Note: I have had the worst writer's block ever since about last July. I have tried everything to get out of it, and nothing has worked. Until my husband leveled an extremely silly dare at me. Unforgivably silly. So of course I had to give it a try. More soon, I hope.
CRISP WAFFLES AND BLACK COFFEE
Part 1
It was an odd assignment, as far as their work for the Department of Temporal Investigations went: Go back to 2014, find a particularly minor government functionary, talk to her, go home. Usually their assignments were more exciting and detailed. Usually there was at least some action involved. Usually they were sent back to find and recover an out-of-time artifact, and more often than not, somewhere between the "finding" and the "recovering" they could count on some "dispatching of temporally displaced ne'er-do-wells bent on using the artifact for their own insidious purposes."
It was the "dispatching" part that kept the work interesting.
But this new assignment didn't promise a lot of "dispatching" or action or even mild excitement. Go back, find the government flunky, talk to her, go home.
This assignment was downright boring.
Kathryn stopped on the sidewalk, absently rubbed her forehead to ease the low-grade headache she'd had ever since beginning her work with the DTI, and glanced at the tricorder tucked inside her slightly oversized blazer. She looked up at the address on the sign above her - 409 E. Kirkwood Avenue - and the name of the establishment in red letters above it: The Village Deli.
"This is the place," she murmured.
Her companion gave a noncommittal grunt. Kathryn frowned at him. He'd been less than communicative since their briefing at DTI and all but sullen since they'd arrived in twenty-first century Bloomington, Indiana. He was supposed to be her pleasant company on this little jaunt through ancient history. She always brought him along on her missions; if working part-time for DTI was to be her 'Fleet-issued punishment for mucking with the timeline, then Chakotay would be her Academy-issued history expert. It gave her someone to talk to, and got him out of his ivory tower now and then.
But he'd been practically morose since the night before, when she'd called him from her San Francisco apartment and floated the idea of another mission through time. Now, walking down the student-crowded Saturday morning streets just off the university campus, he was almost downright surly. "Everything okay?" she asked, slipping the tricorder into her bag.
He gave a half-shrug. "Not exactly how I had wanted to spend my Saturday," he grumbled, and gestured her toward the door. "Shall we?"
She turned and placed a hand in the middle of his chest. "Just me this time. Lucsly and Dulmer said it has to be just me." Her handlers had been very clear on that point, while also urging her to take Chakotay with her. Their convoluted answer to her pointed questions inspired a raging headache, so she'd dropped the matter and promised to do their bidding.
His face fell. "Then why did you even bring me along, Kathryn?"
She quirked an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry, did you have other plans?"
It was a low blow and she knew it; ever since his breakup with Seven, he'd barely been seen in any of the Voyager crew's social circles. But his truculence was wearing thin and the words had come to her unbidden, if carelessly.
A muscle at the back of his jaw twitched. "You know I didn't."
Kathryn grasped the sleeve of his old-fashioned tweed sport coat. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
He heaved a drawn-out sigh and took a step away from her. "Maybe I can find a bookshop or something." He glanced up and down the street. "How long do you think you'll be?"
"I really don't know. The mission parameters were so vague this time that I'm not sure I'll know when the mission is over – or has even begun."
"Do you want me to come check on you in a couple hours?"
Kathryn smiled up at him. "A well-timed extraction if things aren't going well?"
"Something like that."
Kathryn hiked her bag higher on her shoulder. "Two hours, then. Meet me here and we'll decide what to do next. You have money?"
He twisted slightly and patted the wallet in his left hip pocket. Kathryn tried valiantly not to follow the movement and when she failed, chastised herself silently for still wanting to look after all these years. "Right here, as always," he murmured. "You?"
She looked up in time to see him school a smirk into something more professional. He'd caught her looking. She blushed and willed herself to ignore it. "In my bag. Two hours?"
"Two hours." He nodded once and set off down the street.
She watched him walk for a time, wondering if the spring in his step was genuine or added just for her benefit. Whatever the reason, it certainly looked good on him.
So did those vintage Levi's.
With a regretful sigh, Kathryn opened the door to The Village Deli and scanned the tables and booths for a sign of Leslie Knope.
End Part 1
Note: Yes, this is a Parks & Recreation crossover. I'm really very sorry about this, but it was a dare! What was I supposed to do? Say no?