The greenish hue to the flames pouring out of the wall near junction twenty-nine meant plasma fire. B'Elanna's eyes flew over the wall nearby. If Voyager hadn't been a trashed mess of conduits and smoking wall panels, she might have been able to find the extinguisher. As it was, for all the time it took her mind to run through the possibilities, all she had time to physically do was grab the arm on the floor and pull.

She wrapped her fingers tightly around the familiar fabric of a Starfleet uniform and the delicate wrist beneath it and tugged. When she could see the shoulder, even with the smoke billowing around them, she slipped her hand into armpit and found the downed woman's neck with her other hand. Cupping it carefully, B'Elanna dug her own feet into the floor and pulled back out of the smoke. The acrid black stung her eyes, and behind it, all she could see was the green.

The woman's hair brushed her fingers, and a final yank got them both free and around the corner. Praying that whoever it was wasn't seriously hurt, or worse, she dragged them around the bulkhead to safety. When she collapsed against the wall, the slight body, no larger than her own, fell against her. Cradling the woman's head in her hands, she looked down and inhaled sharply.

Blood coated the left side of the captain's face. The brilliant red was coated with black, and speckles of dust and smoke were stuck to the sweat on the undamaged side of her face. Janeway should have been safely on the temporary bridge in main Engineering. Checking her pulse, B'Elanna sagged a little in relief. It was strong and steady beneath her fingers, and she only had to worry about internal injuries or what was behind the nasty-looking cut in the captain's hairline.

"What happened?" The deep voice was as much a relief as the captain's pulse had been.

"Plasma conduit," B'Elanna explained. Licking her lips tasted of smoke, and she wanted to spit to clear the taste. She rubbed her mouth on her hand instead and smelt blood. "I don't know what happened. I thought she was in engineering."

"As did I," Tuvok said, emerging from the corridor opposite the fire. He carefully ran his hands down the captain's spine. "She may have been thrown into a support beam. I cannot find a spinal injury. I will take her to sickbay."

B'Elanna held the captain's head still while he shifted his weight back and prepared to lift her up into his arms. "I'd go to holodeck two. We're still trying to get the turbolifts to go up all the way to deck five."

"Thank you." He lifted the captain in one smooth motion as if she weighed nothing at all.

Staring at the unconscious captain in Tuvok's arms, she must have been gaping. It was logical of course. The transporters were still out, and the captain had to get to sickbay somehow, but he'd picked her up like she weighed little.

"She is not seriously hurt, Lieutenant. There is no need for concern."

B'Elanna watched him thoughtfully. She must have looked a wreck if he was comforting her. He shifted the captain's weight and held her close to his chest. The captain was safe and B'Elanna had a ship to fix. "I'll keep that in mind."

In the triage unit in the holodeck, Tom finished healing the plasma burns on Ensign Lang's right leg and patted her shoulder. "Looks almost as good as the other one, if I do say so myself. I'm afraid I can't do anything about the uniform though."

She favoured him with a grin and ran her fingers delicately over the new pink skin on her calf. "Next time I'll let you autograph it," she replied, moving it down to the deck to try her weight.

"I'm going to hold you to that," he said, smiling back. He had several more patients to see, but they'd stopped coming and he was finally starting to make progress. He could take the time to heal them all the way, instead of just triaging. It was better when he could actually put people whole before they left.

"Lieutenant," Tuvok's voice cut through. The Vulcan strode over to the bed, an unconscious woman Tom couldn't help worrying was the captain in his arms. He made a point to know these things about the women on board, and red hair and a red uniform narrowed it down to a handful.

Ensign Lang immediately left the cot and stood at his side, waiting to help ease the captain down. Between Tom's hands and Lang's, the captain's head and shoulders were well supported as Tuvok laid her down. Her hair tumbled free in an auburn mess. He'd forgotten how long it was. The left side of her face was coated with blood and the cut was buried in her hair.

