RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER:
Paramount owns Star Trek and everything pertaining therein. Aren't they powerful and cool? They own them all right; they just don't
have the first clue what to do with them.
No infringement intended. They couldn't
sue me anyway, I don't have anything.
SUMMARY: J/C Paris invites Janeway to meet him for a
drink in one of his old haunts. And, as
often happens when booze is involved, truths are revealed.
Author's Note: Just
fair warning; this is part one of the story.
I'll post part two tomorrow afternoon.
I didn't have time to finish it all today, and frankly, I'm just happy
to get past this dreadful writer's block long enough to post anything at
all. Enjoy.
Call Me
Kathryn
Paris chuckled as he watched her down another glass of
chardonnay. She couldn't guzzle beer or
straight shot whiskey like the rest of the world. Even now, sitting in this seedy bar with her former pilot and
drinking like a fish, she had to choose the elegant stuff. He fixed his blue eyes on her. "How many does that make tonight, Captain?"
She raised an eyebrow but didn't look at him. "Who's counting?"
"Certainly not me."
He motioned for the bartender to bring her another one.
She glanced at him over the rim of her glass. "Good.
I'd hate to think that all those rumors I've heard about you being the
life of the party are exaggerations."
He laughed and shook his head. "Of course not. I may be
a married old man with a baby now, but I can still drink my fair captain under
the table."
Now she was the one laughing. "Think so, do you?"
"Sure do."
"Have you forgotten that I'm Irish, Tom?"
"Are you kidding?" he grinned. "Between your temper and that stubborn noggin of yours, it's impossible
to forget your Irish genes, trust me."
Sadness crept across her face. "Have I really been that difficult?"
Tom immediately regretted the joke. Had she been sober, Captain Janeway would've
just laughed and insulted him right back.
But pain and alcohol were a bad combination, and whether she would admit
it or not, Tom knew she was hurting since their explosive return to Earth two
months ago. And he knew why. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Captain. I didn't mean it that way.
It was just my warped sense of humor, that's all. You know the lengths I go to just to get a
smile out of you."
"It's all right, Tom." She said, her eyes focused on the
liquid as she swirled the chardonnay in her glass. "I know I wasn't a perfect captain."
"Maybe not," he said.
"But you were the perfect captain for me." He leaned a little closer to her and met her eyes. "You were just the leader I needed. Before Voyager came along, I had given
up. I was ready to live out my life as
the loser I was and hate every minute of it.
You probably don't realize it, but the day you showed up in Auckland you
freed me from a lot more than just that penal colony. You freed me from myself, too.
You brought me onto your ship, put me back into a Starfleet uniform, the
entire time treating me with complete respect.
Then when we destroyed the array and realized we were stuck in the Delta
Quadrant, you made me part of your crew."
Janeway listened intently, too emotional to speak. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she
looked at the young man before her, and realized how much she'd played a part
in who he'd become. She laid a hand on
his arm and embraced him with her eyes.
"I can't even tell you what you did for me when you put me
at the helm, Captain." His eyes became distant
as he remembered the feel of the conn under his hands. "Flying is who I am, it's what I'm all
about. When I was sentenced to the
Auckland colony, I didn't think I would ever fly a ship again. Certainly not a starship. I was sure everyone I came into contact with
in my life would hold my past against me, and never see me as anything but a
lowlife. But not you, you were
different." He took her small hand and
held it reverently between his. "You
saw something else in me. And you stuck
with me until I learned to see it in myself.
You knew just when to lean on me, and when to back off and let me figure
it out on my own. You might not have
been perfect, Captain. But you were
strong, determined, and fair. And your
mistakes, well … they just made you human.
And we needed all the Humans we could get that far away from Earth."
Janeway beamed affectionately at him. "Thank you, Tom. You have no idea of the gift you just gave me. But I'm afraid I can't take all the credit. I just handed you the ball. You're the one who ran with it. You were given a second chance, and you took
it to heart." She touched his face
tenderly. "You surpassed every hope or
expectation I've ever had for you, Mr. Paris.
