Disclaimer: Boss nicht hier. Andere Baustelle...
Summary: This is the beginning of the big opera finale, where gradually all the characters come on stage, say their goodbyes, the misunderstandings are explained away and the lovers finally, finally fall into each other's arms. At least, that's what usually happens in the opera... unless you get the wrong opera, the kind where everybody dies... On the other hand, this might turn out to be just an ordinary picnic. It might even rain.
For starters, this is another Gretchen-Doctor chapter. I find I've grown quite fond of the couple, I'll miss them...
Comment: For those of you for whom this story still rings a bell - yes, I'm back!! I've been through a string of, well, you know, that kind of... things. But these people just wouldn't let go until they got their happy ending. Well, all I can say is, I'm working at it.
Review: Too long? Too short? Too much dialogue? Too little? How about my characterization? Did you laugh? Cry? Did you feel anything at all? Come on, there must be SOMETHING you have to say! :-)
AS always, a HUGE thanks to Molly, for being out there and sharing the vibe.
Chapter 11: Everyone's invited
"Ok, that's it. Get out of my kitchen NOW!"
"But, mum..."
"No buts. Go to your room. Take a bath, try out everything in your wardrobe and everything in mine, even everything in the doctor's if it's necessary. I don't want to see you again until your washed and combed and perfumed and astonishingly beautiful."
"You mean I'm not astonishingly beautiful now?"
Gretchen paused and took in her daughter's tangled hair, sweaty forehead, pudding-stained T-shirt.
"No."
Kathryn blew a strand of hair out of her face.
"I love you, mum. You're so encouraging and supportive. Anyway, I don't care. There's still so much to do, and I didn't invite them to show myself off."
"Oh, yes, you did."
"I beg your pardon?"
Gretchen noticed the sharp note in Kathryn's voice and tried not to take it personally. She was back in command mode, and that was a good sign. But it was also a sign that she was rather nervous.
"Look, honey, you and I know that this is more than just a picnic, so you can stop pretending otherwise. You've got every reason for certain amount of - stage fright. Once they are all here, you'll remember why they are your friends and why you love them, and you'll have fun, just like you used to, and everything will be fine. But right now, you need a little time for yourself."
"Stage fright?"
"That's what the doctor called it."
Kathryn kissed her mother and turned to go. "Smart man."
As she watched her daughter leave, Gretchen smiled to herself. "That he is."
Then, with a sigh, she turned to her tomatoes and onions again. There were going to be at least six kinds of salads, there was to be a barbecue, and ice cream, and two different pies (Kathryn had actually helped her bake them), and fruit. There were two tables in the back garden, blankets in case someone wanted to sit on the ground, and all the chairs they could find in the house, plus some borrowed from the neighbors. The neighbors were gone for the day. They had been watching the preparations with growing unease for the two preceding days, and had come to the conclusion that the whole of Starfleet was to be invited and that they better be somewhere else. "You can use our garden", they had said.
Gretchen shook her head over the enormous bowl full of little juicy red cubes. Well, who could blame Kathryn for overdoing it a little. She was the captain, ship or no ship, and she had been physically and emotionally unavailable at a time when her crew needed her most. Now she wanted to show them that she was back, ready to be a part of the family again - if they would have her. As if anyone could resist her: her enthusiasm, her smile, the vibrancy in her every movement. For the past few days, Kathryn had been in a whirlwind of activity, making calls, arranging for overnight stays, having mysterious meetings with Starfleet high brass... It was a beginning, and no matter how insecure or guilty or embarrassed she might still feel, she would pull it through. She would do the right thing. Like always.
But for Gretchen it was also an end. In spite of the crises, in spite of the tears and the constant anxiety and the sadness, she had enjoyed having her daughter at home with her. At this stage in their lives, it was an unexpected gift to get to know each other again, to be close, to share intimately who they were now, as grown women, their pains, their regrets, and what they had learned. Few mothers and daughters had a chance like that. And now her little girl was leaving again - as it should be. But Gretchen couldn't help but fear the emptiness she would leave behind, and the distance. She knew that her time was over. On the other hand, someone else's time might just be beginning...
"So, you finally did get her out of the kitchen! How did you manage?"