Ensign Lang lifted the captain's hands and folded them neatly on her stomach before she left without a word.

Tom grabbed the medical tricorder and began his scan. "What happened?"

"Lieutenant Torres found her on deck fifteen near a damaged plasma conduit."

"Are any of our conduits not damaged?" Tom asked.

"There are several intact," Tuok replied curtly. "However, I believe it is a safe assumption that the majority are damaged in some way."

The medical tricorder constructed the captain's bioreadings and beeped. Rib fractures, a few minor internal injuries, a nasty contusion on her left arm: all of it wasn't life threatening. The concussion, however, would be a problem. Beneath the seeping cut in her hair, the captain's brain was starting to swell, and it was going to be a little harder to fix than the bruises.

"She has a concussion," he reported to Tuvok, who'd remained. "And some rib fractures, nothing life threatening. I'm going to have to treat the swelling in her skull right away, but the good news is that we don't have to rush her to the real Doctor. Seems the captain isn't more stubborn than a bulkhead after all."

Tuvok stayed, still hovering over the captain. "I am sure she will be pleased that you keep track of such things, Lieutenant."

Tom beamed. Smiling at Tuvok was more fun because he'd never smile back. The Vulcan's sarcasm meant Voyager was returning to normal. He grabbed a sub-dermal tissue regenerator and sub-dermal probe He'd need to stop the tiny bleed inside her brain before it became anything dangerous, then he'd have to convince the tissues to stop fighting to claim the limited space in her skull. It was easy. He'd done it before. The Doctor had the much more difficult work of two spinal cords to repair in sickbay and the nerves in Crewman Doyle's hand to regenerate.

With the tricorder to guide him, Tom began to slowly work on healing the damaged blood vessels in the captain's brain. Acutely aware that he was working on what was possibly the most important component of the ship, he reminded himself to calm. Take it slow.

"After I stop the swelling in her brain, the captain can berate me for my sense of humour personally." Joking made it easier to concentrate. Tom switched to the regenerator and watched the blood disappear. His hands were steady, but his stomach was knotted. The fragile blood vessels would take awhile to heal, and he had to make sure each one of them was perfect.

"I believe the captain will be more concerned with the repairs than with the inappropriate nature of your sense of humour."

Tom chuckled and finished with two tiny veins. "Depends on how hard she hit her head, doesn't it?"

Tuvok's glare was the Vulcan equivalent of a pat on the shoulder. Satisfied that the captain would mend, he nodded and left Tom to his work. With the blood vessels all intact, he turned his attention to the gray matter. Even, steady strokes of the sub-dermal regenerator and careful application of a synaptic stimulator slowed the swelling to a crawl. She'd sleep for hours and probably have a hell of a headache, but she'd be all right.

His fingers were cramped and his right leg was numb. He'd been sitting half-crouched to treat her. The holodeck was far from as comfortable as sickbay. Stretching his fingers, Tom used one of the hand-held sonic cleansers to clean the blood from her cheek. As the device hummed the blood away, he finally got down to the cut and regenerated the skin back together.

Staring down at the captain's unconscious face, he contemplated a loose lock of her hair. He could move it aside, away from her face. He'd never do it when she was awake, or even with anyone watching, but it bothered him that it was there. In the end, Tom left it. It wasn't his place.

"I don't see why coffee isn't an emergency ration," Janeway mused, drinking the lukewarm water with a grimace. "If I designed the ration packs, it would be."

"Then you'd be complaining about how terrible it tasted," Chakotay reminded her lightly. He'd been making an effort to make sure morale stayed up, especially hers. Their brush with disaster had been intimately close this time. They had Harry and the baby back, but for a time, both had been lost. He couldn't forget, and he knew she couldn't either.

For the moment, she was single-mindedly repairing the ship. The cut on her cheek wanted healing, and he could tell from the way she was favouring her left hip when she walked that Janeway had more than a few bruises from being thrown to the deck.