I only helped you see what was already there."
"And I can never thank you enough." He returned her affectionate smile, and then
his face turned serious again. "I know
you struggled with your own guilt about destroying the Caretaker's array."
"Yes," she said softly and looked at the floor. "I still do. I suppose I always will."
"But you shouldn't.
You're so convinced that you took our lives away from us for all those
years, but you're wrong. You couldn't
be more wrong."
"Tom…"
"Wait, let me finish.
You need to hear this. In fact,
it's long overdue." He ignored her
raised eyebrows and continued. "Being
on Voyager changed my life, and I'm not the only one. Look at me, Captain! The
last time I sat in this bar, I was a criminal, kicked out of Starfleet and
angry at the world. I sit here today a
decorated Starfleet officer, a husband, a father … I wouldn't have any of those
things if it weren't for you and Voyager."
"You don't know that, Tom." She countered. "You have no idea where your life would've
taken you had I not taken you away from it for nearly a decade. It's quite possible you'd have changed your
ways anyway, without having to sacrifice everything you knew in the process."
He took another drink of his beer and shook his head at
her. "You still don't get it, do you?"
"I beg your pardon."
"You like to berate yourself about it, about our days in the
Delta Quadrant. But what you don't seem
to realize is that you're the only one who thinks you deserve it. I wouldn't trade my time on that ship for
anything. And I know the others feel
the same way. I think I'll probably
always look back on those days as the best part of my life."
"Yes," she smiled sadly, longing in her voice. "So will I."
"We gained far more than we lost, Captain. And we're happier than we were before." He shot her a meaningful glance. "Well … most of us are."
Kathryn eyed him warily.
What was that supposed to mean?
"What are you trying to say, Tom?"
Though she wasn't really sure she wanted to know.
"Well, I guess I'm trying to say that you're unhappy, and
I think I know why."
Janeway laughed, but it was without humor. "Well, by all means – enlighten me. Wait…"
She motioned for the bartender.
"I think I'll need something a little stronger than wine if I'm going to
listen to this."
Paris couldn't help but smile at her. She wanted to get drunk and he knew just the
thing. "Allow me." He looked at the gruff-looking man behind
the bar. "Two Liquid Cocaines."
The bartender grinned wickedly. "Comin' right up." He
mixed several liquors together in a martini shaker and poured them into two
small glasses. Then he slid them in
front of Paris. "And for the lady?"
"Actually, one of these is for her."
"Uh huh," said the bartender. He looked at the petite woman before him as though he were trying
to decide whether to admire her or laugh in her face. "This I gotta see."
Paris handed Janeway one of the glasses. She held it under her nose and sniffed. Her eyes immediately began to water and she
blinked rapidly. She turned her head
away sharply. "What the hell is in
this? It smells like DaVinci's paint
thinner!"
Paris laughed.
"It's probably better if you don't know the ingredients."
The haggard bartender leaned closer to Janeway, a mocking
grin on his scruffy face. "Want me to
bring you something a bit more … ladylike?
A glass of apple juice maybe?"
Janeway regarded the ill-mannered man with a raised
brow. But Paris answered before she
could speak. "This is no ordinary lady,
pal. She can handle it."
The bartender laughed, his missing tooth making him look
like an old hillbilly. "This little
thing? She looks like she's about to
pass out from the smell."
Ever one to defend his captain's honor, Paris said,
"That's because she just caught a whiff of you, buddy. Do you like to smell that way, or don't they
have sonic showers where you come from?"
"Tom!" Janeway scolded.
She glanced at the pungent beverage in her hand and secretly wondered if
there was any way to get out of having to drink it without wounding her own
pride.
"It's okay, Captain," he said, stressing her
rank. "This guy just doesn't know who
you are. If he did, he'd have a little
more respect."
"I don't care who she is," the bartender
smirked. "I know she can't handle that
drink. That's a man's drink."
