Disclaimer: I own nothing and do not do this for profit. (You know the drill.) This is just a thought that came while I was trying to work on another story.
I told Kath I had someone else. I lied. At least, there was no-one else at the time.
When I heard her ship had a 70-year journey ahead of them, I knew I had to let her go. Kath is a very loyal woman. I knew if I let her, she would hold onto me, or at least my memory, for as long as she could. I knew she would put her ship and crew ahead of herself, and I wanted to give her every encouragement I could to have a life out there. Get involved with someone; give herself a little happiness.
It wasn't long after that that I met the woman who is now my wife. She is a wonderful woman and I love her very much, but Kath will always hold a place in my heart. We were friends for many years before we were lovers. And when I heard that her ship finally came home, I was overjoyed.
Until I talked to her.
She was happy to see me. Happy to be "home". That's what she said, but I think her real home was somewhere, or someone, that she left behind in the Delta Quadrant. Her eyes, normally a vivid blue and very expressive, were a dull grey, and she seemed to have lost some of the spark she used to have. I suppose seven years in that hell of a Quadrant could do that to someone. But it was at the Christmas party at Kath's mother's house that I realized just what the problem was.
It wasn't her spirit that was broken. It was her heart.
She seemed to be enjoying herself, greeting all her closest friends and crewmates who were invited to the Indiana farmhouse for the occasion. She looked truly happy for the first time in months, until she saw him. He had just come in and spotted her the same moment that she saw him. She had told me about him, but only after a lot of questioning and probing on my part. She would tell me all about any of her crewmembers, except two. But what she did tell me about him told me a lot about her, not in what she said, but in how she said it and in what she didn't say. Her eyes would light up when talking about him, and her lips would form that adorable half-smile. Until I asked something like where he was now. Then she would become guarded and say something vague about visiting his sister or such. But behind that "Captain's Mask", I could see in her eyes a deep sadness, and regret.
They hardly spoke to each other at the party, though that was mostly her fault. She was civil to him, but avoided him as much as she could. And Kath was a master at avoiding people when she wanted to. I heard rumour from some of the other guests that he had been involved for a time with the former Borg – the other crewmember about whom she wouldn't speak to me. Everyone seemed convinced that he and Kath belonged together, and I could see why. Even while she was ignoring him, she kept an eye on where he was, knew whom he was talking to. She cast glances in his direction when he wasn't looking, and he kept turning his gaze to her when he thought no-one was watching. I could see in his gaze that he still cared about her and I knew she still had feelings for him. This dance was pointless and was wearing everyone down. It needed to stop.
I managed to catch her alone at the punch bowl and whispered to her, "He still loves you, you know."
She looked at me for a moment with eyes wide with surprise, then whispered back with determination, "He's moved on."
"Are you so sure about that?" I looked at where Seven of Nine was talking with the holographic doctor, and then at Chakotay, standing alone by a window on the other side of the room. I looked back to see that Kath had followed my gaze, and I realized that she appeared uncertain. An unusual expression for her, I noted.
"I encouraged him to move on so many times," she whispered, whether to me or to herself I wasn't sure.
I put a hand on her shoulder and took the punch cup from her. "Just go talk to him," I said softly. She looked up at me after a moment, then gave me a weak smile. She put a hand on my chest as she walked past, heading for the lone man at the window. I took a cup of punch back to my wife, then stood and watched Kath. She seemed to be having trouble talking to him, until I saw him take her small hands in his and say something softly to her with the most tender look I have ever seen on his face. She stood still while he was talking, staring unseeingly out the window, and then I saw her look up at him and, reaching one small white hand to his face, gently traced the lines of his tattoo. He and I both smiled at that. Then I watched as he put his arm around her and gently led her away from the party and towards the door leading to the back porch. I smiled as I turned back to the conversation around me, and I saw Tom Paris, across the room, catch my eye and grin. Yes, this was how it was meant to be. I only hope I get an invite to the wedding.