Disclaimer: All characters belong to Paramount, the order of the words belongs to me.
I am so lucky to have good friends in the J/C world! A while ago, I was complaining to Mary S. that I wanted to write some nice smutty J/C, but couldn't think of a plot. Instead of saying, "your stories never have much plot anyway, so don't let that stop you!"
Rated NC-17
Kathryn sat on the front porch of her mother's house and rested her head against the back of the wooden swing seat. How she had missed the long slow Indiana mornings. Swirling the remainder of her coffee, she let her mind drift, and absorbed the small pleasures of life. The air felt heavy on her skin, the humidity a welcome change after Voyager's dry, recycled air. This was what she had dreamed about; this was what had fueled her determination to get home. When things had seemed insurmountable in the Delta Quadrant, when the weight of her decisions had given her yet another sleepless night, she had clung onto memories of Earth as a lifeline. They were safer than the dreams she wouldn't allow herself.
Idly, Kathryn pushed herself back and forth with a toe. She was momentarily content, but when the overall picture had all become so pointless, she didn't know. There wasn't a single defining moment when she had first realized she felt out of place, it had just crept up on her, gradually, stealthily, until one morning, as she drank her fourth cup of coffee on the front porch, she admitted to herself that she was bored. Sure, the little things still pleased her--this coffee for instance--but once the euphoria had worn off, once the joy of seeing her family and friends again had abated, then Kathryn admitted she felt nothing. A great, yawning, empty nothing.
Voyager had been back for three and a half months. During that time, the Maquis and the Equinox crew had been tried and released, their exemplary service on Voyager taken into consideration. Kathryn had braced herself for a battle--there was no way in hell she would let any of her crew go to jail if it was within her power to prevent it-- but the expected war turned into a skirmish, with Starfleet acquiescing quickly in the face of the overwhelming public support for Janeway and her crew. Few of the Maquis had chosen to remain in Starfleet, and they swiftly dispersed to rebuild friendships and reunite with their families.
The original Starfleet crew scattered as well. After the debriefings were over and extended leave granted, many of them were offered commissions on other ships. Apart from a few of her crew, who had chosen desk jobs--a reaction no doubt, to the extended length of Voyager's mission--Kathryn saw no one.
Now, she was spending the last week of her leave in Indiana. After the joyous reunions and the unfamiliar pleasures of seeing Gretchen, Phoebe, Mark and her other friends had muted, she found she had little to say to them, little in common. And it seemed too, that they were uncomfortable in her presence. Conversations stuttered and died after the initial polite inquiries about jobs and families, after the expected exclamations of delight as children were presented. Even Phoebe had little to say to her sister; instead, she wrapped herself in her husband's job and her toddler son.
Wryly, Kathryn thought that it was as if she had just popped out to the store and forgotten to come back for seven years. No one showed any curiosity in her life, or inquired much about her wellbeing, even though she was careful to remember the small details of their lives.
Only Gretchen's silence didn't seem uncomfortable. She appeared content to let Kathryn take life at her own pace, and she was always quick to ask her to fill in the gaps left by the infrequent Delta Quadrant letters.
Gretchen never asked about Chakotay. No one asked about Chakotay. He was the space in her Delta Quadrant dreams, and now it appeared he would be the absence in her life on Earth.
"When we get home, I'll take you to Indiana." Her words on Voyager, spoken to Seven. Somehow, she'd never said them aloud to Chakotay. And now Chakotay and Seven were building a life together, and if they ever visited Indiana, it wouldn't be to see her.
She left the swing, and wandered into the kitchen to refill her coffee mug. Gretchen was at the kitchen table finishing off her breakfast. Kathryn sat down at the end, and cradled her mug with both hands.
"Any plans for today, Kathryn?" Gretchen's sharp eyes looked up from her bowl of oatmeal. "I'm going to deliver Liam's birthday present to Phoebe. Imagine, my grandchild is now three years old!" Her eyes softened momentarily. "Do you want to come?"
"No thanks," Kathryn said evenly. She wasn't sure she could face Phoebe's predictable conversation right now, or the constant litany of admiration for Liam's doings. "I still have a few items that came back from Voyager to sort out. I think I'll make a start on those."
