Tom found himself wandering the ship, too restless to sleep. As he approached the holodeck, he figured he could work on a few program ideas he'd been toying with recently. When he reached the door, he was surprised to find a program already running. It wasn't locked, so Tom decided to sate his curiosity and join the person still up. Maybe whoever it was wouldn't mind the company.
Upon entering, he looked around with slightly peaked interest when he found himself in a well-worn, well-furnished, unfamiliar pub. The holographic patrons nodded to him, but otherwise went about their own business. The atmosphere was quiet, contemplative, and yet amicable. It was a place to be alone without feeling alone. He wondered who'd created the program; it was obvious a lot of time and effort had gone into it.
The cracking of the fire in a large, ornate hearth drew his attention. Recognizing the figure beside it, Tom felt his eyebrows rise. The captain in her dress uniform was sitting in a comfortable chair watching the flames. Before he could call out to her, he noticed the small table to her right. A bottle was on it, as well as several filled shot glasses. Jerking his eyes back to her, he took in the closed off expression of remorseful strength on her face. It was a look that he'd grown familiar with while serving under her these long years. It was the look she got when she had to make the hardest decisions that eventually saw someone not come home.
Slightly concerned, Tom moved to a stool at the bar, half hiding behind the dart players so that he could watch her without being seen. He wasn't sure if he should go to her or leave, so he decided to wait and see what she did.
Squinting, he studied the bottle on the captain's table and felt his jaw drop in shock. How in the absolute Hell had she gotten a bottle of Romulan ale?
His whirling thoughts screeched to a halt when Janeway stood. A clock chimed from somewhere and a hush seemed to fall over the crowd. Picking up one of the glasses, the captain tossed back the shot and chucked the glass into the flames. Raising the other, she opened her mouth and further stupefied Tom as she softly began to sing.
"Of all the money that e'er I spent," she sang softly, huskily, with a thread of emotion running through her words that made Tom's heart hurt.
She took a shot and picked up another after destroying that glass, too.
"I spent it in good company. And all the harm that e'er I've done, I wish it were to none but me."
And Tom suddenly realized what he was witnessing. Today was the anniversary of Voyager being flung into the Delta Quadrant. Janeway had a specific number of shots for a specific number of people lost. She was remembering.
"All I've done, for want of wit, to mem'ry now is oft' recalled. So fill to me the parting glass. Goodnight and joy be with you all."
She continued singing, standing at near perfect attention and taking shots between verses for her fallen crew. A guitar was softly playing a mournful counterpoint to her lament.
"But since it falls, unto my lot," here, she swallowed heavily and her face tightened in anguish, "that I should rise, and you should not." She lifted the last shot. "I'll gently rise and softly call, goodnight and joy be with you all."
Downing the final shot, she didn't throw it after its brothers. Instead, she carefully sat the glass upside down on the table. The music transitioned into a slow tune as Janeway returned to her seat, plugging the bottle as she did. While the music swirled around, Tom studied his captain and the flames flickering over her skin. He felt a lump of emotion in his throat at what he'd seen. There was a depth of caring in Kathryn Janeway that was often overlooked.
Over the years, Tom had more than once thought she donned the captain's persona as a mask over her true self. Watching her now, he realized how off he'd been in his assessment. What he'd called her 'captain's mask' was just another facet of her personality. She wasn't wearing a mask of strength to reassure her crew or to bolster herself in trying times; Kathryn Janeway was that strong. There was a core of steel in her that he'd subconsciously known was there all along. It was probably the reason he'd never once doubted she would get them home.
Being the sole authority decades away from anyone familiar would have broken or twisted a lesser person. But, Janeway had made her crew a family. Despite sometimes not agreeing with or understanding her decisions, every one of her crew had pushed themselves to reach beyond their perceived limitations for her. She'd instilled in them a desire to be better, simply by believing that each of them could be. Maybe part of it was what they'd faced in the DQ, but Tom had a niggling feeling that most of it was her.
She wasn't infallible by any means, and the pilot sometimes thought she was bat-shit crazy, but she was what Voyager needed. She was pretty much all things to all people on board-from Counselor, to Mother, to Mentor, to Judge or Friend. He couldn't imagine serving under another. Maybe he'd fallen into the same trap as everyone else had in putting her on a pedestal. Mulling that over as he ordered a bear, he shook his head. Nah, she was human, but he'd be lying if he said her opinion wasn't one of the most, if not the most important to him. Didn't mean she was perfect, but that her imperfections were outweighed.
Picking up his drink, he finally walked over to sit in the chair on the other side of her small end table. She didn't seem surprised to see him, leaving him to wonder if she'd known he'd been there the whole time.
