A/N: I've read some great FanFiction by Runawaymetaphor recently and was inspired to leave my J/C comfort zone, just a little... 😉
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Inevitable
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The Mess Hall is cloaked in an inky darkness, its only illumination the faint amber glow from the dimmed lights of the Galley, until the harsh artificial light from the corridor rudely interrupts as the doors slide open and close obediently again behind him with a soft, familiar hiss. 03:00 hours and yet the sight of her solitary, distinctive figure comes as no surprise. She doesn't look up to see who is crossing the threshold, but then, he expects as much, since they were thrown half-way across the Galaxy and stranded in the Delta Quadrant, an accidental understanding has been forged between them - when they can talk to no-one else, they have a longstanding habit of finding each other.
Their encounters have occurred often enough for him to understand that there is little point seeking her out, nor avoiding her, he simply lets things run their course and although they have never spoken on the subject, presumes that she does the exactly the same. It isn't that they come together regularly, but as and when the need arises, their reunions almost pre-destined. Unsure if he truly believes in fate or kismet or whatever it could be termed, although unable to predict the time or the location, he can always predict the convergence of their paths.
And once again, here they are.
Kathryn sits with her back to the viewport, both hands wrapped around a large, gently steaming mug of what he assumes is coffee. In the early days of their journey, he teased her about her substantial caffeine intake, believing it the Captain's one discernible indulgence or vice; back then it had earned him a classic Janeway look, her wariness of him evident, but now, more often than not she treats him to his favourite smile or an exaggerated eye roll, their relationship on solid ground.
He appreciates that favoured treatment, probably more than she knows.
This morning, he traverses the small distance, easily navigating the familiar furniture and slides silently into a vacant seat directly opposite. Through the still air, the rich aroma of her coffee reaches him and instinctively he inhales and then badly stifles a yawn. Purposefully, she lifts her gaze from the contents of the mug and, arching a shapely eyebrow in mild amusement, silently proffers it. He takes a slow, deliberate sip before returning it to its rightful owner; she watches him with the faintest hint of a smile dancing in her eyes, if she is willing to share her coffee, then she might just be about to bare her soul.
"Caffeine, at this hour?"
Predictably, she shrugs off the concern. "I wasn't about to sleep anyway."
The words are soft, her voice holding the slightly unguarded edge he expects, at this time of night and for this conversation. He smiles just a little, keeping his posture relaxed but respectful, aware that this is not the time for insincerity. He is after all, here as counsel. Courtesy of the crystalline viewport, the pale light emitted by the stars streaking past provides just sufficient illumination to study her. Without anything to conceal her weariness, her complexion is telling, the network of fine lines around her eyes more in evidence than usual and the delicate skin underneath bearing almost alarmingly dark circles of a smoky grey hue. The command posture doesn't fool him either, her narrow shoulders bowed as if the weight of the world is pressing down upon them and feeling a sudden sympathy, he allows his brow to crease. Neither of them have been able to sleep well since Ransom he surmises. She, he had assumed analysing and re-analysing each of her decisions, the risks taken; the cost of their last mission, for his part, he had been mostly concerned about her. He can allow himself that much honesty, especially at what B'Elanna would call silly o'clock in the morning and shifting his gaze to look over her shoulder, he recalls a piece of advice his father once gave him.
- You have to be truly honest with yourself first Tom, in order to see the truth in anyone else.
They were wise words and unlike the majority of this father's advice, the phrase had resonated and with the passing of time had grown to become something of a mantra that he tries to live by.
Total honesty with yourself, good or bad.
Leaning back in his chair and stretching out his legs, he crosses his feet under the table while Kathryn continues to look into the depths of her coffee. They wait. Or more accurately, he waits for her and after another minute or so, she indicates a PADD on the table with a slight tip of her head. He takes the bait,
"Ransom?"
Her countenance darkens and pursing her lips into a tight scowl, she sips her coffee smartly by way of a response. He allows his eyes to close briefly, after what had transpired aboard the Equinox, he had wondered just when they would talk about this, she couldn't talk to Tuvok and the way it had all unfolded, Chakotay wasn't an option yet either. He had heard about the incident with Noah Lessing from Harry via the Ship's scuttlebutt. His best friend's description of Chakotay virtually breaking down the door to the cargo bay to rescue the Crewman, had left little to the imagination and neither had the arctic relationship between their Commanding Officers since.
Despite his closeness to Kathryn, he feels a genuine sympathy for Chakotay, coming from where he did he could never truly understand the position that Ransom had put her in and therefore to him, her actions must have seemed like madness. His loyalty wasn't in question, but he wasn't born and bred Starfleet like she was, it wasn't in his blood. Harry often teased that Kathryn and he were fine examples of Starfleet brats and although neither of them advertised that particular aspect of their lineage, there was no denying it. They had that in common, both born into a way of life that had made the pursuit of Ransom less of a choice, more an all-encompassing duty, the need to uphold the Starfleet reputation and ideals above all else was a powerful driving force and he could understand the motivation behind her obsessional behaviour.
