It's that time of night again. That hour between night and morning when time freezes, and the world rights itself for one blissful eternity. That endless moment when serenity and calmness permeate the air, imbuing a clarity of mind and soul to anyone who wanders through it.
It was these moments she loved the best. In the still of night, when the corridors were empty and she could feel alone in the world with her ship, Kathryn drifted through the halls like a spectre, memorizing again each corner and bulkhead, each turbolift and Jeffries tube that comprised the physical contours of her ship. She wasn't the Captain in these moments – the Captain was shed like a second skin when she removed those pips from her collar that evening. She wasn't the daughter of Edward Janeway, renowned Starfleet Admiral. She was simply Kathryn. She could simply be. Existing with no worries about ship status or crew morale, she felt free in those moments without rank or care.
The crew had slowly become used to seeing their captain roaming the corridors in these late hours, on the rare occasion that she met an ensign repairing a relay, or someone returning from a late-night visit to the holodeck. They were no longer startled to see her gliding like a phantom, silent and alone, in only her grey Starfleet t-shirt and loose sweatpants. She always greeted them with a nod and a smile, and they returned the gesture, never sure what to make of these evening wanderings.
Only one person ever joined her on her stroll, and only then on few occasions. After particularly heated arguments between the command team, several crewmembers could usually be found in the nights that followed hiding around corners, waiting for Voyager's ghost to walk by. They always breathed a collective sigh of relief when their commanding officers walked by together, sometimes hand-in-hand and always content to be near each other. No-one was quite sure when it started, and it took a while to realize when it stopped. The captain still toured her ship, but her eyes were dull, the corners of her mouth turned down, as if the weight of her burdens were taking the opportunity to make themselves known in the tranquillity of the timeless hour. When Neelix was no longer there to leave a pot of coffee for her in the kitchen, other crewmembers took over the task, often 'accidentally' leaving a small cake or a plate of cookies beside it, hoping the sweetness would disperse her cloud of gloom. They watched, through tense days and nights, as her strolls became longer and more frequent, her time spent actually trying to sleep grew less, and the listlessness in her expression grew apparent to everyone.
And then, they were home. They burst through the transwarp conduit, shocking the hell out of the Starfleet brass, and would arrive in Earth's orbit by the next morning. The parties ran late in the holodecks, but the Captain was nowhere to be found. No one saw her in the corridors or the messhall, and although some grew concerned, no one dared disturb her obvious wish for solitude. By the early hours of the morning, the parties were winding down and crewmembers were staggering drunkenly off to their respective quarters. They didn't notice at first the couple standing by the viewport, watching the stars streak by as the ship carried them ever closer to their home. They almost didn't notice how he had his arms around her waist, and she was leaning back against the strong body behind her, staring out at nothing, but with a warm smile lifting one side of her mouth. They almost didn't notice, but they did, and the relief that rushed through them at the sight was like no other. Their command team was united again, and their captain was happy. Maybe it was the joy of getting home, maybe it was a bottle of something pilfered from the party, or maybe it was the ineffable magic of that mysterious hour working wonders on heart and mind. Nobody knew, and nobody really minded. The evidence before them was enough.