Prompt 33: "Close your eyes and hold out your hands." (Janeway/Johnson)
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O'Reilly's Café was almost empty this afternoon, except for Larry the proprietor cleaning the counter and whistling to the 21st-century classics on the sound system. With the walls painted a cozy shade of red, the wrought-iron chairs and mosaic-patterned tables, a coffee mill that ground the beans in place and a handmade ceramic mug to wrap both hands around, Kathryn always felt like she was traveling back in time. She loved the place, and so did Mark. They'd been coming here since they were teenagers, doing their homework at adjacent tables and silently competing over who could finish first. Sitting together, she thought, was a significant improvement.
"What time do you need to leave tomorrow?" he asked.
"Oh-five hundred." She wrinkled her nose. "First the shuttle to Utopia Planitia, then the Al-Batani from there. If I don't hear my alarm, wake me up at all costs, won't you? Dump water on me if you have to."
"I'm sure I'll think of something," said Mark, smiling innocently.
"No, seriously. The last thing I want to do is be the First Officer who shows up late."
"You won't." He squeezed her hand across the table. "Commander Janeway, huh? You're going to be great."
"Thank you."
"I'm gonna miss you, though."
"Me too."
She hadn't expected how much it would hurt, coming home to him only to leave again every time. She was a fortunate woman, she knew, with a comfortable home and a challenging career, but it wasn't easy to balance between them sometimes. It couldn't be easy for him either, loving someone who was always halfway out the door … especially if, every time she left, she might never come back.
"Hey, Kath."
"Mm?"
"I, uh … I've got something to give you. Something … kind of important." He fidgeted in his chair, looking for a moment – despite the silver hair and professorial tweed jacket – like the gawky adolescent he had once been. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."
"What?"
"Do it," he said, in such a perfect imitation of her own bridge-officer tone that she burst out laughing and obeyed.
She could hear him rustling around in his ancient, beat-up messenger bag, which she could swear was the same one he'd had since high school. What did he have in there that was so important? Why would he wait to give it to her until the day she left?
She could think of one possibility, and just the thought of it kicked her heart rate into overdrive, and she went hot and cold at once. Whether it was fear or excitement, she couldn't tell.
The thing that landed in her hands was clearly not a ring box. It was bigger and heavier than that, and seemed to be made of leather and … paper?
"Books!" Her eyes flew open. She unwrapped the red silk ribbon around them, put it into her pocket, and turned them in her hands. The covers were blank, but the spines had the titles embossed on them in beautiful cursive script: The Divine Comedy and The New Life. She opened one, ran her fingertip along the smooth printed pages, and inhaled that smell of ink and paper that she would always associate with being safe.
"Dante." She found herself grinning ear to ear. "You remembered."
"How could I forget?"
"Please don't tell me they're first editions. I'd be terrified to damage them."
"They're replicated, don't worry. You can spill coffee on them to your heart's content."
"As if I would." She scoffed in mock offense even as she carefully moved her coffee cup away from her gifts. "Oh honey, they're gorgeous. Thank you."
"Read the flyleaf on that one."
His voice had gone shy again as he pointed to The New Life. Opening it, she found a note written in ink, in handwriting so clear and smooth, he must have practiced beforehand.
Dearest Kathryn,
In the book that is my memory, your name is written on every page. Will you start a new life with me?
Love, Mark
She stared down at the painstakingly crafted letters for a long moment before replying.
"Is that … is that what I think it is?"
He nodded. "I didn't think a diamond ring was your style."
"It isn't. Only you would propose to me with books." She tried to smile, but found that her lips were trembling and her eyes were blurred with tears.
A new life with Mark meant a life without Dad and Justin. It didn't make sense, as they were already gone and had been for years, but it was how she felt. Now she realized why she'd broken out in sweat when she'd thought the books might be an engagement ring – which, in a sense, they were.
As Mark's lover, she could pretend that their relationship wasn't serious, that she was only living day to day. But as his fiancée, she'd have to face the future … a future in which they were never coming back. Could she do that? More importantly, could she risk getting her heart broken all over again?
Mark was a civilian. Statistically speaking, he was more likely to outlive her … but that didn't help at all.
What if they were making a terrible mistake?
"Was it too much? I'm sorry." Mark leaned over the table and wiped her tears away, which only made her feel like crying even more. "You don't have to say anything. I'll be your friend no matter what you decide, Kath, okay?"
She looked back down at the two Dante books to avoid meeting his eyes. This was hardly the first time she'd been a mess in front of him, but didn't he deserve better? Shouldn't he marry someone who could be straightforwardly happy about it?
Dante would understand, though, said a distant voice in the back of her mind.
She liked to tease Mark about his archaic reading material, but he had no idea what their literary discussions had meant to her. Having survived her personal ninth circle of hell and found it really was made of ice (a glacier, to be exact, with a frozen shuttle inside it, and Dad's and Justin's faces pale as snow as she tried and failed to beam them out), Dante and Virgil had been with her, reminding her that if they could get out, so could she. As for The New Life, while it was ridiculous that he'd written a whole collection of love sonnets about Beatrice when they were barely on speaking terms, the poet understood grief.
In Dante's world, moving on didn't mean you forgot. You could find echoes of the ones you loved everywhere, in a friend's face or even a stranger's, and it didn't make you crazy, just aware.
Memories rose up in her mind's eye, time-worn but still vivid: Admiral Edward Janeway, gruff and hearty, challenging her with math equations; Lieutenant Justin Tighe, slim and intense, running with her from a Cardassian army base.
Keep going, Goldenbird, you'll find the answer.
Keep going, Ensign, don't wait for me.
"Yes," said Kathryn, wiping her eyes on a stack of napkins. "My answer is yes. I will marry you."
"Yes?" Mark's shoulders slumped with a deep sigh of relief. "Did you hear that, Mr. O'Reilly? She said yes!"
He got up, pulled her out of her chair and wrapped her up in a tight, warm hug. Larry O'Reilly – who really shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but she couldn't care less right now – bustled out from behind the counter to shake their hands and offer them a discount card.
Kathryn wished, more than ever, that she didn't have to leave on the early shuttle tomorrow, but there was at least one consolation.
She was taking the Dante books with her, wherever and whenever she went.