AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I'm so tickled that some of you are enjoying this! It's so much fun, and I have so much hope for all the things to come, so I'm thrilled that some of you are excited to go along with me. I was scared it would be too "crackfic" for everyone. LOL I'm glad some of you like the crossover as much as I do!
I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!
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Everybody at the table had tried to serve in her place, and Kathryn had to wave them all away. She waved Chakotay away, again, when he reached once more for the champagne bottle.
"I'm quite capable of pouring the champagne, Chakotay," Kathryn informed him.
He looked slightly embarrassed, smiled to himself, and looked down as he shifted his napkin in his lap again.
"I'm know you are, Captain," he offered. He looked back at her. "I just didn't think you needed to serve during your off-hours."
Kathryn laughed to herself.
"We're all on our off-hours," she said, filling the last of the flutes for herself before she returned the champagne to its bucket. She sat down in her seat.
The meal had gone well. Daryl had been particularly concerned with whether or not the food they were eating was real, but Kathryn had assured him it was "as real as she could make it," and he'd eaten it with a great deal of satisfaction and with no more questioning. They had kept the conversation light, and Kathryn had only gotten them to share the most basic information about their lives before they'd been captured.
Of the two of them, it was Carol who shared the most. Daryl mostly seemed concerned with clarifying a few details, helping Carol when she got stuck on some part of their narrative, and listening to her speak.
The quiet affection that the two people shared was practically palpable, though they weren't overt with their feelings.
It warmed Kathryn's heart just to see it.
She appreciated love. She loved it, really.
She'd been in love twice, herself, before she'd ever ended up stranded in the Delta Quadrant. She'd lost the first man she loved in a tragic accident. The second, Mark, she'd intended to marry even after she'd boarded Voyager for something that should have only taken her away from him for a few weeks. They'd been engaged. They wanted the same things in life—and they both believed that, together, they could have everything. She'd planned to marry him shortly after her return. The trip to the Badlands to subdue the Maquis was going to be her final away mission for a while. They wanted a large family and she was going to commit herself to having the first of their children as soon as possible. It wouldn't kill her to work quietly in Starfleet until the little one had come. Then, when her leave was up, Mark was going to take some time that he had saved to get the baby settled while she returned to work.
Nobody, of course, had planned for the Caretaker to fling them into the Delta Quadrant and leave them with seventy some odd years of travel between where they were and where they called home.
It was unlikely that anyone back home would know anything more than the fact that they'd disappeared, entirely, during their trip to the Badlands, and they'd never returned.
Mark would consider her dead. He would move on. He would buy the house he loved so much, marry a nice woman who deserved a good man, and he would build the family that he dreamed of having.
He had probably already done so. And Kathryn had already let him go. She had to—for herself as much as for anyone else.
Kathryn wished Mark nothing but the best, really. She would have been more heartbroken to go to sleep, at night, imagining him broken by her disappearance and assumed death. She would have hated to think that he gave up even a moment of potential happiness to linger too long on a memory and hope. For however as romantic the thought of meeting him again—maybe seventy some odd years in the future, if it had even been possible for them both to live so long—and finding he still loved her might be, she preferred to know he'd lived his life well and happily. She preferred to believe he had lived a life full of love.
She never would have denied him that in the Alpha Quadrant. She wouldn't deny him that in the Delta Quadrant.
Seeing Carol and Daryl across the table from her, she was happy that the Araulians, at least, had captured them together. She might be angry at the now extinct species for snatching them out of their worlds in such a rude way, but she was happy that they at least got enough right to grab them together. Seeing them now, she would have hated to have had the duty of telling one or the other that they'd left their partner behind for the rest of their lives.
The sight of them, sitting across from her, gave Kathryn a twinge of melancholy that she was good at swallowing down until she was alone. It brought up feelings that, from time to time, she was able to subdue for weeks, or even months.
She hated to give up, entirely, the life she'd dreamed of having.
She knew that love could come again—especially since love could take many shapes and forms—but she doubted that it could come again for her. She was a starship captain and, even though Starfleet had no official rules on such a situation as the one she was in, and though her duty may last for the rest of her life, she wasn't sure that her crew would support the idea that their captain could take a vacation from her role—it was her job, after all, to figure out how to get her crew home.
She didn't know if she'd ever be more—if she ever could be more—than a starship captain.
There were times when she saw something in Chakotay's eye. She thought she caught a glimmer—a quick glance of something. She saw a flicker of interest. A spark of hope. He lingered a little too long with his soft, brown eyes holding hers.
But she was probably imagining things. Chakotay was kind and supportive. He was a good first officer. He was dedicated. He was, also, undeniably strong and handsome. The truth was, she was simply projecting things because of her own loneliness. She was his captain and, like the rest, he would expect her to keep her eye on the job ahead of her—the duty she owed them all.
The duty she now owed, as well, to the two people who sat across the table from her.
"Y'all care if I smoke?" Daryl asked, drawing Kathryn back to the table and out of her daydream.
He'd asked for cigarettes and, though they weren't something that anyone onboard the ship enjoyed outside of the occasional one smoked on the holodeck, Chakotay had replicated him everything he'd need and pretended that it had come from storage until he calmed about the trustworthiness of the replicator.
"Go ahead," Kathryn said. "Whatever you like. The filters will clean the air for anyone who might protest."
"I'd go outside, but…" Daryl offered.
Kathryn laughed to herself.
"At this time, that might not be advisable," she said. "Shall I—propose a toast?"