"That's it." Kathryn muttered. She could resist almost anything. But a challenge – now that wasn't something she was prepared to
ignore. She'd be damned if she was
going to let some sexist pig tell her what she could or could not handle! She reached deep inside herself and summoned
all of her courage. Hell, she'd eaten
Neelix's food for seven years. How bad
could this little drink actually be?
She raised the cup slowly to her lips.
"Just down it in one swallow, Captain." Paris coached. "And don't taste it. Just relax your throat and let it slide
down. You know, open your throat like
you do when you give a …"
"I get the point, Mr. Paris." She cut in reproachfully, a
blush creeping across her cheeks at the mere thought of what he was about to
say. It's now or never. Without any further ado, Janeway tilted
her head back and emptied the contents into her mouth, trying to ignore the
fact that everyone in the tavern was watching her.
The taste, noxious though it was, wasn't really so
bad. Not compared to the wreching it
caused. But it was the burning that
made her eyes water. She was certain
that if she opened her mouth, flames would shoot out and ignite the whole
room. She swallowed it all in one
gulp. She felt the heat as it traveled
down her esophagus and into her unsuspecting stomach. And, quick as a hypospray, her head began to swim with the
sensation of intoxication.
Then the aftertaste hit.
It slammed into her throat like a speeding shuttle and coated her
tongue. She clutched at her throat in
an attempt to keep the alcohol from coming up for an encore. A litany of colorful Klingon phrases tore
from her throat in a voice that sounded more like an animal's roar than
anything made my human vocal cords. And
then she shook her body like a wet dog.
"Holy shit!" she wheezed. "Now
THAT'S a drink!!!"
The room erupted in a resounding round of applause. Janeway rose shakily to her feet and faced
her "audience", then bowed graciously.
The tavern patrons cheered and egged her on, even as she nearly fell on
her face.
Paris watched her with a mixture of pride and amused
affection. He held out a hand toward
her and looked at the bartender. "I'd
like you to meet Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager."
The man's jaw dropped momentarily. "That's Janeway? The same Janeway who beat the Borg Queen and
brought her ship back from the Delta Quadrant?"
"One and the same." Paris grinned.
She grinned at the bartender. "I should've just given the Borg Queen a shot of that stuff! The collective would've
self-destructed." She pointed a
wavering finger at him. "You make a
pretty mean drink, my friend."
He bowed slightly.
"And you, Captain Kathryn Janeway, are one tough lady!"
Tom took Janeway by the shoulders and tried to ease her
into her seat. But she struggled
against him. "I'm tired of sitting,
Tom," she slurred. "Besides, look at
them! They love me. They think I'm the Queen of the Bar!"
Paris chuckled and continued to guide her to her
stool. "Well, take a load off your
feet, Your Majesty, before you fall on your Royal Behind."
Kathryn relaxed into her stool and tried to keep from
falling to the floor. She couldn't
remember the last time she'd been so drunk.
But she was still with it enough to remember that Tom was about to tell
her something before the drinks took them off topic. She tapped him playfully on the chest. "Now that I'm comfortably numb, I think I can hear what you have
to say." She said with a slight slur.
"You were about to divulge the secrets of the universe. Or at least tell me why I am so miserably
unhappy in - your opinion. Please, Mr.
Paris, thrill me with your acumen. You
have my undivided attention for as long as I can stay on this stool."
Now Paris needed a stiff drink. He'd wanted to tell her this for months, even before they got
back to the Alpha Quadrant. In fact, it
was the reason he'd asked her to meet him here tonight. He thought it would be easier to say it to
her while he was in his own territory.
He slammed the drink in one shot, wiped his mouth, and thought, Well,
here goes nothin'!
"Actually," he began.
"It's about Chakotay."
Janeway grimaced.
"I was afraid of that."
"Now, wait. Hear
me out."
She offered him a lop-sided grin and then laughed a
little. "I don't seem to have any
choice, Tom. I'm not sure I could walk
if I had to. Otherwise, I'd run away…"
"Don't you think you've done enough of that?"