"When we get the replicator working, the first cup of coffee will be yours. My treat."

She passed him the pouch of water, rubbing her mouth with the back of her hand. The water smeared the dirt on her face, but it only made her look more determined. "I'll hold you to that, Chakotay. Promises about coffee are not something I take lightly."

He nodded his understanding and returned her smile. Her eyes were still exhausted, worn with the thought that she'd held all of their lives in her hands just a few hours ago. Chakotay understood her reasons. If one Voyager lived, and one version of him went on with his life, he would have been honoured to die for that other man and the rest of his crew. He liked to think of the universe as a fluid place: somewhere that would reconcile the two Voyagers in what came after.

Janeway may not have agreed with him. The sacrifice of the other crew weighed on her as heavily as her decision to sacrifice their own crew had. She was shaken, and that was why she was here, working on the shield grid, instead of on her temporary bridge. B'Elanna might appreciate not having her captain there to look over her shoulder, but their crew would miss her soon.

"How long will it take you to repair the shield grid?" he asked calmly. It was a simple question he could have easily guessed the answer to with a scan of her work, but he wanted her to reply. She lowered her head, keeping her eyes on her work. She wasn't ready to face her crew, and they both danced neatly around the question.

"A few more hours should have the navigational deflector back on," Janeway answered. She didn't raise her head from the panel, and he sat down next to her. A few hours was more time than he anticipated, and most likely more time than either of them could allow. If she'd needed less time to come back to herself on her own, he could have let her, but Voyager was heavily damaged, over a third of the crew was recovering from injuries suffered from the proton bursts, and both of them needed their captain to heal.

He tore open one of the rations packs. Protein substitute and stewed tomato wasn't his favourite, but it was one of the better vegetarian options. Torn between the convenience of a fork and just eating it with his fingers, Chakotay wiped his mildly dirty hand on his dusty uniform and gave in. He'd had worse.

Janeway kept working, ignoring him for the moment. That was to be expected. It would take her awhile to realise he was still here, and awhile after that to realise how long he intended to be there. He'd been a far less patient man before he'd met her. Chakotay had been just patient enough to wait out the enemy because that was the only good thing that seemed to come from patience. That was until he'd met her and slowly learned that waiting could have unimaginable rewards. There was that smile, if he waited for her to show it, and there were the rare moments she dropped her guard. Even her shields grew heavy, and if he forced her to hold them up long enough, she'd have to lay them down.

The laser sealer hummed, repairing circuits one at a time in her skilled hands. She traded it for a microspanner, and the high-pitched whine filled the room three times before Janeway gave up. She set the tool down hard and looked at him. There was no accusation in her face, only a soft acceptance. Exhaustion was set into the skin around her eyes, and dark circles were forming beneath the dirt. "Lunch?" she wondered.

"Dinner," he corrected, taking a bite. "Late dinner, at that."

Janeway glanced towards the chronometer that should have been working on the computer panel. It was out. She turned her eyes back to him. "Not late enough for an early breakfast?" Sitting up slowly, she rested her hands on her knees and stared at her battered knuckles. When she flipped over her palms, they were just as bad. Tiny cuts were surrounded by ash and the dark dust of a wounded starship. His hands were nearly pristine in comparison.

"Here," he offered, holding out a tomato between two relatively clean fingers. "When did you eat last?"

She reached for it with grey fingertips and stopped. She scooted closer on the floor, within reach. Her mouth was close enough for him to feed her, and out of necessity, Janeway allowed it. She took the tomato from his fingers and chewed. "In the Alpha Quandrant," she replied with a smirk. "Now that I think about it. We had a great send off dinner at Starfleet Headquarters. San Francisco can always be counted on for seafood, and one of the chefs did something extraordinary with swordfish and mango chutney."

"I wonder if Kes could grow mangos in the hydroponics bay." Setting down the packet of food, Chakotay looked for a sonic cleanser for her hands.

