I caught up with Admiral Janeway and we went for a drink. "Congratulations, by the way, Captain Chakotay," she raised her glass. She was referring to my Captaincy. It had been almost a year, but I had been so busy on long missions, we had not seen each other in that time. It had been six months since I had caught up with any of our former crew, the Voyager crew, and I was relying on Kathryn to fill me in on the latest news – and gossip.

I wasn't disappointed. She told me Tuvok (who had quickly regained his composure after going through a premature Pon-Farr upon being reunited with his wife, on our return) had also been promoted to Captain. Harry Kim had joined the Enterprise crew. The Doctor was working at Starfleet Medical Research on Earth, looking for a cure for the debilitating turellian fever.

"Speaking of which," Janeway said suddenly, her hand on my shoulder. "I want you to do something for me, Chakotay. You're heading to Earth now, right? To Starfleet Headquarters?"

"I am." I had no idea what this was about.

"I want you to visit Tom Paris. Will you do that?"

I was surprised. "At Jupiter Station? I can stop off there, on my way."

Kathryn shook her head. "He's on Earth," she corrected me.

"I thought…" I had talked to B'Elanna about six months ago, just before my latest mission. "I thought B'Elanna was working as an engineer at Jupiter Station…" When we'd spoken she had also just enrolled Miral in preschool at Jupiter Station and Paris had recently ended his piloting commission with the Turellian Rescue Squad, to join them. B'Elanna had sounded happy with the way things were going.

"Not anymore. She accepted another position four months ago."

"Really? Seems I have some catching up to do," I admitted.

"So you promise? You'll visit Tom? I'll give you the address."

"Certainly," I said. At the time I didn't realise how much she wasn't telling me, or I would have questioned her further. Maybe it was best that I didn't realise. If I'd known the full story I may never have said I would visit Tom Paris. Tom and I had never been close friends. I was hoping to catch up with Torres more than anything.

The conversation changed topic after that, but Janeway remembered to give me the address, and that's how I ended up, three days later, on the steps of an expensive apartment right outside Starfleet Headquarters, waiting for Tom Paris to appear at the door. I began to wonder if I had the correct address. It didn't strike me as the kind of place that Tom and B'Elanna would chose to raise Miral. At last I saw a tall figure appear through the rippled glass and the door slid open.

"Admiral Paris!" I was surprised.

"What can I do for you… Captain Chakotay?" he asked in his customary gruff manner.

"I hope I'm not interrupting. Admiral Janeway gave me this address. I'm here to see… your son. I'm here to see Tom Paris. Is he…"

"He's upstairs, Captain. Please come in."

Tom Paris was lounging on the couch. He turned his head as I entered and waved me over. He was wearing casual clothing – jeans and a loose shirt shirt, open at the neck, sleeves rolled up. He smiled but didn't get up. I thought he was just being casual – a little too casual. "It's been a while," he drawled, looking up at me. I felt his gaze take in my Starfleet uniform and catch on the pips on my collar.

"I'm here for a few days," I told him awkwardly. "I thought I'd drop by. I'm sure I have some catching up to do."

"Maybe," he replied warily. "How'd you find me?"

"What, are you in hiding?" I joked.

"No! No, of course not." He didn't see the humour. "Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. It's… good to see you Chakotay." he smiled hesitantly. "Tell me all about your latest exploits as a Starfleet Captain."

I took a seat opposite Paris. After detailing my missions in deep space, I felt I had done my fair share of talking. "How was your work with the Turellian Rescue Squad?" I tried to make conversation. "I'm guessing as well as piloting, you got to make good use of your medical skills during all those evacuations." The third planet had been undergoing one natural disaster after another as in underwent rapid climate change.

"Yeah, unfortunately," Tom said wryly.

I frowned. I knew he had never particularly enjoyed working in sickbay on Voyager, but when people's lives were at stake he never shirked his duties. "I'd say they were lucky to have you, Tom. Not many top pilots with medical training."

"Lucky me. I guess that's why my contract was extended… twice," Tom sounded bitter. "I stayed a lot longer than I should have. They doubled my pay."

"You stayed for the money?" I frowned. There was a time this would not have surprised me.

"No!" Paris objected. "This was during the Turellian fever epidemic. I stayed because they needed me." He paused, "…and also for the money. We were saving up to buy a place… but that didn't exactly work out…" he trailed off, eyeing me warily.

"You know, I read about the Turellian fever," I kept the conversation going. "You're lucky humans are so rarely infected," I appointed out. "There have only been a handful of cases. I've heard its hell."

Tom froze. His parents were silent, but glanced uneasily at their son. Tom chuckled softly. "Hell. Would you agree with that Mom? Dad?"

I must have looked confused.

"You don't know, do you?" Tom's direct gaze unnerved me. His eyes looked bluer than I remembered.

"Know what?"

"Chakotay, the theory is that humans need long term exposure to be infected. That's why the cases are so rare. Mostly people stay for less than a year. I stayed for two and a half."

I still didn't get it.

Tom broke it to me. He rested his arms on his knees and leaned toward me. "Chakotay, I've been really sick."

And suddenly it clicked. Tom's casual manner had masked his lethargy. His clothes seemed loose because he had lost a significant amount of weight. His complexion was paler than I remembered, which was why his eyes looked so blue. And there was that familiar tone of false confidence in his voice that reminded me of his first months on Voyager. I tried to recall the report I had read on human Turellian fever survivors. Even on recovery they had suffered chronic symptoms: muscle weakness, pain and fatigue, for which there was no cure. Why had Janeway not told me?

"Let's have dinner," Tom's mother tried to cover the awkwardness. "Everything's ready in the dining room."

"Mom, can't we just eat in here?" Tom bickered.

"I… I thought with Captain Chakotay here," she stammered, "I've already set the table…"

"Fine!" Tom was annoyed.

"This way," Mrs Paris gestured me to the doorway. As I got up to follow I glanced back and saw Tom lifting himself from the couch using his arms. The Admiral rushed to help him. "It's fine," I heard Tom insist. "I've got it." Tom lowered himself into the wheelchair I had failed to notice next to the couch where he had been sitting.