Note: I had no business taking nearly nine years to complete this. No business at all. To give you perspective on the timeline here, I started this piece exactly one week before I began my five year PhD program. I've now been working a post degree job for four years. I met and married my husband, bought a house, lost a dear cat, and gained two more.

To make excuses, the PhD promptly destroyed my love for writing, it's been a long ride to get that love back.

Now, I will be the very very first to admit the following 1) This story deserved to be finished and finished well. 2) The last two chapters were a compromise. As I started writing again, I knew that all the plans I had for this story, if I tried to keep to them, would prevent me from finishing them. I had dreams (actual literal aspirations) for what Part 4 and Part 5 would look like. I couldn't cut it. Perhaps one day I can cut it, and I would draft up what I initially wanted to. That's not to say that the plot points are any different than what I originally planned, just the length and delivery.

In finishing this, I have definitely left some grammatical and stylistic errors in the body of the text. I will edit these and make all parts stylistically the same. Until then, this is what you get.

Also, is there a Discord out there? I have so many ideas I want to talk about.

The Unlikely Affair

[5/5]

i

It has already been well established that expectation and reality are divorced — amicably, as if they had just drifted apart, steadily at first and then exponentially, before one day waking up and recognizing each other as friendly strangers. That doesn't mean that Kathryn wasn't surprised when the things she expects to happen one way actually take a left turn at the galactic core and sprint the opposite direction.

For instance, upon resigning from Starfleet in the most ridiculous manner she could fashion, Kathryn had expected there to be repercussions — not because they particularly wanted her to stay around awhile longer, but because she'd left them approximately twelve low grade fires to put out in the Romulan Empire and the Borg, well, the friendly ones. Instead, they'd patted her on the back, offered her a ride to anywhere in the galaxy (no expiration date specified) [1] and didn't engage in an underhanded smear campaign in the press. That last piece of information meant exactly one thing: no one in the PR office asked P'ox her opinion. That was fine with her.

Another example, she'd thought she had hidden her intentions to take up the offer for the one-way trip quite well from all her friends. So, why then, were they trickling in to say their vague good-byes and keep-in-touches. At first, when it had just been Junior and Qrlthlmtryly, she'd explained away the oddity as ending the most recent chapter in her adult life, a vague 'see you around' by two people who seemed to always be able to find her. But then, Tuvok began writing her the letters so reminiscent of the days they had been physically distant but good friends, as if preparing himself for the reality that he would no longer be able to see her in person. He didn't write as much, but the stoic resolve was written between every line.

Tom caught her playing her weekly match of billiards, and proceeded to charm her with stories of Miral over lagers and fries. B'Elanna demanded lunch with her a week later and brought their rambunctious little girl with her — the three had a pleasant time arguing over the finer dynamics of slipstream technology and broccoli [2]. Harry sent her updates on MA'AM, all the way from the Beta Quadrant, and asked her to visit if she was ever in his direction, implying that she would be.

Chakotay had given her a bear hug after their most recent dinner, and got that vaguely weepy look on his face when he was coming to terms with not seeing her for while. Seven had stared at her long and hard, as if memorizing her face, before bestowing upon her one of her newly mastered soft smiles. Of all those who had sough her out in the three months after her resignation, it was only she who openly admitted Kathryn was going away, with a, "Goodbye, Captain. I request you keep in touch."

Each of these impromptu farewells piled on — her Alpha Quadrant friends, her old crew, those she'd met on the previous years' wild adventure — culminating finally in the day where she waited patiently the board the Enterprise, a bag thrown over one shoulder and the rest of the belonging she wished to bring with her already in the Cargo Bay. She hadn't necessarily expected to be here, of all places, preparing to book a string of passages through the Federation into the Delta Quadrant…[3]

ii

"So," the Doctor announced, a cheerful smile on his face as soon as the door to her guest quarters chimed open, "Where are we going?"

Kathryn blinked. Once, then twice, then thrice for good measure, "Uh…"

The Doctor kept smiling, and gestured, as if asking to be let in. She noticed, as she stepped aside and he entered, that he was carrying his own over-the-should bag, as if he'd come right from the transporter room without bothering to settle in to his own quarters.

