a/n: Set directly after s03e17 'Unity'. Because, we all know that episode sucked.
Huge thank you to Helen8462 for her beta skills.
Redemption
'I feel like I need to apologise to you.'
His words are sharp and clear, and they startle her from her reading. Glancing up, Janeway eyes him in the doorway, shadows dancing about him in a way that made it a little impossible for her to know exactly what he is thinking.
She hasn't even heard the chime.
'What for?' she asks neutrally, lowering the book and sitting up a little straighter; her bare feet hit the carpet with a little thud.
He fidgets in the doorway; tentatively, he moves slightly, and effectively avoids stepping too far forward into her quarters.
It isn't like him to be so timid, and so hesitant. The light from the corridor frames him in the doorway.
She places her book down, slowly, carefully, and watches him with silent eyes.
She'd be lying to herself if she said that she hasn't expected him to come around at some point after their encounter with what was left of a Borg collective.
She'd also be lying if she said she was apprehensive about what he has to say. Because she knows what he will say.
And, she really doesn't want to hear it.
He fidgets again, and she can feel herself beginning to lose patience. Her words are a little sharper than she intends. 'Are you going to speak?'
She can almost see him flinch, but he stands steadfast and passive. His hands are folded behind his back in a gesture that's heart-achingly familiar.
His form moves in a little closer, and the doors swish shut behind him. A sigh of relief escapes her as the doors seal; at least the odd crewman won't jump to the conclusions that are bound to come with the First Officer entering that Captain's quarters at inappropriate hours.
They stare at each other across the expanse of the room, and her breath hitches involuntarily as she waits for him to break the silence.
Only, he continues to search her face with dark eyes, knowing full well that she doesn't want him to be here. Standing in her quarters and out of uniform
'I wanted to explain.'
'Explain?'
'Riley.'
The simple word hits her like a small bucket of ice water, and she feels the atmosphere in the room shift. She feels an inexplicable need to get out.
'Commander,' she starts, swallowing roughly. 'You don't need to – '
But he cuts her off, pushing across her quarters in far too strides.
'No,' he says, firmly.
Her book falls off the edge of the coffee table, hitting the floor with a resounding thud. She startles, covering the involuntary movement by jumping to her feet. Her eyes never leave his.
'I want to.'
The three words reach her ears, and internally she begins to scream. She definitely does not want him to explain. She doesn't need him to.
Whatever they have, it is buried under the burden of command. Born out of necessity to get their two crews home. Forged from a shared desire to survive at all costs, and strengthened only by their forced reprieve on an alien planet.
She's brushed it off so many times and swept it neatly into the box that labels it as something that happens between a command team. Only theirs is much stronger, because they are alone here and she is a woman, and he is very much a man.
And now he stands in front of her, justifying something that shouldn't have even been an issue between them.
Only it is, and she knows why.
He bends down, picking up her book. His large hands enclose over the leather covers, fingers thumbing through ancient pages of love letters throughout the ages before placing it down gently on the table.
If he is surprised at her choice of late-night reading material, he doesn't show it.
Her eyes have never left his form, and when she doesn't protest to his actions, he begins to speak again.
'Paris once said to me that one day, you'd look someone and know instantly that it was wrong,' he starts softly, watching her when she raises her eyebrow. 'But, you'd fall for them anyway.'
She lets him finish, the simple words echoing in her head. Internally, she flinches, unable to shake that sinking feeling that the words were hitting a little too close to home.
They are still standing toe-to-toe, her neck beginning to ache painfully from the angle she's holding to look up at him. She lowers her gaze, folding her arms across her centre, tracing patterns on the carpet with her eyes.
She wants to ask him what the Doctor said. To ask him when he will be fit for duty, and if there is any residual damage from his link to the collective. She wants to say something, anything that will build the foundations to those walls again and put an end to this personal conversation.
Because she isn't allowed to have these conversations.
Only, she can't help herself.
'And, did you?' she asks, tentatively. She peers up at him from under her lashes.
He blinks for a moment, clearing his thoughts away. 'Did I what?'
She's suddenly shy, and not at all like the Captain she is supposed to be during the daylight hours. Only there is no daylight on a starship and its beginning to get harder and harder to distinguish between the Captain and the woman beneath. The Captain never seems to rest, and she never seems to forget her duty.
'Fall for her?' she whispers, breathily. She can almost feel him go rigid as he fights with himself over what he should say. If he should voice the feelings that they have so vehemently denied since their return to Voyager.
The atmosphere is charged between them. Pinpricks of lust are beginning to spark, and that need to step back and get out is rapidly reasserting itself in her very being.
'No,' he says, and she can't shake the feeling that he is being completely open and honest.
It's his most admirable quality, and most decidedly his flaw.
'I already have that with someone else.'
His words shatter through her, and penetrate into her soul. She feels it in her bones, and she knows she will never, ever have reason to doubt his words. His words in this very moment are going to sustain her, and she will always rely on them. They are going to always define them.
She just knows. This is there moment.
'Then,' she says. 'You have no need to explain, or apologise.'
He takes her words for what they are: a dismissal. He steps back, avoiding the coffee table with a grace that defies his size. He picks up her book again, holding it out carefully.
She swallows roughly, inclining her head ever so slightly if only to prevent him from seeing the slight blush creeping up her neck. They studiously avoid a brush of the fingers as she takes her book again.
'Goodnight, Kathryn.'
His words are gentle, and she thinks to herself that she could hear those two words for the rest of her life if she let herself.
Her eyes fall close as she whispers her reply. 'Night.'
Only he is already to the door of her quarters, and so spoke so quietly that she highly doubts he would have heard her. The doors swish open at his approach, and he pauses in the doorway.
It's almost as if he is going to say something, and his head turns to look at her briefly from over his broad shoulder. The heat in the gaze is unmistakable, even in the dark, but it's marred by something else.
She thinks it's probably a reflection of the combination of the disappointment and intense longing she feels deep down in herself. Offering a ghost of a smile, she watches him turn around, and then he is gone.
Fin.
a/n: Apologies for the hiatus from writing. Unfortunately, I actually had to force myself to study for exams.