"Well, when the usual threats about physical punishment and Borg invasions didn't work, I told her I'd let the ice cream melt. And then I insinuated I had one of the letters she's been scribbling and throwing away, and that I could show it to a certain ex-First Officer..."
"You are a mean woman, Gretchen. You are my hero."
"Why, thank you, doctor. I do what I can."
He took an onion and started slicing it to mix it with the tomato cubes.
"So... tell me, do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Do you have one of those letters?"
"---"
"Did you read it? Was it to Commander Chakotay? What did it say?"
Gretchen just stared at him.
"What- ? Wait a minute, why are you looking at me that way? You don't- you don't think I ask you this out of, of- morbid curiosity, do you?"
She raised an eyebrow, knife still in her hand.
"Madam, I would remind you that your daughter is still my patient! Unless you believe that my services as a physician are no longer required here, it is still my duty to monitor her physical as well as mental health. That was my only purpose in- "
"Doctor, doctor!" She put away the knife and laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, it was just a joke!"
He stared back at her in confusion.
"I never took any of Kathryn's letters, I never even talked to her about them. Or the ice cream. It was just a manner of speaking. And I wasn't implying morbid curiosity on your part. I would never do that."
"Oh... well, I certainly hope so." Trying to scrape together what rest of dignity he had, the doctor turned back to his onions. For a couple of minutes, they worked in silence. When the bowl was full, Gretchen put it aside, then turned to the doctor.
"So, you want to tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
"Why you overreacted so tremendously right now."
"I didn't- "
"Oh yes, you did. I know you too well by now. If you don't trust me enough to tell me, that's something else, but don't try to tell me nothing is wrong."
The words were harsh, but the voice was warm and full of concern for him, and that - someone taking an interest in himself, his feelings - was something he had never been able to resist. He looked at her for a moment, and before he spoke, Gretchen thought she'd never seen a sadder man.
"The thing is, Gretchen, that I *do* think my services are no longer required here. No, don't say anything. You know I am right. The captain is over the hill. I have done what little I could, she's beginning to reshape her life - and so is everyone else. In a few hours, they will all be here, talking about their new lives, new jobs, their families, and I..."
He shook his head and raised his shoulders in gesture of helplessness Gretchen found oddly endearing in a man usually so full of caustic remarks and dry wit.
"And you what?", she urged him gently on.
"I *have* no life, and I have no family, I don't even have a place to stay! For everyone else, this, coming home, is the perfect opportunity to make a new start; explore other paths, other choices. But I don't have a choice. I am a property of Starfleet. That they have not taken an interest in my whereabouts in all these months just goes to show you just how much of a priority I am, so, when they finally do come around to dealing with me, they'll probably just download all the data in my matrix, take the mobile emitter for examination, perfection and mass-fabrication, and in no time, there will be hundreds of doctors just like me. Won't that be fun. One big, *big*, happy family."
The despair in his voice was unmistakable, despite his brave attempt at one of his customary sarcastic smiles.
"But you do have a family now."
"Do I?" He blinked. Gretchen didn't know if she should laugh or cry.
"Doctor! Do you think I could ever forget what you have done for my daughter, for *me*? Do you think I don't know what would have happened to her if you hadn't been there, I- " She paused and took a deep breath.
"You are a part of this family now, doctor, and not because I feel I owe you, but because- well, you just can't help it, and that's all! You've been here through all my cranky moods, through Kathryn's throwing up and sitting around in her pajamas for days on end, and now you're stuck with us, like it or not. This is your family, and this is your place to be, unless you choose to be somewhere else."
She jabbed at her eyes in frustration.
"And if you think I'll let anyone download you, or replicate you, or order you to be or do something you don't want to, then you are a very shortsighted man indeed!"
For once at a loss for words, all he managed was: "Oh... ok." And then: "Thank you."
"Oh, don't thank me. You don't know what you've gotten yourself into."
The door chime buzzed.
"See what you did? They are here, and nothing's ready! Go and tell Kathryn her friends are here, and do some entertaining until I fix up this mess."
"Gretchen, I- "
"What did I say? Go, go, go!"
"RIGHT!" As he moved down the hall, he muttered to himself: "I'm beginning to understand what I've gotten myself into, all right." But as he opened the door, there was no trace of sarcasm or bitterness in his smile. For once, there was only happiness.