He'd better have his own quarters.

He was still speaking, "…nearly missed you! I had to call in ever favor to figure out when you were leaving and on what ship, and like always, Lewis called me as I was on my way out the door and kept talking and talking, until I was forced to hang up on him. I don't mean to be rude, but I can't deal with him are nice quarters, I haven seen mine yet, but I bet they're not even half as large…"

The Doctor turned in time to see that she had started pinching the bridge of her noice with one hand while holding the other up as if asking him to stop talking for a minute.

"Stop talking for a minute," she said, just to be sure he got the meaning.

To his credit, the hologram closed his mouth with an audible snap and then seemed to wait the required minute before looking around confused, "Is…"

"No," the hand remained up, and then, "I'm trying to understand what's going on here."

"Oh, that?"

Her head snapped up, "Yeah, that."

"Isn't it obvious," he seemed genuinely confused, "I'm coming with you. Wherever you're going…I don't…I don't actually know where that is."

Many ridiculous things had happened to Kathryn since her first and second return to the Alpha Quandrant: promotions, secret Starfleet efforts to generate public ridicule of her love life, back room dealing, more promotions. That didn't even include the actual Borg Civil War and actual Romulan and Federation cooperation. This was its own brand of unreal.

"I'm sorry, when did I invite you?"

The tone of her voice was clearly becoming dangerously low, if the concern on the Doctor's face was anything to go by. Changing tracks, he held up his hands in a placating manner and tried again, "I see that I've upset you…"

"Correct," she agreed.

"…and it's probably because the last time we spoke was three months ago, at the Gala."

"You're on track."

"And before that I was doing a very very good (if I might say) job of avoiding you across two quadrants of the galaxy."

"You're almost there."

"Even though you've done nothing but sacrifice your career to help me since we got back from the Delta Quadrant, et cetera et cetera."

"Et cetera et cetera!?" There it was, the final drop of her tone that suggested he'd gone too far.

Oddly, instead of sulking away, the Doctor smiled again and dropped his hands, "Oh, well, I can explain all of that.

iii

The mess of the Enterprise E was uninspiring; larger than Voyager's had ever dreamed of being, but functionally the same. Kathryn had settled on this location as their meeting point for a handful of reasons. First, it allowed her to order the Doctor out of her quarters on the pretense that he needed to drop his belonging off in his own before coming here. Second, it gave her roughly fifteen minutes on her own to grumble about her ruined plans of isolated travel [4]. Finally, it provided a deterrent. The never-empty mess was the perfect place to keep her from attempting to relive the good old days and shout orders at her friend.

She sat at a corner table, double fisting synthehol and a coffee (having been unable to decide which she wanted more), and settled on watching the warp field display outside the view screen. Moments into her attempts to construct mental poetry on the site, the Doctor slid into the chair opposite her. A brief glance his way told her he'd opted out of trying to drink anything today, and that it was still strange seeing him in anything but medical blues.

"I realize I probably should have asked," he chose to speak first, and then cut her off when she was moments from agreeing, "but word around the grapevine was that you were clandestinely planning your trip, and no one knew the where tos or why fors."

At that, she made a face between a scowl and a facial equivalent of a shrug, and then chose to take a drink from the synthehol.

"And you know how Qrlthlmtryly is."

"He can't keep his mouth shut," Kathryn spoke finally, sighing.

"He's an intolerable busy body," the Doctor added, "and has been tracking your movements since you resigned. I think he likes you."

Kathryn physically hemmed and hawed, her head tilting this way and that, "The number of times he brings up Admiral P'ox makes me think he's been pining over her for years."

The Doctor blinked, "That's…really unfortunate."

The corner of her mouth twitched up, despite her best efforts, and she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders, "All right. You've told me how you're here. What's the why?"

"That's easy," he said earnestly, "you're my friend, and we're in the same boat. Probably more so than you think."

"Oh?"

"Finished with Starfleet but not done with exploring, or preventing disasters from happening, or sometimes starting them."