- But that didn't necessarily mean that he agreed with it.
Absentmindedly, he watches as Kathryn brings her hand up to massage her temple and shakes her head; picking up the PADD, she turns it over and over.
"Ransom."
It is almost a growl, her voice betraying her anger and also he decides with some surprise, more than a hint of regret. Something rarely heard in those sure, gravel tones. She came perilously close to placing her Crew firmly in harm's way in her pursuit of that one man, allowed anger to justify actions that she would never have condoned otherwise. She allows the PADD to drop and slapping both palms angrily on the table, exhales sharply; he starts as the harsh sound echoes around the empty room.
"I lost my objectivity, endangered my Ship to satisfy what had become a personal vendetta. It was unforgivable."
The concise sentence reminds him that she is rarely careless with words, the use of such a damning final phrase however, causes him to tilt his head and she offers an eye roll in just a hint of concession.
"Alright, so maybe not unforgivable. But it was a serious error of judgement. I was just so angry Tom. That he could abandon it all. His training, his principles, everything that Starfleet represents, everything that we've fought so damn hard to hold onto out here."
There is a palpable distaste in her words as roughly, she swipes the PADD across the table, it slides perilously close to the edge and on reflex he catches it with one hand. She would probably face death before abandoning her Starfleet ideals, but he wonders just what drove Ransom to act the way he did - how many of his crew he had lost and just how long it had taken for him to loosen his grip on their lofty standards. For his Captain, being faced with a Starfleet Officer who was willing to tear down everything she believed in was more than enough justification to intervene, but the difficulty had come with being able to draw the line.
As if reading his mind, she looks him straight in the eye. "
Just how far should I have gone? When does a moral and ethical obligation become a compulsion and when did I let it control me, instead of the other way around?"
They are difficult questions and he winces a little at their pinpoint accuracy, she had after all been blind to the extent of her obsession. He stays silent, resting his chin on his closed hand; knowing that she won't take comfort in an empty platitude. His silence apparently speaks volumes and when she speaks again, her voice has an almost brittle quality; she swallows as if suppressing a bitter taste.
"Chakotay thinks I lost my mind over Ransom. Relieving him of duty because he stopped me torturing that Crewman... What if I'd ended up killing Lessing in an attempt to get that information? I was so focussed on stopping Ransom that I lost sight of myself, in a way, I acted just as awfully as he did."
Her head dips as she stares into the ebony liquid within the mug, the anger on her features melting into more of a despair. Dropping her chin forces the muscles around her mouth to relax, allowing her true sadness to show. Usually, she hides her distress well, converting it somehow into an inner strength, he has admired that, but tonight he she grips the mug so tightly that her knuckles pale and it rocks on the table. When she next speaks there is just a trace of desperation in her voice, his whispered name forming an almost tortured question on her lips.
"Tom?"
And as he studies her, it is as if a long forgotten connection is restored between them and suddenly he knows exactly what she needs to hear him say. The words are simple enough, but in that quiet moment he understands the difference hearing them spoken aloud will make. Slowly, he lifts his hands from their resting place and moves them gently to wrap around both of hers. Steadying the mug, he waits until the intimacy of gesture encourages her to look up, the crushing self doubt in her eyes only affirms his resolve and he speaks deliberately, keeping his eyes locked to hers.
"No Kathryn, you are nothing like him."
His larger hands totally cover hers, long tanned fingers reaching almost to her pale wrists. Absorbing his words, she closes her eyes and makes no attempt to hide the tears that slide from underneath her lashes and one by one and run in slow rivulets down her cheeks. They sit in silence and he counts each and every droplet that lands on the sleeve of her uniform.
Intent on infusing some comfort, he squeezes her hands gently until her grip on the mug loosens and allowing her shoulders to drop, she exhales and nods once. Removing one hand from his, she wipes her eyes quickly, her other hand remaining underneath his, their fingers slowly and deliberately entwine, the touch is soft with just a note of caution evoking powerful memories of that evening; of that kiss.
From a safe distance, he can allow himself to remember, the exact moment when as they stood together he had known without a single shadow of a doubt what was going to occur. A brisk Autumnal wind had loosened a few strands of her hair and tucking them behind one ear, she shivered and stepped closer. He slid his arm slowly around her waist and pulled her against him, feeling her shoulders, hip and even her toes make contact, the slow flush of warmth within his embrace causing the colour to rise in her cheeks.
She looked at him then, the quiet desire in her eyes no doubt mirrored by his and further turned her torso so her palms came to rest flat against his chest, her heartbeat accelerating to match his, her breath making little clouds of white against the deep indigo sky. Tilting her head, she stared so deeply at him, that in that moment, he was aware of nothing save for sea blue crystal blue eyes held him captivate in a way he had never imagined possible. He reached down and slowly traced the line of her jaw with his thumb, started to say her name, to tell her how beautiful she was, but she stopped him with a slight shake of her head. Then there was a swiftness to the movement as her lips pressed against his and he had closed his eyes to the scent of Jasmine in her soft auburn hair and the faint taste of coffee.
