Disclaimer: I don't own it. I'm not making money off of it. It's still your deal, Paramount, so don't get worked up.
There was that gleam in her eyes that she always got when she had come up with something. Kathryn Janeway loved to solve mysteries, and it showed . . . even if she hadn't completely solved it. It was the sort of triumphant look that he loved to see on her face, especially in place of worry. If all it took was a strange temporal differential to make her happy, he would endure it for as long as he had to.
"So let's assume that the anomaly will move away . . . let's say in a few minutes normal time. How long would that be in here?" he asked.
She shrugged, glancing at the console. "I don't know. A couple of days?"
He nodded, taking that in. "But where's the crew? And why the hell is the anomaly only localized on the ship? I looked at the readings that the computer took before, and the thing was larger than the ship. It should be outside too."
She shook her head. "Those are the thing we have to find out, but if the crew disappeared when the anomaly hit us, who's to say they won't reappear when it moves away?"
"Nobody, but who's to say they will?"
She favoured him with a sour look. "Doomsayer. You're as bad as Tuvok."
"You wound me," he stated. "I like your idea better than mine anyhow."
"I should hope so," she said, colouring a little.
And that brought his brain screeching back to that morning. Waking up to see Kathryn beside him was one thing, but waking up to see her sitting on the floor looking like . . . well what she had looked like? He didn't know what to make of it, and he knew he couldn't drag it out of her. He didn't know who she was afraid of . . . him or herself? It would have been useful to know . . .
He realized he was staring at her, hence the tense condition of her shoulders as she turned back to her console, perhaps hoping she would notice something else there. Usually, he was fairly good at keeping himself from watching her for too long, but this time she had noticed and had assumed a defensive posture accordingly. She didn't hide her feelings as well as everyone thought she did . . . or maybe he was just around her too often.
"I doubt we're going to find much else here," she muttered, hands moving over the console. "Maybe something will come up later, but I think maybe we should wait this out and test my theory. If the crew turns up, we can investigate from there."
"So I guess we're stuck here for a couple days, then?"
She directed a long, unreadable look at him and then nodded. "That's what it looks like. There isn't much you can do when the anomaly you're in follows you around . . . that, and the edge of this thing is between us and space. Without eliminating some other possibilities, I don't really want to go on an extra-vehicular activity today. So yes, we're stuck with each other." She immediately looked like she regretted that choice of words.
"I could think of worse predicaments," he murmured, shutting down his console. "I hate to be redundant, but what now?"
She retrieved her coffee mug from the top on the console and took a long drink, looking undecided. "Take the time off, I guess, provided no one gets interested in a near-empty ship hiding behind a moon. I think we're a little too fast for them right now anyhow."
"I thought the regular time was faster," he said.
She shook her head. "You've got it backwards. I did too, for a second. We're the fast ones. You have to think of it in ratios. A second is shorter than an hour, but think of it this way . . . what we accomplish in an hour in here looks like it only took seconds out there, maybe not even that much. Regular time has been expanded so there's more in here, and less out there. It works out when you think about it."
He nodded. "I see. Where are you going?" he asked as she began to head out of the room.
She shrugged, not looking back. "The holodeck, maybe. I'll see you later, Chakotay."
And with that she effectively avoided any question he might have asked her. Kathryn had always been good at that . . . it was what made her a good diplomat, that ability to steer clear of unwanted topics. It was more than clear that what had transpired earlier was an unwanted topic. He wasn't even sure that he wanted to talk about it.
He left the Astrometrics lab with the intent of going to his quarters and reading some restful book. This was going to be a long wait, especially with Kathryn acting so strangely . . . all at once demanding constant contact and then freezing him out in one fell swoop. He knew she was complex, but this was ridiculous. Why couldn't she make up her mind, anyhow?
Nothing easily had was worth having.
He resolved to put it out of his mind. If she wanted to bring it up, then she would. It was unwise to push her, because then she would only dig her heels in further and get really stubborn. It would not be pleasant on the ship if she got too disagreeable, whether it was just himself or the entire crew there. She may not have known it, but she spread her bad moods around pretty effectively. The only people who might never notice were those on deck fifteen.
He entered the turbolift shortly, giving his order and waiting for it to begin its ascent. The Captain had been in a strange mood for a while now, homesick it seemed . . . with occasional unexplained bouts of asperity with Seven. Stress, but from what, he did not know. Nothing bad had happened to them for almost a month . . . the most notable occurrence being the apparent wave of procreation on the lower decks that had in turn had the Doctor making earnest comments about constructing a neonatal facility somewhere near the Sickbay. And that couldn't be categorized as bad at all.
She worried herself to death over everything, even if it wasn't worth it. This, in turn, worried him and when he said so she got obstinate, which in turn caused both of them more stress and worry. They were quite a pair.
And other times she seemed quite willing to go along with everyone's suggestions, which always managed to throw the whole crew off. That was probably the point of it all.
