Disclaimer: By now it should be pretty clear that I *do* know that I don't own any of this legally, but as the german poet Heinrich Heine said "die Gedanken sind frei..." (meaning: "thoughts are free", so there you go).
Summary: Harry arrives, and Kathryn puts in a short appearance in a bathrobe.
Comment: Oh well... it's been long, I know. I am very sorry. I was planning a big opera finale, but I guess I just wasn't cut out for that kind of writing. This is how it is in my mind, so this is how I am going to write it. At least now it *is* in my mind, so I really hope to finish this in a couple of weeks. This is a short one about Harry, because I like him and I felt it would be a shame not to have him in the story. Also to show how I imagine the reaction of someone not so directly involved to Kathryn's ordeal and recovery.
Review: Flame me, I deserve it. Whoever's out there and still reading this deserves my eternal gratitude. Whoever wants to comment on it will surely go to heaven.
Chapter 12: At the threshold
Standing at the doorstep, there was nothing but what at first sight seemed like *thousands* of the most gaudy flowers, held together by two hands and walking on a pair of legs. Once the doctor had relieved him of this vegetal burden, Harry's laughing face was revealed.
"I didn't want to risk bringing something to eat that I loved and would upset everybody else's stomach, so volunteered to be in charge of the decoration instead."
"Very wise indeed. The only problem being, this is not decoration, it's a plantation!"
"And I am glad to see you *too*, doctor!"
Harry wasn't even embarrassed for not being able to stop laughing. For two days he had been on edge, eating little, sleeping less, thinking about how it would be to meet everyone again, now that everything was so different.
After spending some time with their families and loved ones, everyone seemed to have drifted back to San Francisco, some with a set purpose, but most of them pulled more or less by inertia, ostensibly because it was the location of Starfleet headquarters. But to Harry it seemed as if there was something else, a kind of waiting for something that had no name. At least, that's how it was for him, and he had gotten the same feeling from everyone else he'd met on some party, in front of some 'fleet bureaucrat who needed yet *another* deposition, in a theater lobby, in a restaurant. Even Tom and B'Elanna (whom he'd been seeing a lot, proudly asserting his role as "uncle Harry") had this restlessness about them, especially B'Elanna. Since she received the message about the picnic, she had been in the most terrible mood he had ever seen her in, while Tom did nearly all the housework, took care of Miral, was wonderfully patient and altogether angelical. Well, Harry had seen his share of strangeness. Wonders never ceased, it seemed, even back in the Alpha Quadrant.
Why, his own behavior had been quite interesting in the past month or so. He found himself requesting extensions to his leave, a couple of days, a week, then two, delaying his decision about which ship he wanted to be on. He knew he was ready to be out there again, and eager to put to use all the things he had learned while on Voyager. Besides, he was really looking forward to someone calling *him* "sir" for a change! On the other hand, he was aware of walking a thin line, his status and his privileges as "hero" were fading fast. Soon he would be just a newly promoted lieutenant that was sitting around Headquarters, doing nothing.
And yet, he waited. When the invitation came, he knew what he had been waiting for. And that's when he started getting *really* nervous.
Of course, there was "that". That thing that had happened to the captain. Or rather, that thing she had done to herself. When Tom told him, he hadn't given him any details. Not necessary, what he *did* tell him was enough to give him nightmares for weeks. How was he supposed to meet her now, to look at her, to talk to her? How could he ever make it up to her? How could he have let something so terrible happen to her? He knew it was irrational, but he couldn't help feeling personally responsible. Here he was, so proud of what he had learned, of how he had grown up, *matured* and whatnot, and at the same time, someone right next to him was falling apart, and he had never had a clue. He had tried talking to Tom about it (around B'Elanna he avoided the issue instinctively), but the words just wouldn't come, his very thoughts seemed to freeze at the notion of what could have happened.
So, yeah, Harry had been *very* nervous until seconds ago, when he had been standing at her front door, pressing the buzzer. But now, inexplicably, he felt just happy, the kind of happiness and anticipation he used to feel when he was a kid at another kid's birthday party (his own birthdays were never that pleasurable, he worried too much when he was the one giving the party). For days he had been gloomy and downcast, for the best of reasons, he thought, and now all he could think of was what fun they would have!