"That reminds me." Gretchen stood, carrying her dish to the recycler. "There's a lovely model of Voyager in a glass bottle stacked among your boxes in the spare room. It's quite exquisite. I was thinking if you don't want it, that Liam would probably love it."
"No!" The word came out harsher than Kathryn had intended. Deliberately, she softened her tone. "Sorry, Mom, but that ship was made by one of my engineers, Joe Carey. He made it for his two boys."
"Why do you have it?"
"Joe was killed, shortly before we returned to the Alpha Quadrant. I plan on delivering it to his widow."
"Sorry, love." Gretchen stretched out a hand and clasped Kathryn's in mute sympathy. "Edward always said that was the hardest part of captaining a ship. Facing those left behind." Her eyes drifted away, perhaps remembering the time when admirals had come to her door with the news that is the dread of every left-behind Starfleet spouse.
Kathryn returned the clasp for a moment, before nodding decisively. "That's what I'll do today; I've put it off far too long already. I'll make arrangements to deliver Joe's ship to his family."
Gretchen nodded, as if she hadn't expected any less from her daughter. "I'll see you later then."
Kathryn remained seated at the table for long moments. Yes, this needed to be done. Maybe in visiting Sarah Carey, Joe's widow, she would find some closure for the seven years of their journey. Maybe, she would lose this tearing sense of emptiness, and be able to move on with her life. Maybe, unknowingly, Sarah could help her.
Never one to sit around once she had made a decision, Kathryn put her plan into action immediately. The door had barely closed behind Gretchen, before Kathryn was on the comm link to Starfleet. It was easy enough to track down the Careys. Sarah and the boys, Hunter and Joey, lived in a small rural community in County Offaly, Ireland. Kathryn was able to obtain the address in a few minutes. Comparing it with Voyager's crew database, she ascertained that Sarah must have moved while Voyager was lost in the Delta Quadrant.
She packed an overnight bag, and with Joe's model ship clasped under her arm, called for a transport to the nearest public terminal, which was a couple of kilometers down the road from the Carey's house.
Ireland, at the end of summer, was not dissimilar to Indiana, she decided with an inward grin, as she trudged along a leafy green lane. The air was humid, the landscape green and verdant, with wildflowers and hedgerows running riot, spilling out into the lane. She found the address easily enough, but paused.
It was a small cottage, obviously assisted housing, and it had a neglected air, as if the owner simply couldn't be bothered. A child's bicycle lay abandoned in the small front garden, and an older model hovercar sat outside. Kathryn studied the cottage doubtfully; everything she'd heard about Sarah Carey had led her to imagine a house-proud woman, who laughed at her own meticulousness. Indeed, Kathryn could remember one evening in the messhall, when Joe had reduced people to hysterical laughter as he recounted a tale of how Sarah had jumped up from the table in the middle of dinner to mop the kitchen floor, as she had noticed a mark on it. This untidy house simply didn't fit the image of that woman.
She strode up the front path and knocked. Although she could hear a scuffling behind the door, no one came to answer. Kathryn knocked again, and waited. Again the scuffling, and a thump.
"Is someone there?" she called. "It's Captain Janeway. I'm here to see Sarah Carey."
The door opened a crack and a grubby tousle-head peered through. Kathryn caught a glimpse of bright eyes, before the door opened wider. The same tousle-head now had a body, just as unkempt looking.
"You don't look like a captain." The child must have been about nine years old, sturdy looking and belligerent.
She smiled down at him. "Well, I am. Is your mother at home?"
The child--Joey, she assumed-- ignored the question and continued to scowl. "I'm not supposed to let strangers into the house. How do I know you're who you say you is?"
"Is Hunter here?"
"No. I'm by meself. But me ma should be home from work soon." He appeared to think. "If you show me your identification papers, and they say you're Captain Janeway, then you can come in and wait. Otherwise, you'll have to wait outside."
The sky was heavy and dark with rain clouds gathering. As she fumbled in her bag, thinking with an inward grin that she had never produced her ID for someone so young before, the first drops fell.
Joey studied her papers with an officious air. "You can come in now," he said grandly, and swung the door wider to allow her pass through.