Summary: This is the beginning of the big opera finale, where gradually all the characters come on stage, say their goodbyes, the misunderstandings are explained away and the lovers finally, finally fall into each other's arms. At least, that's what usually happens in the opera... unless you get the wrong opera, the kind where everybody dies... On the other hand, this might turn out to be just an ordinary picnic. It might even rain.
For starters, this is another Gretchen-Doctor chapter. I find I've grown quite fond of the couple, I'll miss them...
Comment: For those of you for whom this story still rings a bell - yes, I'm back!! I've been through a string of, well, you know, that kind of... things. But these people just wouldn't let go until they got their happy ending. Well, all I can say is, I'm working at it.
Review: Too long? Too short? Too much dialogue? Too little? How about my characterization? Did you laugh? Cry? Did you feel anything at all? Come on, there must be SOMETHING you have to say! :-)
AS always, a HUGE thanks to Molly, for being out there and sharing the vibe.
Chapter 11: Everyone's invited
"Ok, that's it. Get out of my kitchen NOW!"
"But, mum..."
"No buts. Go to your room. Take a bath, try out everything in your wardrobe and everything in mine, even everything in the doctor's if it's necessary. I don't want to see you again until your washed and combed and perfumed and astonishingly beautiful."
"You mean I'm not astonishingly beautiful now?"
Gretchen paused and took in her daughter's tangled hair, sweaty forehead, pudding-stained T-shirt.
"No."
Kathryn blew a strand of hair out of her face.
"I love you, mum. You're so encouraging and supportive. Anyway, I don't care. There's still so much to do, and I didn't invite them to show myself off."
"Oh, yes, you did."
"I beg your pardon?"
Gretchen noticed the sharp note in Kathryn's voice and tried not to take it personally. She was back in command mode, and that was a good sign. But it was also a sign that she was rather nervous.
"Look, honey, you and I know that this is more than just a picnic, so you can stop pretending otherwise. You've got every reason for certain amount of - stage fright. Once they are all here, you'll remember why they are your friends and why you love them, and you'll have fun, just like you used to, and everything will be fine. But right now, you need a little time for yourself."
"Stage fright?"
"That's what the doctor called it."
Kathryn kissed her mother and turned to go. "Smart man."
As she watched her daughter leave, Gretchen smiled to herself. "That he is."
Then, with a sigh, she turned to her tomatoes and onions again. There were going to be at least six kinds of salads, there was to be a barbecue, and ice cream, and two different pies (Kathryn had actually helped her bake them), and fruit. There were two tables in the back garden, blankets in case someone wanted to sit on the ground, and all the chairs they could find in the house, plus some borrowed from the neighbors. The neighbors were gone for the day. They had been watching the preparations with growing unease for the two preceding days, and had come to the conclusion that the whole of Starfleet was to be invited and that they better be somewhere else. "You can use our garden", they had said.
Gretchen shook her head over the enormous bowl full of little juicy red cubes. Well, who could blame Kathryn for overdoing it a little. She was the captain, ship or no ship, and she had been physically and emotionally unavailable at a time when her crew needed her most. Now she wanted to show them that she was back, ready to be a part of the family again - if they would have her. As if anyone could resist her: her enthusiasm, her smile, the vibrancy in her every movement. For the past few days, Kathryn had been in a whirlwind of activity, making calls, arranging for overnight stays, having mysterious meetings with Starfleet high brass... It was a beginning, and no matter how insecure or guilty or embarrassed she might still feel, she would pull it through. She would do the right thing. Like always.
But for Gretchen it was also an end. In spite of the crises, in spite of the tears and the constant anxiety and the sadness, she had enjoyed having her daughter at home with her. At this stage in their lives, it was an unexpected gift to get to know each other again, to be close, to share intimately who they were now, as grown women, their pains, their regrets, and what they had learned. Few mothers and daughters had a chance like that. And now her little girl was leaving again - as it should be. But Gretchen couldn't help but fear the emptiness she would leave behind, and the distance. She knew that her time was over. On the other hand, someone else's time might just be beginning...
"So, you finally did get her out of the kitchen! How did you manage?"