She snorted, loudly enough to cause the Ensigns at the next table to glance over.

"I'm serious," he insisted, leaning closer, "haven't you noticed the Alpha Quadrant is boring."

The way she waved her hand basically screamed Clearly. I'm leaving for a reason.

"I think I could be a good asset," he'd moved on to attempting to persuading her now.

It wasn't even as if the Doctor's company was unwanted, to be honest. He was resourceful, clever, frustrating, and a friendly — all of the things she could and would rely on in a person jaunting across the galaxy with her. It was the fact that they'd spent the better part of five years avoiding one another due to the Fleet press, allowing what could have been a burgeoning but strong friendship stagnate over rumors. Maybe even a little bit the uncertainty she'd felt along the way, that perhaps she had been willing to do so much for him, while he'd been happy to keep the distance.

When she said as much aloud, in a rare gesture of personally honesty, the Doctor sat back in his chair and considered her words. He then considered them some more, as she got up to recycle the synthehol and reheat the coffee.

By the time she made it back to the table, he was ready to speak again.

"It's not that we had an affair, it's that we could have had an affair [5]. Lewis said something like that to me that first year, when I couldn't understand why the feeds were so interested in fake gossip anyway. He warned me they were doing it to ruin both of us —to make you look like a holo-addicted freak and to make me look like an object. I thought he was being overly dramatic, but then…"

"Then I had to sell my career down the stream insure your freedom," the rest of the tension had left her, leaving Kathryn Janeway relaxed for the first time in a long time. The expression on her face matched this change, and grew friendlier.

"Yes, that," he agreed.

"Qrlthlmtryly told me to keep my distance, for as much as your sake as mine. By the time Starfleet let the charade die down enough, the Borg had decided to self destruct where the Romulans could see them. You know the moment we're seen traveling together," her tone indicated that, at last, she'd agreed he could come with, "the rumor mill is going to start spinning again. I don't think it will ever stop."

It was the Doctor's turn to wave away her concern, "We're two retired war heroes, if everyone wants to think we've run off together, let them. We'd deserve it anyway."

Kathryn laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling at the mirth she felt. Well, if they were going to be the focus of scrutiny, there was no point in not having fun with it.

"You know what, I'm glad you came."

iv

It was six months into his unerring efforts to help the downtrodden and the Borg (the friendly ones), and Qrlthlmtryly was having the time of his life. Perhaps it was all the good he was doing in the Alpha Quadrant, easier now, that he could function outside the strict regulations of Startfleet. Mostly likely, it was because the crews (both the former and the recent) of Voyager had essentially adopted him as one of their own, an honor only ever before bestowed on one, massively socially awkward man.

It was on the third day of opening arguments for the incorporation of the FBC into the Federation that he received a single communique through the MA'AM channels. After deciphering the key, he was able to break the encryption to see the message.

It simply read,

This is still just a baseless rumor, right?

Attached to the encrypted message was a staggeringly long expose on two of his favorite people, the cover page graced with the crisp image of the pair in question sitting in the dim lights of what appeared to be a Ferengi (of all things) shuttle craft, heads bent over a personal portable device, clearly getting up to endless amounts of shenanigans. The title, in the boldest text he had ever seen:

Decorated War Heroes Ride off into the Sunset?

He chuckled heartedly through the entire read and continued to chuckle as he investigated who'd sent him the message and then grinned when he sent a spectacularly snarky reply.

Perhaps, he was having the time of his life because (contrary to every belief Kathryn Janeway had on the matter) he could reconcile expectation with reality.

The recipient line read P'ox.

-End Notes -

[1] The 'no return trip guaranteed' was implied.

[2] Miral won this, by spitting it all over her mother's lap. Her aim in this matter had only improved as she had grown.

[3] You get the point already.

[4] Her version of retirement. Kathryn Janeway was many things, but capable of handling the boredom of a career-less life was not one of them. Perhaps this wasn't the most creative idea. It certainly wasn't the healthiest.

[5] Yes, the Doctor did, in fact, say the summary text of this story.