The inside of the house was as neglected as the outside. Shoes and dirty clothing lay abandoned in the hallway, and the walls were stained. As Joey led her to the back of the house, Kathryn saw several rooms all in the same state of disrepair, sparsely furnished with cheap furniture, some broken. She schooled her face into neutral lines; something had happened to the Carey family, something unexpected.
"Cuppa tea?" The small urchin didn't wait for an answer, deftly turning on an old-fashioned kettle.
Kathryn noticed the replicator was covered over by a cloth; obviously, it wasn't used very often. She accepted the proffered tea, hiding a grimace at its strong and sugarless taste.
"What are you doing here?" Joey asked. "Have you brought us me da's money? Me ma will be happy then." He blew his nose loudly into a dirty handkerchief.
Puzzled, Kathryn set her tea down carefully. "What money?"
Joey was rummaging for something in a cupboard. He set down a few biscuits on the table and replied, "I'm not supposed to talk about it. Ma doesn't want people pitying us."
"But you thought I was bringing it," Kathryn said, picking her words with care. "Maybe if you can explain a little, I might be able to get it for you."
"Credits and stuff." Joey kicked a toe against the cupboard. "Da's pay, credits and stuff we were supposed to get when he was killed. I don't know exactly. Ma will, though."
On cue, the front door slammed, and a tall young woman with faded red hair entered. Her bearing was regal, although her movements were slow and weary.
Joey jumped at her, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her tightly. "Ma!"
Kathryn watched the mother and son reunion. It was obvious they were a close family. Sarah ignored her visitor, focusing on her son, ruffling his hair in affection, listening to his prattle. After a couple of minutes, she turned and looked straight at Kathryn.
"I'm sorry, Captain, I wasn't expecting you, but you're welcome." she said, stiffly. "Joey was alone today, and I think he missed me."
"Does he often stay alone?" Kathryn asked curiously; the child was young to be left, although he had a maturity that suggested he would be fine.
"No. He was sick today, so I kept him home from school." Sarah appeared not to take offence at the question. "My work doesn't offer childcare, and I can't afford to take the day off."
No time like the present. Kathryn cut straight to the heart of the matter. "Joey says you're waiting for money from Starfleet; he thought I had brought it."
"And have you?" Sarah fired off in return.
"No. I have no idea what he's talking about."
"Don't worry about it." A tinge of bitterness colored Sarah's lilting voice. "I'll just keep battling Starfleet for what's rightly mine."
Kathryn drained the last of her tea, wincing at its bitterness. "If you tell me, maybe I can help. Cut through some of the red tape."
Sarah sat at the table, and poured herself a cup of tea. She took a sip and grimaced. "Good God, Joey, did you serve Captain Janeway this? It's a wonder she didn't leave immediately."
"Sorry. Is it too strong?" Joey looked up from where he was rummaging through the bags that Sarah had brought home with her.
"Too strong! It would scour toilets." She swatted at him affectionately. Looking at Kathryn she said, "It can't hurt to tell you. I think I've told the tale to every clerk, ensign, and PADD-pusher in Starfleet as it is. It's pretty simple really.
"Joe paid an extra five percent of his pay into a pension account. It was bandied about approximately twelve years back, but it's since been discontinued as the payouts were too great. Basically, it meant that if he were killed in the line of duty, then we would get two hundred percent of the normal widow's pension. If he retired, then he'd stand to get one hundred and fifty percent. It was just a simple savings plan, but I don't think Starfleet anticipated how popular it would become. And when the Cardassian treaty broke down, and war broke out... well, I guess the fund couldn't cope with the payouts, so they stopped offering it.
"Thing is, they agreed to honor existing holders, but when it comes to the actual payout, they nit-pick every aspect of the claim. Result is, the normal widow's pension has been suspended as they say this new plan should be paying, but it isn't... yet. That's what Joey was talking about in a nutshell."
Sarah's tone was pragmatic, showing none of the frustration she must be feeling. Or the bitterness. If it weren't for Starfleet, Joe would still be alive. A surge of resolve rocked Kathryn. Her crew, treated badly. A cause. She would make it right.
"Give me the details," she said, leaning forward and touching a hand to Sarah's arm. "Let me do this for Joe."
