Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Voyager or the characters used in this story. I just like to borrow them for my own amusement and diabolical uses.
Author's Note: This is the second of seven stories based off of something stillboldlygoing's tumblr post about Kathryn's birthdays through the years and the changing relationship between the command team. While I hadn't planned on having another story so soon, my muse is being supremely generous and I can't be ungrateful so I went ahead and wrote what she prompted. This one is unedited and I haven't had time to have it beta'd, so all mistakes are (still) mine.
She's surprised when the door chimes. She knows who it is, since no one else on this ship would have the nerve to disturb her at such a late hour, but that doesn't stop her eyebrow from climbing as she glances at the chronometer. He's never come by this late and she worries for a moment that something's wrong with her ship but the thought's dismissed as quickly as it forms. After a pause to school her features into her increasingly common captain's mask, she orders the door open but she's startled by the tension in his body as he stalks into her quarters.
"What can I do for you, Commander?" She keeps her voice soft, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy mood. He's staring at her so intently that for a split second it's like he's staring straight into her soul and she finds herself unable to move. There's a sadness thinly veiled in his eyes that she's fairly sure she knows what's causing it, though he says nothing about it so neither does she. Finally he blinks and she's released from her career as a statue, one hand coming up to rub at the back of her neck as she offers him a tentative smile. She's a little unsure of what exactly just happened but he starts to speak before she has time to think it over.
"Sorry I'm late, Captain. I got caught in a counseling session and by the time we realized what time it was, we'd been talking for two hours," he explains, shuffling his feet slightly and tugging on his ear. It's one of his most endearing traits, that little nervous tic that only manifests when he's uncomfortable. She can't imagine what has him so uncomfortable now though, so she shakes her head and waves her hand dismissively.
"Think nothing of it, Commander. I certainly understand the demand for your services as the ship's unofficial counselor," she replies, then pauses before continuing. "Can you tell me in general terms, without breaking confidentiality, if the crewman you spoke with is okay?"
She won't ever ask him to break that trust and she knows he never would unless there was some danger to the ship or the crew, but there's a tickle at the back of her mind that tells her the identity of the struggling member of her crew. She watches as he tilts his head slightly, his eyes still on her but his mind working through what to say.
"They're going through a lot of conflicting emotions, which is to be expected. They feel a massive sense of guilt, despite my attempts to assure them that they really did nothing wrong, that it wasn't their fault. I can't see them letting anything affect their work because they're extremely dedicated to what they do, but I know that they're struggling," he says and then looks over at her with a smile. "Maybe a visit from their captain would help ease the burden."
She laughs and shakes her head, motioning to the chair in front of her desk as she orders a cup of hot tea for him and a black coffee for herself. Situating herself in her chair, she sets her coffee down and leans forward, clasping her fingers together as she rests her elbows on the desk. Her chin settles on her fingers as she looks at him with a sad smile.
"I can imagine I'm the last person this particular crewman will want to see for quite some time." His surprised look makes her chuckle as she tilts her head. "Come on, did you really think I wouldn't know that my chief pilot can barely stand to sit on the Bridge with me and can't maintain eye contact for more than three seconds at a time? Not that I can say I blame him."
"He feels guilty," comes the reply and she nods knowingly. Of course Tom would feel guilty; abducting his captain, forcing evolution on her, mating with her in an evolved form, and leaving behind the offspring isn't something that she expects him to just suddenly get over. She's still got a long way to go before she can sleep without dreaming of the three offspring left behind on that planet. She finds herself worrying about them even though she knows that the choice to leave them in the swamp was the right one. What kind of life could they have had here? She's overworked and always stressed, and there was no guarantee that the Doctor could have forced devolution on them like he did their parents.
"Captain? Captain, are you okay?"
His voice brings her out of her thoughts and she nods slightly as she stares at the desk top, taking a long sip of coffee to buy herself enough time to order her thoughts. She doesn't know what to expect to see when she looks up, but her first officer's kind and understanding smile coupled with the little box he's holding out isn't at all expected. He hands her the box and smiles, his eyes on her the whole time she stares at the little bow on it with a frown of confusion. Finally she finds her voice.
"What's this for?"
"It's a present, Captain. I happen to know today is the thirty-some-odd-plus-one birthday of a certain starship captain and this year I came prepared," he replies, drawing her eyes to his. She's shocked, both that he's remembered her birthday and that he actually got her something. She's never expressed how much his hug last year meant to her, and staring at the box in her hand again she can't bring herself to open it. She doesn't want to give him the wrong idea, after all; she's his commanding officer and protocol says she can't have a close relationship with anyone on her ship. Not that she'd have that kind of relationship with him, not with Mark waiting for her back on Earth, but she doesn't want to encourage any sort of wrong impression he may have gotten.
"I'm flattered that you remembered, but I can't accept this, Commander." She doesn't mean for her voice to get so hard, but years of command training seem to appear when she least expects it. She's hesitant to look at him and see his disappointment but when she finally finds the courage to look up, she's again surprised; he's still smiling.
"It's a gift from Voyager's first officer to Voyager's captain, nothing more. It's really nothing special, just a little something I thought you'd enjoy."
The little bow comes off easily as she finally caves and when she opens the box to reveal its contents, she's confused again. She glances up at him and frowns slightly, shaking her head.
"It's a little rock on a chain, Commander."
"It's a small stone from the swamp, actually. I picked it up while Tuvok was explaining the situation to the Doctor, and I brought it back here so I could polish it and put it on a chain for you." His eyes crease in pain for a moment before he continues. "I know I made the right decision to leave them behind but I thought you might like to have something small to remember them by. Something that promises we won't forget about them."
She notices the use of the word 'we' but can't say anything about it; she's so choked up that she's afraid she'll burst into tears if she opens her mouth. Her attention focuses on the necklace as she pulls it from the box and watches the stone catch the passing starlight as it spins. She's so caught up in her whirlwind of emotion that his hand on her shoulder startles her and she jumps slightly. Looking up at him, her eyes wide, she sees that same gentle smile and lets the comfort of it wash over her.
"Happy birthday, Captain," he says, squeezing her shoulder before he leaves.
She spends the night watching the little stone spin on the end of the chain.