Paris chuckled as he watched her down another glass of chardonnay

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…