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 Ten – Departure
Today is the day. We're leaving space dock for our first official Starfleet mission. I know that many of the crew are happy about being full-fledged Starfleet officers, and that others are a bit dazed about it. One thing that's true for all of us is that we're all very happy about going back into space. And this time we won't be tens of thousands of light years from family and friends either. I feel rejuvenated, invigorated, and surprisingly free of guilt. Maybe I'm finally realizing that we actually did it. We did get back home, and in style too. We all got pardoned, and even trusted with carrying out orders from the Starfleet. I realize of course that this little rendezvous is only Starfleet's way of testing us. A benign little mission in the neighborhood to see if we behave and abide by Starfleet standards. We are, after all, Starfleet's lost children, in more sense than one.
The doorbell chimes, and I call out to Chakotay to enter. I get up and move over to my replicator while the door opens and lets my visitor in.
"Good morning, Chakotay," I say while I still have my back to him, facing the replicator from which I just ordered one cup of coffee and one cup of herbal tea.
"Hello Kathryn," he says, "is it my aftershave you recognize, or did you check with the computer who was at the door?"
I turn to him and smile, giving him the tea. He is smiling too, and for a moment I allow myself the luxury of thinking of how it used to be between us when our journey in the Delta Quadrant started. Exciting, dangerous, and oh, so compelling. And unspoiled. "You told me yesterday you'd come and get me on your way to the bridge, so we'd start the journey together."
His smile grows even wider, and the playful look in his eyes makes my heart beat a little faster. "Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten," he says jokingly.
I gesture for the sofa and we walk over there to sit down. Too late I realize I've left my diary on the table. It peaks his curiosity, of course.
"A diary, Kathryn?"
"Yes," I say and move it out of the way, thanking whatever higher powers that look after me that I hadn't written anything about him on the page that was visible.
"I didn't think you'd choose to use a diary made of paper. I thought you were all computers, pads, and logs."
"Well, it just goes to show you don't know me as well as you thought," I say jokingly, trying to change the subject.
"Can I have a look?" he asks.
My eyebrows shoots up. Doesn't he know what a diary is? It is, above all other things, private. And he's asking to see it.
Then he smiles. "I didn't mean read it, Kathryn." He chuckles. "I meant if I can look at it, on the outside."
"Oh," I say and reluctantly had it over to him, feeling very foolish.
He runs his hands over the smooth black surface of the diary. "The thoughts of Kathryn Janeway. I'd love to look inside," he says and smiles.
"What if you didn't like what you saw?" I ask him, knowing that we're no longer talking about just the diary.
"What if I did like it?" he says and looks intently at me.
I can't think of anything to say, I just sit there and look into his eyes. We never had that talk, never exchanged our excuses and explanations. Maybe we should. Right now, there's too much between us that's unresolved. I'm about to speak when my com badge chirps.
"Bridge to the Captain. We're ready for departure."
The voice of Harry Kim sends a multitude of emotions through me, and I can see that Chakotay is experiencing something similar, although with different emotions, I hope. We definitely should talk. But right now, we're needed on the bridge. I get up. "We're on our way, lieutenant. Janeway out."
When I walk onto the bridge, he's two steps behind me, quietly supporting me once again. The words that T'Pel spoke to me just before I left Vulcan rings in my mind. I have no doubt that he knows just how much his support and friendship means to me, but I really should put into words too. Make it visible and tangible. When we sit down in our chairs, I lean over towards him and whisper to him. "How about dinner tonight, Chakotay? My quarters."
"Well that depends," he says and winks at me, "are you cooking?"
I can't help but smile at him and slap him playfully on the arm. I really should tell him how happy I am that we're playing this game again too. I'm not sure he knows just how much it means to me that the spark between us is back. And this time, I might even act on it. "You're welcome to do the cooking if you like," I retort with a fake hurt look on my face.
"Well, in that case, it's a date," he says and flash his dimples at me.
"1900 hours," I say, then I direct my attention to the bridge. I look around to see all the faces of the bridge crew. They all look as invigorated as I feel. The shore leave on Earth was very welcome, but I know now that that's all it was, a shore leave. This is where we belong.
"All right, Mister Paris," I say, just as much to Tom as to the rest of the crew, "take her out."
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