Sarah regarded her steadily, then nodded. "Now why do I think you will succeed where I have failed?"
***
Kathryn stayed the night in a local pub, treating the Careys to dinner. As she had suspected, their impoverished lifestyle was a result of Starfleet's cavalier treatment. Sarah, with little formal training, was finding it hard to get work that paid enough to support the family.
Joey, and the more taciturn Hunter, lashed into their meals as if they were starving.
"This is great," Joey said enthusiastically. "We haven't had real food since forever!"
Sarah punched him affectionately. "Not quite that long," she grinned. "But a good while, certainly."
"Since living memory," chimed in Hunter.
"Eons," added Joey.
The ship in a bottle was greeted initially with silence. Maybe, wondered Kathryn, they thought it was a poor present to be given, an unworthy reminder of a beloved husband and father. Then, Sarah turned to her, and Kathryn saw the tears falling unchecked down her cheeks.
"It's amazing," she whispered reverently. "To think that he thought of us so often."
"It must have taken him months," said Hunter quietly, running a careful finger over the glass.
"He had nearly finished," said Kathryn, and the catch in her own voice took her by surprise. So hard to constrain the emotions when there wasn't a uniform to shelter behind.
Sarah reached out a shaking hand, and Kathryn clasped it. "Thank you," said Sarah. "For bringing it to us."
"Will you finish it?" asked Kathryn.
Sarah glanced at her boys, and as one, the family shook their heads.
"No," said Hunter. "We'll leave it how Da left it for us."
***
Back at Starfleet Headquarters, Kathryn spent two days chasing down the bureaucrats hiding in tiny offices. Through a combination of dogged determination, tenacity, and a refusal to take no for an answer, she succeeded in getting the Careys' money released. Sarah would receive the double pension she was owed; enough to lift the family out of their current poverty.
The Careys' gratitude was ample payment for her work, and for the first time since the debriefings ended, Kathryn felt an interest in what she was doing. And, she realized afterwards, two days had gone past without thoughts of Chakotay.
Two days when she didn't berate herself with 'what ifs'. Two days without wondering if they were making love, envisaging their slow foreplay, imagining Chakotay's face, contorted with pleasure, as he emptied himself into Seven's body. She had thought often of contacting him--they were friends, after all-- but each time the unwanted images of him and Seven, happy and in love as last she had seen them, rose unbidden and she had postponed the idea. Maybe in time, she could put aside her own jealousy and unhappiness and once more resume her friendships with both of them.
But now, there was something else she could do - something that would make a difference. Sarah Carey had fallen through the bureaucratic cracks. Kathryn wondered if the families of other dead crew were in a similar situation. Technically, she was on leave, but Indiana had lost much of its appeal.
Cavit's partner, David. Lindsay Ballard's parents. Staadi's parents. Doctor FitzGerald's wife, Lucy. And the families of the Maquis who were killed; how were they coping? Suder - she didn't even know if he had family. The list grew; so many dead. But at least she could ensure that their loved ones received any credits and benefits due to them, as well as personal effects and copies of personal logs. A chance to tell the families of their loved one's life onboard Voyager, how they lived, and how they died. A chance for closure for the families. Even those who had known for years that their loved ones were dead might appreciate being able to reminisce with someone who had known what it was like. Some one who could tell stories.
Armed with her list, Kathryn contacted Lucy FitzGerald, and set off.
***
She was greeted sometimes with tears, sometimes with reservation, once or twice with hostility. But, invariably when she left, she felt she had made a friend, if only for a brief while, and helped keep the memories of the dead glowing and vibrant for a while longer. Many of the families were in the same boat as the Careys--the same pension plan had attracted a lot of support--and Kathryn found it easy to secure the release of funds. Others were delighted to receive copies of the personal logs, or possessions.
It was hard confronting faces, knowing that in some measure, she had contributed to the death of their loved ones. But even the most hostile seemed to gain a measure of comfort from her visit.
***
A week into her trip, she called in to see Lindsay Ballard's parents. They had been reticent initially, but Kathryn had said she was delivering Lindsay's personal logs, both from her earlier life on Voyager, and the few she had recorded during her brief return in her Kobali form.
"Captain. Please come in." A grim-faced man, obviously Lindsay's father, opened the door.