"What are we toasting?" Daryl asked, smelling the champagne in his glass like he wasn't sure if he was going to be fond of the beverage. It occurred to Kathryn that she might have done better to ask her guests what they wanted to drink. She could always offer him something else, though, if it was clear that he wasn't enjoying the champagne.
"What about—new friends and new family aboard Voyager?" Kathryn offered.
Everyone tasted the champagne. Daryl didn't look disgusted by it, but Kathryn could tell by the way that he swallowed that his choice to drink the beverage was solely borne from the desire to take part in the social ritual.
"To new worlds, new people, and new adventures," Chakotay offered.
Kathryn raised her glass again, toasted with the others at the table, and tasted the champagne. She caught Chakotay's smile out the corner of her eye. He was watching her, as he had for much of the meal. He was, probably, looking to see how she would interact with the newcomers so that he could base his reaction to Carol and Daryl off of hers.
"I got one," Daryl offered. He cleared his throat. "We—uh—back on…" He stopped and laughed to himself. "Shit—sounds insane to say this. But back on Earth? We were talkin' about—you know—startin' over. Just—startin' over." Kathryn didn't miss the exchanged glances between Carol and Daryl. She didn't miss the blush that ran into Carol's cheeks or the fact that Daryl diverted his eyes for half a second, as if looking at Carol was too much to bear. Carol smiled to herself when she diverted her eyes, too. "To starting over."
Kathryn sipped her champagne, enjoying that she'd at least discovered a ritual in which the new arrivals were willing and happy to participate.
"To new beginnings," Kathryn said. "New lives."
"To old dreams," Carol offered.
"And new ones," Chakotay added.
"To new friends, and family," Kathryn said, swallowing down the sweet champagne that remained in her glass.
Kathryn smiled to herself as she pulled the bottle of champagne from the bucket, refreshed her own, and offered the bottle around. Even Daryl accepted a little more of the beverage. A few swallows of it clearly made it more palatable.
"I am terribly sorry about how this all came about," Kathryn said. "But—I would be lying if I said I was unhappy to have you here. I look forward to getting to know you both well."
"So, are we part of your spaceship military?" Daryl asked.
Kathryn laughed to herself. She reached to return what was left of the champagne to the bucket, but before she could raise herself from her seat to do so, Chakotay took the bottle from her and, half-leaning over her, gently placed it back among the melting ice.
"You can't be members of Starfleet," Kathryn said. "But you're absolutely members of my crew—if you want to be. I can't force you into that, either. After all, it wasn't your choice to be here. I would be happy for you to be members of my crew, though, if you want to be. If you're interested in doing something to contribute to the ship."
"What can we do?" Carol asked.
"That's really up to you," Kathryn said, shrugging her shoulders. "We have something for everyone, I think, aboard the ship. What do you think you'd be good at—or even interested in?"
"She mentioned to Neelix that she enjoyed cooking," Chakotay offered.
Carol smiled.
"I do like to cook," she said. "I was a housewife before…everything. I can cook and bake."
"And Neelix could use the help," Kathryn said.
"She's good at medical care, too," Daryl said. "First aid." Carol's cheeks blushed pink, but she looked pleased that he would point out her strengths in such a nonchalant way. She didn't deny her ability to perform first aid. Instead, she nodded her head gently to support his claim.
"You're certainly not limited to anything," Kathryn said. "You can explore the ship. Try different things. See what you like. If you'd like to work some in the mess hall and some in sickbay, you're welcome to try both."
"Everyone ends up doing a bit of double duty from time to time," Chakotay said. "That's what comes from having a small crew."
"If you're interested," Kathryn said, "tomorrow you could visit both places. See what you'd like to do. You have plenty of time to decide."
"The doctor would like to see them anyway," Chakotay said.
Kathryn hummed.
"What for?" Daryl asked.
"There's no reason to worry, Daryl," Kathryn assured him. "He keeps a careful profile of everyone's health. It makes it easier to diagnose things in the future and to keep things from becoming a problem. When you were seen before, you were asleep. He'd like to complete your history when you're awake and can participate." Daryl relaxed back into his chair with the explanation. "What about you?" Kathryn asked, further distracting him from any concern that may have replaced his concern with replicated items. "Where do you think we might see you seeking a job on Voyager?"
Daryl shrugged.
"I'm not really that good at anything," he said.
"You're good at everything!" Carol interjected, almost sounding offended. "He's good at everything."
"Not on a spaceship, or a starship, or whatever. We don't exactly need to hunt for our own food or build our own campsites here," Daryl said, addressing Carol.
"Daryl…you're good at…so much," Carol said. She looked at Kathryn. There was an odd sort of pleading in her eyes that made Kathryn wish that she could help her. "He's good at everything. That's the problem. Where to start. He's good with mechanical things. Building…tracking. Weapons."
Daryl was looking at Carol like he couldn't believe the things she was saying about him. Still, he looked pleased by her words.
"Tactical, perhaps," Kathryn said, glancing at Chakotay to try to judge what he was thinking. "Security."
"Or engineering," Chakotay offered. "Sure—there's a learning curve, but that's anywhere on the ship. How are you with electricity?"
Daryl shrugged.
"I tinker," Daryl said. "I've done some work here or there."
"Tomorrow you'll have a look around," Kathryn said. "You can spend a little time—like Carol—moving between stations. You're bound to find something that you enjoy."
"What if we can't find something?" Daryl asked. "What if—there just isn't any way we can contribute?"
Kathryn smiled at him.
"I'm not in the habit of believing that there's anybody who has nothing to offer," Kathryn said. "We may not know how you fit in yet, but I already know that you're both going to be an asset to the ship. In a few months? I'm sure we won't know how we ever made it this far without you."