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From across the table, she raises eyebrows in inquiry. Instantly, he feels his cheeks warm, aware that he has been caught out. Studying the table, he tries his best to look nonchalant, clearing his throat to reply, but the twist of her lips and the faint flush of the skin along the edge of her collarbone, tells him that she knows exactly what he had been recalling.
"You told B'Elanna."
Surprised at the insight, he looks up, his stomach contracting with a slight sense of alarm.
"Did she say anything?"
She shakes her head. "It was a well educated guess."
He sighs, pausing briefly. "It was something that I needed to say."
From beneath lashes still slightly darkened from tears, she gives him a small, encouraging smile.
"It's always good to be honest with someone that you're in love with Tom."
Despite himself, he flinches a little at her candour. "Is it that obvious?"
She nods, "to someone who knows you both and I'm pleased, you deserve the happiness and she's an amazing woman."
Suddenly emotional, he swallows. "Thanks, that means a lot. To know that we have your support."
She smiles a familiar gentle smile and a little uncomfortable with the silence, he changes tack, heading into more familiar lighthearted territory.
"She said I had excellent taste by the way."
Kathryn chuckles, the rich sound making him smile as she cups her face with one hand and looks a little coyly at him. "If that's true, I'll take it as a compliment."
He hesitates, before summoning up the courage for what he feels has yet to be said.
"Kathryn, what happened..."
In all the years that had followed, they had never talked about their kiss, it remained a closely guarded secret, locked away between them, in an otherwise unoccupied space.
After their lips had parted, both were slightly breathless and she had leant forward and rested her forehead lightly against his chest. He had allowed his hand to fall from her hair, his fingers tracing a slow, winding path along her neck and through the middle of her shoulder blades down to the small of her back, where it had come to rest. They had stood propped against each other for what had seemed to him an eternity, until with a purposeful movement she had pulled away and smiled the slightly sad smile he had already committed to memory. He had suppressed an intense desire to follow her, knowing that neither of them needed that. Instead, he had forced himself to remain, hands clasped behind his back as he watched her vanishing figure, until she became a speck in the haze of the bright city lights.
Now, as he stares across at her a slightly pensive look crosses her face, almost as if she is concerned about what he might say.
"...I'll always remember. I wanted you to know that."
She squeezes his hand a little and there is a look of lasting affection in her eyes, telling him what he knows without uttering a single word. He gives her an understanding lop-sided grin, neither of them he thinks, regretting what happened, but each acutely aware that it had been a moment in time, a part of their history, that could never be anything more.
"I was wrong Tom. Wrong to pursue Ransom in the way that I did, wrong to allow him to blind me to the consequences of my actions and wrong to remove the person closest to me who was telling me what I needed to hear. He's rightfully angry, I'm not sure he'll forgive me."
He can't help but allow himself a smirk, as far as Kathryn goes, Chakotay's loyalty and affection for his Captain means that he'd forgive her anything, Kathryn Janeway has that effect on people and she knows it. Seeing his expression, a slightly mischievous curve forms around the edges of her mouth as the twinkle returns to her eyes.
"Okay, so he might be able to move past this given some time, my sincere contrition and maybe a bowl or two of mushroom soup."
He snorts softly and she grins before swivelling to look out at the stars, her back straight and her chin resting on one folded hand.
"You know, for so long, I've hoped against all the odds that we might meet another Starfleet ship out here. A substantive ally, another Captain who understood what it was like being so far from home. I wanted that, to feel for once that we weren't alone."
Observing her resolute command on the Bridge day after day makes it easy to forget that Voyager is her first captaincy and that their initial fairly straightforward mission has turned into a highly complex and dangerous one, far from the security of Starfleet. The very idea of that kind of ultimate responsibility daunts him and he tries briefly to imagine her life. Just as he is formulating a response, she turns back, replacing her elbows defiantly on the table.
"But of all the lessons I've learnt over Ransom, I think one of the most important ones is that I've got everythimg I need right here. An amazing crew, and amazing colleagues and friends, I just need to pay some more attention."
His answer comes easily. "You'll always have our support, you can count on that."
They lapse into a relaxed silence, the tension easing from her face, line by line. Finally, she drains the last of her coffee and stands, stretching her neck from side to side, he leans further back, extending his legs into the space hers have vacated. A moment later and hands still warm from the coffee, come to rest lightly on his shoulders.
"Thank you Tom."
He places one hand over hers, unsure that the gratitude is deserved.
"Sleep well Kathryn."
He hears the hiss of the doors closing behind her and is left to his thoughts on the inevitability of life and love and it all.