Her soft smile was achingly beautiful, even with the blood on her cheek. She glanced at her hands and stopped his search. "I'll just get them dirty again, Chakotay, don't bother."

Smiling back at her came without effort. Perhaps he'd needed the conversation with her to raise his own spirits as much as hers. Carefully feeding her a piece of mushroom, he watched her lips just miss touching his fingers. He could feel the warmth of her breath before she sat back.

"Mangos are a good idea," she mused after she'd swallowed. "I'm sure Neelix could find a few things to do with them that didn't involve roots or tubers that might actually be enjoyable." She dropped her head for a moment, sinking dirty fingers into the hair along her hairline. It was still tumbling out of the bun on the back of her head, but she hadn't taken the time to fix it.

"If the hydroponics bay even survived the proton bursts." The grim look returned to her eyes. "I keep thinking about that other ship. That other crew."

The other version of herself went unmentioned, but she was written across his Janeway's face. He didn't know what to say to ease that pain. Did they need to grieve for subspace duplicates? Did it matter where they came from? He felt something for his duplicate, a strange sense of compassion but Chakotay was at a loss for what it was.

"There but for the grace of God..." she murmured, staring past him towards the darkened computer terminals on the wall. "I would have done it."

"I know."

"It was the right thing to do," she said, searching for conviction. Janeway's voice was steady, but her hands wouldn't hold still. "Save one ship at the cost of the weakened one. Get one crew home. Harry is still Harry. The baby's identical to the other baby. Interchangeable. If they got home, we'd get home with them. I have to believe that."

He nodded, holding up another piece of tomato to see if she'd take it. It took a moment or two for her to find his hand. Her thoughts were light years away. "You could let the other crew carry us home. I doubt any of the crew's families would have noticed that a subspace duplicate came home instead of the real one."

"Maybe we're the duplicates," she observed. She nudged a piece of tomato into her mouth from her lips with the back of her hand. "Maybe it doesn't matter. Harry died, and he's down in Engineering. They died, and we live."

"She died," he pressed. Other than Kes, Janeway was the only one to meet her duplicate, and Kes seemed to be taking it better. Then again, Kes wasn't the captain. It hadn't been Kes's duplicate that had been charged with that untenable decision.

"She gave her life for my crew. Her crew gave all their lives for ours." Janeway shook her head. Her elbow balanced on her knee, and she rested her cheek on her hand. "That's a hell of a bargain, Chakotay."

"Forgive me if I get the science wrong," he began, trying to remember what he'd once heard in a spatial theory class, a lifetime ago. "Each choice we make diverges, and though we only see the outcome of one, some version of us finds another path. So everything that can happen, does, in a thousand timelines across different universes."

"Crude," she smirked, "but accurate."

"So somewhere out there, I've died a thousand times, but I must be happy as many times. Maybe even married." He held his smile until she matched it.

"It does sound like an adventure, doesn't it?" she said thoughtfully. "Marriage, I mean. If we were back on Earth, I guess I'd have found out." That look flew across her face. There was a special pain for Mark that she tried to bury as much as she could. At first it had been sharp, but over the last year it had began to dull and soften. "According to your theory, it seems at least one of me did."

"Perhaps so." Chakotay remained next to her. He had repairs to go over with Tuvok and several injured crew to speak with. Reassuring the captain had to come first. They all needed her. The pain in her eyes was still palpably there, and he had to chase it away.

He brushed his hands clean and tucked the empty wrapper away into the case of the emergency rations. Taking a sip of the water, he held it out to her again, and she accepted it gratefully. "I don't know when I'm going to have the time, but when I do, I'm going to pray for the other Voyager. I intend to ask the spirits to help them find peace."

Her gaze dropped to the deck; the water pouch hung loosely in her hand. Kathryn's face was haunted when she looked up, but she made no effort to hide it. He'd broken through to her. Chakotay had suspected she needed to know she wasn't the only one who would grieve that only ship. Even if they'd only been a schism in subspace, they were real.

