Inspired by Family Values for the Remix/Redux ficathon. Find the original story: archiveofourown dot org / works / 1389295
Kathryn is asleep on the sofa when Gretchen comes down in the morning. Her daughter is much more familiar to her this way - relaxed and unguarded, her hair falling over one eye. It's as short as Gretchen has ever seen it. Kathryn always kept her hair long, even well after her peers had cut their hair into smart, professional bobs. She wonders what the breaking point was, what made her make the cut.
Kathryn had come home with her mother on a whim after the Starfleet function. They'd dropped off Phoebe, the little boys and the girl that claimed to have memories of her Aunt Kathryn, though everyone was doubtful. The function had been busy, crowded, and not Gretchen's cup of tea, but Kathryn had seemed happy.
Kathryn had not been a particularly happy child and had turned into an even more serious adolescent. It was only when she entered Starfleet that her edges seemed to soften a little. The opposite of most cadets, Gretchen imagines. She wonders now if Starfleet had been written into Edward's genes. If Kathryn carries the gene; Phoebe clearly does not.
Kathryn stirs, rolls over, tucks herself into the couch cushions. There is a bed upstairs, of course, but she'd said, "I don't sleep well in beds."
Gretchen hadn't thought it her place to ask.
oooo
Kathryn sees her family at a table toward the back of the room. This party is in Voyager's honor, so she stays at the front of the room, greeting guests and dignitaries as they enter. Chakotay stands by her side for a while until he sees someone he wants to talk to and then Tuvok steps into Chakotay's place. It's Tuvok who greets Gretchen. She seems taken aback by Tuvok's ornate and stoic Vulcan greeting but Kathryn knows it's a show of respect. He respects Kathryn as his Captain so he extends that respect to her family.
When Tuvok steps away, Tom takes his place.
"You want something to drink?" he asks, handing her a flute of champagne.
"Thank you," she says. There's a small lull. Soon, the guests will have all arrived and she'll have to start working the room. These events are not her favorite and she's rusty. She's had enough first contact events to last her a lifetime, but she spent seven years as the commanding officer. Now, she's a captain in a room full of admirals. She expects that vice admiral is on her immediate horizon, but she still has to campaign for it and that means playing nice. She sips her champagne and tucks her arm into Tom's.
"Did you see your father?" she asks.
"He isn't here," Tom says, his answer clipped, though he doesn't pull away. She squeezes his arm.
"Okay," she says. Even though they're home, it feels like they're still a team. Still a single unit, living and working together indefinitely. It's hard to imagine everyone taking new assignments, scattering off into the universe. It's hard to imagine life not on a ship. Admirals mostly spend their hours planet side, unless its wartime, and even then. She looks up at Tom and he looks tired. They all do.
"Would you go check on my family?" she says. "I'm going to go make some small talk."
"Of course, Captain," Tom says. She keeps an eye on him as he wades through the people toward the back. When she checks on him again, several minutes later, she see's one of her nephews on Tom's lap and her sister's head thrown back in laughter.
"Captain Janeway!" someone calls and she turns her head, all smiles, ready to shake hands and greet someone else.
oooo
Phoebe's house is cluttered and open and feels homey, though foreign. Phoebe had still been bumming around the galaxy, her husband and her baby girl on her hip going from planet to planet in search of "art" but now she's settled. She's softer, too.
"Yeah, well, three kids will do that to a woman," Phoebe says.
"That's not what I meant," Kathryn replies, chiding. "You just seem happy."
"I am," Phoebe says. "Aren't you?"
"Of course," Kathryn says. And why shouldn't she be? She looks up to find her mother watching her and Phoebe from the kitchen. Her mom offers a small smile and she offers a wan one back.
"Go home with mom," Phoebe says later. "She missed you so much."
"I have a lot to do," Kathryn says, thinking of the list of people who want to talk to her, the list of dubious choices she made when she was so far from any consequences.
"Everything will hold for a day," Phoebe says. "For someone who came back from the dead."
Kathryn rubs the back of her hand where the skin has turned itchy and raw.
"All right," she says.
oooo
The girls' rooms have been left mostly untouched. Gretchen wants them to know always that they can come home again, though they seldom ever do. And now that Kathryn is home, she won't even go upstairs. She camps out on the sofa, asks for decaf coffee. Gretchen's replicator is only a couple years old. She likes to garden and likes to walk to the market to buy fresh food, but she's getting older now and more tired and Phoebe had insisted she get the replicator for the basic necessities.
She replicates Kathryn's coffee and they sit together in the living room.
"Tell me more about it," Gretchen presses. They're alone now and she hopes that Kathryn will open up to her, hopes that Kathryn will give her a chance to open up in return. There's so much she needs to say to her eldest daughter, that she thought she'd never get to say. Now she has a second chance and she's determined not to let it slip away.
But Kathryn smiles, dips her head. Offers a shrug.
"It was hard, and I wouldn't trade it away."
"I saw Owen's boy," Gretchen says.
"But not Owen," she replies darkly. This is surprising - Kathryn had adopted Owen Paris as her father figure after Eddie had died but now it seems as if time with Owen's son had changed her allegiance.
"He sat with us a spell," Gretchen says. "He talked about you like you were… some sort of queen."
She rolls her eyes. "He'd charm a Ferengi out of latinum," she says.
"And your first officer, Mr. Chakotay?"
"What did you think?" she asks, sipping her coffee.
"He asked me to make him caramel brownies," Gretchen says.
"Yes, your recipe became quite popular on Voyager," Kathryn says.
"So you did talk about me?"
"Of course," Kathryn says. "I missed you, mom."
"I missed you, too." She wants to say more, but Kathryn sets down her mug, yawns, and says she'd like to sleep.
oooo
Kathryn wakes up and tenses before she realizes the unfamiliar surroundings are not so unfamiliar after all. Her mother hums in the kitchen and the house smells like breakfast - bacon, maple syrup, coffee.
She needs to get back to San Francisco and when she glances at the chronometer on the old, wooden mantle, she winces. It had been a mistake to come here and one she'll pay for all week.
"You're awake!" Gretchen says, wringing the dish towel in her hands.
"Yes," she says. "I should head out."
"I made breakfast," Gretchen says, her face falling.
"I'm not much for eating in the morning," Kathryn says, sitting up and slipping on her boots.
"Honey," her mother says. "I'd hoped we could… keep talking."
"I'm not going away again," Kathryn says. "We have plenty of time."
"Okay," Gretchen says. They embrace and Kathryn opens the door. Gretchen follows her out onto the porch and says what she's been holding in the whole time. "I… I wasn't always the best mother."
Kathryn's face softens.
"I wasn't always the best captain," she says.
Gretchen watches her walk down the path that leads to town until she can't see her at all anymore. She thinks of Kathryn's words - that they have plenty of time - but it seems awfully hard to believe. She goes back inside the house and sits down at the table, the breakfast spread out before her. She sips her coffee and eats breakfast alone.