Next thing he knew, the captain was running down the stairs and had him in a tight hug that left him breathless for a good ten seconds.
"Harry, my God, it's so good to see you!"
"It's good to see you too, captain. You look- "
As she stepped back, Harry noticed that she was barefoot and wearing a bathrobe.
"... uhm - great! You look great!"
"Oh! Ah... yes. I was just ready to jump into the shower when I thought I heard your voice, and..."
She blushed. But to Harry's immense relief, she looked just the same. For all he knew, she might have been standing on Voyager's bridge. Even in a bathrobe, her hair loose. wearing no make-up and little else besides, she never lost her poise, that certain quality that made people turn around and look at her whenever she entered a room, because surely something exciting was about to happen. The dark images he had been turning around in his mind were blotted out by the living image of captain Kathryn Janeway standing right before him, and then and there Harry decided that whatever had happened to her, whatever she had done, it was hers, it belonged to her alone. He would not judge her, as she would not judge him, and he would take her as she was now, as she had always been to him. That was the least he owed her.
"Now, is this a way to present yourself in front of you crew? Do you think this is the appropriate way to gain their respect and attention?"
Gretchen was coming out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.
"Well, she certainly has my attention..."
Kathryn's eyebrows rose ever so slightly.
"... and she has always had my respect."
This last part came out solemnly, almost like a declaration. Kathryn took Harry's hand and smiled warmly. A silent message passed between them. Later, many years later, they would speak about this moment. Right now, no words were needed.
"Well, I'll better get back upstairs, I don't want to be capturing too much of your *attention*". She winked. "I'm sure my mom and the doctor will find something useful for you to do."
"Of course, I know just the thing. You could start by finding a place for this *hothouse* you brought along."
The doctor was still standing around indecisively and looking quite unhappy, his arms full of flowers. While the three of them walked off, and Kathryn disappeared up the stairs, no one noticed the two figures crossing the front lawn arm in arm, a tall blond woman and a dark-haired man, both carrying medium sized food containers. They stopped halfway to the door, and the woman leaned towards the man while he spoke to her. She nodded, and then they went on. They stopped at the threshold.
Summary: Harry arrives, and Kathryn puts in a short appearance in a bathrobe.
Comment: Oh well... it's been long, I know. I am very sorry. I was planning a big opera finale, but I guess I just wasn't cut out for that kind of writing. This is how it is in my mind, so this is how I am going to write it. At least now it *is* in my mind, so I really hope to finish this in a couple of weeks. This is a short one about Harry, because I like him and I felt it would be a shame not to have him in the story. Also to show how I imagine the reaction of someone not so directly involved to Kathryn's ordeal and recovery.
Review: Flame me, I deserve it. Whoever's out there and still reading this deserves my eternal gratitude. Whoever wants to comment on it will surely go to heaven.
Chapter 12: At the threshold
Standing at the doorstep, there was nothing but what at first sight seemed like *thousands* of the most gaudy flowers, held together by two hands and walking on a pair of legs. Once the doctor had relieved him of this vegetal burden, Harry's laughing face was revealed.
"I didn't want to risk bringing something to eat that I loved and would upset everybody else's stomach, so volunteered to be in charge of the decoration instead."
"Very wise indeed. The only problem being, this is not decoration, it's a plantation!"
"And I am glad to see you *too*, doctor!"
Harry wasn't even embarrassed for not being able to stop laughing. For two days he had been on edge, eating little, sleeping less, thinking about how it would be to meet everyone again, now that everything was so different.
After spending some time with their families and loved ones, everyone seemed to have drifted back to San Francisco, some with a set purpose, but most of them pulled more or less by inertia, ostensibly because it was the location of Starfleet headquarters. But to Harry it seemed as if there was something else, a kind of waiting for something that had no name. At least, that's how it was for him, and he had gotten the same feeling from everyone else he'd met on some party, in front of some 'fleet bureaucrat who needed yet *another* deposition, in a theater lobby, in a restaurant. Even Tom and B'Elanna (whom he'd been seeing a lot, proudly asserting his role as "uncle Harry") had this restlessness about them, especially B'Elanna. Since she received the message about the picnic, she had been in the most terrible mood he had ever seen her in, while Tom did nearly all the housework, took care of Miral, was wonderfully patient and altogether angelical. Well, Harry had seen his share of strangeness. Wonders never ceased, it seemed, even back in the Alpha Quadrant.