"That sounds appropriate," she agreed. Her right hand reached for his wrist, holding it tightly. Warm and smooth, her dirty thumb traced a slow track on the back of his arm. "Any kind of memorial service would be too morbid, wouldn't it? Yet...we can't just pretend they weren't here."

"I'd like to think the other me would have done it for us," he answered gently. In a roundabout way, Chakotay was comforted by that. If they had died to save the other ship, they would have died so their family could continue home. "You're welcome to join me." When either of them could take the time for a ritual, they'd both probably be so dead on their feet they'd be nearly asleep.

The hand on his wrist tightened before she let go. Kathryn stopped herself before she took his hand and her filthy one hovered over the back of his. "I'd like that," she said softly. "I don't know if I can say I've known her a day or all my life, but I'd like a chance to say goodbye."

Slipping his hand out from beneath hers, he squeezed her shoulder. She could certainly blame the lingering acrid smoke in the air for the brightness in her eyes. The left threatened to overflow first, and she brushed it quickly with the back of her sleeve. "Thank you for the dinner," she dismissed him with a soft little smile. "I'll see you when I get back down to my temporary bridge."

Chakotay raised an eyebrow in response to the smirk playing around her lips. "B'Elanna might start to get touchy if you don't occasionally refer to it as Engineering."

The smirk became a full smile. "I'll try to keep that in mind, Commander."

Watching the light return to her face, he got to his feet. "I'll see you on the bridge, Captain."

The corridors were still too cluttered for anti-gravity stretchers. As the ship returned to normal and the number of wounded decreased, the patients still requiring treatment trickled into sickbay from holodeck two and the mess hall. Many of the wounded were starting to recover, and Ensign Kyoto even had a smile for her as they brought her in. The nasty plasma burns on her legs were healing, and she'd be fine. Kes touched her shoulder, thanking her for the smile.

The beds in sickbay were full, and several of the injured were still on the floor. It was an improvement from when they covered the floor, and the mood was lighter now. Everyone was fascinated with the baby. When she cooed or cried, heads were turned towards her. Perhaps the ship had needed a child. Voyager's community had hope for the future now, and the baby had given them that hope.

When they carried the captain in from holodeck two, the new optimism faded into silence. She was still unconscious, her uniform stained with soot and blood. Tom's report had a positive prognosis, and Kes's tricorder scan reported the swelling of the captain's brain was diminishing. Looking up from the tricorder with the best smile she could muster, she met the gazes all around her. "She's all right. Just a concussion. She'll be fine."

The two crewmen carrying her stretcher set her down a blanket on the floor and covered her with another. Kes spent a moment over her, scanning her again just to be sure. The captain's eyes were closed, and the blood on her uniform had dried. It would only be a matter of time before she regained consciousness, and the crew would feel better. For now, Kes could thank them for all that they were doing.

The Doctor was performing a delicate restructuring of Crewman Porter's intestines. Internal injuries were often the most trying, and he'd been hard at work for the last hour. He would check on the captain as well when he was done. Kes refit the bioplast on Lieutenant Russell's thigh, checked three healed rib fractures on Ensign Scharr's left side, and monitored the regrowth of tissues on Lieutenant Hargrove's hand.

Ensign Scharr was being released when Commander Chakotay arrived. Kes had expected him earlier. He usually made the rounds after any major disaster aboard ship. He had once told her that part of the first officer's duties were to see to all of the crew. If being injured had been emotionally traumatic for them, he had to be the first one to know. He also liked them to know everything they'd sacrificed for the ship was appreciated.

Chakotay carried his optimism into sickbay like a light. He spoke with Ensign Wildman, then moved in a slow circle around the room. She had expected to see him sooner. The captain was rarely in sickbay long before he appeared. He touched Kes's shoulder as he passed, almost as if he wasn't looking for the captain. He stopped short, taking a moment to realise who they were looking down at.

