I extended it.
::chooses to ignore startled look at rare outright insubordination, moving from position of challenge opposite the hologram::
::picks up padd left on desk between, waving it::
Some of the Doctor's research sparked my interest.
I thought we had this discussion, about delegated projects...
::takes her stony expression as an indication humor won't work this time::
But before you get bent out of shape and start throwing blame, you should know that Doc was only looking into the matter on my order.
Don't be ridiculous. Being first officer doesn't mean having the purview to tell others to invade the privacy of people you just so happen to be related to.
I don't remember sitting down for an examination of any sort in months, yet somehow this padd contains almost hourly scans of my body...scans taken right up to this afternoon.
::drops piece of plastic, refolding arms::
Give me a little credit. I assumed it was on your order. The Doctor is many things, but no pervert, and no one else is so under-handed.
Fine. You called it.
I'm a low life sneak who just so happened to be reasonably concerned about his knee deep in denial daughter. I won't do a penance for that one.
::shifts glare, looking to voyager's CMO::
I'm assuming you found something, if she's this riled up.
::clears throat, sliding gaze away as co-worker visibly sucks in lower lip...a dangerous sign, whether foreshadowing tears or temper::
Yes, Mr. Paris, as a matter of fact.
There appear to have been some slight variations in Doctor Paris' hormonal levels lately. Her serotonin levels have decreased, for example, yet cortisol levels have increased.
::catches half foot stomp in peripheral vision, snorting::
Oh, calm down!
::turns attention back to hologram::
And what the hell does that mean, exactly, besides apparent emotional regression to childhood?
At the moment, Commander, I really couldn't say.
Hormonal levels have changed, yes, but not so drastically as to raise red flags...and certainly not in any way similar to what we saw with Kes...with Linnis' mother.
This could very well be the onset of morologium, or merely menopause, or some convoluted hybrid between. Or nothing at all.
I am, however, willing to speculate that the increasing levels of cortisol are simply the result of stress. Whether she chooses to admit it or not, your daughter is not immune to concerns about her own welfare. That also might very well explain any memory slips noted.
::plants palm over eyes for a minute, gathering patience...wasn't there a time he actually knew something concrete once in a while?::
::removes it, readjusting vision::
Well, if she's stressed, there has to be a reason for it, don't you think?
We've been in a relatively quiet patch of space, the most excitement we've had for months is damned baby deliveries...
::twists, looking...but bites back the you hate being a grandmother that much? that tempts::
As I said, Mr. Paris...
I'm afraid I can't say. Omniscience isn't amongst my many gifts. Only Linnis can tally her emotional woes.
::very gingerly reaches over to lift tossed padd, surveying contents one final time, despite perfect memory::
I will, of course, be continuing my observations and will inform you should further change occur.
NOT without my permission, you won't!
::settles full force of glare on him...there are worse things than deletion, if he pushes::
::rocks back on heels, dropping arms to sides and putting on most complacent look::
I'm perfectly fine, thank you both.
You're as stubborn as a mule, and I wouldn't press your luck or I'll drag Chakotay into it too. He'd not only be concerned about your welfare but your competency as well.
::smiles in triumph when her mouth opens and shuts again, pleasure at rare upper hand besting worry...for the moment::
::pauses...should probably ask, in the name of some professional distance::
Doc, she is competent, right?
And would undoubtedly be all the more competent after a full night's sleep.
::averts gaze again::
::firms lips, digging heels in by habit::
::only moves after ltcmdrtomparis
has the audacity to grab an elbow and push::
I'll see you tomorrow, Doctor
::looks back at pilot::
Not a word to Harry either.
Give me a little credit. The last thing I need right now is having to deal with his hysteric tendencies on top of everything else.
::waits for her clearly carefully restrained exit before turning back to remaining companion::
Thanks for looking into it, Doc.
::replaces padd in drawer, tidying rest of desk, including various flung flexi and styli::
No need, Mr. Paris. I planned on observation before you suggested it. If there is one thing I've learned from my years amidst organics, it's that healers are inherently averse to healing...or even merely diagnosing...themselves.
