Flashback - Diane Carey [8]
"No kidding," the Doctor said blandly. "I don't know what happened to you, but there can be any number of explanations." As Janeway tipped her head to listen carefully, the hologram went on. "Hallucination . . . telepathic communication with another race . . . repressed memory . . . momentary contact with a parallel reality . . . take your pick. The universe is a strange place."
Considering that this computer-graphic mock-up was walking around giving a diagnosis, Janeway had to agree.
"I'll have Mr. Kim examine the sensor logs," she said, looking down again at Tuvok. She felt obligated to say something, and since there was a handy gas cloud, why not start there? "Maybe our proximity with the nebula is affecting you somehow."
"In the meantime, Lieutenant," the Doctor said, "you're free to go. All your vital signs have returned to normal, and I don't see any residual systemic damage."
Tuvok tightened his body as if to get up, but the
Doctor moved in with some kind of small monitoring device and implanted it behind Tuvok's ear. The Vulcan didn't wince, but that didn't necessarily mean there wasn't a pinch or two involved.
"But," the Doctor went on, "I want you to wear this neurocortical monitor. In case you have another episode, it'll record a complete encephalographic profile, and alert sickbay at the same time."
"A wise precaution," Tuvok agreed. "Thank you, Doctor."
Tuvok stood up and seemed stable enough, but Janeway watched him custodially. She saw trouble behind his expression, just a wash of duskiness beneath his complexion, a crimp of worry behind his eyes.
Yes, he was deeply affected. Not having the memory evidently hadn't prevented him from living the experience, and now having to live with the aftershocks. Somewhere in the past a child had died, and Tuvok held himself responsible.
Had it happened? Had something so ghastly occurred in his past that he had buried the moment and forgotten the child? Was this one of the many mysteries of Tuvok that Janeway had yet to uncover, despite their long years of trust?
Someone else's past was always a strange zone to wander, and a Vulcan's was particularly private. Did she dare ask? Pursue the pain for him if he couldn't do it for himself? Would that do more harm than good?
Just how close friends could a human and a Vulcan even hope to become?
"Do you think you're all right?" she asked him after the Doctor and Kes moved away. "I can relieve you of duty for a day or so, if you think the rest would help you."
"I would prefer not to leave you shorthanded," Tuvok said, fighting down the strain he was under.
She smiled. "I don't think I'm shorthanded for scooping ice cream out of a gaseous anomaly."
He looked at her curiously. "I beg your pardon?"
"Just something B'Elanna said." Despite the protocols about not touching a Vulcan unless it was necessary, Janeway clasped his arm reassuringly, because he seemed to need that. "You're almost through with your watch shift. If you go to your quarters now and rest, you'll have till zero seven hundred hours tomorrow before anyone, including myself, will miss you. Take it as an insult if you like, but part of being in a Starfleet crew, or any crew, is to make sure you're not too indispensable. So get some rest and don't feel guilty."
"Guilt is an emotion," he curtly pointed out. "Vulcans do not experience emotion."
Tell that to the little girl on the cliff.
"Oh, yes," Janeway said. "I forgot."
Kes was young, she was alien to this crew, she was gentle and unassuming, but she was no fool. The episode in sickbay with Mr. Tuvok had somehow established a link, however momentary, while he was distressed. Somehow this link still remained.
She didn't know whether or not Tuvok had been aware of her connection. He had said nothing,
hadn't looked at her with any more than the most elusive of glances, as if embarrassed. Could a Vulcan be embarrassed?
Now she was heading for Tuvok's cabin to make adjustments on his cortical monitor, knowing that she had volunteered