How many hours a day did he spend mentally grappling with the many, often endearing, vagaries of Kathryn Janeway? She occupied his thoughts for whole days at a time on occasion, and there seemed to be nothing he could do about it. He had tried diversions . . . a few times in the form of other women . . . and it always came back to that vague -albeit carefully hidden- hurt look in her eyes when he did. She had practically lived a nun's existence for the past years, but the few times she had let her guard down had killed some part of him, because she never let that guard down with him.
Except for possibly that last evening . . . and the morning thereafter, if he had read that right.
Life on Voyager was one big if, all the time. What if the Kazon; the Vidiians; the Borg; unknown species attacked . . . who was disobeying this order, leaking that information . . . what the big news moving through the rumour mill was that week.
Every time they passed through one predicament, they invariably ran into another . . . to the point that even little Naomi was slightly jaded by all the excitement. Everyone but Kathryn, who kept that explorer's gleam in her eye and slogged through interminable hours of diplomacy and local customs just for the sake of one first contact . . . and who wandered the holodeck like a lost soul on occasion, it seemed.
But now he felt surprisingly peaceful, even while the huge if of whether the crew would turn up when the anomaly moved away looming over his head. For once he knew things wouldn't change too drastically for a while, if they were moving as fast as Kathryn claimed.
The turbolift stopped almost abruptly, and he stepped out into the empty corridor. Except for the background hum of the ship, it was silent like it had never been. He was not averse to solitude . . . but usually even near the officers' quarters at the height of Alpha and Beta Shifts, there was at least one person there. In the morning it was always Kathryn walking in her somnambulistic way to the turbolift with a mug of coffee in her hand.
He entered his quarters and commanded the lights on, noticing a book he had never finished lying on his couch. He hadn't taken the time to read any more of it for what . . .? Two weeks at least. It was an ancient thing he had no recollection of procuring, but owned anyhow, and had decided to read more out of boredom that anything else. In fact, he hadn't read it in so long he forgot exactly what it was about.
There was a stack of padds resting on the small table near the door. Out of habit, he picked them up. Two Engineering reports and another positively caustic note from B'Elanna demanding to know who did he think he was? and did he think she was some kind of invalid? and to hell with the Doctor! ad infinitum . . . in a tone just short of using Klingon expletives as well as Human ones. It had proved pointless to try and convince her to the contrary, and so he merely scaled down her shifts in accordance with the Doctor's recommendations. The doctor claimed that B'Elanna had the strong constitution of any Klingon woman, but that she would ultimately give herself a partial abruption if she did not cease trying to lift heavy components without help.
B'Elanna and her contrariness. He didn't envy the Engineering crew, and certainly not Tom Paris, when she was in those kinds of moods. She was still perfectly capable of clouting someone with a spanner . . . or rather she would have been if she was still aboard the ship.
The Engineering reports were preemptive requests for deuterium surveys . . . and maybe some dilithium if they were so lucky as to run across some that no one had laid claim to. They and their deuterium. I seemed like they were always running out of it.
"Janeway to Chakotay."
He nearly jumped out of his skin. He was already used to the silence? "Yes?"
"What is there was a spacial displacement? What if the crew is somewhere totally different?"
She was worrying about it. As she should, but why call him about it? They both usually thought along the same lines anyhow, and he had considered that possibility. "Then we'll go looking for them, but we should test you theory first. It could just be that our time is so accelerated that they have yet to catch up with us even spatially."
There was an equivocal grunt. "I guess . . . do you remember when Naomi was born, and there were two Voyagers?"
"Yes, I remember how shocked I was to see two of you . . . but what has that got to do with anything?"
"I was just feeling nostalgic."
"You have nostalgia for that?" he asked incredulously, setting the padds down on the table. "You're running that holodeck program again, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
There was a slight pause. "Well why not? If there's anything I need right now, it's a bit of home."
When was it that she had stopped coming to talk to him about it? They used to sit in her ready room for hours -and in later years in either of their quarters- talking about what and who they missed and of memories . . . when had that stopped? Had they merely traded it for ship talk? Instead of talking about home and the people there, they talked of the ship and its people.
"Why don't we talk about it anymore?" he asked softly, thinking aloud.
"Pardon?"
"Home. We barely ever talk about it anymore."
"I don't know, Chakotay . . . maybe when I realized I was living the space-farer's dream and how ridiculous I really am. I chose the variable life, Chakotay, and here I am trying to find a little constancy?"
"You never chose to get stranded out here," he objected. Oh, habit! He was even defending her from herself? The woman muddled his wits like no one he had ever met. . . .
"I know that . . . but it's still hypocritical of me. My father would laugh at me."
"Your father would want you home and happy, and so do I. Feel homesick if you want to, Kathryn. I wasn't trying to say it was wrong. Everyone feels that way sometimes. You shouldn't think it's wrong either."
"The real kick in the pants is that sometimes I wonder if home's even all it's cracked up to be."
"We all do that too, Kathryn, including me. Especially me. What would I be doing if all this hadn't happened? Still fighting in the Zone? Or, had you been successful, serving a sentence? Weighing either of those against being here with you is ludicrous, because I know which one I would rather have."
"Me too."
He heard a door open over the comm link. "Where are you going?"