He knelt immediately, reaching out for her hand. Shock made him stiff, and his fingers wrapped slowly around her hand, holding it tightly in his. "What happened?" he asked, studying the captain's hands. Something about them surprised him almost as much as finding her in sickbay.

"Tom's report says B'Elanna found her after a plasma conduit exploded," Kes explained. Resting her hand on his shoulder, she realised she was imitating him. Chakotay would reassure an officer by touching them, or smiling. The captain would do something similar. Now the commander was upset, and she could calm him. "Tuvok carried her to holodeck two, where Tom repaired her injuries. She had a concussion, mild plasma burns and a several bruises. We're monitoring her brain, and she should regain consciousness soon."

"Did the plasma conduit explode near the shield grid?"

Kes frowned and had to shake her head. "I don't think so. Most of the injuries related to plasma fires have been coming from the lower decks, fourteen and fifteen."

Chakotay reached up for her hair. The dried blood was crusted into the captain's beautiful hair, and when she had a chance, Kes meant to clean it. He rolled part of it between his fingers, letting the blood turn to dust. His other hand still held hers, longer than she'd ever seen him stay in contact with anyone.

"Thank you," he turned to Kes, releasing the captain's hand and returning to his feet. "Let me know when she regains consciousness. I'm sure she'll want to ask what happened every moment she's been out."

"Of course, Commander," she replied, glancing back down at the captain. "She'll be in good hands with the Doctor."

"And you," he added. His proud smile brought warmth to her chest.

Kes watched him turn to go and put her mind back on her work. It would be several hours before sickbay was quiet again, and the Doctor would need her help.

Chakotay was halfway to the door when he turned sharply on his heel and returned to her. "I know this may seem an odd question, but did you clean her hands?"

"I did not," Kes answered, shaking her head. "I've been meaning to clean her hair, but I haven't found the time for it. Is there a problem?" The captain's hands weren't dirty, and she didn't understand why he was asking, but Chakotay's curiosity had definitely been aroused. She could feel his uncertainty and interest. There was a mystery, but she didn't know what it was.

"Get those injectors locked down," B'Elanna shouted over the hiss of spitting coolant. She jogged down the catwalk towards Harry, sealer in hand. As he tried to lock the injectors into the right rate of flow, she worked over him, sealing the conduit. The metallic scent of coolant left the air, and the rush of nearly frozen particles past his face stopped. B'Elanna slipped away, standing up to use the console. As he finished reprogramming the plasma injectors, she coaxed the temperamental power grid into responding.

Beneath them, the warp core began to glow faintly as it started to power back up. It would still be nearly a day before they had full power, but the ship was close to having a heartbeat again. B'Elanna rested her hands victoriously on the rail and sighed heavily.

"That was close."

"A lot of things have been," he replied. "It's just been one of those days."

B'Elanna dropped to her elbows, lowering her head for a moment. "Tell me about it. I haven't said anything. We've been so busy. When I was down on deck fifteen, I found the captain injured. Plasma conduit exploded and threw her into a bulkhead. There was blood all down her face. Tuvok brought her down to Tom in the holodeck."

Harry's stomach froze into a cold knot. He couldn't imagine finding the captain that way. The strange feeling that he didn't belong reared again and sent the ice radiating outward from his stomach. The injured captain wasn't his. The Captain Janeway from his reality had ordered him to get the baby and leave his post just before she'd died: before his entire crew had died. Except him. "Is she all right?" This Janeway was his captain now.

"I'm sure she'll be fine, Harry," B'Elanna promised him. She sank down to the deck next to him, leaning against the wall. It had been hours since he'd arrived on this damaged Voyager. They'd already been working for hours just to keep their ship intact, and the repairs were exhausting. He couldn't imagine how tired she was, because he'd arrived late in the crisis, and he was exhausted. "Tom's a better medic than he likes anyone to know, and Tuvok said it was a concussion."

