Mark ...
Seems to be one of those rare nice days in San Francisco … nice enough that I can kill some time at this cafe until I head to the shuttleport.
I didn't tell my folks that I was here for a quick conference. I knew Mom would suggest that I get in touch with Kath.
Call me a coward, but I don't think so.
Last time I was here was four years ago when Voyager made it home. Kath had sent a kind note congratulating me on my marriage, telling me she understood. I couldn't not see her, my wife's objections notwithstanding. I would have preferred a less-public venue, but that turned out for the best.
I knew she had changed; hell, so had I. But I didn't recognize my Kathryn. Those seven years had fundamentally altered her — and it wasn't just the shorter hair, or that she was frightfully thin.
This version of Kath was harder, obviously bone tired. Her eyes were haunted, likely by the horrors that the media reports just hinted at. As we talked, her gaze occasionally strayed to the tattooed fellow talking with a group … her first officer, I was told. He had his arm around a knockout blond with an odd bit of metal on her face. There was a story there, though neither of us was about to bring it up.
She murmured something about getting together. I agreed, but I knew neither of us would follow up: I had a new baby at home. She … she needed something I couldn't give.
I left that day believing that the Kathryn Janeway I loved really did die out there.
It's odd … I haven't seen Kath since then, but I sure know a lot about her life. Our mothers are friendly, and Mom loves to torture me with news. Kathryn made admiral; Kathryn's running relief operations along the Cardassian border worlds …
A sound breaks into my thoughts, and I start. Maybe it's my imagination or guilty conscience, but I could swear that was Kath's smoky laugh. I look around and … goddamn … it is her, sitting a half-dozen tables away.
I should slip away, pay at the counter and leave. But my legs won't move. So I watch, trying to make it look like I'm merely people watching … or looking at the park across the street.
She looks good; she's gained back some weight. She seems, well, happy.
She's sitting with a blonde man and two children, which fits with the news stream I get: She'd married her much-younger pilot, who was divorced and raising his daughter. A year or so later, Mom gushed that they'd adopted a baby boy … an orphan from one of the border worlds.
They were eating pancakes … now that's a change; Kath never ate breakfast, just chugged a cup or two of coffee. The kids are giggling, and Kath reaches over to ruffle her son's blonde curls.
I'm happy for her … happy that she's not alone. But I'm also jealous — these days, I'm a long-distance dad and I eat my breakfasts alone.
The kids look to be restless; I figure I'll be off the hook soon. Then she taps her husband's arm and motions to the back of the cafe. Uh, oh, restroom stop. He nods and she gets up.
I hide behind a PADD, hoping she doesn't look my way. She disappears into the back, and I stand up … only to be blocked by a large party that's being seated behind me.
And then I'm busted. She's standing in front of me, a puzzled look on her face. "I thought that was you," she says softly. "Why didn't you come over to say hello?"
"Uh … didn't want to intrude." I offer, feeling like a damn fool.
"What brings you to town?" she asks casually as she leans against a chair.
"Conference … I'm leaving in a couple of hours."
She frowns slightly. "I see, just passing through." She sounds a bit hurt.
I don't know how to answer so I go for the obvious. "How are you?"
She quirks that grin I loved. "Certainly a lot better than the last time you saw me. I had to put some things to rest. But overall, pretty damn good."
I wonder if that first officer was something she had to put to rest, but I won't ask. "I heard you were married."
"I am," she says, grinning again. "Three years now." She nods over to her husband, who's watching our exchange. "Come meet the family."
I grab my bag and sheepishly follow her over to shake hands with … Tom, I think … and manage a smile at the kids. We exchange a few pleasantries, interrupted by our mutual server, who deposits our checks. We deal with them, and her husband takes the kids to the park, leaving us alone.
I think I know what she'll ask, so I head her off. "Still running relief missions?"
"No, wrapped the last one about a month ago. I'm on leave for a couple of weeks, then I'm going to oversee a new research department. I'll miss being out there, but at this point in life, I need to be home."
"Oh?" That doesn't sound like Kath ...
I see a flash of uncertainty … as if she's holding something back. "Well, Miral's in preschool and Kieran starts dayschool in the fall, so life evolves around school schedules… at least for a few years," she says, and we both chuckle.
She cocks her head and gives me a searching look, "Speaking of children, how's Kevin?"
"He's great," I say, surprised she remembers his name. "He's in preschool, too. I know what you mean about school schedules … we had to rework the custody and visitation agreements." I shake my head. "This stuff is hard."
She nods. "I was sorry to hear about the divorce. And you're right, it is hard. We struggle with that at my house, too. Are you both in Brazil?"
I shake my head. "No, Carla took a university job in Seattle. Couldn't tell her no … but I'm the one who has to fly back and forth to see Kevin," I say, not trying to mask my bitterness. She just nods sympathetically.
I look up to see Kathryn's husband standing across the street, holding their son … who appears to be crying. "I think someone is looking for you," I say. She turns and nods at him, then gets up. "Someone's unhappy," she says with an affection that I know isn't for me. "I should take off. We've got a big to-do list for today."
"It was nice to see you," I say, and I mean it.
"Same here. I just sent a note to your mom, but say hello anyway," she says with a smile.
At this point, I don't know whether to hug or kiss her, or both. But she settles the question by stepping behind the chair. "If you happen to be in town, call me and we'll do coffee," she says.
And then she's gone, jogging across the street to her family … and all I can do is watch.
ooo
Kathryn:
"What's happened?" I ask when I get to Tom. Kieran's stopped crying and is reaching for me.
"He took a tumble, but he's OK," Tom says as he hands him off. So that was your fiance when Voyager left, right? How was your visit?"
"A bit awkward," I admit as I pat our son's back. "I got the impression he wanted to dodge me."
"Ouch," Tom says as Kieran, tired of sympathy, wiggles out of my arms and runs to Miral.
"It's sad." I continue, "There wasn't a lot to say. I just told him I was OK and gave him some general bits about our life."
"Did you tell him about the baby?"
"Nope, still want to keep that in the family until we're certain the adoption will go through."
"Never mind that Miral has already told her entire class," Tom says, squeezing my shoulder. He's quiet for a moment, waiting for me to finish. The man knows me too well ...
"I suppose I didn't want to pile on. He's divorced now. He lives in Brazil, but the ex moved to Seattle with their son. He's not taking it well."
"I know someone he can commiserate with," Tom quips and I chuckle in sympathy. Some day, B'Elanna's going to get that posting on a family ship, or on Earth …
He breaks into my thoughts. "We should get going; the kids' new beds arrive today, and we still need to move the old ones out."
"You sure you didn't buy Kieiran's bed for yourself?" I tease as we collect our children. "I mean … it's an ancient airplane."
"Hey now," he teases back, "you're the one who bought Miral the shuttle bed."
Miral overhears. "I get a shuttle bed?" she squeals.
"Oh, oh," I tease, with a nudge in the ribs, "you've done it now." Tom just laughs and shakes his head as Miral peppers us with questions all the way home.