"The bridge . . ." she said, discomfort in her voice. "Chakotay, what if they never come back?"
"Then they don't."
"What would we do?"
She sounded so lost that it nearly killed him. She needed the crew like he needed her. Perhaps there was good reason being the traditional distance of a Captain from his or her crew, even if tradition hadn't seen this coming. He set the padds down, and almost without thought left the room.
"Chakotay?"
"I'll be here. If they don't turn up well . . . they don't. It's that simple. But I will always be here, Kathryn, and for my sake I hope you will be too."
He entered the turbolift and commanded the computer to move him to the bridge. He wasn't going to let her stay up there alone digging herself into depression. Not that she would. Kathryn Janeway was too strong for that, but he didn't know whether he was. She would never fully open up to him, but he could make do. As long as she would talk to him, he would make do.
The turbolift door opened to reveal the empty bridge . . . empty but for a small woman sitting in her Captain's chair, her chin resting in one palm as she gazed at the view screen. Clouds of solar plasma drifted out there, and the Delta Quadrant's attempt at an aurora borealis played across the pole of the planet just beyond them. The sensors saw past the differential, so the image was in real time instead of slower as it should be.
Maybe that was it. Everyone, including the ship, was seeing in real time except them.
Kathryn wore a pensive frown, though even then she was beautiful to him. She looked tired, but in the sort of way that softened the look in her eyes as she watched the screen. He knew that she knew he was there, but she didn't look up to acknowledge him as she usually did. He'd watched her for years . . . and her contemplative expressions still fascinated him. He wondered what she thought about when she stared into space.
He sat down in his own seat, his eyes still locked on her. Sometimes the need to just watch her was like hypnosis, something he just could not tear himself from.
"Thank you, Chakotay," she said after a long moment, still not looking at him.
"For what?" he asked.
"For putting up with me for all this time. I must be so infuriating to you." She smiled a crooked, joyless smile.
"You are, but it doesn't matter."
She glanced at him. "It doesn't?"
"Not to me."
She frowned. "Why, Chakotay?"
He hesitated. There was the obvious reason, but he wasn't sure she wanted to hear it right now, not in her present mood. He smiled at her, attempting to lighten things. "Because it doesn't, Kathryn. It never has, never will."
"I don't deserve that, honestly."
"Take it anyhow," he murmured, looking over at the screen reluctantly. "What brought you here?"
"I don't really know," she replied vaguely. "I just wanted to be up here. We pretty much live up here anyhow, so more time won't kill us."
"Apparently we have all the time in the universe," he replied, "until that anomaly moves off, of course."
She smiled again, this time with a little feeling. "Yes, I suppose so." She rose from her seat, moving closer to the screen. "I wonder if we're not so fast that the crew has noticed anything wrong? Assuming of course that they're only stuck back in normal time."
If they had, the more lascivious part of Tom Paris' mind was probably working in high gear. The Lieutenant got a mighty kick out of that sort of thing. He wondered if Kathryn ever noticed how off-colour Tom could be. "They're probably as worried as we are if they have."
"Except for Tuvok," she amended. "Though I think he's been living around nothing but we less restrained beings for far too long. I've known him a long time, and he's starting to slip sometimes."
"That's hard to believe."
"I'm serious! All I have to go on are his expressions . . . and the number of them has tripled in the past years. He used to be a lot more predictable."
"Tuvok is hardly the unknown element on this ship," he stated. "I'm more worried about trying to keep up with the rest of them." He stood also, gesturing around the bridge. "The bridge crew is so different from what they were like in the beginning . . . it's mind-boggling."
She smiled at him. "I know . . . even you, Chakotay, though you're more dependable."
"Is that a compliment, or an insult? Were you just avoiding 'predictable?' Please don't class me with the Vulcans."
She laughed at him. "Don't be so touchy." Impulsively -or so it seemed- she embraced him, turning her head to rest it on his chest.
He couldn't think of very much else besides that for several seconds, content to just hold her. He could smell the light perfume she always wore and underneath that, the scent of her . . . which was enough to make him wonder if having her so close was a good idea after all.
Something shook, and he wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't just his knees.
She laughed, though she didn't let go of him. "I think that was the ship," she stated.
"Oh?"
She drew away from him, and he had to school himself not to try to stop her. She looked down at the conn controls. "Yes, it was the ship. I think the anomaly is moving."
"Already?"
She shrugged. "I was just guessing before. It can move when it wants to, as far as I'm concerned. Ah!" The ship began to shake again, but it was no short shock, she was forced to grab the back of the conn station chair.
Chakotay stumbled slightly, reaching for a handhold on the console. "How long will this last?"
"Well, if the anomaly's moving in real time, and last time it moved on us it shook of a couple seconds . . . I should say a few hours."
"I'm glad I have a strong stomach," he said as the ship continued to shudder around them. "At least it won't cause any damage."
"Provided it only ever gets this bad," she replied, cautiously letting go of the chair and trying to make her way back to her own. She staggered slightly as she went.
"Why does that not fill me with confidence?" he muttered, still holding the shaking console.
To be continued . . .
***
