Please read!!
Author's Note: This is a first-person-present-tense-Janeway story. If you don't like Janeway, you won't like this story. This is originally a NC-17 story… and it's still pretty hot. Nothing graphical, though, but consider yourselves warned. :)
Thank you to Cress for helping me remake this story!
Pairings: Mainly J/C, a little J/Harry. Mention of P/T, D/7, and C/7. Don't let that frighten you though - it's not as bad as it sounds.
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Send any and all comments about this story to nameless_ensign@hotmail.com.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything in this story. No the story in itself, though. Not until they pay me for it, anyway. ;) And that will never happen.
To the journey (post Endgame)
PG-13 version
by Nameless Ensign (nameless_ensign@hotmail.com)
Part Two - Owen's house
Shopping for new clothes only takes about an hour. And even though I normally can soak in the bathtub for hours at a time, I guess I'm just too eager to see the Paris family. I have plenty of time before I need to leave, so I replicate myself some wine and try to relax. But I give up after just a few sips and decide I'd rather spend the excess time at the Paris house than alone in my impersonal hotel room. So I leave. The night is warm, although a gentle rain has started to fall. The sensation of rain falling on my face, and the fragrances it brings out, seem completely new to me. I decide to walk for a while before going to the transporter pad. The Paris family can wait another few minutes. Walking in the rain makes me feel so free, yet imprisoned. I seem to be full of conflicting emotions at the moment. Right now, there is no place I'd rather be than right here. I feel like I never want to leave Earth again. Yet I long for space. The unknown, the mysteries, the danger even. I'm happy about being close to my family again, yet I feel all alone. It's so confusing. Chakotay... I truly am happy that he found happiness with Seven, but at the same time I hate him for it. If they only had waited another few weeks, I would have been able to tell him. Even though I could not act on it, the spark, the electricity between us is what kept me going through the long years in the Delta Quadrant. That, and the way he was loyal to me even when I wasn't being loyal to myself. Now, talking to him is only awkward, and thinking of him makes me angry. I'm amazed at how easily our intimate friendship was turned into dust. Sadness is threatening to overwhelm me so I decide it's time to find that transporter pad. I really need to be among friends right now.
The Paris' are surprised when I arrive more than an hour early, but I'm sure they understand. They don't mention it. Tom is the one to open the door, and even though I saw him only a few hours ago, he hugs me, as if he was greeting a dear cousin he hadn't seen in a long time.
Then B'Elanna comes rushing into the hallway, smiling broader than I've ever seen her smile before. She hugs me too, fiercely. "Captain! I'm so glad to see you."
"It's Kathryn now."
"It's still good to see you."
I hug her back, just as fiercely. "I've missed you too, B'Elanna."
From the corner of my eye, I see another figure at the end of the hallway, moving towards us. I realize it must be Admiral Owen Paris. Tom's father, my father's colleague and friend, my mentor at Starfleet Academy, and the commanding officer on my first mission. I let go of B'Elanna to greet him. He watches us in wonder. The connection between us isn't the purely professional connection that usually exists between the Captain and his or her crew. On the other hand, normal crews and captains don't spend seven years together in unchartered and unfriendly areas of space, either.
"Kathryn! How are you? You look wonderful." Owen Paris walks up to me and gathers me in a fatherly embrace.
"Thank you, Owen. I'm fine. How are you?"
"Wonderful, wonderful! I've got a new daughter-in-law and granddaughter to get to know." Then he let go of me and looks firmly into my eyes. "Thank you for bringing them back to me, Kathryn. I always knew you'd do something special and fantastic one day."
"Thank you, Owen, but I didn't do it alone. We all did it together."
I suppose I should be proud. For being the Captain that made one crew out of her own Starfleet people and the renegades she was sent out to capture. And for bringing most of them safely back home. But I feel only sorrow. For the years lost, and for the people we lost trying to get back to Earth. But at least it wasn't in vain. Not for all of us.
The evening is wonderful and I find myself getting very attached to little Miral, Tom's and B'Elanna's now two week-old daughter, named after her Klingon grandmother. It feels so good to have her close to me. A little miracle. A new person, one who trusts me completely in her innocence. I don't want to let go of her so I end up carrying her around most of the evening. When I finally have to let go of her so she can go to bed, my heart aches, and it takes me several minutes of just watching her sleep before I can join the others again.
"She's beautiful."
They all look at me, and in that moment I think they realize how desperately I want a child of my own. If we hadn't been thrown into the Delta Quadrant, Mark and I would probably have a child or two by now. But it's too late for that now, and it breaks my heart. They look as sad as I feel at the realization. They're getting to know Kathryn. And I am too. I smile, needing to lighten the mood, to take my mind of the subject. I pour myself another glass of wine and sit down with the others.
"So, have you given any thought to what you're going to do now?" I direct the question to both Tom and B'Elanna.
Whether it's the wine we've been drinking, or perhaps because I had stated I was there as Kathryn, I don't know, but they ignore my question. Instead they linger on our wordless communication of a few minutes earlier. B'Elanna is the first to speak. "You regret not having children, don't you?" Her question is direct. So very much B'Elanna. But her voice is hushed, the tone friendly, caring.
I look into my wine, watching the dark red liquid intently. Not that I need to think about the answer, but because I don't trust myself to speak right now. Then I take a deep breath, and look up. "I haven't really had any choice in the matter."
They all remain quiet so I continue. "My first fiancé, Justin…" I look at Owen, who looks back at me with sympathy in his eyes, it was on his ship I first met Justin, and, being an admiral at Starfleet, he knows about the accident. After another deep breath, I continue. "My first fiancé, Justin, was killed in an accident. My father was killed in the same accident. I was the only survivor. A few years later I ran into Mark again, we're childhood friends, you know." I see Tom nod, I think he remember me talking about him as a teenager when our fathers, the admirals, would invite each other's families over for dinner every now and then. "During the ten years we spent together before Voyager was thrown into the Delta Quadrant, we never talked about having children. We were both busy with our careers. He is a well-known philosopher, by the way." At those words, I see B'Elanna raise her eyebrows. I guess she's always imagined me with another scientist. "We thought we'd have plenty of time later."
To my surprise, Owen is the one to ask the next question. "And on the ship?"
I'm totally unprepared for the question, and the emotions it stirs in me. "I... I didn't feel I had the luxury of having an intimate relationship. Besides, I wouldn't have been much of a companion, I was the Captain. Always the Captain." And I was frightened, I add to myself. Of losing another loved one like I had lost Justin and Mark. It was just too painful.
B'Elanna, who's sitting next to me, takes my hand. "Come over whenever you feel like it, you're always welcome wherever Tom and I are. And I would like Miral to know you and who you are, Kathryn. You're welcome to spend as much time as you like with her."
I squeeze her hand, and look at her gratefully. "Thank you." My voice is a whisper, I'm fighting to control the tears that are threatening to spill. Starfleet Captains don't cry. At least Captain Janeway doesn't. But I realize that I don't know if Kathryn does.
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