He smiled over at her, trying to get her to smile back. "Well, we all have hard heads on Voyager."

"Some harder than others," B'Elanna agreed. She stared at him for a moment, almost as if she could see through him. "Do you think about the other ship? The one you came from?" She looked down at her hands then out into engineering, away from his face. "I keep thinking about the captain and her duplicate. What it must have been like to see her, and talk to her. I saw mine for a moment through the comm signal and she was me...but she wasn't."

"And I'm Harry...and I'm not."

Something dark flew over B'Elanna's face, and it hovered just behind her eyes. "I watched you die, Harry," she said simply. "The other you, I mean. The hull breach opened beneath him…and he just vanished into space."

"I'm sorry." Stupid answer, but it was the first thing that popped into his head.

Harry followed her gaze across engineering towards the weakly glowing warp core. Some other him had died.

"The other you died right after I stepped through the rift, along with everyone else. Maybe she was right…" He was grasping at straws, but clutching at anything made him feel better. Perhaps it was because it was the last thing she'd said, or because he naively wanted to think the universe was fair.

B'Elanna looked at him in confusion. "Who?"

"My- the other- Captain Janeway. If one of me lives, one of baby Wildman, one of you, one of everyone else...it's only fair."

"Having two of anyone would be cheating?" she asked, part of a smile returning to her face. "Wow, Harry. You've made a subspace rift into a dishonest pool shark." B'Elanna stood, reaching down a strong arm to drag him up as well. "Come on, if we can patch three dozen conduits, we might be able to get impulse back online before we collapse from exhaustion."

Following her to the ladder, Harry climbed down. Chakotay and some of the engineers had their outer jackets off and were clearing the fallen beams out of the way, and engineering was starting to be workable again. It was still overcrowded because the bridge officers had to keep the ship running from jury-rigged consoles. Tuvok stood at one, diligently reprogramming something important. Engineers flitted around like so many gold and black bees, desperate to repair their hive. The sound of boots on the deck and the gentle beeps of hands inputting commands. The klaxxons had died away and Voyager was starting to hum again like a living ship.

The big double doors opened and shut, admitting Captain Janeway into the hive of activity. She acknowledged the first two crewmen who saw her and headed for Tuvok at his console. She hadn't seen him and B'Elanna, but the engineering crew was gaping at her in shock.

"Maybe it wasn't as bad as it looked," Harry volunteered to B'Elanna, but his thought fell on deaf ears. She was staring, and she wasn't the only one. Chakotay set down one end of a beam and took a few steps towards the captain with wonder sketched on his face.

"She didn't have that cut," B'Elanna muttered, and she may not have been aware she had uttered the thought aloud.

"She did," Harry offered, trying to be helpful. The mark on this Janeway's face had been there since he'd first seen her on his Voyager's bridge. The ugly cut had dried and was surrounded by dirt. It was obviously a few hours old. "If she was in sickbay, why didn't Tom–"

B'Elanna covered the distance between the base of the ladder and the centre of engineering in a few short seconds. Harry followed her, just in time to hear Tuvok express his confusion.

"Your concussion was quite severe. I did not expect you back on your feet until tomorrow at the earliest."

"That plasma conduit exploded," B'Elanna added. She was confused enough to almost be angry at the universe. "And there was a fire."

Janeway's uniform was dirty, but it wasn't blackened by soot. The captain put her hands on her hips and stared at them all. "The cut on my cheek is a scratch, and I have no idea what any of you are talking about. There was no explosion, at least not one I was anywhere near. I have no concussion. Go ahead and scan me if you don't believe me."

Chakotay had been quiet, and Harry had almost forgotten he was there. The first officer reached out and lifted one of Janeway's hands from her hips. He turned it over, studying the dirt and soot that coated the captain's skin. Her hands were nearly grey with it. "Your hands are still dirty."

