I was watching "The Q And The Grey" the other day and during the night, my mind churned this out as an epilogue to the episode.
As usual, Paramount owns everything.
"Admit it, Kathryn. You're lonely, too."
Damn Q. He's annoying, but he was right. I am lonely.
In the early days of our journey home, I thought of Mark often. I kept a picture of him and Molly and me in the ready room, although I didn't refer to it that often. I didn't have to - when I closed my eyes I could see his face in my mind. Every laugh line; every wrinkle. The way he looked when he smiled; the way his hands felt, caressing my face, running through my hair…
But I will, in all probability, never see him again. Never hold his hand; never kiss him…
"I know I don't have any right to feel this way, but this bothers the hell out of me."
Gradually, over time when I closed my eyes, the image of Mark faded, replaced by one of a tattooed face, and deep, caring, brown eyes. A peaceful warrior.
So why do I feel so lonely, when I have such a good friend forever by my side? Because we can never be more than friends, and I know that's no-one's fault but my own. While I am the captain, I can't risk having a relationship with a member of my crew. Much as I might dream about it at night, or fantasize about it when I am alone, as long as we're so far from home he will always be my good friend. Nothing more.
But for a moment, and just a moment, I was tempted by Q's offer. An eternal relationship? And the child I always wanted to have? I would never be lonely again. But my first duty is to my ship, and until Voyager's home, my personal life will have to wait.
A little companionship would be nice, though. That's why I always liked dogs. They're friendly and caring, at times even therapeutic with their deep, knowing eyes and wide grin. I think of Molly, my lovely Irish setter. Her puppies would be fully grown by now. She herself will probably be dead before I get home. If I'd known I'd be gone so long I might have brought her with me.
I can even hear her whine, now. Soft and pitiful. Or… is it really in my head? The soft sound of a puppy's whimper is echoing through my quarters. Coming from the bedroom, perhaps?
On the bed. In a little basket with a pink blanket. It's the setter puppy Q brought me earlier today. As happened the first time, I feel my heart swell a little as I gaze at the tiny puppy. It's almost like a smaller version of Molly. A mini-Molly.
But… if the puppy's here, that means Q is probably somewhere nearby too. Holding the puppy in my arms, I return to the living area and see a vase of red roses on my desk that I'd swear wasn't there before. A small card is attached to the bouquet, with the simple inscription, "Thank You. Q, Q, and Q."
The roses are nice, and the puppy… well, I would welcome the company. Holding the puppy up so I can look into its chocolate-brown eyes, it takes the opportunity to lick my nose. Molly used to do that too, I realize with a smile.
I don't know if Q will let me keep the puppy, or if he only intends for its presence to be a temporary pick-me-up, but either way, I am grateful to him. Settling on to the couch, I watch the puppy turn around several times and curl up in my lap.
Suddenly, watching the small animal sleeping, I realize I don't feel so lonely anymore.