"Thank you." Kathryn entered, shook the proffered hand, then followed him down a long hallway to a sunlit kitchen. A woman, so like Lindsay, sat at the table. But unlike Lindsay--laughing Lindsay, always happy and teasing, swift to crack a joke--this woman's face was set in weary lines.
Kathryn sat down in the indicated chair and smiled at Lindsay's mother. "I remember your daughter well," she began. "She was very popular on Voyager - as much for her cheerfulness and willingness to help others as for her exemplary work."
Her parents nodded in unison, as if they had expected nothing less. Neither of them smiled, nor betrayed any emotion. Glancing around the room, Kathryn noticed its austerity. No pictures hung on the walls, no ornaments or keepsakes graced the shelves, and surprisingly, there were no pictures of Lindsay.
Kathryn related the tale of a practical joke their daughter had played on Tal Celes. The punchline was a funny one, but the Ballards' faces didn't crack a smile.
She took a deep breath; the next part was always the hardest, and the Ballards' stoic masks weren't offering any encouragement. "I'm sorry about your daughter," she began, "more than mere words can tell. I know you've heard how she died, and how she became Kobali, but I was wondering if there was anything else I can tell you. Things that may not have been in the official communications. Maybe about her friends on ..."
"What you can tell us, Captain, is why you allowed her to leave. You were her captain. You could have forced her to return to the ship. You should have forbidden her to remain with the Kobali." The venom and the pain in Mr. Ballard's voice lanced deep. The mask had slipped, and barely concealed grief and pain lay over his face like a caul.
She trod in cautious verbal steps. "Lindsay made the decision herself," she said. "I could have ordered her to remain, but I felt the choice was hers to make. I had allowed other crewmen to settle in the Delta Quadrant when it was their considered wish. In that respect, Lindsay was no different."
"There was all the difference in the world. It's obvious Lindsay was brainwashed by the Kobali. My daughter would never have willingly exiled herself from Earth. She would have known we wouldn't allow it."
The cold words sent chills through Kathryn. Poor Lindsay, no wonder she had joined Starfleet, no wonder she was always so cheerful. Living in this house, with these rigid people would have driven anyone away. But they were Lindsay's parents, and their grief was still raw, surfacing in hostility. "According to the Doctor, she was Kobali," she said. "Her physiology was altered. She was unable to retain her Human appearance without extensive medical intervention."
"It should have been given," Mrs. Ballard said quietly. "Lindsay should have had that option."'
"She did. But, when it came down to it, in her heart Lindsay felt Kobali." She hesitated; Lindsay had Kobali parents now, but some things were better left unsaid. And she wasn't doing anyone any good being here. "I'm sorry," she said again. "Lindsay was loved and greatly missed. But, it was her own choice." She laid a PADD on the table. "This is a copy of her personal logs. Maybe you will let Lindsay tell her own story to you."
She let herself out. Looking back, she saw the Ballards staring at the PADD on the table in a frozen tableau.
***
Kathryn had dreaded visiting David, Cavit's partner. She had barely got to know her former first officer before he was killed when Voyager was pulled into the Delta Quadrant. But, what little she had known of him hadn't impressed her. Edmund Cavit was a taciturn man, with a careful and fussy nature that, had he lived, would probably have driven her to drink within a week of landing in the Delta Quadrant. He had possessed a blank countenance, as unreadable as Vulcan poetry, which had made it impossible to guess what he really thought about anything. Although touted by Starfleet as an exemplary officer, Kathryn had found the man dull and predictable.
Now Chakotay had been her idea of the perfect first officer, complementing her own personality in his unique way. They had dovetailed together as a team, working seamlessly, a true give and take. They had fit together so well - in every way but one. Ruthlessly, Kathryn forced her thoughts away from Chakotay, before they could drag her down well-worn lines, spiraling her down into the sadness she was working so hard to avoid.
Cavit's partner opened the door to her. In contrast to the Ballards, his house was a haphazard mess of confusion. Cheerful buttercup walls gave the large room a welcoming air.
David wiped his hand on his paint-stained overalls, before extending it to her. "I'm sorry, Captain," he said. "I was painting, and I'm afraid time just whisked away from me. Before I knew it, you were ringing my chime!" His laughing eyes and deliberate double-entendre had her smiling.