::straightens, modulating tone to more gentle, personal tenor::
I can assure you, the continued health and happiness of your daughter...indeed, both of your daughters...is ever present in my mind.
...you're turning into an old sap.
But since you brought it up...any changes on Jenay's front?
I'm afraid not. We haven't even been blessed with another split hair.
::smiles a bit at own joke, before realizing comrade seems less amused::
Research continues, of course.
At this rate, by the time Voyager reaches Earth, Starfleet should be able to dedicate an entire new library to data gleaned from your bloodline.
Oh joy. At least the Admiral will be thrilled to have his name on something else.
::takes a moment to consider hologram's half-snide statement, a bit more seriously::
This is ridiculous. I have one daughter who could snuff out at any moment and another who might try to live forever.
::shrugs at vaguely chastising look::
I have a suspicion they'll both kill me with stress first, though.
...just keep working on it, Doc.
::nods, fortunately attuned by experience to genuine worry under pilot's sarcasm::
The task would be easier were Starfleet more communicative. My database is quite large, but I haven't been granted many updates since communications were established...or, for that matter, opportunities to discuss and compare theorem with fellow personnel.
::grimaces at reminder...he's probably better off not knowing the weekly arguments that take place with Command over certain matters like holographic rights...hell, if HQ had their way, Doc would be bumped from CMO status altogether in favor of the organic::
::grits teeth, saving that headache for another day::
I know. Believe me, if Chakotay or I could, we'd change that.
::pauses again, an idea forming::
I can't sway the way Starfleet likes to deal with things, but I might be able to arrange a work around eventually. Give me a few days.
::nods, but can't resist one dig::
It's a good thing the matter isn't one of any urgency, I suppose.
::takes half-grin as acknowledgment of joke, settling into seat and offering a look of deepened curiosity::
I take it that means we won't be leaping off into the Alpha Quadrant for direct contact any time soon?
Doc...don't repeat this, but...Chakotay might not be getting any weaker the older he gets...
::rubs back of head self-consciously, that spot is still tender::
But he sure as hell is becoming as indecisive as a little old lady.
...we're triple checking, and waiting on Vorik's approval with resource levels.
::pares down tempted outward expression of amusement::
I'm certain you'll find something to occupy your time with until slipstream is activated. Perhaps the wedding?
It might be wise to have festivities over with and Seven firmly ensconced in her role as a wife before the theatrics surrounding homecoming ensue.
::lifts brow at pilot's only half-lit face::
I believe Admiral Paris' daughter-in-law would be somewhat less accessible to Starfleet's more unfriendly offices than an unattached former drone. I'm surprised you hadn't considered such matters.
I'm a little more along the lines of insulted, myself.
Doc, that's brilliant. And thoroughly under-handed.
I'll see how much progress Neelix and Seven are making with planning. Apparently they have differing views on...everything. If she didn't deserve her special day so much, I'd just cut the frills and just make it a five minute officiation mixed with the morning paper shuffle.
Yet she does deserve it.
::can't quite disguise pride in tone...children come and successfully grow on Voyager, but rarely do adults::
::ahems, sitting stylus down with a click to end fit of sentiment::
I don't suppose giving the bride away is an option, but I certainly wouldn't mind participating in some form. Perhaps a solo at the reception...
::nearly groans...it never ends well::
We'll find something for you to do, Doc, it wouldn't be complete without you.
::with effort, forces mind back to present and less happy tidings::
Speaking of which, I'd better not miss dinner.
...keep an eye on Linnis, will you?
Of course, of course.
::doesn't hide annoyance at his apparent need for assurance::
::waits for main sickbay doors to shut before shaking head at inherited holophoto on desk, one of the late Mrs. Paris::
At times I wonder about those two...
::moves gaze off discomfiting reminder, staring around lonely, darkened medical bay::
::perhaps it's time to indulge in own version of a sleep subroutine::