would be…?"

"They belong to someone else."

Now she was really confused. "How can I possess the memory engrams of another person? And, more importantly, whose are they?" She had to admit, as hard as it was for her beleaguered mind to wrap itself around this concept, her interest was piqued.

"Right now, I'm not certain. I've only just now begun examining the data. I'll need a couple of hours to be thorough, but…," he trailed off. He had an idea whose engrams they were, being rather familiar with that person, and the engramatic pattern. He was not, however, prepared to divulge that particular information, not yet anyway. He wanted to be absolutely sure before he told the Captain. He knew that she was rather sensitive about the subject of this particular crewmember, and didn't want to push his luck with the already edgy woman in front of him. "But…?"

"I just don't know right now. I will tell you this, though. The engrams are entwined due to a telepathic bond of some sort, otherwise, there would be no way you could be experiencing a joint memory."

Janeway stated the obvious. "But I'm not a telepath."

"No, and I don't believe the other person is either," replied the Doctor.

"I thought you said you didn't know who it was?" Janeway asked skeptically, the beginnings of one of her infamous force-ten glares starting to shade her features.

"I don't. But judging from this data, the engram doesn't appear to be that of a telepath. It would have a more distinctive peak right about here," he pointed to the monitor, "if it belonged to a telepath."

Fighting off the by now ever present headache, Janeway was about to tell the Doctor to just shoot her up and put her to bed when she was overcome by a wave of dizziness. She tried to fight it, but to no avail. As she reached for the edge of the biobed to steady herself, a tremendous pain struck her in her gut.

"Captain!" the Doctor exclaimed as he turned to see his Captain paling before his eyes. "What is it?" He rushed toward her, his scanner working overtime even before he reached her side.

"Just…help me up onto the bed," she whispered as she clutched at her abdomen. "Please."

As the Captain slid up onto the edge of the bed, she thought she would pass out from the pain. Just as she felt she was about to slip from consciousness, the pain stopped. She paused for a moment, expecting it to return with a vengeance, but it didn't. Seeing her freeze, the Doctor became even more concerned.

"Captain?" He seemed almost afraid to move, as if by doing so, he would kill her then and there.

"Whatever it was, it's gone."

The Doctor quickly began scanning again, noticing her elevated pulse, heartbeat, and respiration, but chalking it up to a sever case of shock. As he reached her abdomen, however, he stopped, his photonic jaw hanging open.

Janeway, seeing his obvious distress, asked nervously, "What is it?"

Not knowing quite how he was going to explain this to the woman in front of him, he actually stammered. "I…I…um."

"Spit it out, Doctor. Whatever it is, I have to know."

In response, he simply pointed. Janeway followed his gaze to her lap. When she looked down, she almost leapt from the table. "What is that?!"

Finally finding his voice, he double-checked his tricorder before answering. "It's amniotic fluid."

"What?" Janeway asked in a now somewhat timid voice.

"It's amniotic fluid, Captain. And, I have no idea how this can be, but it's not yours."

This is insane, she thought. No, not insane. Impossible. Throwing up her hands, she queried, "Whose is it?"

"Well, uh, this time I'm sure, Captain. According to the DNA, it's," he paused. This was not only uncomfortable for him, it was completely baffling. "It seems that..."

"Yes?" She wasn't sure she wanted to know, based on the look the Doctor flashed her.

"There's no mistaking the DNA."

"Doctor…," Janeway said menacingly, "who?"

He paused for one last check of the instrument, tapping it slightly, as if that might change the information displayed there. "Seven."

She felt like the air had been sucked from her lungs. Her mind seemed to fill with random images, fragments of visions, memories, rushing at her from every direction. She felt as if she was drowning, not sure which way was up, and air. Precious air.

"Breathe, Captain."

She pulled in a huge breath, trying calm her rapid heartbeat. At that point, she did the only thing she could think of. As she tapped her combadge, she prayed that there would be an answer at the other end. "Janeway to Seven of Nine."

"Go ahead, Captain."

"Seven, please report to sickbay at your earliest convenience,"

Coming Soon - Dreams - Chapter 2