She tried to glare menacingly at him, but couldn't focus her
eyes. Instead she rested her chin on
her hand and said, "Oh, I see. We're
going to have that talk. You
know, it's not exactly original, Tom.
I've heard if from Chakotay at least a million times. Here, allow me." She cleared her throat and sat up straight as if she were about
to go before the Starfleet review board.
"Dear, sweet Chakotay loves me.
Me, the vicious captain who cares only about her command. I continually push him away, and I've broken
his heart. Now I'm running away from
it, like I run away from any chance of real love. And now I'm old and alone and going to end up as bitter and
lonely as Admiral Janeway – who is also me -
was. It's wrong of me, and I'm
going to be dreadfully sorry. Does that
about cover it?"
Tom stared at her in awe for a minute. She'd sort of taken the wind from his
sails. He shook it off quickly,
though. He was going to have this talk
with her if it killed him, and it just might.
"Well, impressive as that was, no – it didn't cover it."
"Damn."
Paris chuckled.
"Oh come on. You know I'm only
doing this because I care about you, Captain."
"Yes, I know," she said.
"And it's Kathryn."
Now his eyebrows rose.
"What?"
"We're not on Voyager anymore, Tom. And I'm not your captain anymore." She slapped him playfully on the arm, the
glint of intoxication still in her eyes.
"We're sitting in a bar getting drunk together and talking about my love
life, or lack there of. It doesn't get
much more personal than that. For God's
sake, call me Kathryn."
Well, that was a new one.
She'd never allowed anyone to call her that except Chakotay. But, if it made her feel more comfortable,
he was all for it. "Okay, Kathryn," he
said, "I'm not trying to stick my nose where it doesn't belong here. But I'm worried about you."
"I'm fine."
"I know," he rolled his eyes. "You're always fine.
That's the problem."
She giggled.
"Being fine is a problem?"
Okay, this was going to be harder than he thought now that
she was drunk as well as indignant.
"No,' he said patiently, "but saying your fine constantly when you're
not is a problem."
"Oh." She said, obviously not following him at all.
He stared at her for a moment. How to get her to understand?
"Look, Kathryn. I'll just get right to the point."
"That would be nice."
He resisted the urge to take her by the shoulders and
shake her. "I know Chakotay loves
you. The whole crew knows it. But what you might not realize is that we
know you love him right back."
That got her attention.
Her head snapped up and she looked at him. "He's my best friend."
"I know. But he's
also more than that, or at least he wanted to be."
She dropped her eyes to the floor. "I did what I had to do, Tom. I had an obligation to my crew. I had to keep my eye on the ball."
"I understand that.
But now we're home. You
got us home. So why are you still
pushing him away?"
She glared impatiently at him. "In case you didn't notice, he has moved on, Tom. He's with Seven of Nine." She rested her hand on Tom's leg. "I lost him. I told him not to wait for me, so I can't blame him for going on
with his life. He's with Seven now, and
I have to accept that."
Tom covered her hand with his. "But he's not really with Seven, Kathryn. They're not getting married or
anything. They've just dated a few
times."
"It doesn't matter.
I rejected him time and again. I
can't just waltz into his life now and confess my feelings."
"Why not?"
"Because," she said.
"He's happy now. I won't take
that from him for my own selfishness.
I've taken enough from him already."
Tom poured them each a glass of ice water to fend off the
cottonmouth that accompanies hard alcohol.
"How do you know he's happy?
Have you asked him?"
She gladly accepted the cool glass of water and took a
sip. "Of course not!" she said, wiping
her mouth with the back of her hand.
"That's not something that just comes up in casual conversation. Besides, I've hardly even seen him since we
got back."
"That's exactly my point.
If you've hardly seen him, how do you know he's happy?"
Damn him. That's a
good point. "How do you know he's not?"
she volleyed.
"Because," gloated Paris.
"I have seen him."
Janeway almost dropped her glass of ice water. She fumbled to set it on the bar. "You … you've seen Chakotay? When?