He led Kathryn to a small kitchen area at one end of his studio. "Now, if the news reports are to be believed, you're a coffee woman." He called for two cups from the replicator, and handed one to her. "Before you say anything, Captain, let me tell you something. Edmund and I were together for three years before he was killed, and I loved him dearly. But that was nearly eight years ago. When he was reported missing, I grieved, but I moved on. And I was lucky enough to find love again. I live with a man I love dearly; utterly and completely, body and soul. So if, dear captain, you've come to console me for the tragic loss of my ex-lover, I thank you for the thought, but it's not necessary. Instead, let us happily celebrate the life of a man we both knew in our different ways."
Kathryn grinned; in truth, she had no wish to mourn a man she had barely known. "I'll drink to that," she said, and lifted her coffee mug in salute.
David sprang to his feet and whipped away her coffee mug, even as she raised it to her lips. "Not good enough!" he exclaimed. Disappearing for a minute, he reappeared with a bottle of chilled wine and two glasses. "Let's do this properly or not at all."
Hours later, Kathryn and David sprawled on his couch, two empty wine bottles beside them. David's lover, Matthew, joined them, and the three of them laughed and talked well into the night. At 0200, she reluctantly rose to leave.
"Stay," urged David, pulling her down, so that she flopped back on the couch next to him. "You're way too drunk to take the transporter, dear Kathryn. We do have a spare room in this little lovenest of ours."
What had this carefree man ever seen in staid Cavit? she wondered, and allowed herself to be led to their spare bedroom. Later, as she listened to David and Matthew's lovemaking through the thin walls, hearing their cries of passion and muffled enjoyment, David's words came back to her. In Matthew, he had found his soulmate.
Chakotay's face swam into her mind, his slight half smile, his full lips curving upward for her. Turning her face into her pillow, Kathryn tried to sleep.
And she dreamed.
Chakotay lay next to her, in a wide warm bed. Sunlight dappled his body, turning his golden skin leonine. He wore nothing but his quirky smile, and his fingers traced a meandering path around her breast, circling closer to the nipple. His heavy penis, turgid and dark, pressed against her thigh.
"Chakotay, I've missed you so," she wanted to say, and even as the words formed in her head, she was aware that he wasn't hers, that even the dreaming state was stolen.
He seemed to read her mind, his dark eyes caressing her face, as his fingers rubbed her nipple. "I love you, Kathryn. Always."
Reason fled, and she leaned into his kiss, opening her mouth to let his tongue sweep in. His fingers drew a fierce burning fire in her belly; she wanted him, she loved him. Never again would she be without him. The wine they had drunk warmed her, and the press of his cock against her belly moistened her sex.
"I've missed you," he murmured into her mouth. "I wanted you to come to me, but you didn't."
Seven. You were with Seven, with no time for me, she wanted to say, even as the words evaporated like nebula dust.
"It's you I love, Kathryn" Chakotay whispered, his hands sliding down, over her belly, down to the moist welcoming place between her thighs. "You that I need." And his fingers advanced, touching damp curls, retreated to skate over her inner thighs, before edging again to push into her.
She reached down to grasp his penis, stroking up the smooth shaft, running a finger around the tip, spreading the moisture that she found.
"I want you," he was saying. "I've always wanted you."
"Then take me," she said, need in her voice. "Please, Chakotay..."
He rolled her onto her back, and moved over. His fingers manipulated her sex for a few moments, rubbing gently over her clit. "Don't forget me, Kathryn." His words were at odds with his actions. How could she forget him, even as he claimed her body in love. "Come and find me. It's not how you think."
His heated shaft probed, found, and he sank up to the hilt in one stroke. Kathryn gasped, stretching around his thick length. He filled her, as she had imagined, as she had dreamed. His movements were slow to start with, the slow ritualistic advance and retreat of the mating game, but he gradually increased his pace until he was pounding into her fiercely.
The feeling of fullness, of completion became the focus of her universe. Chakotay kissed her deeply, twining his tongue around hers, absorbing her pants into his mouth.
