(Regular disclaimer applies - Don't own any VOY stuff, Paramount does... I own the plot/idea.)
As I look out my window this evening over the endless corn fields, coffee in my hand, I find myself ironically looking up at the stars. One would think that since I've finally accomplished my life's meaning that I would be staring off through the ears of yellow vegetables behind my mother's home. But ever since I reached home, I've been longing to get back out there. At least out there I had a purpose beyond tending a garden and exploring forests. Everything down here is discovered, known and safe. Out there, I held the galaxy at my fingertips. Though safety can be enticing, as it was every night I slept among the stars, it doesn't seem as tempting or luxurious. In fact, it seems rather dull and boring.
The coffee, warming the sides of the mug, along with my hands reminds me of Neelix. A smile broadens across my face at the name - Neelix had a way of doing that. His cheerfully positive aura was what made going to the Mess Hall a treat. Though somewhat annoying and pesky at times, he knew his place well, and earned a place in my heart forever. I wonder how he's doing on the colony, and if he's as safe as I am right now.
The moon hangs like a Christmas ornament in the sky, lighting up the dark blanket of stars and navy sky. As the coffee warms me after drinking, I dryly smile, growing slowly tired. A few adventurous birds fly not far off, right past the less-than-scary scarecrow that hangs on his post, watching vigilantly over his flock of corn. It's funny how I can relate everything to Voyager, everything. Even myself to a watchful, hay-stuffed scarecrow with a false grin. My lips falter at this thought of a false grin. So many days passed with a "Captain's smile" that I guessed it could match as many days as my vacation days I never took.
Sometimes, like now, my thoughts drifted towards vacation. Wasn't all it was cracked up to be now, was it? Stop it, I tell myself. Just stop, you can go one night without drifting back to the stars. I stand up, taking my coffee with me, the only thing that will remain forever my friend. I gasp at the sight of someone at my doorway. "Mother, I-"
"I didn't mean to scare you," Gretchen says, her voice huskier than mine. It was the only thing that made me feel youthful at times.
"How long have you been standing there?" I ask, walking over to my bed, setting my mug down on my bed stand and turning the lamp on.
"Not long," she says with a small smile. "Long enough to see your head up in the stars again. Reminds me of when you were younger."
"Oh?" I say, pressing her for more of a story while sitting down on my comforter.
"When you were just a baby, I remember your father would take you outside. You'd be crying up a storm, but as soon as you saw the stars, it was like… all was at peace."
I smile, not doubting it in the slightest.
"You'll go back, won't you?"
The smile becomes smaller, flatter as I look up at her. "Why would I do that?"
"Because," she says, laughing lowly, "it's where you belong."
I pause, and let her words sink in. It's true, my mind says. "I'd love to go back one day, yes, but.. I have a feeling it won't have the same effect anymore."
"There will never be another Voyager, Katie darling," she says, sitting down next to me and laying a hand on mine. I look down at her hand on mine, and look up at her soft features. In so many ways, she resembles the Admiral Janeway of the alternate future.
"I know," I say softly with a small sigh. "Part of me is glad to have accomplished such a mission, but part of me wishes I could have taken the longer journey home. There are a lot of unsettled things I left in those corridors."
"Oh? Like what?" she asks, sounding an awful lot like me. I crack a smile at her curiosity, vaguely seeing where daddy had rubbed off on her.
"Oh, you know," I sigh, leaning back against the headboard to get a better look at her, "... things."
"If you think I'm going to let you off that easy, you better think again Kathryn Janeway," she says with mock seriousness, laughing again. I laugh quietly too, knowing all to well she'll get it out of me.
"Well for one thing," I say, leaning over to the nightstand and getting my coffee, "I wonder how the crew really felt about me over the years. Wonder if there was anything I could have changed to have made things more accommodating, safer so I could have saved more lives." I sip my coffee and let the thoughts of the windowsill slowly crawl back to me.
Gretchen shakes her head, and let's a short laugh through her nose escape. "Just when I thought you couldn't be more like your father," she says, her eyes landing on me, scanning me briefly. "You remind me of him when he came home after his very first Captain's mission," she says, gazing back ahead and around the room. "He had lost one crewman during a negotiation turned arye, and was so remorseful that he told me he was going to give up his dreams in Starfleet and become a farmer."
"There's a sight," I say, slightly strained as I readjust and set my coffee down after a satisfied sip. "So what happened?"
"He eventually got over it after discussing things with a counselor," she says with a light sigh, showing her evidently tiredness. "Though it took a while before he could sleep soundly again," she adds with glance at me. I return the gaze, but soon realize she knows me better than I know myself sometimes. I look out the open window at the far-off scarecrow, grinning his painted smile. "Give yourself more credit than this, darling. You may not realize what you've done to improve humanity tonight, but one day it will dawn on you." She stands up slowly, age wearing her motor down. She reaches over, tucking her hand through my hair and rubbing my face gingerly. With a kiss on my forehead, she quietly says, "Goodnight, dear," and dismisses herself to her room. I pause, summing up her underlining meaning before I stand up. After doing so, I walk over the window and pull the open glass to its closed frame. Giving the scarecrow one last fleeting look, I return to my bed and turn off the lamp, tucking my legs underneath the warm folds of cloth.