Why, his own behavior had been quite interesting in the past month or so. He found himself requesting extensions to his leave, a couple of days, a week, then two, delaying his decision about which ship he wanted to be on. He knew he was ready to be out there again, and eager to put to use all the things he had learned while on Voyager. Besides, he was really looking forward to someone calling *him* "sir" for a change! On the other hand, he was aware of walking a thin line, his status and his privileges as "hero" were fading fast. Soon he would be just a newly promoted lieutenant that was sitting around Headquarters, doing nothing.
And yet, he waited. When the invitation came, he knew what he had been waiting for. And that's when he started getting *really* nervous.
Of course, there was "that". That thing that had happened to the captain. Or rather, that thing she had done to herself. When Tom told him, he hadn't given him any details. Not necessary, what he *did* tell him was enough to give him nightmares for weeks. How was he supposed to meet her now, to look at her, to talk to her? How could he ever make it up to her? How could he have let something so terrible happen to her? He knew it was irrational, but he couldn't help feeling personally responsible. Here he was, so proud of what he had learned, of how he had grown up, *matured* and whatnot, and at the same time, someone right next to him was falling apart, and he had never had a clue. He had tried talking to Tom about it (around B'Elanna he avoided the issue instinctively), but the words just wouldn't come, his very thoughts seemed to freeze at the notion of what could have happened.
So, yeah, Harry had been *very* nervous until seconds ago, when he had been standing at her front door, pressing the buzzer. But now, inexplicably, he felt just happy, the kind of happiness and anticipation he used to feel when he was a kid at another kid's birthday party (his own birthdays were never that pleasurable, he worried too much when he was the one giving the party). For days he had been gloomy and downcast, for the best of reasons, he thought, and now all he could think of was what fun they would have!
Next thing he knew, the captain was running down the stairs and had him in a tight hug that left him breathless for a good ten seconds.
"Harry, my God, it's so good to see you!"
"It's good to see you too, captain. You look- "
As she stepped back, Harry noticed that she was barefoot and wearing a bathrobe.
"... uhm - great! You look great!"
"Oh! Ah... yes. I was just ready to jump into the shower when I thought I heard your voice, and..."
She blushed. But to Harry's immense relief, she looked just the same. For all he knew, she might have been standing on Voyager's bridge. Even in a bathrobe, her hair loose. wearing no make-up and little else besides, she never lost her poise, that certain quality that made people turn around and look at her whenever she entered a room, because surely something exciting was about to happen. The dark images he had been turning around in his mind were blotted out by the living image of captain Kathryn Janeway standing right before him, and then and there Harry decided that whatever had happened to her, whatever she had done, it was hers, it belonged to her alone. He would not judge her, as she would not judge him, and he would take her as she was now, as she had always been to him. That was the least he owed her.
"Now, is this a way to present yourself in front of you crew? Do you think this is the appropriate way to gain their respect and attention?"
Gretchen was coming out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.
"Well, she certainly has my attention..."
Kathryn's eyebrows rose ever so slightly.
"... and she has always had my respect."
This last part came out solemnly, almost like a declaration. Kathryn took Harry's hand and smiled warmly. A silent message passed between them. Later, many years later, they would speak about this moment. Right now, no words were needed.
"Well, I'll better get back upstairs, I don't want to be capturing too much of your *attention*". She winked. "I'm sure my mom and the doctor will find something useful for you to do."
"Of course, I know just the thing. You could start by finding a place for this *hothouse* you brought along."
The doctor was still standing around indecisively and looking quite unhappy, his arms full of flowers. While the three of them walked off, and Kathryn disappeared up the stairs, no one noticed the two figures crossing the front lawn arm in arm, a tall blond woman and a dark-haired man, both carrying medium sized food containers. They stopped halfway to the door, and the woman leaned towards the man while he spoke to her. She nodded, and then they went on. They stopped at the threshold.