As she sat in her Quarters that night, looking into the mirror as she brushed her hair absent-mindedly, she thought. Wondered. Pondered.
What had happened?
Nothing, she told herself firmly. It was a stray thought, feuled by the whole setting. And she tried to push the fluttering feeling in her stomach away, washing her face in a feeble attempt to rid herself of the almost unnoticeable, pink tint. Nothing had happened, and nothing would happen. Taking a deep breath, she picked up a book while walking toward her bed and got under the soft covers, turning on the reading lamp and extiguishing all other light with a single command.
Pretty soon she was lost in the world of Dante's "Inferno," as usually happened when she started to read. For a while, she stayed like this, until her eyes started to sting with grogginess and staying focused became a more and more cumbersome task. Yawning audibly behind a hand, she marked her place by folding down one of the corners--a habit, she told herself, she needed to break soon--and put it away.
Sleep didn't come very easily to Kathryn Janeway that night, no matter how tired she might be. She just kept hearing that last song over and over in her mind, seeing images of the party. It was too fresh, too alive in her mind. Finally, Janeway turned over, putting the pillow over her head with so much force that a muffled "oww" came from under it as she hit her head. With a growl, she stood, still in her silky lavender night shirt and -pants, and went to her replicator.
"Coffee. Black," she ordered it, rubbing her face. Given, caffeine wasn't the best solution to insomnia. But it calmed her, it was her port in the storm, so to speak. Putting the sweet smelling drink under her nose, she closed her eyes, indulging in the moment. The same moment that came every time she smelled her beloved beverage. The moment that never grew old.
Sighing, she sat in one of her two armchairs, cup in hand, folding her legs up so she sat indian style in it. Looking up from her coffee, she found herself face to face with two pictures. One was of her old dog, Molly, a sweet, well behaved Irish Setter that had been pregnant when she left. Six years ago. She felt a surge of longing for the dog's companionship, and sighed, taking another sip of coffee, and looking almost involuntarily at the picture next to it.
The cup lowered from her lips as she looked at it, her head cocking to the side without her concious consent.
Surrounded by a silvery frame, two people were in it, laughing, looking like they were having the time of their lives. It had been Halloween, and everyone in the background was dressed in some odd costume or another. But the two main people caught her eye as she sat there, hands wrapped around the cup for warmth.
He was bent over double, apparently laughing hard enough to keep himself from breathing, wearing the attire of a Vampire. Half lying, half sitting on the floor on her side was Janeway herself, dressed all in black. She wore a black mask almost like a twentieth century thief's that covered only the top half of her face, stopping halfway down the bridge of her nose, and an unmistakable tail was draped over her legs. Pointed cat ears protruded from her auburn hair, which was also falling into her eyes as she laughed. She was half propped up on her arm, obviously having fallen to the floor in a rather...amusing way.
The captain frowned slightly, a mere crease of the brow. They were so...comfortable around eachother. With eachother. They were such close friends. And that was what she had felt this night while dancing. A sudden spike of the gratefulness she had always had for him. Yes, that was it, she decided, smiling slightly, feeling like a counselor.
And she went to bed without another thought about it, having finished her drink, and drifted off to sleep despite the caffeine high beverage she had just enjoyed.