The pressure built up to breaking point, until the shining crescendo of orgasm was within reach. The words he was saying had chorded around her heart and become reality, the ripples were starting, spiraling outwards from his thrusting cock, and Kathryn gasped.
And woke at the point of orgasm, with Chakotay's name on her lips, her sex swollen and slick. She lay in David and Matthew's spare bedroom, and the repressed feelings rose up in her until she could scarcely breathe for the choking feeling of loss. Would she ever be able to let him go completely?
***
Nearly two months later, Kathryn stood in Admiral Paris' office at Starfleet HQ. In disbelief, she stared at the small box, containing an admiral's pips.
"Congratulations, Admiral Janeway." Owen came around the desk to shake her hand, then throwing protocol aside, he hugged her hard. "This is overdue, in my opinion. There are a couple of options open to you now..."
His voice muted in the background, as Kathryn continued to stare at the box in her hand. Here it was, the culmination of her dreams, contained in the palm of her hand. Everything was so right. Slowly she closed the lid on the box, and placed it carefully on Owen's desk. Everything was so wrong.
This should have been a moment of sheer happiness. A major reason for joining Starfleet had been to follow in her father's footsteps. She remembered sitting on his lap as a little girl, telling him that one day, she too, would be an admiral. And now, here was the dream in her grasp. An empty dream, its fulfillment leaving her cold.
"Thank you, Admiral," she said formally, straightening her shoulders. "But I decline the offer of promotion. I prefer to remain a captain. If I may be excused?"
Admiral Paris nodded speechlessly, his expression one of amazement. Kathryn turned on her heel and walked out.
Her feet automatically led her to the rose garden. Boothby might be gone, but it was still a place of tranquility, one where she could think. Unseeing, she reached out a finger to stroke over a velvet petal. Was she the world's biggest fool? she wondered. Would she now be the oldest serving captain in Starfleet? Turning down a promotion was not something one did. Did she even want to remain in Starfleet? That abrupt thought rocked her back on her heels. But what else was there for her? A Starfleet career woman, alone in her life?
"Captain Janeway!" A shout made her look up, and she saw Harry running toward her.
It had been a few months since she had seen him, and he looked well. His open face was excited and happy, and his raven hair flopped into one eye.
"I'm glad I caught you," he said, as he drew near. "I want you to be the first to know." Lieutenant's pips gleamed on his collar. "My new posting came through. I'm second officer on the Saratoga; I ship out tomorrow."
A rush of emotion coursed through Kathryn. How he had matured, her baby-face Harry. Such a long way he had come.
"That's wonderful, Harry." Impulsively, she hugged him. "I can truthfully say no one deserves it more, and you'll make a fine second officer. I hope that one day in the not-too-distant future, I can stand here and listen to you telling me you've made captain."
Harry grinned, his eyes sparkling. "I hope to hear you've made admiral before that!"
She drew back. "Don't get your hopes up on that one." For a brief moment, she considered confiding in him, telling him what she had just refused, but Harry was speaking again.
"I have to rush, Captain. I don't want to be late for my first briefing as lieutenant! But I saw you out of the window, and wanted to share my news."
Kathryn hugged him again, quickly. "Go," she told him. "And congratulations, Lieutenant Kim."
She watched him race away, exuberance in every bounding step, then saw him slow to a brisk officer's clip as he rounded the corner. She rubbed a tired hand over her eyes. At least someone was happy; someone had found joy in a deserved promotion.
One of the green painted benches caught her eye, and she wandered over to sit down. The bench was quiet, hidden from many of the cadets and officers passing by on their business. Kathryn rested her head back and closed her eyes. What did she really want?
The answer jumped into her head. Harry had found his happiness; what about the rest of her crew? How were they fairing back on Earth - were they finding happiness, had they remained in Starfleet, or had they moved onto other things? What about their families, how were they adjusting? She knew what she would do, for the next while at least. She would visit every single member of Voyager's crew, seeking them out, and calling in briefly to see how they were. It would be her last act as their captain, a symbolic farewell to Voyager, and maybe, seeing others move on, it would allow her to take that final step as well.
Her decision made, Kathryn rested for a few more moments in Boothby's garden. She would return to Admiral Paris' office to request an indefinite leave of absence, before she returned to Indiana to plan her trip.
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