"Well, when the usual threats about physical punishment and Borg invasions didn't work, I told her I'd let the ice cream melt. And then I insinuated I had one of the letters she's been scribbling and throwing away, and that I could show it to a certain ex-First Officer..."
"You are a mean woman, Gretchen. You are my hero."
"Why, thank you, doctor. I do what I can."
He took an onion and started slicing it to mix it with the tomato cubes.
"So... tell me, do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Do you have one of those letters?"
"---"
"Did you read it? Was it to Commander Chakotay? What did it say?"
Gretchen just stared at him.
"What- ? Wait a minute, why are you looking at me that way? You don't- you don't think I ask you this out of, of- morbid curiosity, do you?"
She raised an eyebrow, knife still in her hand.
"Madam, I would remind you that your daughter is still my patient! Unless you believe that my services as a physician are no longer required here, it is still my duty to monitor her physical as well as mental health. That was my only purpose in- "
"Doctor, doctor!" She put away the knife and laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, it was just a joke!"
He stared back at her in confusion.
"I never took any of Kathryn's letters, I never even talked to her about them. Or the ice cream. It was just a manner of speaking. And I wasn't implying morbid curiosity on your part. I would never do that."
"Oh... well, I certainly hope so." Trying to scrape together what rest of dignity he had, the doctor turned back to his onions. For a couple of minutes, they worked in silence. When the bowl was full, Gretchen put it aside, then turned to the doctor.
"So, you want to tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
"Why you overreacted so tremendously right now."
"I didn't- "
"Oh yes, you did. I know you too well by now. If you don't trust me enough to tell me, that's something else, but don't try to tell me nothing is wrong."
The words were harsh, but the voice was warm and full of concern for him, and that - someone taking an interest in himself, his feelings - was something he had never been able to resist. He looked at her for a moment, and before he spoke, Gretchen thought she'd never seen a sadder man.
"The thing is, Gretchen, that I *do* think my services are no longer required here. No, don't say anything. You know I am right. The captain is over the hill. I have done what little I could, she's beginning to reshape her life - and so is everyone else. In a few hours, they will all be here, talking about their new lives, new jobs, their families, and I..."
He shook his head and raised his shoulders in gesture of helplessness Gretchen found oddly endearing in a man usually so full of caustic remarks and dry wit.
"And you what?", she urged him gently on.
"I *have* no life, and I have no family, I don't even have a place to stay! For everyone else, this, coming home, is the perfect opportunity to make a new start; explore other paths, other choices. But I don't have a choice. I am a property of Starfleet. That they have not taken an interest in my whereabouts in all these months just goes to show you just how much of a priority I am, so, when they finally do come around to dealing with me, they'll probably just download all the data in my matrix, take the mobile emitter for examination, perfection and mass-fabrication, and in no time, there will be hundreds of doctors just like me. Won't that be fun. One big, *big*, happy family."
The despair in his voice was unmistakable, despite his brave attempt at one of his customary sarcastic smiles.
"But you do have a family now."
"Do I?" He blinked. Gretchen didn't know if she should laugh or cry.
"Doctor! Do you think I could ever forget what you have done for my daughter, for *me*? Do you think I don't know what would have happened to her if you hadn't been there, I- " She paused and took a deep breath.
"You are a part of this family now, doctor, and not because I feel I owe you, but because- well, you just can't help it, and that's all! You've been here through all my cranky moods, through Kathryn's throwing up and sitting around in her pajamas for days on end, and now you're stuck with us, like it or not. This is your family, and this is your place to be, unless you choose to be somewhere else."
She jabbed at her eyes in frustration.
"And if you think I'll let anyone download you, or replicate you, or order you to be or do something you don't want to, then you are a very shortsighted man indeed!"
For once at a loss for words, all he managed was: "Oh... ok." And then: "Thank you."
"Oh, don't thank me. You don't know what you've gotten yourself into."
The door chime buzzed.
"See what you did? They are here, and nothing's ready! Go and tell Kathryn her friends are here, and do some entertaining until I fix up this mess."
"Gretchen, I- "
"What did I say? Go, go, go!"
"RIGHT!" As he moved down the hall, he muttered to himself: "I'm beginning to understand what I've gotten myself into, all right." But as he opened the door, there was no trace of sarcasm or bitterness in his smile. For once, there was only happiness.