Where is he?"
"He's here on Earth actually. Arizona at the moment if I remember correctly. B'Elanna and I had him over for dinner a few
days ago and he said he was going there for a couple of days to see some
paleontologist friends of his."
She couldn't resist.
"How is he?"
Paris took another sip of his water. "He seemed restless to me. But …he asked about you."
That comment earned him another raised eyebrow. "What did you say?"
He shrugged. "I told
him you're burying yourself in your work, as usual. He said that he missed you and asked if you're enjoying having
real coffee at your disposal."
She chuckled softly.
That sounded like the Chakotay she knew so well. "I miss him too."
"You guys should just try sending a communiqué now and then,
ya know?" He grinned charmingly. "Or better yet, ask him on a date."
"Oh," she shook her head emphatically. "No.
I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Well, because…"
Because what? She couldn't
exactly blame it on protocol anymore.
"Because I wouldn't want to hurt Seven."
"Seven is on Vulcan.
He hasn't even seen her for two weeks."
She slapped his arm.
"Well if you knew that all along, why didn't you just say so?"
He grinned again.
"Would it have mattered? You're
a stubborn one, Captain." He shook his
head at her. "Look, he may be dating
her, he may not. But regardless, I'm
pretty sure that the only reason he even went out with her in the first place
was because he wasn't aware he had other options. Or at least, not the one option he really wanted."
"All right, Mr. Matchmaker.
Then what do you suggest I do now?
Put my heart out there for him to see?
I don't think I can do that."
"You can stare down the barrel of a phaser cannon, but you
can't tell Chakotay that you're still in love with him?" he teased.
She smirked. "A
phaser cannon won't tell me that it's too late."
"Neither will Chakotay."
"You don't know that."
"True," he consented.
"I can't guarantee what he'll say.
But I can tell you this; you'll never forgive yourself if you don't find
out." He took her by the
shoulders. "Go to him, Kathryn. Tell him how you feel. Let him know that he at least has that
option. Let him hear you say it at
least once. After all these years of
waiting by your side, he deserves that much."
She couldn't argue with that. She smiled softly and cupped his face in her palms. "When did you become so wise, Lieutenant?"
"The day I overcame my fear and told B'Elanna how I
felt. No matter what happens between us
in the future, she knows that I love her.
And life just doesn't get much better than that."
Janeway smiled affectionately at him. "And she's very lucky to have you."
"You're not a bad catch yourself," he teased, wagging his eyebrows
suggestively at her. "In fact, there
was a time…" he stopped himself before he finished the sentence, seemingly lost
in thought for a moment. Suddenly, he
took her hands and pulled her to her feet.
"Indulge a guy in an old fantasy, Captain?"
"What are we doing, Tom?"
"We're going to dance," he said, tugging her toward the
dance floor.
"Are we? And what
would your lovely wife have to say about that?" she teased.
"She'd say, 'Enjoy it while you can, Flyboy. Because when you're done I'm going to break
your legs.'"
Janeway laughed.
"Well then maybe we shouldn't.
I'd hate to be the cause of you suffering bodily injury."
He looked at her with a glimmer of repressed longing. "It'd be worth it." He said in a husky
voice. He pulled her into his arms and
began to sway to the soft music.
"Chakotay is a lucky man."
Janeway had suspected that Tom Paris had once had a bit of a
crush on her, but it still took her by surprise when he let it show a
little. She briefly wondered if he'd
regret it when he sobered up, but it touched her just the same. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him
gently on the cheek as his arms tightened around her, holding her against him
for a brief moment. She wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed the
embrace. "And you're a cherished
friend, Tom. I'm grateful for your
presence in my life, and for your being here with me tonight."
As she relaxed in Tom's arms, Kathryn pushed all her fears
and anxieties aside and allowed herself to enjoy the rest of the evening and
the tingling of intoxication that still lingered in her blood. She'd talk to Chakotay soon, and maybe the
next time she danced, it would be his arms around her waist. Maybe…