"Of course they are," Janeway snapped. She tugged her hand back and stopped herself before she ran it over her forehead and left a mark. "I haven't had time to clean them."

"In sickbay, they were clean," Chakotay concluded, meeting first Tuvok, then B'Elanna's eyes.

The engineer shook her head. "I don't remember."

Tuvok nodded crisply. "My memory suggests you are correct, Commander. The captain in sickbay's hands were clean."

"What captain in sickbay?" Janeway asked, steadily growing more frustrated. Her confusion gave her an aura of energy Harry did not want to provoke. "What are you talking about? I haven't been to sickbay. I was in engineering, then shield control, then a corridor on deck twelve. The computer can confirm my movements if you need it to. If this is some kind of joke, I don't need to tell you this is not the time." The captain's eyes were starting to flash with anger, and her face was set.

"Computer," Chakotay called.

"Voice interface is still down," B'Elanna interjected. She stepped over some debris and tapped a console. Harry caught himself holding his breath and forced himself to breathe with a wince.

"According to the computer," B'Elanna reported, "Captain Janeway is in main engineering."

"Thank you," the captain snapped, rolling her eyes. "Now do–"

"And sickbay." B'Elanna interrupted. Her voice was shocked whisper and her eyes were wide. "That can't be…"

Chakotay leaned over her shoulder, reading the display with a second pair of eyes. "The computer has two biosigns for Captain Janeway. One in main engineering and one in sickbay."

"That would explain why this captain's injuries differ," Tuvok agreed, finding a logical thread. "And why her hands are still soiled."

"Two biosigns!" the captain demanded, pushing her way closer to the console. B'Elanna backed up but Chakotay remained. They looked it over together, and the captain's head whirled to meet the commander's gaze. "How is this possible?"

"I just saw you – the other you – in sickbay. She has a serious head injury–"

"–from an explosion in a plasma conduit," B'Elanna interrupted, filling the captain in. "I found you – her – on deck fifteen."

"Deck fifteen, section twenty-nine," Tuvok clarified.

The captain's face fell. She dropped her head and stared down at her own scuffed boots. Something had shaken her enough that Chakotay reached for her arm, keeping her from swaying in surprise. "Right next to the spatial rupture."

"It is possible," Chakotay replied, taking a step closer to her. "We don't know what happened in the last few minutes over there."

Harry did know, a little, and he cleared his throat to get their attention. "Captain Janeway – my Captain Janeway," he clarified, "was on the bridge. She ordered me to get the baby and cross the rift right before she'd ordered the self-destruct."

"Leaving her more than five minutes to somehow end up down on deck fifteen. Commander…" Janeway's face was frozen, and whatever she was thinking, however mind-wrenching it was, it was buried behind her captain's mask.

"We'll be in sickbay," Chakotay finished for her. Janeway turned abruptly and walked so quickly that Chakotay nearly had to jog to catch up.

Harry, B'Elanna and Tuvok watched them go, and Harry shivered, as if a shard of ice had run along his spine.

B'Elanna watched the doors shut then turned to him. "Could she have followed you down?"

Harry shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. "There were Vidiians all over the ship."

"It is possible the duplicate Captain Janeway was attempting to hide the rift from the Vidiians," Tuvok conjectured. He was calm, of course, but Harry was starting to know him well enough to sense how shaken they all were.

"And got blown through to our side?" B'Elanna's question made them all pause. Looking from one to the other, none of them could answer.

"That's not fair–" Harry stopped himself, but after a moment he finished. "I suppose no one said the universe was fair."

"Fairness does not factor into the structure of the universe," Tuvok agreed. "It can, in fact, be a very harsh existence that defies both logic and reason."

"Tuvok means it's not fair," B'Elanna concluded. "He's just saying it in a Vulcan as if that makes it any better. If there really is another Captain Janeway..."

None of them, even Tuvok, had anything else to say.