Swallowing his mouthful, he tipped the mug at her. "You're a clusterfuck of contradictions, Captain."
A quirk of her lips and an arched brow was her response.
"I've never seen anyone knock back that much Romulan ale and not be flat on their ass," he told her, watching the play of light in her eyes. "But, you? You're still sitting here, completely composed and as pretty as the day you pulled me out of Auckland."
Laughing, she leaned on the armrest closest to him, propping her chin up with her hand. "I've found that making no sudden moves is the key." She smiled. "Ever the flirt, aren't you?"
She didn't ask why he was there and he didn't feel the need to tell her. Returning her smile, he shrugged.
"Just stating facts, ma'am," he said cheekily.
Her eye roll was affectionate and heralded a comfortable silence that settled over them. Tom sipped his synthenol as she alternated between watching him and the fire. A shift in her position made him turn back to her. Her eyes were warm and her face was open in a way he'd never seen. In that moment, even after all the truly convoluted shit between them, Tom knew everything was finally all right. Their friendship had come out stronger, perhaps because of the sometimes colossal mistakes each of them had made over the years. Given the choice, he'd do everything over the same. He'd go through it all again for tonight and the trust she'd given him; for the honest emotions on her face that she was allowing him to see.
Well, except for Alice. If he could do that little incident over, he'd take great delight in disassembling that piece of shit ship.
"You're a fine officer," Janeway broke into his musings, a trace of affectionate pride in her voice. "And, the person you've become-well, you're something special, Tom Paris."
Watching her watching him, he felt his own walls come down. When she reached over to pat his forearm, he caught her hand in his.
"When we get home, there is going to be an absolute mob waiting for us. Everyone from the Fleet Admiral to the barely graduated journalist will be there to see us set foot back on Earth. Then, they'll follow us incessantly through every trial and debriefing for however long it takes for them to review every single decision by every single crewman."
Janeway's brow rose again as she nodded. "Most probably."
He held her gaze. "I don't know how it'll all turn out: if we'll come out roses or better off back out here. However, when everything is said and done and we're all standing outside 'Fleet HQ with about a million people watching us…" he grinned wickedly, "I'm going to kiss you like you deserve to be kissed, Kathryn Janeway."
A surprised look slid over her face before she threw back her head and laughed. It was a joyously light, free sound that marked another first. When she subsided, her face was a rosy hue-from the liquor, the laughter, or what he'd said, he didn't know. He actually didn't particularly care as long as he could bask in the effects.
"Oh, Tom," she grinned, "I believe you would. If you and B'Elanna haven't reconciled by then, I just might let you."
The look he shot her was pure seduction. "You know, I think there's another verse to that song you were singing."
Snorting, she leaned back in her chair, though her hand stayed in his. "It's hardly appropriate."
Squeezing her hand, he retorted, "Isn't it?"
But, he drained the last of his beer and stood before she could form a reply. Tugging on her hand, he hauled her to her slightly unsteady feet. When she retrieved the ale, he knew the question was on his face. That saucy half smile stole across her features.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she chuckled, "but, I have another bottle if you don't ask."
"Bribery, Captain?" he grinned. "I'm appalled you think I can be bought with expensive, illegal liquor."
Amused, she leaned into him and said huskily, "No, you're not."
Eyes dancing, he shrugged. "You're right: I'm not."
As they made their way to the door, Tom put his hand on her back to steady her. In companionable silence the two walked back to her quarters. Janeway smiled and glanced to him.
"You're a good friend, you know."
Brows raised, he watched her type in her security code. "You're full of compliments tonight. I should drink with you more often." The words were light and belied the emotion he felt at her words. He knew there were actually very few people she would have let stay with her tonight.
A throaty laugh was her reply. "Goodnight, Tom."
Meeting her eyes, he searched her for a quiet moment. Seeing what he half suspected-half hoped was there, his expression turned uncharacteristically tender.
"Joy be with you, Kathryn."
Patting his chest, over his heart, she smiled and then disappeared into her quarters. Shoving his hands into his pockets, the pilot walked to his own, whistling a jaunty-suspiciously Irish-tune.
There is a fair maid in this town,
That sorely has my heart beguiled.
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips,
I own she has my heart in thrall.
Then fill to me the parting glass,
Goodnight and joy be with you all.
AN: The song is 'The Parting Glass' and I sort of butchered it for the fic. I didn't want it to be a true song fic, so I hope it turned out all right. I love Kathryn with Tom and hope that I'll only improve since I have a few ideas rattling around. My beta isn't a STV fan, so this is rough. Also, I don't know if Romulan ale is drank in shots, but for the sake of my fic, it is. 'Dà Rathad' means 'Two Roads'. Let me know if I totally screwed the characters up. Hugs!